Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Episode 11 (17 page)

“Can I do anything—and don’t be sorry.
How ridiculous.” Accident… he hadn’t said what kind.
“How bad is it?
Was it a car like yours?”

“Yeah—teenagers, alcohol, and cops on the beat don’t mix well.”

“Oh no!”

As he dashed into his room and pulled his gun belt from a lockbox, Chad rambled.
“I’m so glad Ryder wasn’t in the car.
Did you know some people still think he was behind everything—including Ben’s death?
What kind—” He appeared in the doorway, glancing around as if trying to find something. “What am I forgetting?”

“Who cares?
Just call if you need something.
I’ll bring it.”

“Ok, goodnight.”

Willow stood in the middle of the living room, holding her cheek.
The kiss had been
instinctive, something she’d seen his father do whenever he left the house.
She had no doubt that he hadn’t even been aware that he did it.
Her eyes closed as she tried to decide what she thought of it.
A slow smile grew.
Nice—almost like when Mother was amused by her and k
issed her in passing.

Time passed slowly.
Willow leaned closer to the lamp, examining the heel
of her sock.
Turned wrong.
Frustrated, she frogged hal
f of it, winding the yarn back o
nto the ball.
As she slid the stitches back onto the needle, Willow realized what Chad forgot—Mr. Solari.

The clock in his bedroom read seven-ten.
Would he have left yet?
Would he wait, assuming work kept Chad late?
She pulled out her phone to ask if he had called, and stuffed it back in her skirt pocket.
No.
He was busy.

Resigned, she grabbed her coat and pulled it on.
She’d have to do without a scarf.
At the door, she hesitated—no key.
She could either ask the neighbor again or leave it unlocked.
She opted for unlocked.
Who would try to break into an officer’s house—in Fairbury?
A new thought occurred to her and she pulled out her phone.

“Ryder?
Can you do me a favor?
Come sit in Chad’s living room until I get back.
I’m leaving now.
Just come.”

She was at the end of the block before her phone rang.
“What’s wrong?”
Ryder asked for Chad’s address and she snickered.
“I never imagined that you didn’t know!”
With him enlightened as to his destination, she half-jogged through the streets of Fairbury, glancing at the lights and hullaballoo at the corner.

A license plate in the parking lot told her he was still there.
Surely, there weren’t two people with “Solari” license plates.
In the lobby, she glanced throughout the room and though
t
she saw him in the corner.
The hostess asked if she was meeting someone, but Willow shook her head.
Throat dry, she turned to leave.
One last glance back and she sighed.
Pulling out her phone, she dialed Chad as she left the restaura
nt but disconnected before he answered.
Instead, she sent a quick text.
He could be busy.

DID YOU
CALL SOLARI?

With her CD player on the coffee table, Willow sat on the edge of the couch and plucked her strings, trying to copy the notes
from the song
playing
.
Several times, she skipped back a bit as
she
worked to perfect it.
The song wasn’t familiar, but most on the CD Chad had brought were too fast for her
to follow.
She’d listened to it daily for weeks now, trying to memorize the tune. The finger chart helped, but listening, following the notes—by the time she finished with those, the song sounded right.

“…is blowin’ in the wind…the answer is blowin’ in the wind.”

She jumped at Chad’s voice behind her and the touch of his hands on her shoulders. “When did you get here? I didn’t hear your truck.”

“Left it by the mailbox.
There’s a huge pile of snow blocking the driveway. Had to walk.”
He came around the couch and sat next to her, plucking a string.
“You’re getting
good at
that.
I knew exactly what you were playing and where you were.”

“You know this song?”

“My dad likes it—Bob Dylan.”

“Means nothing to me, but it’s pretty.”
Willow plucked the strings again, “Sing it.”

Chad stumbled through the
words, forgetting a few.
She stumbled a few times as the meaning slowly worked its way into her heart. As she played the last note, Willow glanced up at him.
“Someone doesn’t like war.”

“Popular during Vietnam.”

Nodding, she ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the dulcimer.
“I love this thing.
I wish Mother—”

“Don’t wish.
Maybe there were reasons she didn’t know how to share.
Just be thankful that you could bless her without it then and enjoy it now—guilt free.”

Willow’s fingers toyed with the strings, the notes slowly merging into the simple melody of “Abide with Me.”
She tried to add the notes that would give it ha
rmony, but it sounded horrible. Chad leaned back against the couch, his forearm covering his eyes.
Listening.

“I can’t figure out how harmony works.
I can do it when I hear it, but—”

“But you can pick out basic melodies.
That’s pretty good for two months of playing, don’t you think?”

“I guess.”

He sat up.
“We need to get you a DVD series that teaches how to play.
I should have known you wouldn’t just want to fiddle with it.
You want to master it.”

“Well of course.
I’ve got this beautiful instrument, why wouldn’t—” Willow sank back against the cushions, her arms around the dulcimer.
“This is another one of those things that I won’t understand, isn’t it?”

“Probably.
Some people just like to tinker.”

She handed him the instrument and stood.
“I’m going to get some cake, want some?”

“Mmm hmm.
I should have brought ice cream and a brownie mix.
This is a good night brownie a lá mode.”

In the kitchen, she pulled out plates and paused.
Brownies and ice cream.
She could do that.
Her mind still on the song she wanted to master, Willow began mixing ingredients for brownies.
In the pantry, a bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips tempted her. Marianne had
once
mentioned add
ing them to brownies.

As she poured the batter into her baking dish, Chad’s voice drifted from the doorway.
“You didn’t have to make brownies.
Cake is fine.”

Her eyes met his from across the room as she scraped the bowl.
“No, I didn’t have to, but there isn’t any reason not to.
We can make ice cream while it bakes.”
She dug out the ice cream freezer and passed him the rock salt.
“Can you go get ice from the cellar?”

While Chad cranked the freezer, Willow doodled in the wedding journal.
“It’s too bad we’re waiting for May…”

“For the wedding?”

“Mmm hmm…”

The cranking stopped as he moved to her side
.
He sat
on his heels
with
his arm draped over the back of her chair.
“Why is that?”

“We could serve snow ice cream.
It’d be so delicious and festive.
”

His low chuckle did uncomfortable and strange things to her heart.
“And I was crazy enough to think you were wanting to move up the date.”

“I am—snow cream, remember?”

He shook his head.
“Not that kind of eager.”

Willow turned, her eyes growing wide at his close proximity.
He reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
“It escaped.”

“I thought you liked my hair all messy.”

His hand reached for the end of her braid, pulling off the hair tie
and unweaving the sections
.
“This is messy.”

“Chad!
”

A smile spread across his face.
“Wanna know the most attractive thing about you? Well—” he added as an afterthought, “right now anyway…”

A doodle grew on the paper as she concentrated on everything but his face.
Chad toyed with her hair while
she
bit her lip, trying
not to panic. “I—”

“You can’t stand it
,
can you
?
You want to know, and yet
you can’t bring yourself to ask.”

How he could read her mind—she sighed.
“Ok, what?”

“What what?”

“Chad!”

“
Déjà
vous.”

She frowned.
“I—oh.
Well, you keep acting all…”

“It’s called flirty.
And you like it.”