Past Forward Volume 1 (29 page)

Lost in thought again, he jumped at the
sound of the officer’s voice. “Hey, Chad. Do you have a
moment?”

Chad had considered not answering the call,
but Bill needed to be encouraged to keep pursuing whatever interest
he had in Willow. “What can I do for you?”

“How about a birthday party for Willow?”

Birthday—she hadn’t mentioned anything about
that... “When is her birthday?”

“Monday. I’m taking her to dinner this
Friday, so it’d have to be Saturday sometime.”

“Well if you’re coming on Friday anyway, why
not just celebrate then? What does this have to do with me?” Chad
really didn’t want to get involved in Bill and Willow’s
relationship. Seeing light at the end of the proverbial tunnel had
given him hope of freedom from the big brother role he’d
adopted.

“I was thinking more of a party. Willow has
never had a birthday party—well, not one with guests and presents,
and crazy party games and such.”

“A party. For her birthday.”

“Is there a problem?”

What? You don’t know how to handle it if
I don’t jump to agree to your requests?
The thought gave him
the catharsis necessary to ask what needed to be asked. “Where do
you suggest we have this party?”

An hour later, Chad returned Bill’s call,
the fledgling plans for a party already set in motion. “Ok, I
reserved the gazebo in the town square, Joe said Alexa will arrange
for some music, and we’re calling everyone in the church to bring a
potluck dinner. Anything else?”

“Decorations. Do you have any ideas?”

Chad groaned. “No, but I’ll get my little
sister Cheri to figure something out.”

“Does Cheri live there with you?” Why Bill
would care, Chad didn’t know, but the next question jerked the
thought from his mind. “Oh, and what kind of lodging is
available?”

“There’s the resort on the lake, but it
mostly rents cabins. There’s the bed and breakfast, though. We
actually have two of those but—” Chad paused, trying to stop
himself from saying what he felt obligated to say. “But they’re
probably all booked this time of year. If you want to stay over,
you’re welcome to my couch.” He kicked himself as each word zipped
through the airwaves.

“I might take you up on that if it gets
late, thanks. I’ll have Mari call you for directions later. Let me
know if I need to do anything else. I’ll call that bakery there and
order a cake. The Confectionary, right?”

“Yeah.” Swallowing hard, Chad added one more
suggestion. “Bill?”

“Yeah?”

“Buy her the biggest bunch of white daisies
you can afford.”

“Ok.”

Chad stared at his phone as it disconnected.
That was somewhat underwhelming.

Anticipation of their date left Bill nervous
and jittery as he drove up the long winding drive to Willow’s yard.
Even from several dozen yards back, he could see her sitting on the
steps, her skirt fanned out beside her and book in hand. Her head
didn’t rise from the pages as she read. His hands slipped around on
the steering wheel, clammy with perspiration.
Get a grip,
man.
His eyes rolled at the thought.

The car rolled to a stop just a few yards
from the porch. Willow stood and waved, shaking out her skirt as
she skipped down the steps. Golden hair—so much lighter than
Kari’s—swayed with each step. A sound caught her attention and she
turned toward it, giving him a perfect glimpse of her profile. In
those brief seconds, she looked more like Kari than he’d ever seen.
Miserably, he wiped his hands on his pants before stepping out of
the vehicle.

“Hello,” he croaked. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You said traffic…”

“Yeah.”
Think, man! Think! Say something
that has some depth or meaning. Come on.
“Nice dress.”
Oh,
yeah.
That was deep.
“Why did you buy new clothes when
you had a dress like that—and that white one…”

“It’s new, silly. I made it after visiting
Boho. It’s probably horribly out of fashion, but I decided that I
don’t care. I don’t have time to keep up with what everyone else is
wearing.”

“It looks like the kind of thing my trendy
neighbor wears, so I can’t imagine it is too out of style! So
you’re getting a whole new wardrobe?” Bill opened her door,
shutting it gently after she pulled her skirt in and out of the
way.
Smart. Ask a question and then shut the door on her. What
is wrong with me? Since when do I not know how to talk to a
woman?

As he turned the car around, Bill listened
as Willow explained her sudden interest in new clothes. “I just
didn’t realize how worn my dresses and skirts are. I mean, I really
don’t care about my jeans and cut-offs. They’re work clothes, but
since we tend to wear things until they aren’t repairable or we
hate the sight of them…” She shrugged. “In answer to your question,
I guess it’s a partial yes.”

Once on the highway, Bill’s thoughts
returned to the annual trips he’d made over the years. “You must
have worn nicer things when I came. I can’t remember anything that
was seedy.”

Willow shrugged and watched the trees and
fences fly by until they drove into Fairbury. The silence choked
him. Had he offended her? Probably. Frustrated, Bill turned off the
town square almost immediately and then into a nearly full parking
lot. “Here we are.”
How original. Perhaps you should add
something ingenious like, “See, we have arrived,” too. Just in case
she didn’t catch that.

