One Thursday morning, she stood at the back porch and stared out over the landscape.  It looked so different from the place she and her mother had built over the years.  Kari would hardly recognize the view before her could she see it.  Two barns, two greenhouses, a kitchen garden and a produce garden, the chicken pens and houses quadrupled in size, and cows, goats, and sheep scattered through the pastures.  It was beautiful.  Kari would have both loved and hated it.

The work was growing overwhelming, though.  As each separate function of the farm expanded, she realized that there was more for them to do and less time to do the things she loved.  “Lord, how do I cultivate that balance between what I need to do and what needs to be done?  We need fulltime help—maybe even another house for them so they can be here for animal birthing and such.  How do I plan for that?  Is it too much?”

Lucas’ little eyes stared up at her solemnly as if he understood the words and his mother’s latest dilemma.  His little pudgy hand sought her cheek and rested there for a moment before he giggled.  Then, as if embarrassed, he ducked his head into the familiar hollow of her neck on her shoulder and popped his thumb in his mouth.

“I agree, little one.  The whole thing is ridiculous, isn’t it?”

Before Willow could ask another question or her son make any sign of agreement, the back screen door creaked.  Oil that when you go inside, her mind noted.  Just as she turned to smile at Chad, the familiar feeling of his arm about her waist and Liam’s hands in her hair stopped her.  “Liam, let go.”

Lucas’ head popped up from her shoulder and the boy whacked the little fists that filled his mother’s hair.  Chad laughed and stopped the brawl before it could continue.  “Married for two years and you still have men fighting over you.”

“I am a catch, didn’t you hear?  You’d better feel mighty lucky to have tricked me into marrying you.”

“I thought women did the tricking?”

Willow’s eyes clouded with confusion.  Her brow wrinkled in concentration and then understanding dawned.  “Can’t trick a guy into marriage who hasn’t tried to get the privileges of it beforehand, can you?”

“I’d have likely been arrested for assault on any man that tried.”

His grin gave Willow that same silly flutter to her heart that she’d grown to love in the weeks leading to and following her wedding.  “I’d have paid your bail.”

“What are you looking at now, Lass?”

“I just noticed how different everything looks than it did.  I think it’s time for more change too.”

“More?  Since when are you the one who suggests change?”

“I think,” Willow continued, ignoring Chad’s teasing, “it is time to hire someone fulltime.  I don’t see how we can avoid it.”

“Is the work getting to be too much?”

“Not yet.”  Her silence made him nervous, and she knew it, but Willow waited a minute before she added, “I just know that with the new baby…”

“I could quit—come home and focus on the farm.”

“You’ve always wanted to be an officer.  I don’t think you should give that up—not yet.”  She pointed to the tree line.  “I thought on the other side of those trees, we could put up one of those prebuilt homes.”

“Who would live there?”

Willow shrugged.  “Not sure about that.  We need someone who likes animals and farming both.”

“Maybe we should leave the boys with Mom and Dad and have a planning weekend.”

“Planning weekend?”

Chad took Lucas from her arms and stepped around her.  “I’ll take them with me to do the milking.  You get the oats on and we’ll talk about it over breakfast.”

***

Papers were strewn all over the dining room table.  While Chad made notes about different options, Willow tried to sort calving, lambing, and kidding schedules from planting, rotation, and harvesting schedules.  By the time neat piles were laid out in front of him, Chad wasn’t sure where to begin.

“Ok, so what things do you know you want to do yourself?”

“The family garden, our sewing, Boho…” Willow hesitated as she considered her options.  “Well, most of what I did before Mother died really.  I don’t care who cleans the house or beats the rugs.  I don’t need to do the wood splitting—not usually—and I like hanging clothes, but washing them isn’t important to me, but I don’t know how to separate that.”

One thing after another ended up on either side of Chad’s list.  Half the page was split into “Willow/Chad” tasks and the other half was listed as “Possible hire.”  When finished, he scrutinized it carefully.  “You know, it looks to me like we need a husband and wife team.  How can we find someone who doesn’t have more children to add to this mix?”

“Why no children?  Maybe they’d want to make it a family thing like we do.”

“True.  It just seemed like it would be hard for a woman to take care of her family and ours too.”  He knew it sounded weak, but if they were going to hire someone, he wanted to be sure it would work.  “Do you think we’ll make enough to cover our expenses with two?  Maybe we should just keep Iris for as long as she wants to stay and replace her separately.”

Willow seemed lost in thought.  At last she reached across the table and covered his hand with hers.  “Is there a way—” she stopped, her forehead furrowed in concentration.  “I just mean—you know that man, that new one who works for Adric?  What if there are other men out there trying to start a new life?”

“Criminals you mean?  You want to invite criminals into our home?”

Laughing, Willow stood and grabbed cookies from the cookie jar.  “Not into our home—onto our property.  We did it with Ryder—”

“You did it with Ryder.”

“Fine, I did it with Ryder and look how well it worked.”

Chad didn’t like the look in her eye.  He knew that look; it meant their life was about to change more than he had ever imagined possible.  “I so wish I could pull the husband card on this.”

“But you can’t?”

“Not yet, but if the opportunity arises…”

Five minutes passed—fifteen.  The time seemed to roll by much as it had in the first days of their friendship.  The pressing busyness of farm life had been different in past months.  As he watched Willow hurry upstairs and heard the bathroom door shut, he added something else to his list.  Fix the downstairs bathroom. It had to be done.

The skip of her feet down the stairs brought a smile to his face.  That was his Willow—the one he rarely saw anymore, and the thought wrung his heart.  Was it all too much?  He’d spent so much money to expand the farm and it was flourishing, but was it too much?  Something in his heart told him it was.

Seconds turned into minutes as he tried to decide how to broach the subject.  At last, he leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table, hands clasped together.  “Willow, do you remember why you started selling your produce?”

“I had too much.”  The answer came swiftly.

“Why did you have too much?”

Her eyes glanced up at him, concerned.  “Because we planted enough for two people to eat all summer, winter, and spring.  Mother was gone, so…”

Even now, her voice constricted at the thought of Kari being gone from her life.  Chad felt ridiculous for thinking it.  Of course it would still hurt.  Would she be the Willow he loved if she could so easily forget her sole companion for the bulk of her life?

“And the greenhouse.  Why did you build it?”

“Fresh vegetables for us in the winter.”  Her pen scribbled out cost projections and expected revenue as she spoke.

“Why did you keep planting more and more then?”

“We had a good business.  People liked our produce and wanted it.”

“But did you want to become a produce stand?  Did you want all this?”

Chad watched as her mouth opened to say, “Of course,” and then sighed inwardly as the real answer dawned.  An inward struggle showed itself plainly on her features.  Willow couldn’t say yes and didn’t want to say no.

“I don’t know, Chad.  I assumed that I did.  I mean, we’re doing it, and you and I both know there isn’t much that I do that I don’t want to do.”

His chuckle brought a smile to her otherwise troubled face.  “This is true—very true.”

“You’re right, though.  If people hadn’t expected more, I don’t know if I would have expanded as I did—we did.”

“I talked you into more animals.”

“You wanted them.  There was no reason not to do it if you wanted it.”

The words stung.  Chad listened as she verbally worked through almost every part of her life until he could no longer stand to hear it.  “Stop.”

“What?”  Confusion clouded her eyes.

“Let’s try this another way.  Does it bother you that these things happen here.  Remove yourself from the equation.  Does it bother you that people buy meat and produce grown on this land?”

“Not at all.  I’m glad they do!”

“Ok, then.  Forget everything and everyone else—including me.”  He saw her protest form, but shook his head.  “Now, what would your days look like if you only did the things you really want to do and the things you’re sure God wants of you?”

The answer was a long time coming.  By the time Willow was ready to speak, Chad had grown nervous.  She looked around her, smiled into his eyes, and sank back against the back of her chair.

“I’d get up in the morning and feed my family.  Mornings when you were home, I wouldn’t bother with milking.  Other mornings I would.  The boys would watch me clean up after breakfast and as I started lunch.  Then we’d go outside and do the laundry together.  We’d sing, play, chase each other through the sheets.  While they napped I’d spin, work on my flower beds, sew, and keep house.  On your days off, I’d do things like make soap or candles—things that are very difficult with little boys who could get hurt touching things.  In the afternoons, we’d change the animals’ pastures, play some more, and maybe go fishing.  After dinner, we’d read books, put puzzles together, and listen to music.”

She picked at her fingernails.  “Is it silly?”

“Not at all.  What around here would you want to change?”

“I don’t think I want to change much.  I just want to be able to call someone and say, ‘The boys and I feel like fishing today.  Can you come butcher a dozen hens?’”

“But you want to butcher them on other days?”

“Why not?  I can do a dozen while the boys nap if I’m on the ball.”  She scooted her chair closer and wrapped her hands around his forearm.  “What is it, Chad?”

“I just don’t want you to keep things here simply because I mentioned it.”

“We need an employee—one who lives on the farm.”

“And we need a downstairs bathroom,” Chad added as he stood to hurry upstairs himself.

“I’ll call a contractor.”

“Don’t.  Luke wants to do it.  He, Laird, and I will be able to get it done in a weekend if we put our minds to it.”

Willow carried their napkins to the sink, shook them out, and dropped them in the laundry basket under the counter.  “Just let me know when that’ll be.”

Something in her tone caught his attention.  “Why?”

“I fully intend to take our boys to your mother’s house for that weekend.”

Chad felt as if he’d leveled another blow at her.  “I’m sorry, Lass.  It’ll be hard at first, but don’t you think—”

“Sure, I think.  I also know that there will be music playing, power tools blaring, soda cans all over the place, and I’ll feel like I should help but can’t.  It’ll be nicer if I come home and you have it all done for me.”

***

April-

We’re making changes around here.  Doing it has dropped a weight off my shoulders that I didn’t know I carried.  Strange, when Chad first encouraged me to take part in the Women’s Retreat thing, I resisted.  Now I look forward to it and I know why.  I’ll be talking about my life again—my real one.  This won’t be a talk about how to journal a busy life filled with everything that can be done.  This will be about journaling the life that you believe the Lord wants you to live.

There lies the difference.  I allowed good things to become more important to me than the things that God has chosen for me.  I allowed myself to become caught up in the busyness of life rather than being busy with my life.

The boys do not walk.  I thought they would.  I mean, Lucas took those first steps, and it gave me an idea of what darling little baby legs looked like as they toddled around the house.  Liam was frustrated and fought for the same talent.  Then, out of the blue, the boy stood and ran.  He ran for my legs, threw his arms around them, and so help me, I swear the boy crowed.  Lucas was clearly jealous.  So, he ran to me too.  They haven’t walked since.  Furthermore, their competitiveness is epic.  I had no idea such tiny little people could be so much like James and John—fighting for preeminence.

Chad and I are better.  I didn’t know we weren’t “right” but we are now.  There’s a difference.  Things seem back the way they were back whenever they were that way.  Oh my it is ridiculous, but it is true.

Tomorrow, the first person comes to interview.  We’ve decided to put a travel trailer on the property.  After six months, if all goes well, we’ll bring in a modular home.  It seems silly to buy a house for someone that might not work out.  If we don’t find a good fit for us, we’ll scale back the farm.  As Granddad said, “It’s better to have an empty barn and full lives than full barns and no life.”

God is so good to us.

Oh, and hydrogen peroxide is a very inexpensive stain remover for little boys who are learning to eat good food.  Chad says we can buy industrial sized bottles in Rockland.  I have it on my list for when I go stay with Mom the weekend they do the bathroom.  I hope that is sooner rather than later.  I am becoming worn out just thinking about it.

That’s odd.  Chad is coming up the drive.  Two hours early.  I hope he’s ok.

