“You know, I always dread this retreat.  When Chad asked if I could stay it was a huge relief.”
Willow smiled at Lily Allen and passed a bowl of peeled apples.  “What about your children?  They were welcome too…”
“They go up with Tom for the first four days and then Caleb drives them back home.  They’ll come here and at least say hi when they get into town.”
Lily had a million questions she wanted to ask.  Why was Chad spending so much time on the Finley farm?  How had Willow brought him out of his shell?  What about that handsome guy from the city- the one from the funeral- was he part of the picture or not?”  She didn’t know how to begin or where.
“What made you decide to get married?”
The bluntness and abruptness of Willow’s question threw Lily off guard.  “What?”
“Chad asked me the other night-” Peeling apples kept Willow from noticing the stunned look on Lily’s face.  “If I thought I’d ever get married.
Curiosity and disappointment mingled into an indistinguishable expression.  “Whatever brought that up?”  Lily’s voice was studied nonchalance.
“Well, I’d just decided not to move to Rockland and he knew that meant I wouldn’t be seeing Bill much-”
“The man from the city?  The one who was here for the funeral?”
“Yes.  Anyway, we talked about my life here and I guess I made him curious but really, he made me curious.  Why do people get married anyway?”
That was a question Lily hadn’t expected.  “Well-”
“I mean, I know why some do-” Willow stated matter-of-factly.  “After all, as Shakespeare said, ‘The world must be peopled’”
Lily wanted to sink into a hole.  Her mind raced frantically to find an answer that would satisfy without sending it in the direction she feared it would go.  Chad had been staying with her.  Surely- No.  He was an honorable boy and he’d tried to get people to come help.  Life was busy.  Even she’d said no at first.  Bentley had- Bentley!
“Well, there are lots of reasons of course.  Friends become closer and don’t want to live apart.  People fall in love and marriage is a natural result of that.  But then, there are people like Bentley and Greg-” Lily paused.  Their story wasn’t hers to tell.
“That’s not really what I meant.  I was wondering how people decided marriage in general was a good idea for them as an individual.”
The question was something that had never occurred to her.  Marriage was normative.  Those who didn’t marry, in her experience, didn’t because they never met someone to marry.  The idea that people just decided not to consider marriage outside of missionaries to dangerous places or a rare person who felt called to singleness was foreign.
“I guess scripturally, most people see marriage as a way to-”
Chad burst in through the door.  “Lily, let’s go.  The elementary school is flooded.  We need all the bodies we can get to help clean up the mess.  I got the call just outside of Brunswick so I stopped.”
Willow stood but Chad glared.  “I don’t think so.  Make your butter or whatever you’re making.  I’ll bring her back later.”
“I’ll take my own car.  Go change Chad.”  Lily’s assertiveness surprised both Chad and Willow.”
Chad dashed out of the summer kitchen and raced for the house.  Lily’s expression was priceless.  “He lives for these times.  He loves the action.  We’ll lose him to Rockland someday.”
She rinsed her hands, carried a few more buckets of apples in from the barn, and then stood in the doorway looking to see what she might have forgotten.  “I guess that’s it.  Are you sure you’re fine without me?”
“I’m fine but are you sure there’s nothing I can do-”
“You can stay here, finish your canning, and pray for the school board to know how to handle this.  Insurance should cover it but-”
Minutes later, Willow stood at the stove slowly stirring the apple butter and humming the chorus to Concert Garden.  For a moment, Chad leaned against the doorjamb and watched as she tasted the mixture, wiped clinging tendrils from her temple, and adjusted the heat on the stove.  She lifted the pan away from the heating element to cool it slightly.  Against both his professional and childhood training, Chad stuffed his hands in his pockets and let her do it.  The weight of the huge pot didn’t seem to affect her in the slightest.
With both a smile on his face and a sigh in his heart, Chad slipped from the barn unseen.
***
“Lily will be back tomorrow afternoon or so.  She’s going to collapse at home tonight and then she’s going to try to do some more in the morning.”
