Past Forward Volume 1 (13 page)

“I didn’t realize anyone celebrated that
holiday. Mother always said it was just a way to point out
significant things on a calendar.”

Chuckling, Chad took her suitcase from her
and gestured toward the street. “Most places don’t, but Fairbury’s
founder, Thaddeus Fairbury, was born on June fourteenth, so we have
a street fair with a founder’s day theme every year. Anything to
bring in the tourists.”

“So the bus coming in should be full?”

He answered affirmatively before they
continued up the street. Her observations never ceased to amaze
him. Willow Finley was the most irritatingly unique and interesting
person he’d ever met, and he still didn’t know what he thought of
her.

As they strolled down the street, he kept an
eye on his watch but tried to let her enjoy the sights. She’d never
seen a Fairbury street fair. Considering Willow was a lifelong
resident of Fairbury—so to speak—that fact astounded him. She
fingered handcrafted jewelry and beautiful woodwork. As familiar as
Chad had become with her facial expressions, he felt reasonably
confident in knowing when something impressed, amused, or
disappointed her.

Wayne Farrell at the Pettler handed her a
daisy and smiled at her truly delighted expression. “Have a happy
day, miss.”

“Wasn’t that kind of him? I feel like I
should pay for it but—”

The florist’s delight in her appreciation
reminded him of what a nice town Fairbury truly was. It was easy to
forget that in the press of everyday living. “Did you see the
barrel of daisies?”

“Mmm hmm.” Already, Willow was engrossed in
her flower and the sight of a fruit stand.

“He gives one to everyone who passes by.
It’s his thing. I even heard once that he gives twins two.”

“I’ve never really cared for daisies, but I
love this. It’s bright and fresh. The ones we grew were orange and
ugly. These might be my new favorite flower.”

Around the corner from the Fox, a small
ticket vending machine stood waiting for her to insert her credit
or debit card to purchase her ticket. “I don’t have a card. I just
have cash.”

“I’ve never used the bus, but you can
probably pay the driver.”

They sat on the bench, Willow growing more
nervous every second. “Where is everyone? What time is it? What if
he won’t take my money and I can’t go?”

Without a word, Chad stood, went to the
vending machine, and purchased a ticket for her. Though he knew he
couldn’t relieve all her concerns, this was something he could fix.
“Here. You’re at least safe until you get there.”

Willow glanced at the ticket price and
pulled her mother’s wallet from the tote bag she carried. As she
reached in to retrieve the fare, Chad’s hand clamped over hers.
“Not now. Who knows how much money you’ll need in Rockland? You can
pay me later if you like. Keep your cash for an emergency. And tell
Franklin to get your ticket home.” He glanced up and saw the twenty
passenger shuttle-like bus pull slowly into the parking lot. “Call
me when you find Franklin, ok?”

Willow nodded, feeling oddly like she should
hug him or something. She picked up her suitcase and waited for the
bus full of passengers to exit. After the last passenger stepped
off the bus, she moved to climb aboard.

“Oh, and call me when you’re on your way
back so I know what time to pick you up,” Chad added as an
afterthought.

“I’ll do that! Thank you! I left a note for
you on the table in the living room.”

She handed the driver her ticket and slipped
into the first seat on Chad’s side of the bus. From the window, she
waved, and as he turned and disappeared around the corner, she
sighed.

“Missing him already?”

Willow’s eyes flew to the bus driver as he
slid from his seat to check the bus. Her mouth opened to say no and
clamped shut again. Confusion swirled through her eyes for a moment
and she replied, “Yes.”

The Rockland skyline grew larger with each
passing mile. Willow felt quite intimidated and nervous as she
watched buildings grow from bumps on the ground to towers in the
air. By the time the bus reached the Metro Travel Hub just inside
the city limits, she seriously considered returning immediately to
Fairbury.

She held her phone ready to dial as they
pulled into the bus terminals. She watched as the Amtrak trains
whizzed into the station across the way and as an airplane took off
in the distance. The sheer numbers of travelers was enough to
overwhelm her without the people, buildings, and of course, the
taxis.

