Past Forward Volume 1 (8 page)

“No, no, and yes.”

Without another word, Chad pulled the shades
down in the room noting that they did little to darken it. He spent
the next few minutes draping towels over the windows to make the
room completely dark. He then slipped from the room, carefully
closing the door behind him, and hurried down to the kitchen.

Odd looks from the departing guests caused
him to murmur apologetically, “Migraine. She needs food and water.
Anyone here have ibuprofen?”

Several exclamations of sympathy and “I do”
followed immediately. Chad grabbed a glass of water and a couple of
tortilla wraps and hurried back upstairs. Seconds later, he dashed
back down for the proffered pain reliever.

In her room, he found it nearly impossible
to see. “Do you have a night light?”

“There’s a candle on the night stand and
matches in the drawer.”

“I think that’d hurt your eyes—”

“Then move it to the dresser!” Her
irritation, while understandable, was also a bit comical.

Chad stifled a chuckle and moved the candle.
“Ok, just eat a few bites and drink some water.”

“I’ll throw it up.”

“Better to throw something up than have dry
heaves. Eat.”

Even in the dark, her glare pierced him.
However, rather than being intimidated or annoyed, Chad sat on the
edge of the bed and laid a damp cloth he’d retrieved from her
bathroom on her forehead. He said nothing. He sat next to her until
she fell asleep still clutching her bucket.

As he jogged down her stairs, he glanced at
his watch. He had ten minutes left and it drove him crazy.
Why
am I doing this?
he groaned inwardly as he drove toward town.
This is not my responsibility!

“And who is Willow to you?” The man gave a
half-smile as though to soften his words.

Chad nodded understandingly. “I understand
your concern and confusion. I’m nothing to her frankly. A week ago,
a young woman walked into the police station and asked what to do
when someone dies.”

A collective gasp erupted from the group.
“Are you serious?” The question came from a teenager who evidently
didn’t want to be there.

“D—um,” he fumbled realizing that “dead”
wasn’t exactly an appropriate adjective. “Completely.” He swallowed
his discomfort and plunged forward. “Let me tell you what we’ve
learned about Willow and her mother. Kari moved here when she was
pregnant with Willow. She considered moving into an Amish
community—”

“Amish!” The man spoke again. Chad now had
no doubts left that this was Willow’s grandfather.

“Yes, after her attack sh—”

“Attack!”

The realization that Kari’s disappearance
was a complete mystery to her family grieved Chad. “Yes. She was
attacked in Rockland over twenty years ago.”

“Why didn’t she tell us? Why did she leave?
We’d have supported her!”

“Something about who it was and getting paid
off to disappear. I got the idea that whoever it was is prominent
and wealthy in the city.”

He went on to describe their life, Kari’s
dream, and finally her death. The gasps of surprise came in almost
rhythmic waves. Finally, people quit listening and started
questioning. Chad answered what questions he could until he simply
didn’t know any more.

“Ok, honestly, I think this is all I can
help you with. I asked you here because I saw how bothered everyone
was by Willow’s manner, and I wanted to ensure that you all
understood that it wasn’t a lack of appreciation or intended
discourtesy. She is accustomed to saying what comes to mind because
that’s how they lived.

“Will she start living a more normal life
now that Kari is gone?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just truly do
not know.”

At two in the morning, Chad drove by
Willow’s farm as he returned from a transfer to the Brunswick jail
and saw lights in nearly every window. He drove another quarter
mile before he whipped the car around. Oil lamps all over a house
with only one person home made him nervous. He called Judith at the
station. “Something’s wrong there. If it’s a police matter, I’ll
call back. Otherwise, if you don’t hear from me in ten minutes,
mark me officially off duty. I’ll drop off the cruiser as soon as I
can.”

Wilhelmina greeted him as he exited the
vehicle. Willow’s silhouette in the front room moved rhythmically
causing him to wonder why she ignored the pained cries of her goat.
His knock brought no response. Willow continued whatever she was
doing without a pause.

Chad knocked on the door again as he opened
it. “Willow? Are you ok?”

A breeze blew in behind him fluttering her
sleeve against her arm. Willow looked up, startled to see him. “Oh
Chad, you scared me!” She pulled something from her ears.

“
I saw the lights and
considering the time, I thought I’d stop in. Wilhelmina is out
there pitching a fit.”

Her shoulders drooped and she stood
resolutely. “Oh I forgot about her. I was asleep and something woke
me up. I wasn’t ready to get up, so I put in plugs and went back to
sleep. I guess I forgot to take them out.”

“You look beat. Go get yourself something to
eat, and I’ll take care of her.”

“She’s going to get mastitis if I keep this
up.”

“Just get yourself some kind of dinner. I’ll
be back in a few minutes.”

Willow followed him through to the kitchen
and handed him a stainless steel milk pail. “Have you ever milked a
goat?”

“Cows on my uncle’s farm every summer. I
figure it can’t be all that different.”

Chad tipped his hat at her and hurried out
to the goat. He found the animal hungry, thirsty, and with very
swollen teats. As he milked, the goat voiced her misery and
disapproval between every bite of alfalfa from her trough. By the
time he’d finished, she curled up in the corner of her pen and fell
asleep almost immediately.

Inside the barn, he hurried to the kitchen,
strained the milk, scrubbed the pail, and after waiting what felt
like an eternity for it to heat, poured boiling water over it. The
milk he bottled and then refrigerated.

