Past Forward Volume 1 (2 page)

“I need to show this to the M.E., but I’ll
get it back to you a-sap.”

“I don’t understand M.E. and a-sap. What do
those mean?”

Three faces stared at her in disbelief for a
moment before Chad spoke. “M.E. stands for Medical Examiner. She
was so young that they’ll want to see what killed her. It could be
hereditary, and you’d want to know. A-sap is an acronym for “as
soon as possible.”

“I see. I have copies of all of it upstairs.
You can keep those. Mother was very thorough. Whom should I speak
to about the financial arrangements? I think I understand what to
do, but I’d like to make sure. Mr. Franklin’s visit isn’t due for
another eight months.”

Chief Varney’s attention focused on the
name. “Who is Mr. Franklin?”

“William Franklin is Mother’s financial
advisor.”

“Did your mother leave you well situated,
Willow?” Mrs. Varney seemed unable to resist asking.

“I don’t know. I think I’ll have enough to
live on, though. Mother always said I would.”

Darla Varney stared at her husband in shock.
Willow seemed unconcerned for her welfare. From a legal standpoint,
she didn’t exist, and furthermore, she didn’t seem to realize it.
“What does this mean for her exactly?”

“She’ll be fine, Darla. This is unusual but
not insurmountable.” He smiled reassuringly at Willow and asked,
“Do you have Mr. Franklin’s phone number? Perhaps I can get him to
make a visit to go over things with you.”

Willow stood wordlessly for a moment, before
disappearing upstairs again. She returned several minutes later
carrying a large, somewhat heavy, fireproof safe. “Everything is in
here. What should I look for?” She glanced up at the chief and
said, “But I don’t see what good it will do; Mr. Franklin only
comes in April.”

Chad opened the top of the safe and pulled
out a packet of papers. It was another carefully decorated envelope
labeled,
Taxes, 2001
. He flipped through the packets, each
elaborately embellished with artistry of some kind, and found one
marked,
Franklin’s Financial Services
as the title.

“Found it. May I?”

At Willow’s nod, Chad slipped the contents
from the envelope and smiled at the coversheet. “Where’s your
phone?”

“We don’t have one. I’ll have to walk to
town and call. That’s what Mother always did if she needed
him.”

Chad frowned and glanced at the chief,
before sliding open his cell phone and handing it to Willow. “Here
you go.”

Willow took the phone and stared at it.
“What do I do with it?”

“You’ve never
seen
a phone?” the
three exclaimed in nearly perfect unison.

“I’ve seen one. I know what it is and how it
works, but I’ve never used one. Would you mind using it for
me?”

Chad, unsettled by the idea that someone so
young had never used a cell phone—had never used any phone—nodded.
“Sure.” He dialed the number and spoke to William Franklin’s office
manager. At the mention of Kari and Willow Finley, he found himself
talking to Mr. Franklin. “Yes sir, I’m Officer Tesdall, and I’m at
Miss Finley’s farmhouse. We’re not quite sure what to do with
her—well yes, I realize that sir, I just meant legally and—just a
minute.”

Chad handed the phone to Willow. “He wants
to talk to you. Put this part up by your ear—be careful though, it
might be loud—and hold this part by your mouth. Don’t press any
buttons though.”

Willow attempted to hold the phone
correctly, but found it difficult to manipulate. “It’s too short. I
must have a longer jaw than you. If I put this up by my ear, the
mouth part is on my cheek—”

“It’ll work, trust me.”

The Varneys and Chad listened as Willow
assured Mr. Franklin that she’d walked to town and requested help
from the officer and that she was fine. “I asked them what to do
about the finances and they suggested I call you. It’s not time for
taxes, so I don’t know why—oh.”

A minute later, she passed the phone back to
Chad awkwardly. “I don’t know how to turn it off, but it clicked
and Mr. Franklin said goodbye. He’ll drive over Thursday and help
me with funeral arrangements and whatever else needs to be done. I
think I’m fine now.”

Feeling somewhat dismissed, Chief Varney,
his wife, and Chad offered their sympathies once more and rose from
the table. She followed them through the living room to the front
porch. Just as the chief and his wife stepped onto the grass,
Willow spoke again. “My mother always said that I might someday
want to live differently than she did. She told me never to let her
choices dictate my life if I didn’t want them.”

“Your mother was a wise woman. She knew how
to keep her daughter from rejecting her,” Darla mused with a
smile.

Willow continued as though uninterrupted.
“Mother didn’t care to be around people, but it was nice to have
someone, even—” Willow swallowed carefully and tried again. “I hope
you will visit again sometime. If I know ahead of time, I’ll cook
something, but I don’t have enough dishes so you’d have to bring
your own.”

Darla smiled and nodded. “We will. I
promise.”

Chad stood with one foot on the first step
until the chief and his wife backed around and drove down the
driveway. “Have you really never had visitors here?”

“Only Mr. Franklin. Mother either ignored
other people or came out with the shotgun—whichever seemed more
appropriate.”

“I’ve heard of your mom, I think, but people
said she lived on the other side of the lake. I always thought this
place was abandoned.” He smiled at her. “You know, I’d come visit,
but I have no way of calling to see if you’re home—”

“I’m always home,” she interjected.

“Well, you might not be now…”

Willow shook her head. “There’s too much
work to do to be traipsing all over the place. I’ll be home. Come
by anytime. If I’m busy, I’ll tell you to go home, you can talk to
me while I work, or I’ll put
you
to work.”

Halfway to his car, Chad did an about face
and returned to the porch. “If I got you a prepaid cell phone,
would you use it?”

“I don’t understand. Like yours?”