Most of the bus passengers in the station
thronged to a set of escalators and Willow was swept along with
them. A street musician sang a morbid melody at the corner with his
guitar case open. Few people stopped to listen and fewer dropped
spare change in the case.

Just as she reached the escalators, she
jerked back, bumping into a woman. “Oh I am so sorry! It’s
moving!”

“What do you think? Watch where you’re
going!”

Stunned at the rude words and cold stare,
Willow jumped back and watched as person after person stepped onto
the moving stairs and disappeared into the cavern below. While she
assumed that she should follow, fear welled up inside her. What was
down there? Was it safe? Would she hurt herself on the steps that
appeared from seemingly out of nowhere? Why hadn’t Mother ever
mentioned these? She knew about elevators, of course—boxes that
were pulled up and down in the walls of a building—but moving
stairs?

The musician watched with a curious eye.
Suddenly his tune changed, and Willow noticed the upbeat jingle
almost immediately.

“…
the step and you will
see

Little miss just please trust me

The escalator is lots of fun

And keeps us all on the run.”

A laugh escaped before she could stop
herself. The rhyme was truly pitiful. The musician shrugged and
said, “I just play ‘em girl, I don’t write ‘em. Go ahead. You’ll be
fine. Fine. Ok. Safe.”

He made motions that meant nothing to her.
For a moment, Willow didn’t understand why he talked as if she
couldn’t understand his words and then she laughed again. “I speak
English.”

“Oh. Thought you were one of them tourists
from places that don’t have escalators.”

Before she could answer, Bill jogged up to
her and took her suitcase. “Willow! I’ve been looking everywhere!”
He glanced at her briefly. “Nice dress. It’s perfect.”

Without realizing he’d interrupted a
conversation, Bill led her away from the escalators. Willow glanced
over her shoulder apologetically and waved, mouthing a “thank you”
as she did. Suddenly, she broke away from Bill and returned to the
man’s guitar case. She dug through her tote bag, found her mother’s
wallet, and pulled several bills from it, avoiding twenties,
fifties, and the three hundred-dollar bills she’d brought with her.
With a smile of gratitude, she dropped the money in the case and
returned to Bill.

“He was so nice to me. I had to do
something.”

“If you drop money like that to every
panhandler in Rockland, you’ll be broke in no time. This is a
dangerous city—especially for women as naïve as you. Just be
careful.”

“Well, I can’t give money to everyone, but I
could to him and I’m glad I did.”

Bill hailed a taxi and dumped her suitcase
in the trunk. Confused, Willow asked why he hadn’t driven his car.
“I just assumed—”

“I never bring it down here. Crime is
terrible around here, and my car is one of the most stolen
makes.”

With a shudder, Willow queried, “How can you
stand it?”

“Stand what?”

“Living here—like this. Where you can’t even
drive the car you own because it might be stolen or vandalized or
whatever else you’re afraid of.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he opened the cab
door for her and told the driver where to go. Eyes wide, she gaped
at the sights as the cab drove into the heart of the city and along
Massinger Avenue to the Rockland Arts Center. Adjacent to the
enormous convention and theater center stood the Rockland
Towers—her hotel. The taxi dropped them off near the entrance, and
as Willow stepped from the cab, she froze. Bill grabbed her
suitcase and gestured for her to follow, but she stood immobile,
her feet firmly rooted to the cement beneath her feet.

“Come on, Willow—” Fear slowly crept over
her features until Bill handed the suitcase to the bellhop, and
sent it inside ahead of them.

“It’s so big. Look how tall they are! How
can you breathe?”

Her shallow, rapid breathing caused his
voice to raise a little, alarmed. “Take a deep breath.” Her attempt
was weak at best. “Deeper. Slowly in, now out. Repeat. Come on,
slowly. A little deeper now. You can do it.”

Willow’s breathing slowed and leveled to a
more normal pace. Each second that passed showed another
building—another string of vehicles in the parade beneath giant
skyscrapers, as though playing the children’s game, London Bridge,
and waiting for the moment when they “all fell down.”

“How—”

“Let’s go inside. You’ll feel better, I
think.”