While Luke measured, tapped on walls, and made an educated guess as to the original doorframe, Willow ran her hands over the wall and pointed out the hand painted “paper stripes and flowers” that she and her mother had painted so many years earlier to her son.  “See, Liam?  Those flowers were the first things I painted in this house.  Mother painted the stripes, and I painted the vines.  Then, when she had all those little dots painted, I came back and did the flowers.”

“We’ll be careful, Lass.  We will.  Luke won’t tear up anything he doesn’t have to.”

“Chad’s right.  Your mother walled this up correctly, but I can still find where the studs are off. Look.”  Luke tapped the wall from the smaller end of the staircase over to where he thought the door was, making note of each solid thud where he thought a stud would be.  “The studs are exactly sixteen inches apart until here.  Then there are these four in a row and they’re much closer together.  I think that’s the door frame and two studs to fill in the hole—a bit of overkill, but it’s my guess.”

“I know,” Willow assured them.  “I just can’t watch.  Liam and I are going to go see if Ryder has picked out the heirloom house.”  She glanced back.  “Just don’t let Lucas get whacked in the head.”

Luke gave Chad an amused smile and started to cut a hole in the wall.  “She is so matter-of-fact about everything, isn’t she?”

“That’s Willow.  I always think I’ll get used to her quirks, but I never do.”

“That’s probably half of her charm, eh?”  Luke pulled an eight by eight chunk of drywall out of the wall.  Reaching in, he began cutting on the other side of the wall.  “What is the heirloom house?”

“Ryder has done such a good job propagating heirloom seeds, that Willow is letting him built a new greenhouse so  that they aren’t mixing pollination or whatever it is that plants do.”

“Aaah.  That makes sense.  Are you going to have separate gardens too?”  Luke popped another section out from the other side of the wall and withdrew his hand.  After peeking through the holes, he looked at Chad with a grin.  “This is it.  I see a sink and where a window used to be.  It’s just sided right over without moving the window or anything.”

“Well, cut out the rest of that section.  Can we get through there?”

Luke shook his head.  “There’s only maybe 10 inches.  It’d be a rough squeeze.  Let’s see what we find at the top.”

While Chad blew raspberries on his son’s belly, Luke sawed the entire section from the wall.  “Hey, grab me that Phillip’s screwdriver, will ya?”

Chad grabbed it from his cousin’s tool belt on the floor.  “If you had that thing on—”

“Then I’d certainly be unable to squeeze through.  It looks like Kari Finley added these boards with L-brackets.”

“Makes sense.”

“That woman,” Luke began as he removed the screws that held the board in place, “was obviously a very sensible woman.  Aggie has helped with all kinds of renovations, but I doubt she’d think of L-brackets.”  He started to push on the board, but then realized there were screws in the stud holding the drywall to it.  Taking his knife, he cut the drywall across the stud and then used his saw to go back down the other side of it.  “Here goes nothing.”  Luke kicked and the stud jerked out of place.

“Yay!  Look, Lucas!  Uncle Luke did it!”

“Do you think we’re going to confuse our kids by using uncle when we’re not brothers?”

“That is exactly what Willow asked,” Chad said, shaking his head.  “But what else do we do?  First names seem a bit too casual, ‘Cousin Luke’ seems too formal, and what else is there?”

“That’s what Mom says, but it still seems weird.  Maybe we’re over thinking things.”  With a final jerk, Luke pulled the board from the opening and carried it out to the front porch.  While he was gone, Luke peeked in the hole, unsure what kind of critters he’d find.  Willow would happily pulverize him if he took her son in a vermin or critter infested room.

“Looks like you were right.  Willow owes you cherry almond bars.  I see a tub, sink, toilet, and even a small cupboard.”

“Aren’t you going in?”  Luke stopped next to Chad expectantly.

Chad passed his son over to Luke and stepped inside the room.  A layer of dirt covered everything.  Mold grew around the window, and the musty stench was revolting.  The toilet had no water, the sink faucet, when he turned the handle, didn’t work.  He pushed the shower curtain aside, coughing at the dust it stirred, and frowned.  “Hey, Luke.  Can you put Lucas in the playpen and come look at this?”

As he stepped through the door, Luke frowned.  “Why is there concrete in the tub?”

“That’s what I wondered.  I didn’t know if it really was or not.”

He ran his hand lightly over the rough surface of unsmoothed concrete.  “I don’t understand.  It isn’t even smoothed.”

Confused, Chad glanced around the room again, trying to find some reason that Kari would have a tub filled with concrete.  He lifted the lid of the toilet tank, opened the cupboards, and pried open the medicine cabinet.  An envelope sat on the middle shelf.  Dread filled his heart as he lifted the flap.  The glue, deteriorated by age, gave no resistance.  After reading the first few words, Chad looked up at Luke.

“Oh, no.  Oh, oh, no.”

***

“You need to read this, Lass.  I’m so sorry.  There’s no way to prepare you for it—”

Willow unfolded the paper and read the note, penned in her mother’s familiar handwriting, and dated the summer she’d turned two.

August 4, 1985(6),

To Whom It May Concern,

I, Kari Anne Finley, confess to the murder of Jason Rosser a man with physical characteristics that are remarkably similar to Steven Solari Jr.

The man appeared at my door, tried to get me to talk to him, and when I saw who it was, I reacted on instinct out of fear for my life and the life of my daughter, grabbed my shotgun, and killed him.  When I went to move the dead man, I realized that I’d shot the wrong person.  For this, I an deeply sorry.

I would have confessed my actions to the police, but my daughter’s safety depends on no one knowing she’s alive.  This would certainly have made the news.  I cannot risk that.  The man’s driver’s license, credit cards, and vehicle registration are all in the envelope with this confession to help you notify the man’s family.  Please extend my apologies for what I’ve done.  I know I can’t be forgiven, but I am so deeply sorry.

If it is not clearly evident, you’ll find the Mr. Rosser’s body in my bathtub of this bathroom.  I foolishly thought I could cover him with the concrete to prevent the stench of decay and then transport him out with a dolley, but I wasn’t strong enough to move it.  I will wall up the room, and I assume I’ll be dead before this is found.

Mr. Rosser’s vehicle is buried at the back corner of the east pasture just inside the tree line.  There were no trees there when I rented the backhoe and dug it out, but I planted a row of birch diagonally across that section to make it easy to find.

Kari Anne Finley

Tears poured down Willow’s face as she read the letter.  Things that had seemed extreme in the light of her life of the past few years made a little more sense to her now.  Why strangers were met with a shotgun before they could even come close to the house, why Kari always refused to allow the animals in that east corner of the pasture, and a few ambiguous journal entries suddenly made perfect sense.

“Now I know why she didn’t write about the hassles of climbing the stairs  while pregnant with me.  She didn’t.”

Of all the things Willow could say, that was the last thing Chad and Luke expected if the looks on their faces could be trusted.  Chad knelt beside her, trying to grasp whatever was going through her mind.  “I have to call the chief, Lass.  He’ll probably have to call the sheriff.”

“Why?  Can’t you take this letter and the papers and use your Internet thing and find the family that way?”

“Willow,” he tried again as gently as he could, “our bathroom is technically a crime scene.”

“No, that would be our porch.  Mother shot him on the porch, remember?”

“She put the body in the bathroom.  It is also part of the crime scene as is the east pasture.  They’re going to have to dig up that car.”

“Why?  It won’t run anymore, it can’t tell them anything Mother didn’t… why ruin our pasture—”

“It’s the law, Lass.”  He knew, even as he spoke, exactly what her response would be.

“It’s a stupid law that infringes on my rights as a property owner.  It benefits no one and damages my property.  I understand the bathtub.  They should get to take that and bury it properly, but to tear up a field for something worthless is ridiculous.”  A new thought came to her, one Chad couldn’t have anticipated.  “What if I offer to purchase the car from the family?  I could pay whatever is reasonable, they could sign over the deed—”

“Title,” he corrected automatically.

“Yes, title, and then my field isn’t destroyed by machinery and a gaping hole.”

He shook his head even as she spoke.  “It can’t be done, Willow.  We’ll fix it.  This isn’t your fault, but the family deserves that closure.”

“Can we keep the newspapers and television people out of here?”

“You can keep them off the property, but not away from the road.”

Willow’s head snapped up.  “They’re going to say terrible things about Mother, aren’t they?”

Luke’s pained eyes answered her before Chad ever raised his head again.  “Yes.”

“And me too, I suppose.”  She took a deep breath.  “I want you to arrest anyone who sets foot on this property, touches our fences—anything.  It’s trespassing and I won’t have it.”

Shoulders slumped, Chad turned and walked toward the house, flipping open his phone.  Luke stared down at Willow seated on the swing with a sleeping Liam in her arms.  “Willow?”

“Yes?”  She hardly glanced at him, still fighting the overwhelming desire to sob.

“Think of Chad a little as you deal with this.  I  know it’s hard on you, but politically speaking, this might just be the death of his dream of becoming sheriff around here.”

“Why?  He did nothing wrong.  I did nothing wrong.  Why should this hurt him?”  The idea seemed preposterous.

“Because people don’t think in terms of a person’s actions.  They think in terms of what that person is associated with.  They’re going to remember Chad’s name, body in his house, and recoil.  It’s what people do.”

“I think people should start thinking in terms of wise decisions instead of irrational emotions.  I would think they would want a man who found a body and did all the proper legal things to take care of it, even at the expense and inconvenience of his own property.”

She stood, shifted Liam over one shoulder, and gave Luke a one-armed hug.  “Thank you for telling me, Luke.  I would never have imagined.  We’ll find a way to fight it when that time comes.  Chad always says that public opinion follows whatever those in power spin it to be.  We’ll have to find a way to be the spinners that time.”  Willow shook her head.  “I can’t believe how fickle people are sometimes.

***

At two o’clock, Chad dragged himself up the steps and into the kitchen.  Chili and cornbread waited for him on the warming shelf of the kitchen stove.  It had been a very long and exhausting week.  Between normal farm work, his job, and the excavation of the vehicle from their field, he’d barely had a moment to relax.  He’d stumbled home from work each day, collapsed in bed, and then got up and did it all over without any time to unwind.

The sheriff’s department was through with their excavation, but the Tesdall’s nightmare had just begun.  Once the media grabbed the story, their name, life, and history was dragged through more muck than even he’d imagined.  Thankfully, after the first day, Willow hadn’t asked anymore and had been too busy to go into town.  He planned to do everything possible to avoid her going for the next month.  Hopefully by then, a new sensation would grab the inhabitants of Rockland.

He felt jittery—too mentally keyed up to sleep and too physically exhausted to do anything but sleep.  As he passed through the living room, Chad noticed Willow’s journal half-covered by a stack of fabrics that had obviously come from Boho.  A few minutes lost in his wife’s latest thoughts and activities seemed like the perfect end to a horrible week.

March—

It’s been one of the worst weeks of my life.  Mother’s death was obviously one of those, and then there was the time when I kept Chad away from me.  Those were horrible weeks, but this is just a whole new level of awfulness.  My mother murdered a man to protect me.  A man’s family suffered for over two decades wondering where he went, why he didn’t come home, if he’d abandoned them or had some horrible thing happen.

Fear is a terrible thing, I’ve decided.  Mother used fear to protect us.  I understand how and why, but I don’t want to use fear with my boys and with the new child I pray we still get to have.  I can’t help but wonder if Chelsea and her family will refuse to let their child enter such a tainted home.  It’s strange how people think.  I never can understand it.  Somehow I have to learn a new way to teach my children caution and yet ensure they learn to trust the Lord rather than listen to their fear.  It’s strange, I always saw Mother as a very strong and courageous woman.  She seemed the epitome of reliant faith and trust, but I see now that along with all of that was the kind of mind-numbing fear that can destroy faith.  In many ways, Mother trusted herself more than her Lord.  Do I do that?  I’d like to ask Chad, but I’m not ready for the answer.