Willow had returned to her spot on the sofa.
Her knitting tossed aside, she stared out into space as though in a
trance. “Willow.”

Her face snapped in his direction.
“Huh?”

“Your goat. She either has or is coming down
with mastitis. You’ve got to pull yourself together or find someone
to take her. You’ll feel terrible if you let her get sick.”

“I know—”

Chad’s voice grew stern. He hunkered down on
his heels in front of her and forced her to meet his gaze. “No.
Don’t say what you think I want to hear. I know you’re hurting. I
know it’s hard to concentrate, and I know you have more work than
you can handle, but you also have responsibilities. Let the garden
die. Buy food at the store. Sell the goat, give her to a 4H kid; I
don’t care. But you can’t check out indefinitely. Feed the animals
and yourself. Make sure you both have comfortable beds and plenty
of water. Forget the rest if you want to, but do that much or I’m
going to call Mrs. Varney and have her come give you what for.”

Fire filled Willow’s eyes for a moment and
then extinguished as though dashed with water. “You’re right. I
just don’t want to do anything.”

“Sometimes we have to do what we don’t want
to do, Willow. Do it. I’ll call you if it’ll help.” Even as he said
it, Chad’s mental feet kicked in a cranial tantrum of epic
proportions. He didn’t
want
to call and remind her. He
wanted out of this scenario. For good. Every time he thought he had
a chance at disappearing, Chad tied himself a little closer to the
Finley farm.

He closed the door behind him and started
for the steps. The night was strangely quiet. The chickens,
Wilhelmina, and the cow slept. He heard a bullfrog croak and the
cicadas sang in the trees but something was missing. He opened the
door, peeked around the corner, and asked, “Where is Othello?”

“I haven’t seen him, but I didn’t leave the
house all day…”

“I’ll take a look around. If I don’t find
him, I’ll let you know so you can look in the morning. G’night
again.”

Though he called for several minutes,
Othello never barked or whimpered. He didn’t come running.
Eventually Chad gave up and climbed into his cruiser. He was beat
and ready for bed. He beeped his horn once as he whirled the
vehicle around and sped down the driveway toward the highway.

Near the corner of the east pasture, he
stopped. Something near the grave moved in the beam of his
headlights. The sight of that dog lying on the fresh mound of dirt
formed a lump in is throat. Chad swallowed hard and punched
Willow’s quick dial number, not allowing himself to think about the
irritation of having her on quick dial in the first place.

“Willow, I found him. He’s out with your
mother. If he isn’t home in the morning, he’ll need food and water.
You have to make an effort.”

Her voice sounded stronger. “I’ll be fine. I
just gave myself a lecture on what Mother would say about
irresponsibility towards our animals. Thank you. Good bye,
Chad.”

The line went dead. As he turned onto Main
Street and pulled into the police station, Chad mulled the
significance of good
bye
vs. good
night
and the
irritation that came as he realized that goodbye was much too final
for him at this point.
I don’t need the complications. Why do I
even care?

She saw the cruiser from the flowerbed and
ran to assure Chad she was fine. He’d been so kind, so concerned;
she didn’t want to impose on him any more than necessary, but it
wasn’t Chad. Nervousness washed over her as Chief Varney exited the
vehicle.

The chief’s face looked grave. Had some
other terrible thing happened? Did someone else die? But who could—
Maybe her grandparents or an aunt or uncle. She still hadn’t had a
chance to write them and thank them for their attendance. What if
her procrastination had cost her that chance?

“Miss—” Her expression stopped him. “Um,
Willow, can we talk for a minute? I have the M.E.’s report.”

It took her a moment to remember what M.E.
stood for. Medical Examiner. They knew how Mother died. Willow
swallowed hard and beckoned him to come inside the house.

In the kitchen, she pulled a piece of ice
from the icebox, chipped pieces into a glass, and filled it with
water. She handed it to Chief Varney, her hands shaking as she did.
Did she want to know what happened? He looked so grave. What if it
was hereditary? That’s why they did the autopsy in the first place,
wasn’t it?

“You know how she died then.” Chief Varney
looked out of his element. “Can you just tell me please? All of
this waiting is making me nervous.”

For the next twenty minutes, they discussed
the aneurysm that killed Kari Finley in her sleep. Chief Varney
acted surprised by her knowledge and understanding of the blood
bubble that exploded at the base of her mother’s brain. Willow, on
the other hand, fought the pain of the memory of her mother’s
terrible headache that last night. They’d both assumed it was a
migraine.

“I should have known—I could have walked to
town for an ambulance. We could have had a cell phone like Chad
bought me. They are private. Why—” She briefly choked back her
sobs. “I’m sorry— I—I—” She fled the room. Chief Varney listened to
her feet pounding up the stairs and a door slamming behind her. For
the first time since he’d met her, Willow Finley acted like a
normal and grieving young woman.

Outside, Chief Varney glanced up at the
window, his heart twisting with the heart wrenching sound of
Willow’s grief. He had to do something. She was so very alone. No
one should have to walk this valley alone.

He remembered Chad. The boy had forged a
friendship of sorts with Willow. His lips twisted into a wry smile.
Ironic—it was ironic how the kid who couldn’t handle her when she
reported the death was probably the only one who could help her
deal with it now.