Past Forward Volume 1 (51 page)

Bill stood, his hands in his pockets. “She
needs physical therapy. She can get the best in Rockland.”

Lee’s eyes narrowed. “So she should overhaul
her entire life for this job and a temporary need?”

A first-class thorough argument ensued.
Willow watched fascinated by the exchange. The words flew faster
than her mind could process them until Willow finally stood and
crawled up the stairs to her room. So thoroughly were Lee and Bill
engrossed in their verbal sparring, they didn’t notice for several
minutes that she’d disappeared.

Lee’s eyes widened. “Oh no. I—”

“Excuse me.”

Lee, expecting Bill to leave in a huff, was
surprised to see him hurry up the stairs. “He’s got it bad,” she
muttered to herself. “He’ll push her away if he keeps this up.”

Bill knocked on Willow’s door from the
doorway. “May I come in?”

“Are you done arranging my life?”

“Sorry. I let my personal feelings—”

Willow’s eyes blazed. “And just what are
those?”

“What do you mean?” he asked as he stepped
into the room.

“Well, you know, everyone but me seems to
know what you’re talking about.”

Bill sat next to her on the edge of her bed
and played with her fingers. “You know, I never expected to—I mean,
I’m over ten years older than you but—”

“What does that have to do with
anything?”

He misunderstood the question and launched
into a long and rambling attempt to explain his growing attraction
and the deeper feelings he’d recently developed for her. His heart
sank as she shook her head and waved her hands at him. She didn’t
want to hear it.

“That’s not what I meant. I don’t understand
why ten years or twelve or whatever it is should matter.”

“Well, it is somewhat unusual.”

“It didn’t used to be,” she retorted
absently.

“So you aren’t bothered by—” he fumbled
again. Why was it so difficult to talk to her? He’d never had
trouble communicating with other women who had interested him.

“Well, to be honest, it’s a little
weird.”

He steeled himself for rejection. “I
understand. I hoped you’d consider—”

“Well it’s just that I had that silly crush
on you, and now you’re saying all the things I dreamed of eight
years ago.”

He grinned. “Care to accept a delayed
declaration of my undying affection?”

“Ok, that’s just nauseating,” she
laughed.

“I agree.” He waited for her to meet his
gaze. “This opportunity—it is exactly—” he mentally cursed his
jumbled thoughts and incomprehensible words. “—but I was wrong. I
was excited for me and what it could mean for me—us. I still am. I
won’t pretend that I want you to stay here on this farm and
continue the life you led with your mother.”

“
I don’t see
why—”

“I could never live out here. I know some
people commute to Fairbury, but I’m a city guy. I hate it out here.
I hate the sounds of the bugs and not knowing what is slithering
through the grass.” The corners of his lips drooped, and his eyes
lowered. “It’s embarrassing to admit, but I hate that there are no
streetlights. It’s
dark
out here. You don’t even have
electricity!”

“
Well we have it
but—”

He nodded resignedly. “That’s my point
exactly. You choose to turn it off. I could never imagine life
without all the conveniences mine has to offer. You walk to town
for fun. I use a treadmill.”

“And you’d never consider living anywhere
but in Rockland?”

A wretched look crossed his face. “I want to
say that I’d give up anything for you if we were... I feel it but—”
He shook his head. “But it isn’t true. I won’t leave the city. My
life is there just as yours is here.” Bill’s eyes dropped. “I
thought…”

She nodded, understanding. “You thought that
maybe my life was still up for definition?”

“Yeah.”

With a shrug that meant little to either of
them, Willow sighed. “Maybe it is. I don’t know. I hadn’t thought
of it before Monday, and now you’re out here telling me that it’s
possible this offer could be even better—someday.”

“You haven’t decided against it?” he
questioned surprised.

“Mother would be ashamed of me if I turned
down any opportunity without giving it serious consideration.” She
shifted her leg, wincing. “Not to mention, I happen to know Mother
thought well of you. She hated the idea of male-female
relationships, but she knew a good man when she met one.”

A quiet calm stole over the room. Bill
marveled that she hadn’t kicked him out after essentially telling
her that he might be interested, but not enough to make personal
sacrifices for her. Of course, it was a little early to think like
that anyway, but Bill was, if anything, an honest man—honest with
himself more than anyone. He tried once more to imagine himself
living there—no. He couldn’t do it.

A slight sniff penetrated the silence. Bill
brushed a tear from her cheek with the back of his hand.
“What—”

“I miss her. She was so strong—so wise. I—I
just miss her.”

Willow’s shoulders jerked as she tried to
choke back emotion that he suspected she stuffed down daily. He
could see her determination not to lose control. Despite his innate
discomfort with grief, Bill wrapped his arms around her and ordered
her to let it go.

“Cry Willow. We’re meant to cry. I’ve even
cried for her. Of all people, you have the right to hurt, to weep,
and to be a little angry with your loss.”

Her tear-flooded eyes sought his. “You’ve
cried for Mother?”

“She was a friend. We didn’t spend much time
together, mostly professional, but Kari had a way of entwining
herself in your heart if she let you into her life.”

“I want her back. Mother was my best friend.
She was—well, she was my mother! I want my mother.”

“I want my mother.” Lee crept back down the
stairs as those words drifted out Willow’s doorway and into the
hall. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. She’d climbed the stairs to
make sure Willow didn’t need a buffer, but those heart-wrenching
words sent her scurrying back downstairs and out the back door.

Chad met her there with sandwiches in hand.
“I stopped at the deli, but I didn’t know he—” Chad jerked a thumb
at Bill’s sedan, “would be here. I’ll leave these and go get me
something else to eat.”