Chad is weary.  I see him flexing his hand, which is usually an indicator of physical overwork, but he won’t rest.  He seems eager to be away from us right now.  I can’t decide if it’s to protect us or if the sting of what this all could mean just hurts more when he’s near me.  I refuse to believe that there is not a way to use this to help him in his career rather than allow it to damage it.  I am afraid there is more of my grandfather in me than I like to admit.

Granddad and Grandmom Finley are devastated by this.  Some of their friends have shunned them, and Granddad has stepped down as an elder in their church.  I understand why, but I hate it.  It kills me that Mother’s mistake is damaging so many lives and so long after it happened.  She used to say, “Willow, every action you take has far-reaching consequences— both good and bad.  Make sure you choose actions that you can live with the resulting consequences.”  I now know a little bit of what she meant.

On a brighter note, Lucas walked today.  He saw me in the kitchen doorway, stood in the middle of the floor and toddled right up to me as if he’d been doing it for years.  Oh, his little feet were unsteady and he stumbled twice, but he just got up and kept coming as if it was normal.  Liam seems quite disgusted.  He has tried to follow in his brother’s footsteps but every time he lifts that foot without his hand steadying him on furniture, down he goes.  The wails are of absolute fury and frustration, not because he injures himself on the twelve inches from bum to floor.

The greenhouse plans were put on hold during the excavation, but now that there are no more sheriff cars coming and going

Chad smiled at the abrupt stop.  Had Liam fallen in another attempt and hurt himself that time?  Did she get a phone call, have to change a diaper, or realize how late it was and stopped mid sentence?

He hadn’t realized how personally she’d take the potential damage to his career.  He also hadn’t realized that he’d been aloof.  His attempts to protect her from media garbage had done little more than make her feel alienated.  He’d have to remedy that.

“Lord, I had no idea when I wanted to open that bathroom that we’d be dealing with this kind of thing.  Now what do I do with it?”

I am NOT limiting myself to these Willows, but they were the ones that seemed to fit the story best.  I LOVE the Oakley ones too.  OY.  Might have to get one or two of him…

So, give me your favorite and why.

“Being a cop was everything to you when I hired you.  What happened, Tesdall?”

“I got married, had kids, expanded the farm.  I want more time with them.  I could quit, I probably should, but I don’t want to give up something that means so much to me.  I’m not ready to go that far yet.”

“I’ll think about it, Chad.  I’ll talk to the Mayor and see what he thinks about the budget.  He’s been talking about a quarter percent tax increase to pay for another officer and another fireman, but maybe if I presented him a budget with another guy but only a partial increase—”  Varney gave Chad an apologetic look.  “It’d mean a delay in your promotion.  I couldn’t give you a promotion so soon after you cut your hours.”

“I’m good with that.  I’m working for insurance as it is.  The income isn’t what matters to me.”

“Well, get that paperwork done and then get home.  You’ve got a family that needs you.” The chief waited until Chad sat at the community desk the officers shared.  “Chad?”

“Yessir?”

“I’m proud of you, son.  Adopting that baby like that…”  Varney nodded approvingly.  “It’s a good thing you’re doing—the right one.”

“Thank you, sir.  We think so, but not everyone agrees,” Chad admitted.

“Well, they would if they were that baby.”  All the way home, Chad remembered that line.  Willow would understand it more than anyone he knew.  Chief Varney was right.  Only their baby would truly understand what a right thing it was that his parents did.

Chad already thought of the baby as a him.  His mother, Willow’s grandmother, and even Willow all prayed like crazy for a baby girl, but he refused to think about it.  It was better to expect a boy and get him than hope for a girl that might not come.  Another son would be an amazing blessing.  With all the work they were creating with their expansions, those boys, in just a few years, would be a huge help.  He needed to focus on that aspect and ignore the occasional flights of fancy that included pigtails and pink gingham dresses.  It troubled him that he knew what gingham was or that it was appropriate for little girls’ dresses.

He sighed as he pulled into his normal parking spot in the driveway and stared at the empty space left by the van.  They weren’t back from the doctor’s appointment yet.  Chelsea was only ten weeks— hardly old enough to hear the heartbeat, but Chad hoped Willow would hear it loud and clear.  Her journal entries for the past few days had centered on a safe pregnancy for the baby and for Chelsea and requests that the baby would cooperate during check-ups and ultrasounds.

As was customary on the occasions when he arrived home to an empty house, a note on the table told him where to find his meal, where she was, what needed to be done, and interjected some tidbit of her day.

Chad,

Chelsea and I will probably be gone longer than we initially expected.  She spoke to the nurse yesterday when they confirmed he appointment, and apparently they’re going to do an initial ultrasound—something about measuring her pelvis and stuff like that.  I don’t know why they can’t do it when she does the one later to see what the baby is.  Maybe the baby hides the bones or something.  Anyway, poor girl, we’ll be enduring one of those awful internal things together.

When I found that out, I decided to drop the boys at Lily’s.  You were in court, so I didn’t call.  I figured a note would suffice.

Your sandwich is in the ice box and there’s chili in the crockpot in the summer kitchen.  I’ll move it to the stove when I get home unless you have the time to keep watch on it.  Then you can move it if you like.

Clyde is bringing out a truck for 103 and 108 to butcher.  He says they’re ready, so I called the next people on the list and got their orders.  We’ll have some leftover for us too.  He thinks 112 and 104 will finally be ready in another couple of months.  He’s never steered us wrong, so I’m going for it.  If they’re gone, he’s already been there.  If not, maybe you could move them into the barn to make it easier.

Liam said, “Daa—yeee” when you drove away today.  It was so cute.  I’m going to try to record him doing it with the camera next time.

Have I mentioned lately that you’ve made my life everything I could have ever wanted and more than I could have dreamed?  Thank you.

I love you,

Willow

“Lord, how many wives write their husbands a ‘quick note’ that takes up two and a half pages?”

As he went to get his chili, Chad glanced out in the pasture to see if he could find the right cows, but either they were gone, or hiding well.  He poured the bowl, grabbed a spoon, and stirred all the way into the house.  By the time he sat down with a glass of “plastic milk,” his sandwich, his chili, and with Argosy Junction playing in the background, the chili was perfectly cooled.

Idly, he reread the note, pondering what else might encourage his wife.   “Come on, Lord.  I need suggestions here.  When you get a note like that, you want to show it was appreciated.  What does she need done?”

The kitchen was still one of the most outdated kitchens imaginable.  Those TV shows with their love of miles of granite countertops and stainless steel would cringe at the cheap laminate left over from a bad remodel and cast iron.  On the brighter side, it was functional.  He knew she loved her pantry, and his eyes stared at the wall. Next to the stove.  He frowned.  That was odd,   Why hadn’t he—

Chad walked to the kitchen doorway and started counting paces.  He guesstimated around the couches and coffee table, and then frowned again.  Opening the door to the library, he didn’t bother to count.  It wasn’t possible.  He’d seen that closet.  It wasn’t deep enough to make up the difference.  How had he not noticed it?

Mentally comparing upstairs to down, he shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it.  There was at least four to six unaccounted for feet between the kitchen and the library.  Possibly more.  The living room and dining room didn’t have an equivalent space in the other room and the kitchen didn’t just into the room at all.  Before he could go stare at the outside of the house, he heard the van drive into the yard and park.

Eager to hear about the appointment, Chad jogged down the front steps, nearly slipping on a small patch of ice, and hurried to help Willow with the boys.  “I’ll get him,” he insisted, taking Liam from her arms.  “I hear you said Daddy today!”

“Daa-yee”

“And you doubted me,” Willow interjected smugly.

“What about Lucas?”

“Dumb as a post.”

“I can’t believe you said that!”  Chad stared in shock at his wife’s nonchalant dig at their son’s intelligence.

“What?  He doesn’t speak, therefore he’s ‘dumb’ as the proverbial ‘post’ which obviously doesn’t speak.  You act like I just said the worst thing ever.”

“Well, people usually use that phrase to say someone is stupid.”

Shaking her head, Willow grabbed the diaper bag and punched the appropriate button to shut the van doors.  Carrying Lucas in the house, she muttered, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how different things are than I always knew them.”

“Speaking of which,” Chad began.

“Can you speak of it after we get them in bed?  They’re both exhausted.  I didn’t let them fall asleep all the way back from Brunswick.  Chelsea did a great job keeping them awake for me, but I think Lucas conked out for a bit until we hit the drive.”

As she spoke, Willow carried her half-snoozing son upstairs, pulling off his shoes as she climbed.  Settling the tyke in the crib the boys still shared, she reached for Liam, curled him beside his brother, and put on a blanket that might or might not stay depending on their level of sleepiness.  They stepped out of the door, put the gate up in the bedroom, and escaped downstairs.

“Ok, sleeping tots, check!”  She winked at Chad.  “Ok, so what is going to be different now?”

“Well not going to be, I just was looking at the house today and there’s a huge section of space there that doesn’t make sense.  It’s like there is room missing.”

“Where?”

Chad showed her what he meant, but Willow shook her head.  “That’s staircase space.  Mother showed me once.  There’s that closet in the library, the under the stairs storage, and then—”

“It doesn’t add up.  Look.”  Chad walked her through the depth, width, and practical circumference of the room.  “There has to be a minimum of four to six feet missing—maybe eight.”

“Weird.  I wonder if Mother knew.”

***

A week later, Luke walked the perimeter of the house, the kitchen, the library, and knocked on every wall he could find.  He explored the upstairs, downstairs, attic, and tried to estimate the amount of missing space.  At last, he came into the kitchen, shaking his jacket off from outside, and settled his hands on his hips.  Willow, seeing he wasn’t ready to give his verdict, poured a glass of milk and handed him a pile of cookies.  “Warm up, Luke.”

“Thanks.”  After his first bite, Luke asked for a piece of paper.  “Right here, it looks like there is plumbing in the cellar that doesn’t go into the kitchen.  It’s close to the upstairs bathroom, but then there is plumbing here,” he pointed, “and here that would be unaccounted for.  I think there’s a bathroom behind there.”

Chad burst into the kitchen grinning.  “Did you tell her?”

“Barely.”

“It would take you twenty minutes to tell that many words.  A bathroom, Lass!”

“Either that, or a laundry room.”

Willow folded her hands and nodded.  “What’s your best guess?”

“Bathroom.  It’s so unusual for a bathroom on the upper floor and not the lower.  Maybe the other way around, but…”

“I think so too.”  Chad seemed beside himself.

“You want me to have to clean more toilets?”

“Toilet, Willow.  Just one more.  Think about potty training kids!  No rushing them upstairs to do their business when they had to go five minutes ago.  No more waddling up there when you’re the size—”  He swallowed.  That wasn’t likely to happen at all.  “Sorry…”

“No, I get your point.  If it’s there, it’s being wasted, so we should do it, I guess.  If it’s not, I don’t want to invest in it for nothing.”

“It’s there.  We just don’t know what ‘it’ is for sure.  Washing in the house would be nice for you though, wouldn’t it?”  Luke sounded almost apologetic for finding missing space.

“Do you think there’s room for a shower?”  Chad’s mind was already on how to fix the space up and get a downstairs bathroom.

“Willow, are you ok?”  True to form, Luke saw the confusion and distress in her eyes.

“Mother had to know.  She gutted this place.  Why—”

“Maybe it was more than she could handle.  Maybe she just walled it up so she didn’t have to deal with it.”  Chad’s suggestions weren’t helping.

“Maybe,” Luke added, a warning tone in his voice, “this is a bit overwhelming for your wife, so I should go.”

