Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Episode 16 (16 page)

Mother
’
s particularity for neatness was a blessing now.
A kitchen cleaned as it is used is easy to polish when you
’
re done using it.
The house needed little work done
,
but Willow remembered Chad mentioning his dislike for hotel beds and decided to change the sheets and blankets for him.
He
’
d sleep better in fresh linens and with clean blankets.

Automatically, she reached for the sheets they
’
d always used but paused.
A set of unused and silky soft cotton sheets caught her eye.
They
’d been a gift from her U
ncle Kyle and his family for the wedding
,
and she
’
d washed, dried, and folded them with the rest of the linens without expecting to use them for some time
,
but now she ran her fingers over them again.
They were so buttery feeling.
Perhaps
—

With a happy smile on her face, she grabbed the sheets and went to strip her bed.
Her mattress pad looked limp and the sight of it sent her back to the linen closet where she pulled her mother
’
s from the top shelf.
Sniffing it carefully, she nodded with satisfaction; there wasn
’
t a trace of dust or mustiness.

Singing as she worked, Willow made the bed
,
adding her favorite lightweight summer blankets and her lightweight quilted coverlet.
She loved the beauty of quilts
,
but even the lightest weight batting was often too warm in summer so she
’
d made one with only a layer of low thread-count muslin as a batting one year
It was perfect for hot summer nights.

Scooping up the pile of laundry, she dumped the bathroom hamper into the heap and carried it all downstairs to the back porch.
Portia would probably have a lovely time sleeping on her blankets
,
but right at that moment, Willow didn
’
t care.
She refused to go near the barn unless absolutely necessary.

The phone stood forlorn on the counter.
No flashing lights
announced
a message.
She picked it
up called to leave a voicemail
.
“
I just wanted to see how you were doing and ask you to call or send a note.
Everything is good here except that you
’
re not.
Here that is.
Anyway, praying for you…
bye…
”

He
’
d warned her that things were uncertain during trials.
Anything could delay things, the judge could req
uire them to turn in their cell
phones and all kinds of electronic gadgets before entering the courtroom
,
or he could be required to stay for another day.
Willow, not really expecting it to be an issue, had assured him she
’
d see him when he got home and not to worry
a
bout her.
She
’
d never imagined that she
’
d begin to worry about him.

“
You
’
re being ridiculous.
Just because the last time he didn
’
t answer the phone was a nightmare doesn
’
t mean it always is.
Go read a book or make something
.”

By nine o
’
clock, she
’
d given up hope that he
’
d be home that night.
The roast, cooked until it fell apart at the touch, was delicious and hardly touched.
Sitting in the ice
box and waiting to be reheated, it was a testimony to
an
ingenious invention, the crock-pot
,
and to the sadness of one person eating it alone.

The coffee table was covered with a layer of handmade note cards and a stack of matching envelopes stood waiting to be paired with a card.
She carefully replaced her supplies in their basket before returning it to the craft room and snapping off the light.
In her room, she pulled a silky set of shorts and camisole from her drawers and examined it.
Would the fabric breathe and be cool or would it be uncomfortable?
It looked cool and felt so luxurious that she decided to try it.
One glance at the bed sent a wave of disappointment over her.
It wouldn
’
t be fresh anymore by tomorrow night and with the rain and her day off, she didn
’
t have time to do extra laundry to do it all over again.

Willow wandered through the house straightening little things and feeling lost.
She was tired but antsy.
The cards on her table were finally dry so she stacked them and set them on the bookshelf until she felt like matching them with envelopes.
Finally, she stepped outside carrying her favorite couch pillow and curled into the porch swing to watch the stars, listen to the cicadas
’
song, and reconnect with her Lord.

The pain
intensified, seemingly with every passing nanosecond
.
He stared at the little button that could help alleviate some of the misery he was in and hesitated.
Which was better
—
keeping off the medication so he could drive sooner
,
or ensuring that he stayed on top of it long enough to heal enough to be able to drive in the first place.
For the first time, Chad was grateful that they
’
d talked him out of the manual transmission.
With his throbbing
,
bandaged hand,
he would never have been able
to operate a gearshift.

A nurse entered the room.
“
So, we
’
re awake.
Time for some pain medication?
”

“
I can
’
t decide which is better
—
less so it’s out of my system
sooner
or more so that I don
’
t get overwhelmed
.”

“
Use the PCA.
You can wait until you think it
’
ll override you
,
but if your body
has to fight pain and fight infection, it
’
ll take you longer to heal
.”

With the next level of pain, Chad pushed the button.
Twice.
The clock said two-thirty.
In seven hours
,
his parents would arrive
,
and by then, perhaps he
’
d feel better.
He had to get sleep to heal.
The phone next to his bed taunted him.
She
’
d answer
,
even at this time of night
,
and though Willow wouldn
’
t worry, she would be confused.

He slowly awoke to the sounds of whispering and the feeling of losing all blood flow to his arm.
“
He
’
s been sleeping since I got on shift,
”
a masculine voice whispered.
“
The chart says he
’
s checking himself out after his next surgery even if it is AMA
.”

“
AMA?
”
The voice belonged to his mother.

“
Against medical advice
.”

“
Probably has something to do with why he didn
’
t want us to call Willow, Marianne
.”

A few minutes later, the sound of retreating footsteps and the continued whispers of his parents jarred him back to consciousness.
“
Is he worried about her safety
,
do you think?
”