Past Forward Volume 1 (47 page)

“Your friends didn’t stay long. The nurse
called me right at noon.”

Willow glanced up from the album as Bill
entered the room. “Oh, you’re here. Come look what Alexa’s brother
gave me!”

At the sight of the cover picture, Bill
spoke without thinking. “I want one of those. That is the
best—”

Willow pulled the picture from the “window”
before he finished. “Take it. Without those flowers—”

Bill pulled the album from her grasp and
reinserted the picture. “Wes is a professional. I can order one
from him. Don’t destroy your gift on my account.”

“But you—”

Bill tipped her chin and held her gaze.
“Just show me the rest of the photos.”

He found several pictures that he wanted,
but after her reaction to the first one, he kept it to himself.
Chad would know how to get in touch with Alexa or her brother. The
album showed hard copy of glimpses of the party still written on
each person’s heart. How he did it, Bill didn’t know, but he wanted
a piece of it nevertheless.

“When I get married, I want Wes to be my
photographer,” he mused absently.

“You’re getting married?” Willow’s voice
showed surprise and interest that he couldn’t interpret.

“No—well, not anytime soon. You have to have
a girlfriend, and then you usually need a fiancée, and then you can
start thinking about weddings.”

“Well is Ms. Chen available? She already
cleans your house…”

“Funny.”

Willow’s eyes drooped and a sigh escaped.
Bill removed the album from her and readjusted the pillow. Her IV
trolley had wound the tubes around it enough that she couldn’t roll
over onto her side so he unwound it and helped her get settled. In
minutes, she slept—a faint snore escaping every minute or two.

A physical therapist arrived and insisted on
waking her, but Bill bullied him out of the room and demanded that
Willow be allowed to rest. The nurses tried to side with the
therapist, but after a call to the surgeon, things quieted back
down. Each person that passed the room found Bill outside the door,
almost as if standing guard.

“Protective isn’t he?” one nurse groused to
another.

“Creepy and controlling if you ask me,” the
second nurse retorted sending a pointed look in Bill’s
direction.

Bill’s expression never changed.

Chad burst through the door that evening,
but Willow was still asleep. “Sorry I’m late; I got here and
suddenly felt very hungry, so I ate before I came in. Hope you
weren’t waiting. How’s she doing?” His whispers made Willow stir, a
whimper escaping as she moved her leg.

Bill pulled Chad from the room and updated
him on her morning, the physical therapy, and stressed his opinion
that she needed a full night’s sleep before trying again. Stunned
by Bill’s commandeering attitude, Chad made non-committal noises
and thanked Bill for sitting with her before he turned back to her
room, leaving Bill standing outside the doorway. Alone.

As he sank into the vinyl
make-into-a-miserable-excuse-for-a-bed chair, Chad saw the photo
album. The picture of Willow and the daisies on the cover was
enough to make him try to get comfortable in the chair with the
album. The party was somewhat of a blur for him but each picture
helped him relive it in a fresh new way. The paper daisies Cheri
had strung around the gazebo and the tiny white lights that
illuminated them—the pictures captured it all. He needed to thank
Cheri for all the work she put into making it special. She must
have been up for hours.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Willow murmured
sleepily.

“Hey, you’re awake. I hear you had a rough
day.”

She sighed. “Bill got a little protective
from what I heard, but then again, I was so tired I’m not really
sorry.” She smiled. “Physical therapy hurts.”

“Cut muscles hurt.”

“I concur.”

They talked about the animals, how far
behind she was, and the vegetables Jill had taken. Chad didn’t like
the listlessness he saw in her eyes. Willow looked wilted. Never
had she resembled her namesake more.

“Ready to go home?”

“Yes. I tried to get them to let me go
tonight, but I guess because I don’t have a car or anyone living
with me, they don’t want me to go until tomorrow. That,” she paused
and winked, “and the fact that they want to torture me again with
more physical therapy sessions.”

“I could sneak in some ice cream.”

She smiled but shook her head. “Now if I had
one of Mother’s donuts…”

“I’ll get you my favorite apple fritter.
There’s a bakery near here that has great ones. I’ll be right
back.”

Chad hurried to procure the contraband, and
the moment he stepped outside the hospital building, he dialed his
mother. “Mom? Help.”

For the next block, he explained what had
happened, how it would affect Willow, and asked what he should do.
Her words surprised him. “It’ll be alright, son. You’ll help her
through this. It’s what you do best. It’s why you became an
officer—you like to help people.”

“Her food though—all that work. How can she
possibly pick bushels of fruit, process it, store it, and whatever
else she has planned for fall? That hay—she needs it.” He sighed.
“She lives for this stuff and she can’t do it now, but what’s
worse, she has to just to survive.”

“So go buy one of those harvester things
that Zeke used to use on Libby’s back yard and cut it down for
her.”

“I have a life, Mom!”

The line went silent. He knew what she was
doing. She’d wait until she knew he was listening—there it was.
“Son, do you have a life? What do you do? You work. That is your
life. Once you’re off work, you sleep and avoid that dismal
apartment of yours. You rented one of the most charming places in
Fairbury, and it looks like someone just moved out. You don’t spend
much time with friends, because your only friends are other cops
who work when you don’t and vice versa.”

“Mom!”

“Listen Chaddie my laddie—” Chad’s groan
interrupted her, but she continued. “You don’t even visit us, but
ever since that Finley woman died, you’ve come alive. You know I’d
never be thankful that someone has to go through that kind of loss,
but I am thankful that if it had to happen, you were there.”

“Don’t make this a big romance, Mom; she’s
got a big-shot financial guru interested.”