Chad stood outside on the back porch unwilling to come indoors.  “I’ll stain up everything.  If you can just bring me a change of clothes…”
Minutes later, Willow handed him a towel with his clothes wrapped in it.  “In the barn, there’s a hook over the back door.  Mother used it as a shower with a hose hooked up to it sometimes.  I’ll make you a sandwich.”
“Thanks.”
Chad found the hook, and as he opened his towel, found a fresh bar of soap.  “She thinks of everything.”
After his ’shower’, Chad took his filthy clothes to the washing machine and stopped short at the sight of forty-eight half pint jars along the counter.  Each one was beautifully labeled- so that’s what she’d been doing with the colored pencils.  “How does she get it all done?”
He found a sandwich on the kitchen table.  A bowl of cobbler sat next to it and a glass of mint tea.  He grabbed the dishes, juggling them carefully as he inched through the front door and stopped in his tracks at the sight of the empty swing.  Where was she?
“Over here!  Eat first you ninny.  You must be starved.”
The rumble in Chad’s stomach couldn’t be denied.  He sat on the step, ate his sandwich, and watched as she carefully cut long stalks of lavender and placed them in a floral basket.  He’d never actually seen one of those baskets but it was such a natural action for her that it took him until half way through his cobbler to realize that most women don’t spend their late summer evenings cutting lavender like someone from a hundred years ago.
“How come those still have buds on them?”
She shrugged.  “I’ve never seen them last so long so I thought I’d dry more.  We’ve always talked about growing lavender along the driveway but never did it.  I think I’ll do it next year in honor of Mother.”
Chad jumped to his feet and hurried to help as Willow tried to stand.  “You tell me when.  I’ll dig the pipes.”
“Pipes?”
“To water them while they’re getting established.”
She smiled indulgently at him.  “We don’t use pipes.  We use the garden cart and water barrels but thanks.”
“That’s so much work!”
Her expression clearly asked, “And your point is?” but she said nothing.  She hobbled to the step each step growing more confident than the last.  “My foot feels asleep.”
Concern filled Chad’s face.  “Isn’t that one of the things you’re supposed to watch out for?  Maybe you should call Dr. Weisenberg.”
“Wrong foot.  It’s asleep because I was sitting on it awkwardly so my other leg didn’t hurt.  I’m fine.  You’re being silly.”
“Inconceivable!”
He held the door for her and carried the basket in as she hobbled awkwardly on a sore leg and a numb foot.  At the kitchen table, Willow spread out the flowers, pulling all fragile stalks from the bunches and setting them aside.  He helped as much as he could, but Chad felt in the way until Willow asked for two card tables from the pantry.
The bundling of each fistful of lavender was a fascinating process.  Willow wound a rubber band around each one, attached a loop of twine, and then pulled a step stool from behind the open door.  Chad intercepted the apparatus before she could climb.
“I don’t think so.  You hand them to me, I’ll put them up.”
As they worked, Chad noticed the exhaustion reflected in her eyes.  It quickly turned to pain and then, something he couldn’t define.  The last few bunches were ruined by the time they were shoved into his hands.  Uncertain how to help and uncertain if help was even necessary, Chad resorted to sage advice from his father.
“I’ll be right back.”
Willow replaced the stool, swept up the mess, and welcoming physical pain in order to sear the pain in her heart, she folded the tables and stored them for the next job.  With everything finished for the day, Willow climbed the stairs.  It was rude but at the present moment, she didn’t care.
Chad found the house empty.  He called her name but no answer followed.  No lights anywhere unnerved him.  He’d left her with a light on in the kitchen, one in the living room and now, nothing.  He called again, but still nothing.
He dashed upstairs, swung his body halfway into her room, swung back out, and then returned as a dark lump registered in his consciousness.  “Willow?”
“Go away.”
“Can’t do that.  I come bearing gifts.”
“If you don’t want that gift shoved into your gut, you’ll leave me alone,” Willow growled.
He stepped inside the door, “Something’s wrong.”
“Your genius is underwhelming.  Go away.”
Her sarcasm surprised him.  He took another step toward her and saw that she was curled in fetal position with her back to him.  Gingerly and bathed in prayer, Chad set a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup beside her.  As he did, he felt a kick to his gut and flew across the short space to the wall beside the bed.
“I told you, I don’t want anything,” she warned.  “What is it?”