She pointed to the Fairbury Library sign
over the doorway and said, “Are we devouring books for dinner?”

Finally, a topic he could speak on that was
remotely interesting. “They outgrew this building and used it as a
storage facility for the new library until about eight years
ago.”

“And now it’s a restaurant?”

He nodded. “An investment group from
Rockland turned it into a dinner theater. It’s been quite
successful.”

As she stepped from the car, Willow glanced
up at Bill, smiling. “You were one of those investors, weren’t
you?”

“It was Kari’s suggestion, actually. She
read about the plans while doing some sort of research at the new
library.”

“Why didn’t Mother invest?”

While they waited for their table, Bill
explained her mother’s conservative investment strategy and
summarized it with, “She wasn’t willing to risk any part of your
future. She wanted it as secure as we could make it while still
providing growth opportunities.”

“Is that how you would have approached
it?”

Though tempted, to plot out the kind of
growth strategy he’d always wanted the chance to use on the Finley
accounts, Bill resisted. Instead of launching into a full-blown
presentation, he simply said,

“Well, we can start having quarterly
meetings if you like. You could make small adjustments and branch
out further as you become more comfortable.” As if to rescue him,
the hostess arrived, leading them to their table. Bill added
quietly as they were seated, “And besides, it’d give you an excuse
to come to Rockland and see more of the city. I bought tickets to
the Fall/Winter session of the symphony. I hoped you’d come at
least once or twice.”

“Symphony? Really? I’d love it.” Her
forehead wrinkled at a new thought. “What if it’s on a day when I
can’t come? You shouldn’t have spent the money yet.”

“I’ll give them to Mari. She and her husband
always enjoy my unused tickets.”

Before she could reply, a man in the chair
closest to her slumped to the floor, while his dinner partner
shrieked at the top of her lungs. Willow’s eyes grew wide as she
saw a pool of blood forming around his head. She swallowed hard,
and then screamed. Not a sound emanated from her throat, but all
who saw her knew the silent terror that she tried to release.

Bill watched, frozen with amazement, as she
flung herself onto the floor, listening for the man’s breathing. He
jumped from the table and tried to pull her away, but her horror
stricken face cut him as she demanded, “Call an ambulance! He’s not
dead yet!”

Nearly home—should she let him know she
wasn’t upset yet, or make him wait a bit longer? A sidelong glance
told her he could stand just a little more “humiliation” before she
confessed. There it was again; he was watching her out of the
corner of his eyes. Her mother used to do that. With Mother, it
usually meant she was growing suspicious.

“This drive is so much smoother than I
remember,” Bill mused as if to himself.

“Chad brought something and tied it to the
back of his truck. He dragged it up and down that thing for an hour
the other day, but I have to agree, it does feel better. I should
thank him.”

Bill parked the car and strolled to her
side, opening the door with just a trace of nervousness—almost
tangible. Willow glanced up at him, a sheepish grin on her face.
“Can you believe I said that?”

“What?”

“‘
He’s not dead yet!’ I
think my reaction nearly finished him off, actor or no
actor.”

Repressed chuckles escaped as Bill relived
the moment. “I couldn’t believe it when you jumped up to try to
revive him. Everyone thought you were part of the act.” He shut the
door behind her and glanced around him. “It’s so quiet out here—so
solitary.” The pup yapped her disapproval in the barn. “Well,
mostly quiet.”

Her eyes followed his, trying to see her
farm from his perspective. The moon, a sliver of an arc, hung in
the sky. “I used to love to swing out back when the moon was like
that.”

“Not full?”

She shook her head. “No. I always felt
exposed—like there was a spotlight on me, or something, when the
moon was full. I liked the crescents.” Willow thought for a moment.
“Well, for swinging anyway.”

He took a step toward the barn. “Come on,
show me.”

A smile lit her face as Willow grabbed
Bill’s hand and led him around behind the barn to the old swing.
Fireflies danced in the air, giving her special place a magical
feeling as she slipped into the swing, expertly tucked her skirt
under one leg, and took a few steps backward. She released, sailing
into the air. On her return, Bill pushed the seat, sending her even
higher.

“Is that board strong?”

“It’ll hold.”

Another question followed another push.
“What about the rope? Is it sturdy?”

“It was the other day.” His concern—it
touched her with its charm.

“What do I smell?”

Willow’s sensitive nose smelled a million
things at once. As she whizzed through the air, she caught the
sweet fragrance of honeysuckle, the pungent scent of Wilhelmina’s
fertilizer, and, if she went high enough, she could even smell the
alfalfa on the other side of the grove. “I don’t know. Does it
smell good or bad?”

“It’s some kind of flower I think.”

“Honeysuckle. We’ve used it to make wine and
sherbet. I like the nectar.” Willow flew through the air and landed
several feet away.