Inside, her panic slowly evaporated, and she
found herself entranced by the décor. The beauty of the
furnishings, the elegance of the fixtures, and the detail in the
interior architecture belied the tall, boxy tower’s exterior. As
she admired the frescoed ceilings, a new sense of claustrophobia
engulfed her, sending her eyes across the registration desk in
fresh panic.

“How old is this building?”

The desk clerk smiled and ignored the
interruption to her check-in process. “The tower was built almost
ten years ago. The RAC and Convention Annex is about fifteen years
old. We took over the parking garage and they built a larger one
across the street.”

“Is it safe?”

Bill’s eyes flew to Willow. “Safe?”

“The building. Is it safe?”

He thanked the desk clerk for her help, took
the room card key, grabbed Willow’s suitcase, and led her toward
the stairs. A glance at the room number stopped him. “We have to
take the elevator. You’re on the eleventh floor.”

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to ride in an
elevator!”

Bill led her to the elevator and punched the
appropriate button. Willow glanced around her, absorbing every
detail as the silver box shot upward into the hotel. He wanted to
talk to her—reassure her that all was well. However, it seemed best
to wait until she was safely in her room.

As the doors opened, she followed her escort
through the hallway to a corner room at the end of the hall. Bill
apologized as he opened the door for her. “I didn’t think about how
unfamiliar all of this would be. It just never occurred—I was
concerned about court, dealing with the traffic and such, but not
this. I’m so sorry.”

“Is it safe? I keep thinking of the weight
of several more stories above me and wonder why they don’t come
crashing down on top of us.”

In an attempt to reassure her, Bill said the
worst thing possible. “Well if it hasn’t fallen down in ten
years—”

“But that is my point! Every year brings
decay. Things get weaker! When will it all come crumbling
down?”

“There are multi-storied buildings in this
city that are over fifty years old. They’re still standing strong.
There are stone castles several stories high that are centuries
old. There is a whole science to structural engineering. You’re
safe.”

Willow took a deep steadying breath and
glanced around the room. “It’s a beautiful room—so large for just a
place to stay overnight!”

“Come over here. Look at the city from up
here. Maybe it’ll take away that closed-in feeling.”

She shook her head vehemently. “I think it
would be too much.”

“What if I hold your shoulders?”

She stepped closer to the large window
overlooking Rockland Boulevard. Bill stood behind her, hands on
shoulders, and waited for her to step close enough to see the city.
“Wow, even from up here the buildings are so tall and close. You
get more sky, but there are still a lot of really tall
buildings.”

She took another step and reached out to
push aside the sheer coverings of the windows. Long heavy drapes
hung at the sides ready to close her off from a view of the skyline
at the flick of a wrist. “You still there?”

Bill gave her the slightest nudge and she
touched the window lock. She leaned nervously against it to get a
closer view. The street looked like a paint swipe on a canvas
rather than the four-lane boulevard that it was. “Wow. That’s
amazing. It almost makes you dizzy but in a neat way.”

She turned comfortably away from the window
as though she’d grown up in a penthouse and wandered around the
room examining furniture, testing the bed, and peeking into the
bathroom. One look at her reflection in the mirror and Willow
hurried to retrieve a brush from her tote bag. She turned to the
room mirror and brushed out messy tendrils. “There. So now
what?”

Bill glanced at his watch. “We might be a
bit early, but we can get out of the cab a block or two away and
walk the rest. You can get a feel for the city better if you’re on
the sidewalk.”

She expected the cab to whiz through the
city streets at a breakneck speed, but instead, the taxi crawled
along behind dozens of other taxies and what seemed like millions
of cars. It took twenty minutes to travel just over a mile. In the
old town district, buildings were constructed of brick and
brownstone some in neoclassical architecture. The Oakes stood
strong and beautiful as a perfect example of an historic Greek
revival home. Built in the late eighteen hundreds by Rockland’s
unofficial founder, it was a wedding present for his youngest
daughter.

Willow was entranced. As she took her seat,
she sniffed the creamy roses on their table, ran one finger lightly
down the vase, and caressed the butter-soft napkin as she unfolded
it and slipped it into her lap. She requested water and
complimented the hostess on her pink boutonniere. A string quartet
played softly in one corner, and as the song changed to one she
knew, Willow dropped her hands in her lap and watched them,
entranced.