Shaking his head, Chad tried again. “It
works like mine but it’s paid for differently. You buy minutes
and—”

“You’re speaking Greek to me. Why would I
want one?”

Decisively, Chad waved her off. “I’ll get
one and show you how to use it. If you got hurt or something, no
one would know until maybe too late. I’ll bring it out after my
shift this afternoon and show you how to use it.”

Alone in the house, Willow sighed. She knew
she needed food. It was well past noon and she’d been up early. She
reached for the jar of oats and stopped. Seconds ticked by as she
debated breakfast vs. lunch and then closed the cupboard.

Halfway through her soup, reality pummeled
her from every side. With each bite, she remembered something else
left undone that morning. Ignoring the childhood memories of her
mother’s admonitions not to “bolt your food,” she inhaled the rest
of the bowl, poured a bit of water in it, and let it stand in the
sink as she hurried upstairs to change into overalls.

The goat came first. As she allowed the back
door to slam, the occasional bleating grew insistent and then
demanding. On her way to the goat pen, she raced into the barn,
grabbed a milk pail, and turned on the stove. The animal’s teats
were red, swollen, and dripping with unexpressed milk by the time
she reached Wilhelmina’s pen.

“Poor girl. I’m so sorry. Mother died today.
I forgot all about you and…” Willow talked soothingly to the animal
as she pushed the goat into the feeding/milking cage and began
cleaning the teats. The rhythmic motion of milking soothed her with
its familiarity. Something normal at last.

She continued her verbal monologue as she
fed the chickens, gathered the eggs, filled the water trough for
the beef cow, and dumped a bit of milk in the cat’s pan on her way
into the barn. Othello nudged his bowl as she pushed into the barn
kitchen. “Just a minute, boy. I’ve got some chicken soup for
you.”

Water boiled on the stove as she entered.
She immediately began the milk routine, straining, boiling the
pails, putting the washcloths in with the laundry—all of the things
she did every day while her mother cleaned the house and planned
their work.

She stumbled through the rest of the
afternoon, doing whatever she remembered to do as she remembered
it. The experience was unfamiliar and left her feeling unsettled.
She made the beds in the afternoon, which seemed almost fruitless.
Her mother’s stained sheets, bedspread, and mattress cover, freshly
washed, now flapped in the breeze outside, drying on the line.

At five, she repeated the feeding and
milking process hoping to get the animals back on a normal routine.
Wilhelmina had half the usual evening’s milk, and the cow’s trough
was nowhere near empty, but she kept to her work, hoping for some
sense of familiarity. In the cellar, the old-fashioned icebox held
the night’s dinner. The sight of two steaks was another fresh
reminder that she was alone. She climbed the steps to the kitchen
and put the steaks on the counter as she hurried upstairs to take
her shower.

Kari had always preferred a bath, but when
Willow heard of showers at the age of nine, she begged her mother
to convert their claw foot tub to accommodate a showerhead as well.
Every evening she showered and then her mother bathed while she
started dinner. Today there’d be no bath. Similar thoughts
punctuated everything she did until Willow thought she’d go crazy
with the apparent taunting.

Chad berated himself all the way to the
Finley farm. The story of Willow Finley had rippled through
Fairbury, and the town loaded his truck with cookies, pies, and two
casseroles large enough to feed a family of six that now sat beside
him as he crept down the long driveway. Glass pans rattled against
each other no matter how slowly he drove.

Othello met him at the car but didn’t bark.
“Hello boy, how’s she holding up?”

The dog whimpered. Whether because he
understood the question and grieved too, or because he was confused
and uncertain about the strange events of the day, Chad refused to
speculate. He started for the front door until he heard a sound
from the back of the house.

As he rounded the corner, Chad heard Willow
talking to someone and stopped in concern. “… and I don’t know
whether I should can half the peas we usually do or maybe three
quarters in case I have guests sometimes… What would I do with the
extra? Should I can them all and then give away what I don’t think
I’ll need? Maybe there are people in need around the holidays who
would like them? Oh Mother, you thought of all the important stuff
like finances, but those are all one-time decisions and then done.
What about the day-to-day living?”

Chad realized he had a decision to make. If
he knocked on her door, it would set himself up to be a friend,
helper, and probable confidant. Fishing and hunting would be
replaced with canning and whatever else they—well now she—did
around this place. He didn’t want to do it. Sunday’s sermon on
bearing one another’s burdens echoed through his mind and heart,
but he stuffed it back. He could go home. He could send the church
with the phone and be out of her life for good. He wanted to do it.
He wanted to drive away while he still could.

A sob drifted out the window and soaked into
his heart. He had a sister about her age. Chad tried to imagine
Cheri all alone in the world. No friends. No church—that thought
stopped him. He couldn’t ignore someone who might need Jesus. He
turned again to climb the back steps and the back door opened.

“Hey Willow! I brought you that phone.” He
held the casserole and pies up sheepishly. “The town heard about
your mom and sent out a ton of food.”

Carrying a platter with two steaks, Willow
hurried to the grill, dumped the steaks unceremoniously on it, and
turned it on as she did. “Here, let me take that. I appreciate
it.”

“I’ll go get the rest. There’s more. You’ll
need to freeze it or it’ll all go bad.”

They repackaged the food into smaller
quantities and Chad helped her carry it to the barn. To his
surprise, a combination mudroom and second kitchen was just inside
the door. A sink, stove, refrigerator, and upright freezer stood
along one wall while a washer and dryer sat opposite.

“Why is all of this out here? Why not in the
house?”

“We don’t turn on the electricity inside
most of the year.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Mother had to do without electricity while
the man rewired the house when she moved in and she discovered she
liked not having it. No electricity meant no radios, no
televisions; she went to bed early and got up early, and she did a
lot more reading and things around the house.”