“Re-” Chad gasped trying to catch his breath.  “Reese’s.  Chocolate and peanut butter.  Good.  Eat.”
“You risked bodily harm for chocolate and butter?”  Are you crazy?”
Chad slid along the floor, out of range of her foot, and slipped a tentative hand to her back patting it awkwardly from his odd angle.  “What’s wrong?”
“I’m ticked.”  She kicked but missed.
“I noticed.  What’d I do?”
“Nothing.”
The word hung in the room like swinging axe over the cord that held her sanity.  Each second that passed seemed to increase the tension until Chad couldn’t stand it any longer.  He stood, ready for her foot this time and caught it mid swing.  “I’m not your enemy Willow.”
“That’s why you’re safe to attack.”
“Oh why did that school have to flood today!” he groaned inwardly. “I need Lily!”
“That may be true but don’t take it out on me.  Let it out on me if you need but I’m not your whipping post.”  He prayed firmness is what she needed because the tenderness that would have worked with Cheri had already failed.  “What’s going on?”
“I’m seriously perturbed if you must know.  My mother is dead if you haven’t noticed.  I’m all alone if you haven’t noticed, and, for your observation pleasure, I even lost my dog!”
“That’s a lie.”
This got her attention.  Willow sat up sharply ignoring the stab of pain that ripped through her leg.  “Just who do you think you are?”
“I’m your friend.  I’m proof that you’re not alone.  I didn’t want to b-” He stopped himself short.  It wasn’t true.  Not anymore.
“You didn’t what?”
“That’s not important,” he hedged.  “What’s important is that I’m your friend, you’re not alone, and yes, you have every right to be hurting, grieving, angry- just not at me.  This isn’t my fault.”
“I want my mother back!  I can’t do this! I can’t stay here alone and do all of this alone and yet I don’t want to leave.  I just. Want. My. Mother.”
These words, Chad understood.  He also knew how to help.  Hormonal sisters are a decent introduction to grieving friends.  He immediately retrieved a ‘roll of Kleenex’ from the bathroom closet and with one arm around her, unwrapped the Reese’s with his other hand.
“Take a bite.”
“Why.”
“It’s like a kiss on an owie- it makes it all better.”
She quickly lit the lamp and stared at him, dumstruck.  Her eyes were red, swollen, and tear stained.  The most callous person would have been moved.  Chad was crushed.
“Owie?  All better?  You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Take a bite.”
“I’ll choke,” she choked.
Suddenly, Willow saw Chad’s retreat from the room.  She hadn’t meant to offend him.  Anger welled back up almost as quickly as her contrition left.  When he arrived, minutes later, with a glass of water and a look of concern on his face, she felt worse than ever.  And angrier.
“Just walk out-”
“And return with water.”
“Who asked for water?”
“Well if you didn’t want to drink it,” he began, “I can always cool you off with it.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to take a bite-”
Exasperated, Willow grabbed the peanut butter cup and shoved the entire thing in her mouth.  Almost immediately, she spit it back out staring confused at the paper wrapping.  Chad fought to keep a smirk from his face but it was too late.  “Hush.  Who wraps their food in plastic and paper?”
She handed it to him but he backed away.  “I don’t want it now.  Scrape off the chocolate from the paper with your teeth.”
“What?”
“Just do it,” he said exasperated.  All attempts to try to cheer her up were over.  He’d tried and failed.
Tentatively, Willow bit into the chocolate, pulling the candy from the paper cup with her teeth.  “Oh this is delicious.”
She removed all traces of chocolate from the cup.  Chad choked back a laugh as Willow stood, tossed the cup in the bathroom trash, and washed her hands.  “Thank you.”
“Care to talk about it?”
“No.  I don’t care to talk about it.  I want to break things.  I want to scream.  I want to throw a tantrum.  I want to rewind my life.”
“I know,” he said.  “I know.”
They stood in opposite places.  He beside her bed feeling and looking terribly out of place, she in the doorway leaning against the doorjamb and looking ready to bolt.  Night breezes blew the heady scent of phlox into the room and still they stood.
Her voice, soft, quiet, and pained, finally broke the silence.  “Please leave.”