Past Forward Volume 1 (40 page)

A tenderness, like nothing he’d ever felt
before, stole over him. He saw the pain Willow felt as she ran her
fingers over the roof and wiped dust from the floors. In that
moment he wanted, more than anything he’d ever wanted, to give her
another afternoon with her mother. That thought made him shudder
with the morbidity of it. Creepy.

“I should cover this with plastic. The dust
can’t be good for it. I’ll come up next rain and clean it and cover
it.”

“Willow—”

Her voice broke as she continued. “I didn’t
take care of it like I should have. Some of the furniture got
ruined when I left it outside and we had a thunderstorm. Mother
took it away from me. I gave the mom a haircut—look at her.”

Tears flowed but she brushed them away
quickly. “I’m sorry.”

“Come on; let’s go downstairs. I want to see
what else you made.”

Willow stood as though to follow but pointed
out a wooden rocking horse. “She made that too. From a kit. She
said the pieces came all cut and ready to sand, stain, and
assemble. I loved that horse.”

Chuck pulled her hand tugging her back down
the attic stairs. “What about your room? Has it always looked the
same or did you change it?”

Willow followed him into her mother’s room.
“I remember the year mother painted the wallpaper on that wall. It
was an experiment. She liked it so much we did my room the next
year.”

“You painted this?”

Willow showed him how they’d measured
carefully, drawn lines, and used masking tape to ensure a perfectly
straight row. “Mother wanted roses, but I chose violets.”

“This is your mother’s room then.” Chuck’s
voice was flat. He’d botched it again.

“Yes. Mine is over here.”

Willow took him room by room and described
their life in detail. The cellar amazed Chuck the most. “I thought
people only used these for old junk and tornados!”

After the tour, he suggested a movie. “It’s
too early to go home.”

“I don’t feel like dressing for town.”

“Not the movies, just a DVD. What do you
have?”

Willow stared at him blankly. He watched as
thoughts—ones he couldn’t translate—flitted across her face. At
last, she said, “I don’t have anything like that. If I wasn’t so
tired and sore, I’d suggest a game of Frisbee or even offer to read
aloud, but really, Chuck, I’ve worked hard today, I stink, I want a
shower, and I want to go to bed. You need to go home.”

The words punched him in the gut. He thought
she liked him—at least tolerated him anyway. “What?”

“I really am glad for all your help today.
I’m sorry I don’t have any more zip, but I’m about to fall asleep
on you, and I might have to rethink my position on hauntings if I
did that. Mother would never approve.”

Relief doused his rising defensiveness.
“You’re not mad at me?”

Willow smiled and shook her head. “Not at
all. I’m sorry we can’t play a game or something, though. I’ve had
fun.”

“Want to do something tomorrow?”

“Maybe next weekend. I’m busy tomorrow, but
thanks.”

At the door, Chuck turned to Willow,
reaching for her, but she pushed him away gently. “Very flattering,
Chuck, but go home.” Her smile softened the rejection of her words
as she closed the door in his face.

He stared at the combination of glass, wood,
and metal that separated him from her. “Wow.”

Willow packed her purse and tote bag in the
front basket of her bicycle. The breeze teased her hair around her
temples, sending her back inside to braid it. Irritants like hair
in her face while doing an unfamiliar task like riding a bike on a
busy highway probably posed a risk she shouldn’t take.

Each dozen yards down the driveway sent her
mind grumbling over the tortures of the bicycle. Why did people
choose such miserable ways of transportation? If she hadn’t waited
so long to leave, she would have walked. Then again, this way
people would see her ride it and understand how appreciative she
was of the infernal thing.

The highway was different. The smooth road
made riding both easier and a joy. The wheels whizzed along the
road without the constant jarring of her teeth rattling. Her legs
used muscles in new ways and grew sore and tired. Despite it all,
she relished the refreshing wind in her face. The speed,
though—Willow was astonished at the speed. She reached town a
quarter of an hour sooner than she’d anticipated.

At the convenience store, Willow stepped
into the restroom and washed away the perspiration from her ride.
She dusted herself with deodorant powder and changed her shorts and
top for her new dress. Sandals replaced her tennis shoes, and she
rolled her old clothes around her shoes, stuffing them back in the
tote bag. Refreshed, she pushed the bicycle from the restroom and
leaned it against the building as she hurried inside for a bottle
of cold water.

She felt wonderfully alive and excited as
she watched vendors set up their booths for the faire. At the
corner of Elm and Market Streets, Willow pushed her bicycle toward
the back of The Fox. She’d leave it there out of the way. Bicycles
were more trouble than feet.

“Willow!”

She glanced around her at the sound of her
name. Chad waved from across the street and started to cross, but a
young boy zipped past on a skateboard, arresting his attention. He
wanted to let it go—just this once—but he couldn’t. While she
waited, he gave Aiden Cox the same lecture he gave the boy every
week, pointing out exactly where the boy’s head would crack open
when it connected with the concrete. Shoulders slumped, the boy
sauntered away, and Chad jogged across to meet her, skateboard
under his arm.

“Hey, you made it! Early too!”

“The bicycle is faster than feet. You look
busy. What did the boy do wrong?” She eyed the skateboard.

“No helmet. That reminds me, you should be
wearing yours.”

