Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Episode 15 (5 page)

“
Simple
.”

He eyed her warily.
“
Oh?
”

She took off running toward the field.
“
They didn
’
t want you to be jealous!
”

Willow heard the bathwater running upstairs and smiled to herself as she fried chicken.
It felt almost like
“
old times
”
when she
’
d make dinner while Mother bathed.
How Chad could stand laying in water that slowly grew cold, she
’
d never understand.
Her hair
,
still
dripping after her own shower, soaked her shirt as
Willow rolled her shoulders
,
stretching out the kinks that occasionally tried to form in them.

The kitchen felt warm.
They
’
d have to eat on the porch.
Willow had
long
noticed that Chad felt the temperature extremes differently than she did.
What she considered comfortably warm or cool were hot and cold to him.
She tossed a salad, sliced bread, and jumped as Chad
’
s arms wrapped around her waist.

“
That was sneaky!
”

“
And after the mud clod fight, you deserved sneaky
.”

“
How was I supposed to know you
’
d never had a mud fight?
”
The innocence in her tones didn
’
t change the mischievous look on her face.

“
I can
’
t believe you and your mother used to do stuff like that.
At your age!
”

“
Mother said we shouldn
’
t give up our favorite fun just because the calendar told some people we were too old for it
.”

Chad popped a cherry tomato in his mouth and collapsed in the rocking chair exhausted.
“
Mother was right
.”

Willow turned, her eyes slowly filling with tears.
Deep sobs welled inside her and then wracked her body.
She sank to the floor in front of
the kitchen sink lost in grief.

“Wha—” Chad
flew across the room, his alarm barely reaching her consciousness.

For several minutes, he held her, hushed her, wiped her tears, and then held her some more.
Nothing he said or did helped to calm the emotional torment that
swallowed
her.
The chicken burned
;
Chad tossed the pan in the sink, and still Willow curled into a ball, her back to the sink, and sobbed until her heart was empty.

“
I
’
m
—”
she choked back tears.
“
I
’
m sorry about the chicken
.”

“
What
’
s wrong
,
l
ass?
”

Willow knew he
hated seeing her like this.
She hadn
’
t cried
like that in months—not around him anyway.
“
It
’
s silly.
I feel so stupid
.”
New tears, quiet ones
this time
, spilled over her cheeks splashing onto his hands.

“
I still don
’
t understand
—”

“
You didn
’
t say
your
mother this time.
You just called her
Mother
.
It felt like you finally became a part of my family too instead of the other way around
.”
She blushed at his look of incredulity.
“
I told you it was silly
.”

“I can’t take credit for anything.
I could just as easily have said ‘your’ again. I never meant to sound distant—”

“You didn’t.
This just felt like she was ‘our’ mother now instead of just mine—like Marianne feels like ‘ours.’”

“
I know I would have loved y
—
Mother, but Willow, I never knew her.
I often think of her as just
‘
M
other
’
but other tim
es…”

“
I
’
m sorry,
”
Willow jumped to her feet brushing away her tears.
“
I know it
’
s crazy
,
but I always feel like I
’
m continually taking and never giving anything
.”

“
You gave me you.
What more could I ask for?
”
He stood and
brushed her hair away from her face
,
his heart ach
ing
at the sight of her puffy eyes.
“
We
’
ll get to know your grandparents, aunt, uncle, cousins
—
you
’
ll see.
I got a new family too.
You just don
’
t know them that much better than I do is all
.”

She gave him a halfhearted smile.
“
I also gave you a charred meal.
Every bride
’
s nightmare
,
eh?
”

“
How about a trip to town and dinner at the Coventry?
”

“
Deal
.”

Chad waited until she stood and then added,
“
And then when we get home, I
’
m going to whip your bum in Yahtzee
.”

“
Don
’
t you mean
…?
”

Chad snatched the kitchen towel and snapped it after her as she raced toward the stairs.
“
Get up there and get changed
,
woman!
”

Early Wednesday morning, before the sun forced its way over the eastern horizon, Chad rolled over and his arm curled cozily around
—
nothing.
Subconsciously, he knew something was wrong
,
but it took him several minutes to fight his way out of sleep
and
back to the land of consciousness.
Willow was gone
—
her side of the bed, cold.

He shivered at the cool air that hit his arms and legs as he crawled from the covers and wrapped the robe from their personal shower around him.
Chad remembered her hanging it on the wall next to his side of the bed
,
assuring him he
’
d need it.
He
had told her she was
crazy but here he was, wrapping it around him
,
shivering.
The open window sent damp breezes into their house.

Their house.
Already he
’
d begun to feel possessive of her property.
Was that good?
As he jogged down the steps to the living room, Chad pondered
the question
but came to no conclusion.

She wasn
’
t in the living room, kitchen, or library.
He glanced out the back door but saw no lights in the barn.
The front porch looked dark as well, so he wearily climbed the stairs again checking the craft and newly decorated
“
sitting room
,”
but Willow seemed to have vanished.

“
Willow?
”
Why he called quietly, Chad couldn
’
t explain
—
even to himself.
In their room, he stared hard out the window trying to discern if the lump by the oak where her
—
their mother was buried was the gravestones or if Willow had gone out there again.
He couldn
’
t tell.