Later that night, Chad came to bed late after hours of playing with layout  ideas for a new bathroom.  Willow’s journal lay on the floor near the side of her bed, the pen nowhere in sight.  She’d fallen asleep while writing and eventually the book was pushed off the bed

February—

It’s only two days until Valentine’s Day.  I heard our new baby’s heartbeat, and if old wive’s tales are to be believed, it’s that of a girl.  We’ll see about that.  I don’t put much stock in them, but Dr. Kline says some of his patients insist that it was true for them.  I think the next ten weeks are going to crawl past until I’m ready to go crazy.

I think we’re going to put the child in Mother’s room.  I thought about trying to move the craft things into her room and revamp it for another nursery, but that’s just ridiculous.  If this is a girl, it’ll be extra special that she has Mother’s room, or perhaps we should move into there and let her have our room.

Speaking of rooms, Chad and Luke have determined that there was a room with plumbing next to the kitchen once.   Based upon Luke’s drawings, I can’t argue with his conclusions, but I’m confused and to be honest, a little hurt.  Mother had to know about it.  Even if she didn’t want to deal with it, she could have at least told me when I asked.  Was it too much work?  Was she too exhausted from everything else to finish it so she just walled it up?  Is there something horrible inside that we don’t want to find?  I don’t know the answer to any of my questions and truthfully, I don’t want to.  I just wish Chad had never noticed the discrepancy in size.

I did the math on the beef cows.  We made a profit.  I am stunned, to tell the truth.  With all we spent getting them, feeding them, the two vet visits divided by their portion, I was sure we’d barely break even.  I’m not sure it’s enough of a profit to be worth it for just a few animals, but keeping a dozen rotating, I think it’ll work.  Chad says we’ll raise the price per pound another quarter and it’ll yield another hundred to hundred and fifty dollars per animal of pure profit without burdening the average purchaser.  If they buy half the cow, they don’t pay the extra.  I guess that makes sense because then we don’t have to pay to freeze any of it.  He also wants us to cook one steak out of each animal we butcher so we can ensure the meat is good for each animal.  I’ve got that on a list in my butchering journal.  Usually we won’t be butchering in winter—mostly fall.  A few just weren’t quite plump enough for good marbling, or so Clyde told us.

I have a sinking feeling that my kitchen is going to get a big overhaul when Chad starts messing with the bathroom idea.  I should be happy, I know, but it means the electricity is on, the noise is atrocious, and I’ll have to keep the boys out of the way just in time for a new baby.  I really don’t want to think about it, but Chad has always hated that there’s only one bathroom.  He gives up so much for me, I can suffer through the mess of one for him, right?

Oh, Adric’s Jael is working on arranging Mother’s journals for publishing.  She found a way to do it so that we don’t have to order a bunch at a time and so we can keep them in color.  She has someone she knows in the publishing business that she wants to try to get to publish a series of them, but she says we should try to see how many sell first to demonstrate interest.   There’s a women’s day thing coming up where several ladies from area churches are sharing how they do what they do best and Lily asked me to consider showing Mother’s and my journals to the ladies and talk about what they mean to us.  Jael says we could probably sell copies there.

I don’t know if I want to make a habit out of teaching journaling classes.  I think that sounds kind of silly.  However, there’s something about this idea that won’t go away.  Every time I pray about how to turn it down, I find myself asking the Lord for wisdom in the best way to explain just how amazing it is to continue a life Mother started for me because she laid it out there.

The boys are quiet now.  Chad is downstairs with his Bible, praying for our family and the best decisions he has to make for it.  I am blessed to have such a man.  He’ll be down there until he feels confident of an answer—even if that answer is “Later.”  That’s just who he is.  Meanwhile, those boys will be awake before I’ve got the biscuits going so I should sleep.  Maybe I’ll reread this.  How will it sound to my children twenty years from now?  Will they be as blessed by the unimportant things I write about now as I am about Mother’s little insights into our life, or will they think it’s silly?  I wonder.

Chad’s heart squeezed as he read her words about him praying.  First, he’d spent the last half hour or more of that time playing around with layouts when she thought he was praying.  It felt deceptive.  However, he had spent the first hour or so after Willow went to bed praying for wisdom.   He hadn’t realized it, but that’s exactly what he’d seen from his father so many times.  He’d come downstairs for a drink of water and find his father asleep in a chair, the Bible over his chest, and the most serene look on the man’s sleeping face.  It was one of the most comforting things he’d ever seen as a child.  He’d have to thank his father for the example.  Christopher Tesdall’s faithful prayers and attention to God’s Word had paved the path for his children to follow.  It was a heritage, much like Willow’s mother’s journals.  He needed to make sure it was preserved for his children.

So, tonight I get out my trusty Random.org window and plug in the entries.  I wait… and voila.. (that wait was short… why aren’t Dr. visit waits like that?), and WOW!

Another 2!  Off I go to see….

MICHELE!  Congrats.

From the corner, Chad smirked.  Marianne glanced at him and then at Willow.  Jostling Liam on her knee, she glanced at Carol and then at Chad again.  “What, Chad?”

“I just can’t believe, after all this time, that you guys don’t know Willow well enough to know that animated arguments against something she obviously wants to do is an effective way of getting her to listen to you.”

“Stuff it, Chad.”

“Furthermore,” he added, ignoring his wife’s admonition, “I can’t believe the people who taught me that the reason the abortion industry was so successful was because Christians weren’t willing to step up and make self-sacrificial decisions are sitting in my living room telling me how it’s too much for us to attempt.”

“You don’t have to be the single-handed savior of all mankind, Chad!”  Marianne snuggled the baby closer.  “These boys need their mother and father’s full attention.”

“So if Willow brought you two pink lines tomorrow, you’d be upset.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t!  That’s a terrible thing to say.”  Marianne stared at her husband as he choked on his coffee.  “What!”

“Don’t ever tell me again how hypocritical the Wheelers are about favoring their biological grandchildren over the two that Jayne and Mitch adopted.”

Chad’s mother had the decency to blush.  “That’s not what I meant, it’s just that—“  She fought to explain herself.  “I mean, if Chad and Willow were talking about this in two years, I’d be all for it.  If she got pregnant today, it’d obviously be something the Lord blessed them with—“

“But our God, in His infinite grace and mercy, couldn’t possibly be blessing us with a baby right now, unless it is biological.  I’m really glad He doesn’t feel that way about us when we come to Him for adoption.”  Willow’s eyes flashed.  “I can see it now, ‘Sorry my child-to-be, I’m a bit overburdened with children at the moment, but if you can wait a year or two, oh and pray you don’t die in the meantime, then I’ll be happy to make you one of my own children.’”  She stood and grabbed her empty cup.  “I expected opposition, but I expected it from an entirely different angle.  I never thought I’d see Christians willing to risk abortion for a baby or that an unsaved girl would give the child to unsaved parents.  Frankly, I’m disgusted.”

Before anyone could reply, Willow carried her cup to the kitchen, added a log to the stove, grabbed her coat, and let herself out the back door, not caring that it slammed shut behind her.  Chad surveyed the room curiously.  “I haven’t heard anything from Granddad.  What aren’t you saying?”

“I’ve been thinking.  That’s all.”

“About what?”  Carol’s initial voiced disapproval hadn’t been repeated, but it was clear from her features that she hadn’t changed her mind.

“Well, a lot of the objections expressed are concerning Willow and her work here.”

“She’s up at sunrise, in bed late, and even has to hire help to get it all done.  Where will she put in another baby?”  Marianne nodded her support of Carol’s words.

“All of that is optional.”  David looked at Chad.  “What would happen if Willow discovered she couldn’t keep up with the farm or the expansions you’ve made on it?”

“She’d either hire it out or put a stop to it.  The boys come first.”

“But she hired—“

“Someone to do the housework—“

“—instead of doing it herself,” Carol finished without acknowledging Chad’s interruption.  She shook her head, frustrated.  “Her solution when she couldn’t keep up, was to hire out the work closest to home and family.  What will keep her from hiring out child care from eight to five every day when the boys get more active?”

“That was my solution to her overworking herself.”  David’s quiet correction seemed to reverberate around the room.

Seeing the shift in discussion, Marianne kicked Christopher gently.  “Help me explain.”

“I can’t.”

Stunned, she blurted, “Why not!”

“Because I don’t happen to agree with you.  Libby has children that close together.  They never seemed to suffer for it.”

“And what if Willow gets pregnant half-way through this girl’s pregnancy?  Can you imagine the turmoil for that poor girl when she has to find another couple to adopt her child when she thought she had the perfect family?”

Chad’s quiet voice answered before Christopher could formulate a coherent response.  “We wouldn’t renege, mom.”

“Glad to hear it, son.”  The pride in Christopher’s voice was matched in David’s eyes.

“What!”  Carol and Marianne stared at each other, stunned.

“If we agree to do this, we’re not backing out when it becomes inconvenient.”  He took a deep breath.  “Besides, her obstetrician in Rockland says that he doesn’t think Willow can conceive without intervention.”

“So, she does the drug thing again—“

Christopher nearly exploded at his wife.  “I never thought that you could be such a hypocrite, Marianne.  After the grief you gave Willow about doing it in the first place…”

“I was just upset that she left Chad out of the equation, Christopher Tesdall!”

“Um, Mom?”  Chad’s voice indicated a dissenting opinion.  “No, you terrified her with stories of multiples.  Willow won’t risk clomid again.  Not that I blame her,” he hastened to add.

David preempted a new round of questioning with his own.  “So, tell us.  Why did you ask us here?  What did you want to hear?”

Before Chad could answer, Carol pointed to the back door.  “Shouldn’t someone go out there?  Isn’t she going to feel ignored?”

“Willow didn’t leave to get attention.  She’s out there talking with the Lord and we’d just be intruding.”

David nodded at Chad’s answer and gestured for him to continue.  “Which gives you time to tell us what you think.”

“We wanted to know if there were concerns we should have considered and didn’t, and we wanted to know if you thought having the child’s father around all the time would make things difficult.”

“I take it you already decided that the closeness of age isn’t a problem for you?”  Christopher knew his son and knew they wouldn’t be considering adoption if that was a concern.

“Yes.”

“So you are mostly concerned with this boy being in your home with his child that you are raising?”  David rephrased as a way to stall his response, and Chad knew it.

“Yes.”

Seeing David’s hesitation, Christopher decided to give his input.  “I think it could be hard—very hard.  The boy may decide he regrets his decision.  If he’s around in a few years, if you have to discipline that child, he may find it hard to take.  He may also think that because he is the biological father, he has a right to input on how the child is reared.  All of that can make a hard situation harder.”  Before Chad could respond, Christopher continued.  “But, I think it might also be a very nice thing for him.  Even with the downsides, Ryder will see daily that his actions have consequences, even if they’re good ones, and it might make him a more careful person in the end.”

“I was thinking that since this boy isn’t saved, it’d be a perfect, in his face daily, example of how God adopts us as His own.  It might open doors of discussion that he otherwise wouldn’t have entered.”  Sending Carol a look of apology, he added.  “I think giving this baby a home to avoid abortion is reason enough to accept.  However, even if the child had the best home possible, coming from you two, this is an excellent opportunity for Ryder to see Christ’s love in action.  He’d be unlikely to see that even from another Christian family because he wouldn’t see his child again.  If you want a yes you should or no you shouldn’t from me, I’m saying yes.”

“I second the motion,” Christopher added.

“But—“

With the kind of infinite patience that Chad had received from his father all his life, Christopher turned to his wife.  “Did you hear what Chad said?  He said that Willow wasn’t willing to use the clomid again.  He said the doctor thinks they won’t conceive without intervention.  We can’t know that another opportunity like this will come.”

“They can seek it out later, Christopher.  They can go to an agency, go to China, go to Ethiopia…”

“How many people do we know who have said the same thing  but never did it—including ourselves?”

“But—“

“You don’t have to agree, Marianne.  I’m not expecting you to hold my opinion, but Chad asked for it, and I gave it.  I think they should do this.”