“We already ate. It’s after two.”

“Oh right. Then I’ll eat one. What’s he
doing here?”

Lee glanced sharply at Chad’s face. Either
the nonchalance was expertly applied to his features or Chad was
making small talk. “Well, right now anyway, I think he’s up there
consoling a grieving girl.”

Chad turned, ready to go to Willow’s aid,
but Lee stopped him. “Bill has it.” At the indecision on his face,
she added, “Chad, he’s got it covered. This time.”

August- 2000

It’s been an amazing year. We’re canning
apples now. The peaches are done, the pears are almost ready, and
we have an amazing number of sunflower seeds. We’re going to can
pumpkin in September and roast the seeds. Those were so good last
year.

Willow’s sixteenth birthday was wonderful.
We had a picnic. I gave her a new rod. So original.

The other day, we discussed the New Deal and
the War on Poverty when she ran across an article criticizing the
welfare state. She was so confused. The idea of being taxed in
order to give to those who have less offended her. I tried to make
her think—to teach her compassion for the less fortunate, but she
couldn’t get past the “Robin Hood” aspect of stealing from those
who earned it to give to those who didn’t. No matter how much I
tried to make her understand that people come before ideology, her
brain was stuck on “principle.” I thought perhaps I had created a
libertarian. Now I’m not sure that she’s not more extreme—perhaps
an anarcho-capitalist.

How do I teach her to see that without the
money from Steve’s father, we would have been dependent on the very
government programs that she objects to? I tried pointing out that
by her definition, we would have nothing, would live in the woods,
scrounging for whatever we could find, but then I realized that she
can’t see what is wrong with that. This is such a big flaw in our
life. I don’t know how to make her understand.

Her next question was how much we gave to
those who need financial help so that those people wouldn’t go to
the government for it. How does she think of these things?

Oh my. Willow just plopped herself on my bed
and announced that the American government is stupid. She pointed
out that the pilgrims tried a redistribution of wealth in their
original colony and that even their zeal for the Lord and a charter
founded on charitable principles didn’t produce utopia.

She’s now in her room composing a letter to
the president. She had to ask me who the current president is. Have
I made a horrible mistake? Is it right that a sixteen-year-old girl
should be so ignorant of the world around her?

Yes, I have missed something in her
training. We can be philosophical and ideological in our mindset
here. We have that luxury. She can’t translate that to real life
away from here—to a life where without the aid of the government,
her child might go hungry, they might freeze in winter, or
life-saving medical procedures are withheld because there is no
money to pay for them. She just came in with
A
Tree Grows in Brooklyn
and showed me the place where Katie
tells her sisters that she’ll close all the windows and open all
the gas jets before she will go to the Catholic charities for help.
She pointed to that and said, “That—that is exactly what I think of
all this.” I rolled my eyes. She wasn’t amused. My Willow has a
romantic streak that reminds me of Anne Shirley.

We discussed marriage recently. I tried
so hard to hide my revulsion. I tried. I don’t think I succeeded.
She is convinced that we’ll live here as two old spinsters and
she’ll adopt a child to help us in our old age. I think she’s
read
Anne of Green Gables
a little too often. She
assures me that you don’t have a friend pick up an orphan for you
anymore. Apparently, you now have to prove you will treat the child
right and can afford to keep the child fed and clothed. Who would
have imagined!

She’s still pestering me for a greenhouse.
She’s convinced that there must be some way to build one. Willow
and building. That is frightening at best. If she still wants one
in five or six years, maybe I’ll order one of those kits.

I’ve been thinking about her future. I keep
doing the fingerprints, and I have her chronology, the story of her
birth, everything she could need; it’s all in the barn behind the
wall of the cabinet over the fridge. I didn’t tell her about it. I
wanted it separate from the house in case of fire. If anything
happens to me, she’ll find it when she reads this.

I wonder what would happen to her if
something happened to me. She’d be able to survive. She’s a
self-sufficient young woman. As long as she didn’t need to build
anything, she’d be fine. But I wonder about her spirit. I thrive on
the solitude. I had no idea, before this happened, just how
wonderful it is to “be still” before the Lord. Daily walks with
nothing but my life, my daughter, and my Lord. What more could I
ask for?

But Willow isn’t me. She’s her own person.
If I died, could she survive without human contact? Would she
starve emotionally? Can a person get the affection that they need
from a dog or, in her case, probably a sheep!

I remember when I started. I thought I’d be
so bored. I thought we’d plant one day, fish one day, bake another
day, and then can a day or two and voila. What to do with all the
“extra” time? Extra time. I want more time. I have so much to live
and learn before I die. I am nearing the halfway mark of my life.
What do I have to show for it?

Well, I have Willow. Though it’s a warped
way of putting it, she is definitely something to “show for it.”
This house—I did manage to create a truly warm home. I love our
home. Of course, Willow did most of it. She thinks I teach her
everything, but when it comes to the creative side of life, she’s
the one with the artistic bent. I just copy her. She thinks she
copies me. Oh how strange we are.

I’m doing it again. I’m feeling like I’m a
failure at life because I don’t have a job, a career, I haven’t
worked to increase wealth. I produce nothing that benefits anyone
else. Why do the world’s values still have an impact on my
self-perception? I’m a success at everything the Lord wants me to
succeed in. That should be enough.

“
Wow. Mother doubted. I
never knew that. She also knew I was good at designing.”

Willow passed the journal across the table
open to the entry she referenced. Chad read it and stopped at the
reference to the journal in the barn. “Did you know about the other
journal?”