Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 2 by Havig Chautona

Author:Havig, Chautona [Havig, Chautona]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Wynnewood Press
Published: 2012-08-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifty-Five

For a week, Willow left the letters on the kitchen table, open and easily perused. She mucked barn stalls and prayed. She cleaned the chicken coop and prayed. She cooked, knitted, hooked her rug, and prayed. She milked the new goat, which Chad christened “Ditto,” and prayed. Then, she prayed some more.

For hours, she worked on the foundation site for her forthcoming greenhouse. Her original plans had been scrapped for a lean-to design kit that she’d found in one of her mother’s stacks of catalogs. It was more expensive and larger than she’d planned, but the added advantage of putting it next to the barn and close to the house was enough incentive to move fences and arrange plans for a larger scale operation than ever. She’d have lettuce in January just like Mr. Tesdall’s big grocery store. Oh, and she prayed with every shovel, every moved wire, and every nail.

Saturday, a week after the letters arrived, was December first. She awoke with a child-like delight that not even the loss of her mother’s help and camaraderie tempered. Chad was coming to spend the day, the goat was giving milk like nothing she’d ever had, and she’d gotten a call from the greenhouse company that her kit was on its way.

After breakfast, she cleaned the kitchen and left a pile of pancakes warming on the stove for whenever Chad arrived. She hurried upstairs, feeling quite girlish, and into the attic pulling down the box of artificial greenery. Chad found her tying “pine” swags across the front porch, wrapping the posts, and adding large deep red bows to the pivotal places.

“Hey, looks great! What do I do?” he called as he jumped from the truck.

“I’ve got pancakes on the stove if you’re hungry first.”

“Be back to help you when they’re gone,” he promised.

By the time Chad returned, the front porch looked like a Thomas Kincade Christmas painting. Willow greeted him without preamble. “Can you go up into the attic and get the box in the middle of the floor marked, ‘Porch tree’?”

“You have a tree for your porch?”

“Humor me. I want my tree.”

He hurried upstairs, returning minutes later with the large box. Amazed, he watched as she screwed a long pole into a traditional tree stand. “It’s leaning to the left.”

“Straighten it will you?”

As he held the pole straight, he asked the obvious question. “Is there a reason you are putting your tree out here?”

“It’s for the birds.”

“Then why do it?”

“For the birds,” Willow repeated. “You need to clean your ears.”

“Sooooo,” Chad asked once more, “Why do the birds need their own tree?”

“They don’t. It just gets them to come close enough to the house that I can watch them from the couch. The chickadees are quite friendly and entertaining when the jays aren’t around.”

“Ahh. I see you still have the letters out.” Willow seemed to wilt before his eyes, making Chad feel like a heel.

“I know. I keep praying and praying about it, and I don’t know... At times like this, I really miss Mother’s confidence.

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