Carol, wrestling in prayer while the discussion continued around her, opened her eyes and said, “My objections are personal and selfish.  I’m answering based upon my own preferences and experience.  If Willow thinks she’s up to the task, if you support her, I’m one hundred percent behind you.  I do not want her to ever think that my concerns over this idea were out of a lack of interest in the child.”

Grateful, Chad stood and hugged Willow’s grandmother.  “Thank you.”

“Oh, Chad!  You don’t think we’d reject the child!”

“Honestly, no.  I didn’t.  I don’t even think Willow assumes that, but I can’t be sure.  You know how she is.  She doesn’t think like we expect her to sometimes.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

As Chad left to go get his wife and tell her they had the family’s blessing, he overheard Marianne ask Carol, “Oh, I wonder what the baby’s name will be!”

***

January—

It’s been two weeks since we told Ryder and Chelsea that we’d adopt the baby.  We made three requests of them.  First, that she use Dr. Kline.  After all, we’re paying for it, we want a doctor we trust.  She was fine with that.  We’ll take her to whatever appointments her mother can’t take time off to go with her.  She said she could drive herself, but if she got bad news at an appointment, I think she should have someone there with her.  She agreed.  Second, we asked for an ultrasound or two if necessary to find out what the baby is.  That made her happy.  I guess Ryder convinced her that I wouldn’t want her to submit herself to unnecessary intervention.  I just want to know if I can start sewing pink or not!  Finally, we asked them both to go to counseling with us.  Tom Allen.  Since Ryder is such a part of our lives, and since Chelsea and her parents live so close and will see us with the baby, we wanted to be sure that we’re all helped with how to relate to one another as things change.

When Chad first suggested it, I thought he was crazy.  I’m not accustomed to thinking like that, but Granddad, Dad, Mom, and Grandmom all agreed that it was a brilliant idea.  Renee the lawyer did some research for us and said that she thinks it’s a good idea.  I hope they all know what they’re talking about.  To be honest, I only agreed because I think any time at all with those two and an open Bible is a good idea.

Someone left the greenhouse door open and we lost everything.  Ryder is out there now, clearing out the old, adding it to the compost pile, and replanting new.  The celery was a huge disappointment for both of us.  It takes so long to grow, needs such cooler temperatures, and my customers are disappointed.  Apparently it tastes better than store stuff.  We’ll see soon.  Chad is bringing some home for soup.

I spend my days playing with the boys, working with wool and then spinning it, and planning the fall Boho line.  I am so glad I got spring’s done ahead of time.  Chad found a place that will print my own fabric designs, so I had him order what designed and it arrived today.  This is going to be so much fun!  Is it wrong to hope this baby is a girl so I can design for her too?

Lee and I talked about the designing thing.  I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to keep up and do the samples as well as the designs.  I told her that I thought I should resign now, because it’d be hard for them to find someone to do it in time if I got too busy.  Apparently, that isn’t an issue for her.  She assures me that if I draw them, they’ll get someone to make them if I can’t.  She even offered to send a seamstress to the house to work with me so that any changes I want to make during construction can be done.  I guess the line is that successful.  I’m still amazed when I see a child walking down the streets of Fairbury wearing something that I imagined, drew, and then sewed into a sample for a store!  Mother would be proud.  Even though she would never have done it herself, she always liked what I came up with us for us.

The boys are ten months old.  Time seems to zoom by so quickly these days.  They wander all over the furniture, but neither one is willing to let go.  They’ll walk all over the house holding onto our fingers, but I’m going to be stooped permanently if I let them do it much more.  The pediatrician says they’re almost dead center of growth charts even though they’re twins.  I guess twins are usually a little below average for the first couple of years or something.  I get confused with it all sometimes.  You’d think with the numbers, I’d get it, but I just can’t quite understand it all.  Oh well.

Chad says they’ll be walking by their first birthday if not before.  He’s already had to put the gate at the top and bottom of the stairs to keep them off the silly things.  They like to bang things together and make noise, but I think my favorite thing is to watch them ‘talk’ to each other.  They do it.  Chad thinks I’m crazy, but I can tell that they understand each other.  They’ll sit and play, one will grunt and babble something, and the other will respond.  It’s amazing.  I thought they should try to talk more, but everyone tells me that they’ll talk when they’re ready.  Liam says no, but he says no for everything, so I don’t think he knows what he’s saying.

I have some amazing pictures of them and Chad with them.  I don’t have Wes’s talent, but I have managed to copy his style on several shots.  It’s obviously a copy—uninspired so to speak, but I love it and that’s all that matters.  There’s one of the boys sleeping in the crib, Liam’s hand is laying on Lucas’s cheek.  So sweet.  I have it hanging in the hallway.  Chad turned it into black and white before we printed it.  I need to learn how to do that stuff, but I hate staring at that stupid screen.

Marianne cracks me up.  She brought me this body brush, some kind of mineral salts, and some kind of body oil.  I’m supposed to use them to help get rid of the excess skin and stretch marks.  I don’t know if it’ll work, but since she obviously did it as a result of my whining, I kind of feel obligated to try.  I’ll be careful about complaining about anything too personal—who knows what she’d send then!  Eek!

The boys are up from their naps.  I hear them shaking the crib together.  They do that.  It’s amazing.  They stand there, and shake the upper rail until it sounds like an earthquake in there.  Honestly, there are times I’m afraid they’ll rock it over!  I think we’ll all take a nice walk to town and see Daddy on beat.  He likes it when we do that.  I need to remember to thank Grandmom for that stroller again.  It is the best thing ever.

Chad set the journal back on her bedside table and tiptoed from the room.  His shift started in thirty minutes.  As he stepped from their bedroom, he glanced across the hall at the closed door to Kari’s old room.  The new baby would likely sleep in there.  He opened the door carefully and glanced around trying to imagine it in daylight.  It’d need a few changes, but he hoped Willow wouldn’t change too much.  If they moved the big dresser out of the room, there’d be room for a crib in the corner.  That’d be good.

He drove away from home, ready for a new day at work and his heart swelling with gratitude.  He’d had a thought for a while, and now it was time to talk to the Chief.  “Lord, if Chief Varney would agree to it…”  Sighing, he gripped the steering wheel harder, “I’d be so grateful.”

As she and Ryder debated fertilizer, location in the greenhouse, and other variables, Willow prayed fervently for words for wisdom in counseling him with his relationship.  Just as she opened her mouth to ask how serious he considered his relationship, she looked at the full spectrum lighting system and flipped the switch.  “The bulbs are dead.”

Ryder nodded as he opened the greenhouse door.  “I guess that’s the disadvantage to the automatic timer.  We didn’t see that they didn’t come on.  I’ll go get more.”

When he returned, Willow was ready.  “We enjoyed having you and Chelsea yesterday.  She’s a very passionate girl, isn’t she?”

“She’s really into the environment, if that’s what you mean.  She doesn’t get how arrogant it sounds to say, “We have to save the planet.”

“Save the planet?  From what?”

“Us.  The stupid things mankind does that is destructive to it.  I mean, I’m all for responsibility, but mankind can’t singlehandedly reverse the second law of thermodynamics.”

Willow nodded thoughtfully.  “As in all matter tends toward decay?  That’s the amazing thing about birth.  It is a constant proof that the ‘law’ is a generality rather than an absolute.”

“I just don’t see how throwing away all the plastic in your cupboards is going to solve anything.”

His thought process made no sense to Willow, but she decided to work with it.  “So, is she planning to attend Rockland University?”

“Yeah, unless she gets that scholarship to Northwestern.  I don’t think she’ll turn it down to stay here.”

“What are the chances of that?”

As he screwed in each bulb into the lamps,  Ryder opened up with uncharacteristic candor.  “Thankfully, high.  She’s great, but she’s a bit needy.  I don’t have time to focus on my classes, do my work out here, and give her all the time she wants.”  Ryder had the decency to look embarrassed.  “I’m not saying I’m trying to dump her or anything, but that scholarship would put us on a summers only kind of playing field.  Easier to manage if you know what I mean.”

“I think it’s probably wise.  If she’s the right girl today, she’ll still be the right one in a few years when you have your education finished and a start in whatever field you choose.”

Jonathan Landry found them working a while later and asked if he could help.  While he worked compost and manure into one of the raised beds, he asked intelligent questions about how they managed to grow vegetables when it was so cold outside.  Willow harvested carrots while she listened to Ryder patiently answer each of the boy’s questions.  He had a gift, her helper, for teaching while working without dumbing down the subject matter, and she knew then that he’d become a teacher rather than a research scientist.  Somehow, she also knew his parents wouldn’t approve.  There was no money in teaching from what Chad had told her.

***

Two days before New Year’s Day, Chad awoke at twelve-thirty in the afternoon, reached for his watch, and grabbed Willow’s journal instead.  Pulling the blankets up around his chin, he read her last entry with a smile on his lips.

December 26-

Grandmom and Granddad spent Christmas here this year.  Uncle Kyle and Aunt Sheryl were here too as were their children.  It’s hard to think of people my age as someone’s children, but then, I am Mother’s child so it makes sense in an awkward sort of way.  Bethel Ann has doesn’t like me.  I’ve tried to brush it off as shyness, not trusting the daughter of the woman who broke the family’s heart and deliberately at that.  However, after a full day of snide remarks about the boys, telling me about all the things our grandparents did with her and for her, and the general unease every time she opened her mouth, I am forced to conclude that she’s threatened by my existence.  She was always the ‘only granddaughter’ and treated like the family princess.  I guess she thinks she’s been de-throned.

So, aside from that little petite bundle of negativity, the day was really quite nice.  I had fun making gifts for everyone and everyone but Bethel Ann seemed to like their gifts.  Apparently, personalized journals are ‘so 2002’ whatever that means.  That snide remark did get her a sharp reproof from Uncle Kyle.  I felt badly, but how was I to know that the only thing appropriate to give teenagers was a gift card?  I am still recuperating from Cheri’s silly gift card spree last year.

Chad loved his saddle blanket.  I wasted a lot of wool and knitting on that thing until I got it right, but after a long time of boiling and then cutting to the right shape, I did it.  Lacey should be one very happy equine.  I hope he doesn’t tell her I made it.  She’ll probably try to thank me with those fat hairy lips of hers.  Ew.

At the risk of being ungrateful, I must say now that I don’t understand children’s toys.  I made the boys felt blocks and busy books.  Chad made them each a few interlocking train pieces out of a wood kit he found on the internet.  I really need to learn more about that.  It’s amazing how often he tells me something or comes home with something I needed and says, “Oh, I found it on the internet.”  That’s off topic though.  His parents, my grandparents, Aggie and Luke, and even Uncle Kyle all bought the children brightly colored (cute!) plastic toys.  I liked them.  I thought they’d be easy to wash when they got dirty, but then out came the batteries.  Every one of those things requires batteries.  Furthermore, they’re the noisiest piles of obnoxiousness I’ve ever had the misfortune to encounter.  All I want for Christmas is a battery thief.  I tried to take the silly batteries out after everyone left, but Chad thought I’d put them in to charge again and replaced them.  If he’s reading this, he should know that I hate those things with a passion he’s never seen before.  He doesn’t want to see it.  Trust me.

Ryder has been distant this past week.  He’s missed work twice and been late almost every other day.  To say that things are out of sync around here is an understatement.  I’ve been grateful for Iris Landry’s help around here.  Without it, I would have had to let the plants in the greenhouse go.  If I have to choose between the farm expansion and my children, there is no choice.  Period.  However, if Ryder finds himself unable to work, I can try to find another college student that is interested in our life here, or maybe that British guy, Nigel.  He’s been working on Judith’s house, but that can’t last forever.  Meanwhile, I find it odd.  Ryder has been off school for two weeks and has another four before he goes back again.  You’d think he’d have more time than usual for us and yet he’s been here less than during classes.  I’m afraid I need to sit him down and talk to him.

