Past Forward Volume 1 by Chautona Havig Read Free Book Online Page B

temptation to turn on the
electricity and use a fan while she slept tickled her senses, but
weariness slowly overtook her, assuring her that she wouldn’t miss
it once she fell asleep.

Chapter Four
    Early Saturday morning, Willow was weeding
the garden when the phone in her pocket rang, sending Othello into
a barking fit. A minister, Tom Allen, asked for clarification on
Monday’s service, and by the time she turned the phone off, Willow
was unnerved. She’d forgotten that she needed to dig a hole for the
coffin, not to mention that she needed to decide where she’d bury
her mother in the first place.
    She replaced the trowel and hoe, and
retrieved the pickaxe and shovel. Suddenly, she knew where she’d
bury her mother. Her mother’s favorite oak stood tall, proud, but
alone—not far from the highway and the entrance to the drive.
Willow would bury her mother there.
    She wore her gardening hat, work gloves, and
a loose billowy long sleeved white shirt over jeans, keeping her
hair stuffed under her hat. It was almost nine as she began
digging. Her jug of water sat untouched for the first hour, but her
thirst eventually demanded that she drink.
    The queasy feeling was familiar. Mother had
taught her not to guzzle her water after working hard and getting
overheated, and now she worked feeling hot, tired, and sick to her
stomach. Oddly, it was a welcome relief.
    By eleven, she sobbed as she dug. Her work
slowed, her muscles grew tired, and her back ached almost as much
as her heart. Hot tears poured down her cheeks, making strange
paths on her dusty face. Every minute—every second—tortured her.
Even so, it was also cathartic. With each shovelful of dirt that
she tossed from the growing hole, she felt that somehow she could
finally measure her loss in tangible terms. Every cubic inch of
dirt represented dozens of memories that she now, like Mary in
Bethlehem, treasured in her heart.
    Willow drank as she watched Chad’s truck
bouncing over her lane and recapped her jug. She’d forgotten he was
coming, and realized he might expect lunch. He could forget it. She
didn’t know how long it took to dig such a large hole, but she
wasn’t about to be digging on Monday morning.

    Chad rounded the barn, followed the line of
trees to the open field that ran alongside the driveway until he
reached the oak. Willow stood almost knee high in a hole, shoveling
dirt out between pauses to wipe away her tears. The sight of a
slight woman like Willow carving out a place in the earth to rest
her mother’s body twisted his heart. Guilt washed over him as he
remembered his internal complaining regarding visits. He didn’t
want a friend. Well, that wasn’t true. He loved people and did want
friends. He just didn’t want this friend. He didn’t want to
be her confidant or her crying post.
    She didn’t want to be left alone to dig
her own mother’s grave, but she’s doing it. How pathetic can you
be, Tesdall? he growled to himself as he reached the side of
the grave.
    “Willow?”
    The answer came in the form of a pile of
dirt on his polished shoes and a streak across the hemline of his
uniform. He tried again, and when he received the same answer, Chad
jumped down into the hole and wrapped his hands around the handle
of the shovel. “Willow. Let go.”
    At the sight of Willow’s face, he pulled the
shovel from her hands and wrapped his arms around her. “Come on…
let’s go cry it out inside. It’s hot out here.”
    “I have to get this done…”
    Without another word, Chad pulled her from
the hole and led her back to the house. In the kitchen, he handed
her a glass of water and pointed to the stairs. “Go take a shower.
I’ll make you something to eat.”
    “I forgot to defrost anything, so a
salad—”
    “Go. I’ll take care of lunch.”
    After a look in the cupboards, the cellar
icebox, and the summer kitchen, Chad whipped out his cell phone and
raced to his truck. By the time he arrived with two sandwiches