“I knew I forgot something. That’s ok. I
don’t like how it slides around my head anyway.”

She put her hands up to demonstrate and felt
her braid. Absently, Willow untied it and shook out her hair as she
spoke. The golden strands fell perfectly around her head. The
transformation was incredible. Chad was used to seeing her hair
sleek and straight with occasional waves on the most humid of days.
The tousled look she inadvertently achieved was flattering.

Chad cleared his head as she dug into her
purse. “I’ll help you get it adjusted next time I’m out. You
shouldn’t ride that highway without a helmet. The bike lane is
good, but if you hit another rock or something…”

Grinning wryly at him, Willow pulled a brush
from her purse but the look on Chad’s face stopped her. “What?”

“You look great, why ruin it?”

Laughing, she whisked the brush through her
hair until it lay smoothly down her back. “Nice try. I know how
messy my hair looks when I shake it out.”

Sighing, Chad beckoned her to follow. “Well,
walk with me while I drop this off at the station and we’ll put
your bike in the back of my truck.”

In her delight with all the excitement
around her, Willow missed the occasional glances Chad gave her hair
as they walked. “What’s that?”

He turned to see what she pointed to and
watched as man drew cakewalk squares on the parking lot. Chad
pointed out the cakes as they unloaded them from cars and filled
tables. “St. Michaels does it every year. The money goes to pay for
their kids to go to camp I think.”

“Mother and I camped by the stream once, but
we didn’t like sleeping on the ground so we went home around
midnight.”

“The point of camping is to be far away from
home and practice survival skills. You’re whole life is survival
skills. Your equivalent was going to the Towers in Rockland.”

At the station, Chad lifted the bike into
the back of his truck and covered it with a tarp. Inside the
station, Willow chatted with Joe and Judith as Chad logged in the
skateboard and made a call to the boy’s mother. Joe dashed out of
the station as a call came in over the scanner and Judith explained
the protocols of law enforcement.

“I’ve got to get back out there. You can
stay here or come with—either way,” Chad said as he pushed open the
door.

Willow waved at Judith, thanked her for the
mini-lesson, and followed Chad into the heat of the afternoon. As
they walked, Chad pointed out interesting things until his watch
beeped four o’clock. “Two hours until I’m off. I’ve got to make a
few more rounds. I hate this.” He sighed.

“I still think it’s a good thing.”

“It’s ridiculous. We walk around like
babysitters, making sure our little charges don’t get into trouble
while mommy isn’t looking.”

Shaking her head as he spoke, she pounced.
“No, no, you’re thinking of it all wrong. A mother watches over her
child as she plays in order to protect her from making foolish
mistakes. Just knowing mother is there, helps the child remember
not to act impulsively. You’re like a father. You are there to help
those around you feel safe just by your presence.”

Chad came to a standstill in the middle of
the sidewalk. “So I’m like a lock on the door. If someone wanted to
break it down they could, but because the lock is there, very few
people try to breach the security of the home.”

“Exactly! I think you have one of the most
important jobs in the world.”

“Well, I love the job,” Chad began. “I just
thought it’d be—” He paused. Why belabor the point—again. She’d
consider him a whiner if he grumbled about his job every time they
talked.

Willow watched the emotions cross his face
and laid her hand on his arm. “Chad I think people choose to live
in this town because it is safe, friendly, and a true community.
They work hard and travel far in order to make enough money to
afford to live here. What you do makes what they desire possible. I
don’t understand why you can’t see that.”

Chad started down Market Street, looking for
double-parked cars and loitering kids—exactly the sorts of things
he hated about his job. Willow hung back, watching someone set up a
booth. A wolf whistle sent Chad spinning on his heels. Amused, he
watched as Willow paused to glance at some trinket, oblivious to
the jester who made the gesture.
“She has no idea how attractive
she is,”
he thought to himself.

“Your purse is ringing.”

Willow glanced up at the man in the
bookstore. “Oh! My phone. Thank you.” She hurried outside and
answered it.

“Hey Willow, I’m leaving the station now.
I’m going to go change, and then I’ll meet you somewhere. Have you
eaten?”

Willow glanced at the line at Alexa’s table,
wondering if she’d miss getting the woman’s autograph. “No, I
thought I was supposed to wait for you. I know what I want to eat
though.”

“Anything but pasties, and I’m good.”

“I found a place at the corner of the square
that sells meat and vegetables on sticks.”

“Kabobs?”

“Yes!” She thought for a moment. “Oh, that’s
what Mother meant. She told me about them, but when we tried it
with toothpicks, the picks burned.” She glanced at the number
counter beside Alexa’s table. The ticket in her hand told her she’d
better hurry. “Anyway, they smelled delicious. I’ll meet you there
when you’re done dressing, but I have to go. It’s almost my
turn.”

Without another word, Willow slid her phone
shut and slipped it inside her purse. “Hello, Miss Hartfield. I’ve
finally decided to try one of your books. I picked this one because
it looked like your newest one, but which do you recommend?”

With a smile, Alexa stood and disappeared
amongst the shelves of books returning with another one. “I think
this would interest you most. I’d love to hear what you think of
it.”

Willow glanced at the title and then pushed
it across the table. “Will you sign it?” As the author picked up
her pen, Willow added, “Your dress is lovely. I think claret must
be your color.”