Chad just came in to tell me that Ryder asked if he and Chelsea could come out to talk with us.  I have a sinking feeling that she’s the reason for his absence and that I’m going to hear they’ve gotten engaged or something.  I thought he made sense after Thanksgiving, he’s acted like his old self again, but now this.  I can’t think what else it could be.

I hear my little lads.  I guess I need to quit writing about a whole lot of nothing and enjoy even more somethings with my guys.  I think Liam is going to walk any day.  He zips around furniture faster than I can catch him before he crashes to the floor.  Thankfully he doesn’t seem to care.  I asked Chad about the potential for permanent brain damage from all the knocks on the furniture and floors, but Chad says that it just knocks sense into them and without it, they’d be idiots.  I’m going with his interpretation for my sanity, but I confess, it doesn’t make sense to me.

So many of her entries these days were filled with productivity lists, the boys’ milestones, and plans for the future.  The little tidbits that read more like her mother’s average journal entries were his favorites.  Oh, Kari had written her share of laundry lists of factoids to reference at a later date, but the sheer size of their enterprise now demanded much more of her journaling time.

The entry about Ryder concerned him as well.  They’d been so relieved to hear about the potential scholarship and Ryder’s eagerness to avoid a serious relationship so early in his educational career.  When Willow shared her opinion of his teaching skills, the young man had seemed eager to talk to his college counselors about it.  Ryder wasn’t the kind of guy who called to make an appointment for a discussion.  Something was up and Chad was sure he’d be announcing his intention to move to Chicago to be with Chelsea at the very least.  An engagement seemed equally likely.

Willow peeked her head around the door.  “I’ve got coffee, chili, cornbread, and ice cream sundaes downstairs.  They’ll be here in an hour, so if you want a shower…”

“Hey, c’mere.”

The thick braid whacked his face as she bent to kiss him.  “That’s what you get for lounging around in bed reading rather than controlling your children.”

“They’re in bed.”

“They are now!  I just put them there.”  She swung her braid at him again.

“See, I know when to get up and when to stay in bed.”

Grabbing the blankets, Willow jerked the covers from him and carried them out the door.  “If you want to stay warm, come get them.”

Twenty minutes later, freshly shaven and starving, Chad arrived in the kitchen to find his lunch sitting on the table and Willow pounding bread with a vengeance.  “Does that make you feel better?”

“No, but it’ll make the bread taste better.”

“He’s a man, Willow.”

She sent a withering look in Chad’s direction.  “He’s acting like a child.”

“We don’t even know what he wants.”

“He’s bringing her with him.  To talk.  It must be serious, Chad.  You don’t bring a girlfriend with you to tell your boss that you’re quitting or you made the deacon’s list.”

“Dean’s”

“Whatever.”

“How modern you’re getting.”  Chad’s teasing didn’t make her smile as it usually did.  “You’re covered in flour, Lass.”

“Good thing I’ve got on an apron then, isn’t it?”

“Your nose doesn’t have one.”

“Well then, you know what to get me for Valentine’s Day.”

Laughing, he carried his empty bowl to the sink, wondering as he went, how he’d finished so quickly.  “I must have been hungry, and don’t tempt me.  I wonder if Mom knows someone who sews.”

“She does.  Me.  So there you have it.”

A knock on the door sent Willow’s eyes flying to the clock.  “They’re half an hour early!”  She stared down at the dough on her hands.  “Well, they’ll just have to talk in here.  I’m not going to waste good dough just because they can’t come on time.”

Chad led the couple into the kitchen and pulled out chairs.  “Willow is in the middle of bread and you don’t come between a Finley woman and her work.”

“We’re early.  We sat around Chelsea’s house until we couldn’t take it anymore.  Sorry.”

“Get them sundaes, Chad.”

Chelsea shook her head.  “No thanks.  I—no thanks.”

One of the most awkward silences of Chad’s life nearly smothered them in the room until Willow’s fist slammed into the pile of dough and she said, “You said you had something to talk to us about?”

“Lass…” his low warning tone wasn’t lost on her, but she ignored it and he knew it.

“We have a problem.  Possibly a big one.”

“Possibly?  You’re kidding me, right?  Possibly?”  Chelsea’s voice was pitched high enough to earn her a spot as a soprano in opera.

“Chels…”

“Are you quitting Ryder?”  Willow’s voice held an edge that Chad recognized.  It was her, ‘you’d better not say what I don’t want to hear or I’m going to blast you’ tone.

“No!  I—No!”

“Just tell her, Ryder.  My parents will be home in two hours!”

With a face as miserable as any Chad had ever seen, Ryder looked up at him, ignoring Willow’s questioning gaze, and said, “Chelsea is pregnant.”

“Oh, Ryder.”  Without another word, Willow dusted her palms off onto the dough and went to put her arms around Chelsea.  “Are you ok?”

“I am not ok!  Why the h—“

“Chels!”

“Why on earth would you think I’m ok?  I’m pregnant!  I’m seventeen, pregnant, and my life is ruined.”

“That’s a lie.”  Chad winced at the words as Willow spoke them.  Leave it to Willow not to let someone exaggerate the truth at a time like that.

“What!”

“Your life isn’t ruined.  Put on hold, adjusted, made more difficult, yes.  Ruined no.  Lying to yourself like that just perpetuates the negativity.”

“What do you know about it?  You’re infertile!”  Chelsea’s tears flowed freely now.

“Chelsea, really!  You’re going to rub it in to make yourself feel better about being worse?”  Ryder sounded disgusted.

Before things went downhill any further, Chad decided to find out why the not-so-happy couple were telling them this news.  “What did your parents say to it?”

“We haven’t told them yet.  They get in town this afternoon.”

“So why are you here?”  Willow beat him to the question.  “I would think telling them first—“

“We—“

Chelsea threw Ryder a disgusted look.  “My mom is really into all the pro-life stuff.  She’s not going to sign for an abortion, and I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with that anyway.  So, we’re going to give the baby up for adoption, and Ryder wants you to consider it.”

“Adoption?”  Willow’s voice sounded strangled.

With an arm around his wife’s shoulder, Chad squeezed it to tell her to let him handle the discussion.  Fortunately, she picked up on his cue before she blasted the girl for even considering an abortion.  “Chelsea, how do you feel about asking us to consider adoption?”

The girl began weeping.  “I don’t know.  I just want it over with.  Ryder thought that if we had a plan in place before we talked to my parents, they wouldn’t freak out as badly.”

“I don’t think you should be asking us to do this unless you’re sure.  What if your parents are more understanding than you anticipate?  What if they want you to keep the baby?”

“No!”  She looked embarrassed, but the resolute expression on her face couldn’t be ignored.  “Sorry, but no.  I’m not ready to be a mom.  I don’t want a baby.  I don’t think I want an abortion either and a pregnancy is going to be gross and disgusting, but the baby has to go.”

“We’ll do it.”

Willow’s voice was quiet, but firm.  Chad stared at her, stunned, and then beckoned her.  “Will you excuse us?  We need to talk about this privately for a minute.”

They grabbed their coats and walked silently to the barn.  Just inside the door, Chad slammed his fist against the wall.  “Will you tell me exactly what you’re doing?”

“I’m agreeing to adopt that child.”

“Without us discussing it.”  His tone should have warned her that she’d crossed one of those lines she never understood, but it didn’t.

“What is there to discuss?  She doesn’t want the baby, Ryder would get to see his child if it came to live with us, and she’s mentioned abortion twice.  If she keeps talking, she’s going to desensitize herself to the idea and that baby is going to die.”

“Not without her mother’s consent.”

Closing her eyes, Willow took a deep breath and then nearly leveled him with a disgusted glare.  “You really think I’m stupid, don’t you?  Weren’t you the one telling me just a week ago about how the school nurse took a girl off campus to get an abortion in the city?  Weren’t you the one telling me that the girl’s parents filed a complaint but there was nothing you could do about it because the law states that while under the school’s care the school can do as they see best regarding their students’ medical care?  Didn’t you show me the form parents sign when they enroll the students that gives those same school officials the right to make that choice?”

“That baby would be born sixteen—“

“Seventeen I think”

He nodded, “Seventeen months after the boys.  That’s cutting it close age wise.”

“Are you saying you are unwilling to adopt this child?”  The shock in her face was almost his undoing.

“No, Lass.  I’m saying you can’t just agree to adopt a child without us discussing it.  It’s a bit sudden for me just to agree willy nilly.”

She chewed her lip for a moment and then nodded.  “You’re right.  How about this.  We tell them it’s something we’ll consider.  That way, they can tell Chelsea’s parents that they have a couple considering adoption, which is the truth, but doesn’t leave us committed.”

“Deal.”

As the barn swung open, Chad’s voice murmured low in her ear, “Have you thought about names yet?”

Willow’s voice startled her out of her reverie.  “Ryder says you want to go to nursing school.  So what about nursing interests you?”

“I like a lot of things.  I want to go into geriatric nursing.  I’m really close to my grandmother and since she’s been in the assisted living home, I’ve gotten to see what is involved.  It’s so cool to listen to them talk about living stuff that I read about in school because they were there!”

“Will you work at the place here in Fairbury when you’re done?”  Willow’s interest was obviously genuine.

“I don’t know.  There are a lot of places to work in Rockland, but it’s more expensive to live there.  I could commute from home, but I’ll probably want my own place by the time I graduate.  They’re adding an assisted living part to that eco-community in Ferndale.  That sounds really cool.  I’m totally into going green with everything possible.  They even do green burials there.”

“What is green?”

Chelsea looked at her hostess in shock.  “You know, eco-friendly.”

Reaching down to pick up Liam, Willow moved to sit in the rocker and tried again.  “Ok, what is eco-friendly?”

“You know, like you have here— living off the grid, organic farming, small carbon footprint…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but ok.  It sounds interesting anyway.”

Passionate about the planet, Chelsea grew animated as she tried to explain.  “Oh, you know, working to keep our planet sustainable.  People are destroying our planet with excessive waste, fossil fuels, and the abuse of chemicals and stuff.  The impact on our environment is catastrophic.  First they were worried about a greenhouse effect, but it’s actually worse.  Scientists are seeing that the real problem is climate change.  We’re shifting from over warm to over cool.”

“But the earth has done that for centuries—millennia.  I remember reading about ice ages and then warming trends before reverting back to ice ages over hundreds or thousands of years.  Why is it any different now?”

“Because man is just trashing the place.”

“But if the result is the same thing that has always been happening, how can you claim that the trashing of the planet is the cause of the climate change?”

“I thought you’d be environmentally conscious.  I so didn’t expect you to be an anti-environmentalist.”

Willow stared at her guest, stunned.  “Why must I be against the environment simply because I don’t understand the logic behind a climate change theory?”

Before Chelsea could answer, Ryder and Chad came stomping into the kitchen laughing about some football play they’d heard on the radio while working in the barn.  Unknown to her guest, Willow watched, concerned, as all of the girl’s attention focused on her boyfriend the moment he entered the room.  In Willow’s opinion, the relationship seemed awfully intense on Chelsea’s part.

“Hey, dinner is almost done, why don’t you guys set the table and we’ll be ready to eat?”

The table conversation revolved around environmental activism, conservation, and the effects of politics on science.  Though she carried her end of the conversation when her lifestyle seemed to conflict with her political views, Willow spent most of the meal watching the interaction between Ryder and Chelsea.  A nagging concern hovered in her heart, until Willow thought of a way to test her theory.

All through the meal, she fed bits of meat, cranberry sauce, and mashed potatoes to the boys and waited.  She argued against legislation, dipped her potato covered fork in gravy before feeding Lucas the bite, and served pie to overstuffed guests, all while biding her time.  Being too obvious would ruin everything, and she knew it.  What she didn’t know, was that Chad saw the change in her, and wondered at it.  His wife was up to something.