He heard the smile in her voice—that one
that said she thought she knew what he wanted better than he did.
“Oh, but we both know she’d wither and wilt away to nothing in the
city, and a city man like that isn’t going to want to live where
there is manure, backbreaking labor, and a good fishing hole.”

Chad heard more between her words than his
mother spoke. She thought he cared for her. She thought he wanted a
girl, and Willow sounded perfect simply because she lived a life
that he had loved as a boy. Mothers never seemed to understand that
their sons grow up with new dreams very different from their
childhood ideals. He waited, almost impatiently, for the words he
knew she was dying to say. As usual, his mother did not
disappoint.

“Mr. Big Shot doesn’t have a chance,
Chaddie.”

“Oh, Mom. That’s where I hope you’re
wrong.”

The sun beat down on him, but Chad pushed
the mower through the hay and ignored the fatigue that attacked his
muscles. The field was half mowed. Another three or four hours and
he’d be done if he could keep up the pace.

He mowed, raked, carted, stacked, and packed
down the hay. Then, out of some masochistic need to torture
himself, he repeated the process until the entire field was
finished. Chad checked his phone again but there were no missed
calls. It was nearly five o’clock. How much later could they
release her?

At the sound of an approaching vehicle, he
stepped from the barn, wiping his forehead with his forearm. Bill’s
car. He must have decided to drive her home without calling. Chad
wasn’t sure whether to be amused or annoyed. Ever since the
accident, Bill had become quite proprietary regarding Willow and
her affairs.

Chad rushed to open the door for her, but
Bill intercepted him. “She can’t bathe easily yet, and you’re
covered with—” Bill raked his eyes over Chad, searching for the
word that eluded him. “Weeds—”

“It’s alfalfa, Bill, and it’s fine. Chad’s
probably exhausted though. That scythe is awful.”

“I bought a sickle bar mower. I did the
whole thing in just a few hours.”

“Wow! Really? Mother was fast, but it
usually took her the better part of a week to do it all.”

As Willow spoke, Bill lifted her from the
car and started for the door. “Can you get her stuff, Tesdall?”
When Chad stepped into the house, carrying a plastic bag emblazoned
with the hospital’s logo, Bill said, “Sorry. That was rude of
me.”

Chad waved him off and excused himself. The
work would have to be done for the day. He took the stairs several
at a time, and rifled through his duffel bag in Willow’s room
before hurrying to the shower. No sooner had he pulled on clean
jeans did he hear Bill’s voice calling him with an urgency that
sounded imperative.

“Chad! Can you help us down here?”

Thinking there was some emergency, Chad
threw his shirt over one shoulder and took the stairs three at a
time. Seeing her half-standing, staring at him as if he was crazy,
he pulled on his t-shirt. “What are we doing?”

“We need to get her upstairs. This thing is
too uncomfortable,” Bill pointed to the chaise, “and that thing is
too short.”

The couch didn’t look too short to him, but
what did he know? “We could bring her bed down here—”

“Either help me up those stairs, or get out
of my way.”

Willow’s voice left no room for questions.
She’d have her way or they’d die from her trying. Bill picked her
up once more and asked Chad to follow. “I just don’t want to fall
down the stairs with her.”

Once in her own bed, Willow glanced around
the room smiling. “Home is wonderful, isn’t it? No beeping
machines, no nurses to wrangle with, and no physical
therapists.”

“You need that physical therapy, Willow.
Dr.—”

Impatiently, Willow waved him away from her.
“Go home, Bill. Thank you for bringing me home, but I think you
need a good night’s sleep. You’ve been grouchy ever since Alexa and
Libby left. Chad’s here, and his Aunt Libby said she’d come stay.”
Willow squeezed Bill’s hand before making shooing motions at
him.

“I guess I know when I’m not wanted,” Bill
joked, although to Chad he sounded half-serious. “I’ll call you
tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is Sunday. Call me Monday
afternoon. I need to recuperate from all this attention.” Her
appreciative smile seemed designed to soothe the dismissive tone
from her words, but Chad wasn’t confident in its effectiveness.
Bill paused at the door giving her one last glance and then
shuffled down the steps and out into the yard. Chad stood at
Willow’s window watching as Bill glanced around him shaking his
head. He sank into his seat, slammed the car door, and pounded a
fist on the steering wheel before he turned the key and backed down
the long driveway.

“He’s gone?” The relief in Willow’s voice
would have stung even more had Bill been able to hear it.

“You were a little hard on him.”

Angry tears flooded her eyes, but she wiped
them away with the back of her hand. “You didn’t have to listen to
him patronize me the entire way home. It was insufferable.”

“Insufferable huh?”

“Decisively.”

Amused but trying not to show it, Chad
sought clarification. “What was so patronizing?”

“After all the years we’ve known him, he
seems to think that a little cut is going to make me abandon who I
am. He actually suggested I get rid of Wilhelmina!”

“I think he is just worried about you. Bill
has probably never seen either one of you injured before. It’s not
easy to think of anyone being alone and hurt—especially someone you
care about.”

He couldn’t argue that Bill had been a bit
high-handed about her situation. From the irritation in Willow’s
voice, the interference he’d sensed in the hospital, and even the
slight rudeness Bill had displayed tonight, Chad could see that the
man was stretched to the limit. His concern couldn’t just be that
of a financial advisor for a good client. Bill Franklin’s affection
for Willow went deeper than tax preparation and a decade of
business lunches at the Finley farm.

Willow’s contrite voice broke Chad’s
reverie. “You’re right. I should call and apologize.”

He brought Willow her purse. She started to
dial, paused, and tried again. Chad laughed as a beep resonated
from the phone and she left a message. “It’s not bad that I called
him at home where he can’t answer right now, is it?”

“I think under the circumstances, it’s
smart. Now how about something to eat?”