She cleared the table, filled containers of food for Ryder to take home over the weekend, did the dishes, mopped the floor even, and then went to join everyone in the living room.  Chelsea, trying to be a thoughtful guest, brought a wrapped Apples to Apples game as a hostess gift and explained the rules as Willow took the boys upstairs for their naps.  Though tempted to put her plan into action, she sat down and tried to throw her whole heart into choosing Charles Manson as a perfect definition for ‘gentle’.

An hour later, she made hot chocolate and put homemade candy canes in each mug.  From the fridge, she pulled a sprig of mistletoe and smiled.  It was time.  Chelsea was looking restless and their guests wouldn’t stay much longer.  She wanted to test her theory before they left.  Putting the tray on the coffee table, she pulled the sprig from it and dangled it tauntingly over Chad’s head.  “I think we need to change our tradition just a smidge.”

“What—“

Before he could ask questions that made it look like there was no tradition, Willow took the sprig and hung it on the little hook over the front door.  “Thanksgiving should be the first day we put up the mistletoe, not the day we put up the tree, don’t you think?”

Swiftly, she changed the subject to Black Friday sales, shopping trips, Christmas traditions, and anything she could think of to keep Ryder and Chelsea relaxed and comfortable.  When the mugs were empty, she refilled the tray and carried it to the kitchen, calling for Chad’s help once she disappeared around the corner.  “I think the stove is getting low in here and I have more bread ready to go in.”

“We’re going to have to be going soon.  Her parents expect us at seven for their dinner,” Ryder called from the living room.  Chelsea’s affirmative murmur and the shuffling sounds she heard told Willow it was time.  She grabbed the containers from the ice box, counted to ten, and then strolled nonchalantly into the kitchen.

As she expected, Ryder and Chelsea were plastered against each other under the mistletoe.  “Excuse me.  Sorry.  Don’t forget to take these home.”

Embarrassment flooded Ryder and Chelsea’s faces, but Willow forced herself to act as if nothing unusual happened.  She’d have words with Ryder the next afternoon.  Now wasn’t the time to embarrass him any further.  “Thanks, Willow.  I appreciate it.  No one cooks like you— especially my mom!”

***

“Lass?”

“Hmm?”  Willow glanced at her pattern, eyebrows furrowed as she worked a large circle of yarn into what looked like a doily with arms.

“What was up with the mistletoe this afternoon?”  His wife’s constant industry was wearing off on Chad, and he’d spent his evenings for the past few weeks sanding, gluing, staining, and oiling an unusually shaped guitar that he called a renaissance guitar.  Just as Willow consulted her pattern, Chad followed the instructions for adding a string to the tuning pins.

“Well, other than the obvious excuse to break it in early…”  She sent him a flirtatious glance that might have distracted a less determined man.

“Yes, other than that…”

“I saw something in their relationship, Chad.  It scared me.  I think Ryder is looking for respect and approval anywhere he can get it, and if he gets it from an adoring girl, there could be trouble.”

“So, because you’re concerned that they might get too physical, you put up an invitation to do it in our living room?”  That train of thought was illogical even for Willow’s unusual thought processes.

“I’d rather that than the alternative?”

“Which is?”

“Get physical where there is no chance of getting caught and therefore the freedom to go too far.

He had to admit, she made sense.  “Are you going to talk to him?”

“Yes.  Tomorrow while you’re at work.  Iris is coming to clean and watch the boys so I can do some work in the greenhouse with him.  I’m hoping maybe it’ll come up naturally.”

“Willow, he’s not a Christian.”

“I know that.  What does that have to do with anything?”  From his vantage point, it seemed that Willow had figured out her pattern and the needles flew again.

“You can’t expect the unsaved to act saved.”

“Hogwash.”

Stunned, Chad’s reply was less than eloquent.  “Come again?”

“Hogwash.  God expects it, why shouldn’t we?”

“God doesn’t expect sinners to do anything but sin.”

“Then what’s the point of hell and damnation if He expects nothing of humanity?”

Leave it to Willow to see things from a different angle that redefined what he said.  “What I meant was, it is futile to expect those who are not saved, to see the value in following the Lord’s commands for us.  Those who are not washed free of sin, cannot help but wallow in it.”

“I’ll concede that point.”

“If you need a non-religious reason to be careful, ask if she’s underage.”

“She is, surely!  Ryder’s under age and she’s a year behind him in school.”

Chad shook his head.  “No, Willow, under the age of legal consent.  It’s eighteen here.  If he’s over and she’s under, he could end up on a sex offender registry for the rest of his life if her parents pressed charges.”

“Registry?”  The confusion in her eyes was only slightly less overwhelming than the stunned expression on her face.

“If she’s not eighteen, then any sexual activity can land him before a judge.”

“Wait.  The schools can push their birth control and their ‘safe sex’ but the kids who take that as a license to use it, are only allowed to be stupid with other underage kids?  If they’re intimate with their seventeen year old boyfriend all year, the minute he turns eighteen, they’re supposed to dump him for someone younger if they want to keep up their extra-curricular activities?  That’s insane!”

Amused, Chad listened as she tossed aside her knitting and ranted at the illogical programs that trained young people to behave in ways that would later make them criminals at the turn of a birthday.  She had valid points.  As an officer, he’d seen the life of a young man shattered by the very scenario she proposed.  Vindictive parents didn’t try to put a kibosh on their daughter’s relationship when her boyfriend was under eighteen.  They simply waited for his birthday and then had him arrested for statutory rape.  On the other hand, he’d gone to school with guys who took great delight in stripping as many girls of their virginity as possible and was thankful that at least something put a stop to it.

“It’s a flawed system, Lass.  I’ll give you that.  However, the flaw is in the presupposition that teenagers cannot control their sexual impulses.  A married man is expected to be faithful to his spouse, even if separated by months, but a teenager cannot possibly be expected to save himself for his bride.  We reduce young people to animals anymore.  It’s wrong.”

“You’re absolutely right it’s wrong.  Furthermore, I cannot believe that the law—“

“The law is not at fault, Lass.  We have to have a way to protect girls from men who would prey on them.  I know that it seems unjust, but there has to be a cut-off.  In some states, consent is over eighteen, others it’s under.  I agree that if a parent is legally responsible for their child’s actions, then the child shouldn’t be allowed to give that consent.”

“Chad?”  Willow’s voice had adjusted to a tone he knew all too well.

“I know, Lass.  Our boys won’t be taught that way.  I wasn’t, and I went to the same schools that some of the worst offenders went to.  Rich boys who thought that it was a game to rack up notches on their belts like gunmen in the old west.”

“You won’t make me send our boys to be taught like that?”

He laughed.  “Lass, I wouldn’t let you send our boys into that school.  My reputation was nearly destroyed because a girl was taught, in our classrooms, how to accuse a guy of misusing her.”  He thought for a moment.  “Then again, I doubt it’ll be the same by the time the boys are old enough for those classes.  Surely by then there’ll be a new theory.  Monasticism or something will be in vogue or something.”

They talked for some time, Willow questioning everything and Chad explaining the reasoning behind decisions he didn’t even agree with at times.  Their lives were changing, sometimes at breakneck speed, and nothing they did could stop it.  Just watching the changes in people around them affected every aspect of their own lives.

As he crawled into bed the next morning, Chad saw Willow’s journal open and the day’s thoughts on it.

Thanksgiving—

Each time I learn more about the world around me, the more I see the wisdom in Mother’s choices.  She sheltered me from the ugliness, the foolishness, and the sinfulness of this world.  I’m always sorry to see a little of that person I was disappear with more knowledge of how things truly are.

Then again, if I had known where it would lead, would I have made a different decision the day that Mother died?  I could have buried her myself, I wonder that it never occurred to me.  I could have kept everything exactly the same as it’d always been and I’d be ignorant of the things that trouble me like Ryder’s relationship and the propensity for people to politicize everything.

I would not have met Chad that day.  Granddad wouldn’t have become a part of my life, and we wouldn’t have the boys.  Yes, much of the things that make me so uncomfortable wouldn’t affect me, but isn’t every good thing worth the sacrifices you have to make to have it?  I wouldn’t be bombarded with immorality in the lives of people I love, but I would also have no one to love.  The Lord and I would have been fine here, but would I have truly lived Mother’s dream if I was not living ‘deliberately’?  Would I not have found myself, at the end of my life, discovering that I had not lived?

Chad smiled at the words and replaced the journal.  He loved those glimpses into Willow’s heart—to see the side of her that she so seldom voiced.  Each word of her journal reminded him of the choices she’d made, many to please him, and how with all the good, she’d accepted things that while not necessarily bad, weren’t always the good that made her comfortable.

“Lord, help me do my part to ensure that this different life of ours does make all the difference so that at the end of her life, she may know she lived, deliberately, every moment of it.”

Well, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?  I moved servers months ago, and in doing so, I messed up the backup of the blog and essentially lost everything.  Every single post had to be copied and pasted back into the blog.  One.  At.  A.  Time.  Let’s just say it was exhausting.  A friend helped with some of the posts, and I want to thank her publicly for being so helpful.  Tawna, you’re the best.

So, first, a new chapter is coming in the next day or two!  I hope SOMEONE out there is happy to hear that.

Second, as a celebration, I’m having a contest.  There are several ways to enter.

1. Post a comment and tell me what minor character you missed most and want to know better.
2. Post a link to the contest on Facebook and then post here that you did.
3. Post a link on your own blog or a message board and then post here that you did.

I’ll probably draw on February 14, 2010… it seemed appropriate.

If you already have this Willow Tree Figurine and would prefer another, I’ll consider purchasing another one.  This one reminded me of Ryder so I chose it, but if there’s another one that you care about, if there isn’t a huge cost difference, I’ll send it instead.

Chad smiled at the eagerness in Willow’s voice.  Ever since the discussion with David, her old bounce and energy seemed to be returning, although slowly.  He wondered at the change in her when there was no change in their situation.  “Lass, I’ve noticed you seem a bit more like your old self these days.  Since nothing has changed around here, I was wondering what happened.”

“I don’t know.  I think maybe I needed to see that I don’t have to do it all by myself.  Just knowing I don’t need to freed me somehow.”

“I was thinking we could put an ad in the Fairbury Gazette.  You write it, and I’ll drop it off on my way to work this afternoon.”

Willow dropped the dish cloth into the sink, dried her hands, grabbed pen and paper and began writing.  He nearly went crazy as she meticulously wrote each word in her perfect and artistic penmanship.  “There.  What do you think?”

Chad read the paper aloud.  “We are a family of four and are looking for part-time house help.  It is our preference to barter food and fiber items in exchange for the work, but will also consider monetary compensation.  Please inquire at Walden Farm or call 555-3525.”

He took the pen and made a few scribbles and adjustments before passing the sheet back to her.  “This is how most people write an ad.”

Willow read the note under her breath.  “We are a family of four and are looking for part-time house help.  It is our preference to barter food and fiber items in exchange for the work, but will also consider monetary compensation. Please inquire at Walden Farm or call 555-3525.”

Her nose wrinkled as she looked at Chad.  “But it’s a grammatical nightmare.  You also removed the possibility of payment.”

“See if anyone will barter first.  If we get no calls this week, then we’ll add that to next week’s.  Why tell them it’s a possibility until we know if we need that possibility or not?”

Willow’s arms slid around her husband’s waist.  “And that is why I married you.  I needed someone to tell me how to live in this crazy world of yours.”

Chad finished his coffee in one gulp and then reached for his coat.  It was time to take Lacy for her ride.  He kissed her temple on his way to the door and then paused as he stepped outside.  “Well, that and you were awfully curious about smooching.  I heard the end of North and South so many-“  He slammed the door quickly before her soggy dishcloth could smack him in the face.

***

The ad came out in Wednesday’s paper.  To Chad and Willow’s great surprise, they had four calls within the hour that the paper was likely delivered.  The next day, two more calls came and then they received a call from Aggie.  After speaking to her for a few minutes, Willow disconnected the call and raced to the barn where Chad was feeding Lacey and the goats.  “Chad!  Aggie just called about the ad—“

“Aggie wants to work here?  Is she nuts?”

Playfully, Willow shoved him and reached up to pat Lacey.  Absently, and much to Chad’s stunned amusement, she stroked the horse’s neck as she continued with her news.  “If you’d let me finish… She said that she has a friend who lives in Ferndale.  Iris…” Willow glanced at the pad of paper in her other hand.  “Landry.  I guess they helped Aggie a lot when she first got the children and moved out to their place.  She said Iris was a wealth of wisdom and a hard worker.  When she saw the ad she called Iris and told her about it and Iris said she’d love to work in exchange for fresh food and yarn!”  Willow hesitated.  “Her only stipulation is that she’d have to bring her son with her.  He’s almost thirteen, though, so he shouldn’t be too loud and rough, should he?”

“What’s wrong with loud and rough?”

Nearly sending Chad into a seizure in trying to keep from reacting, Willow laid her head against the horse and sighed.  “I am not bringing someone out here to make more work.  Loud and rough means babies that don’t sleep.  What’s the point of hiring help if they undo all you gain by hiring them?”

She stepped away from the horse, brushed her hands off on her jeans, and started toward the door talking all the while.  “So what do you think?  Should I call her or not?  I like that she has such a good reference, but that boy…”

“Would you have Aggie out here if Laird or Tavish came with her?”

“Definitely.”

“There’s your answer then.”

“Thank you!  I’ll call her right now before the boys wake up again.”

At the barn door, she turned wide-eyed and stared at Chad and his equine friend.  “Did I just touch that animal?”

“You not only touched her, you stroked her neck and snuggled up against her.”

Willow shuddered visibly.  “This is proof that I need some help.”  She shuddered again blinking very slowly as if trying to gain self-control.  Her eyes narrowed slightly and she glared at Chad.  “You enjoyed that.”

“Just a little, yes.”  He met her icy eyes and sighed.   “Ok, so I barely contained my helpless laughter.  It was pretty funny.”

To his surprise, she retraced her steps until she stood nearly at his shoulder with Chad between her and the horse.  “Do not ever stand by and watch me put myself in a situation like that again.  If I want to cuddle up to that beast, I’ll do it, but it’s very unjust of you to let me do it unknowingly.”

As he watched her leave again, he shook his head and fed Lacy another carrot.  “They talk about no fury like a woman scorned?  Forget it Lace… the real fury comes when they’re scared out of their wits.”

In the house, Willow leaned against the back door, shaking.  She had all sorts of theories as to why horses terrified her as they did, but none of them made sense.  All she knew was that they did and she hated how she lost all sense of logic and reason the moment she was around them.  Weakly she pushed herself away from the door and grabbed her journal.  According to her calculations, she was two weeks behind on her Christmas gifts.  She could get an early start on butchering chickens, or work on gifts.  A glance at the clock told her she had an hour at most.

The sound of Chad’s boots on the back step made her decision for her.  She just couldn’t go back outside in the cold right now.  She sighed.  “More like you can’t stand to go near that animal right now,” she muttered under her breath.

While Chad loaded the wood boxes for the stoves, Willow went upstairs to the craft room and pulled out a box.  She’d work on the boys’ main gift while she and Chad talked.  He might even be able to keep them occupied so she could make some serious progress on it.

“Did you get a hold of the woman—Iris?”

“Oh!  No, I need to call.  Thank you.”

This was a great surprise.  She’d never been forgetful.  Chad started to chalk it up to putting too much pressure on herself until he remembered the horse.  He’d have to ask about that sometime.  Right now, he had a project of his own.  The boys were starting to crawl and they worked constantly to keep the lads away from the stoves and the stairs.  If he could build fences and gates, it’d save a lot of concern.

Several minutes later, she danced into the room and pulled out her box of felt squares.  “She says she can start Monday and thanked me for the opportunity.”

“Did you work out payment?”

“I’m ‘paying’ her twelve dollars an hour.  From her earnings, she’s buying anything we produce that she wants at a 10% discount.  On the first of every month, we’ll settle up.  Either she’ll take more food home to make us even, or I’ll give her cash.”

“Sounds fair.”  He pulled out a fence picket from his pile, spread it on top of a tack cloth, and grabbed his sandpaper.

“What are you doing?”

“Making a fence for the stove.  I thought it might as well be attractive.  I knew you’d never go for a plywood box.”

“I think Mother has something like that up in the attic.  I know there are pictures somewhere of a fence-like thing around this stove and the one in the kitchen.  I don’t think she made one for the upstairs.”

Before she finished talking, Chad was racing up the stairs.  She reached for a cutout of a sun and the letter S and chose a light blue square.  With orange embroidery floss, she carefully stitched the sun to the block.  By the time she finished, she heard the faint cry of, “Eureka!” from the upstairs.

Minutes later, Chad came downstairs with something wrapped in a huge blanket.  “It’s covered in dust.  I thought I’d take it outside and sweep it off there.”

“Is that all of it?”

“No, this is just one side.  It looks like it attaches directly to the wall  I saw several more pieces so I think the kitchen one is up there too.”

While Willow sewed trains, umbrellas, violets, and wagons to block squares, Chad carried down huge sections of fencing to the front porch.  He took a broom out and swept them carefully and then brought them into the kitchen to wipe them down well.  “I thought about hosing them off, but I was afraid they’d just freeze and then melt all over the floor.”

“They would.  I tried that with the hearth tools when I was six.  Mother was very irritated.”

“Honest mistake…”

“Yes, but then I was told not to mess with them in the first place.  I thought I knew more than she did.”

“You were a little stubborn…”

She laughed at his studied air of diplomacy.  “I still am, and you know it.”

As Chad assembled the fences around the stoves, he and Willow made their Thanksgiving plans.  The Tesdalls and Finley parents both had plans with other family members.  They’d also both invited Chad and Willow to join them, but the couple had declined.  They wanted their first Thanksgiving with the boys to be at their own home.

“We could invite Ryder.  I heard him talking to someone on his phone the other day that his parents were going to be gone all weekend.  Apparently they’re going skiing in Aspen for Thanksgiving.”

“They didn’t invite their own son to join them?”  The idea seemed impossible to her.

“Apparently they need ‘us’ time.”

“Translating into ‘You aren’t becoming a high powered professional in a highly successful field, therefore we’ll punish you in the hopes that you’ll feel guilty enough to switch majors before it’s too late.”

The cattiness in Willow’s voice was so out of character, that Chad dropped his screwdriver.  “I can’t believe what I just heard.”

“I know it’s awful, but it’s true.   That poor boy works so hard out there and is doing amazing things.  He’s working on cultivating all new plants—well, old ones really.  He’s trying to turn the entire greenhouse into heirloom plants.  It’s amazing what he can do and his parents refuse to recognize it.”

“And if Lucas or Liam chooses a life like Bill’s in Rockland, will you accept it as equally valid and important as the life you’ve chosen?”

Shock filled Willow’s face making Chad think he’d driven his point home well.  However, her words reminded him, once again, that his wife was not your average woman.  “I can’t believe you’d assume otherwise!  He’s my son!  He lives his own life just as I chose mine.  I didn’t have to stay here.  Mother made it plain, the whole time I was growing up, that the day would come that I’d have to choose whether I wanted to keep my life as it was or change it.  I changed it drastically.”

“You stayed here—“

He should have known, he realized later, that the moment she laid down her sewing with deliberate patience, eyes welling with tears, that he’d dismissed much of what she’d done for him with those three insensitive words.  “Chad, you forget that I am not living my mother’s life.”  She swallowed hard.  “I invited you into my home.  I invited the Varneys, the Allens, and Bill into my life.  I took an isolated farm and made it welcome people who would have been met with a shotgun in my mother’s lifetime.  I added cell phones, laptops, and DVDs to my life.  I increased production of food and expanded our property to accommodate it.  I did that to serve people my mother would never have spoken to.  I got married.  I did the one thing that my mother feared most.  I let a man into our home, willingly.  I let him hold me, love me, and together we became parents– the thing my mother feared only slightly less than men in general.”

Chad started to interrupt, but Willow plowed through his words continuing her own at a slightly higher pitch.  “I confronted my grandfather, learned to pity and then fear my grandmother, and in general, turned my life upside down.”  After another deep breath she stood.  “I very nearly moved to the city and took a job as a children’s clothing designer and store manager, and you can sit there and tell me my life is no different than it was when I was, say, ten years old.  I don’t know whether to laugh, feel hurt, or just insulted.”

Stunned into silence, Chad watched slack-jawed as his wife opened the front door and closed it firmly behind her.  He jumped to follow, but cries of consciousness from the boy’s room stopped him.  If he knew Willow, she was far enough away from the house already to be unable to hear them.  Shoulders slumped, he hurried upstairs to greet his sons.

Liam clapped happily in the crib at the sight of Chad, but Lucas slept through the noise his brother made without stirring.  Even when Liam fell over, his head landing on Lucas’ feet, the baby didn’t move.  Alarmed, Chad placed his hand on the boy’s back and sighed with relief as he felt the rise and fall of the little boy’s chest.  He moved his hand to the lad’s forehead, but Lucas was as comfortably warm as any baby should be and not a smidge more.

As he grabbed the ‘diaper basket’ and hurried to their bedroom to change a soggy Liam, Chad realized his own life was vastly different than he’d intended as well.  By now, he’d planned to be expecting a move to the Rockland police force if not on it already.  Instead, he was in an old farmhouse, sans electricity, diapering a child with what Willow insisted on calling “washable” diapers as opposed to “disposable”, and milking six goats every morning.  Just as he dumped the soggy diaper into the pail in the bathroom, another thought hit him.  He was also living his dream of being a police officer.  His dream had expanded and changed to suit new dreams—much like Willow.

Liam sucked contentedly on his bottle as Chad dialed the Allen’s home.  Even as he did it, he realized the irony of choosing to bring in the Allens for help instead of calling his mother or the Finleys.  What had seemed like such an affront at one time, was his first reaction.  Would he ever learn the kind of wisdom and discernment that his father seemed to exude naturally?

Lucas awoke the moment Chad saw the Allen’s car coming up the drive.  He opened the front door, despite the frigid temperatures, and hurried upstairs to grab his other son.  Liam tried to escape their bedroom as Chad changed another soggy diaper until he finally shut the door in the adventuresome tyke’s face.  “You stay in here.  The last thing I need is you falling down the stairs.  That wouldn’t go over very well.

The sound of Lily calling him sent Chad into a rushed frenzy of snaps, soakers, and a fresh pair of sweat pants that did not match the carefully tailored striped shirt Lucas had been wearing with the funny overalls that Willow always made.  With a boy in each arm, giggling and laughing as they played their private games with each other, he hurried to greet Lily and Tabitha.  “Thanks for coming out.  I really blew it this time and we need to talk.”

“Everyone has those moments in their marriage, Chad.  That is something you both have to learn and deal with.”

Passing the boys to his rescuers, Chad grabbed his jacket.  “Thanks Lily.  I’ll be back in a while.”

“Chad?”

He popped his head back in the door, “Yeah?”

“I don’t know what the problem is, but I just thought of something on my way over.”

“What was that?”

Lily snuggled with Liam for a second and then pointed to the huge barn behind the house and the vehicles out front.  “In less than three years, her life has turned upside down.  For twenty-two years she lived one way and now she’s living another.  On top of mothering responsibilities, it’s probably all hitting her at once.”

Chad nodded and shut the door behind him.  “Looks like everyone has realized that but me,” he murmured under his breath as he pulled his collar up around his neck and started looking for footsteps.