Read Online Past Forward Volume 1 by Chautona Havig - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Chautona Havig
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hurried to the kitchen,
strained the milk, scrubbed the pail, and after waiting what felt
like an eternity for it to heat, poured boiling water over it. The
milk he bottled and then refrigerated.
Willow had returned to her spot on the sofa.
Her knitting tossed aside, she stared out into space as though in a
trance. “Willow.”
Her face snapped in his direction.
“Huh?”
“Your goat. She either has or is coming down
with mastitis. You’ve got to pull yourself together or find someone
to take her. You’ll feel terrible if you let her get sick.”
“I know—”
Chad’s voice grew stern. He hunkered down on
his heels in front of her and forced her to meet his gaze. “No.
Don’t say what you think I want to hear. I know you’re hurting. I
know it’s hard to concentrate, and I know you have more work than
you can handle, but you also have responsibilities. Let the garden
die. Buy food at the store. Sell the goat, give her to a 4H kid; I
don’t care. But you can’t check out indefinitely. Feed the animals
and yourself. Make sure you both have comfortable beds and plenty
of water. Forget the rest if you want to, but do that much or I’m
going to call Mrs. Varney and have her come give you what for.”
Fire filled Willow’s eyes for a moment and
then extinguished as though dashed with water. “You’re right. I
just don’t want to do anything.”
“Sometimes we have to do what we don’t want
to do, Willow. Do it. I’ll call you if it’ll help.” Even as he said
it, Chad’s mental feet kicked in a cranial tantrum of epic
proportions. He didn’t want to call and remind her. He
wanted out of this scenario. For good. Every time he thought he had
a chance at disappearing, Chad tied himself a little closer to the
Finley farm.
He closed the door behind him and started
for the steps. The night was strangely quiet. The chickens,
Wilhelmina, and the cow slept. He heard a bullfrog croak and the
cicadas sang in the trees but something was missing. He opened the
door, peeked around the corner, and asked, “Where is Othello?”
“I haven’t seen him, but I didn’t leave the
house all day…”
“I’ll take a look around. If I don’t find
him, I’ll let you know so you can look in the morning. G’night
again.”
Though he called for several minutes,
Othello never barked or whimpered. He didn’t come running.
Eventually Chad gave up and climbed into his cruiser. He was beat
and ready for bed. He beeped his horn once as he whirled the
vehicle around and sped down the driveway toward the highway.
Near the corner of the east pasture, he
stopped. Something near the grave moved in the beam of his
headlights. The sight of that dog lying on the fresh mound of dirt
formed a lump in is throat. Chad swallowed hard and punched
Willow’s quick dial number, not allowing himself to think about the
irritation of having her on quick dial in the first place.
“Willow, I found him. He’s out with your
mother. If he isn’t home in the morning, he’ll need food and water.
You have to make an effort.”
Her voice sounded stronger. “I’ll be fine. I
just gave myself a lecture on what Mother would say about
irresponsibility towards our animals. Thank you. Good bye,
Chad.”
The line went dead. As he turned onto Main
Street and pulled into the police station, Chad mulled the
significance of good bye vs. good night and the
irritation that came as he realized that goodbye was much too final
for him at this point. I don’t need the complications. Why do I
even care?
Chapter Six
She saw the cruiser from the flowerbed and
ran to assure Chad she was fine. He’d been so kind, so concerned;
she didn’t want to impose on him any more than necessary, but it
wasn’t Chad. Nervousness washed over her as Chief Varney exited the
vehicle.
The chief’s face looked grave. Had some
other terrible thing happened? Did someone else die? But who could—
Maybe her grandparents or an aunt or uncle. She still hadn’t had a
chance
strained the milk, scrubbed the pail, and after waiting what felt
like an eternity for it to heat, poured boiling water over it. The
milk he bottled and then refrigerated.
Willow had returned to her spot on the sofa.
Her knitting tossed aside, she stared out into space as though in a
trance. “Willow.”
Her face snapped in his direction.
“Huh?”
“Your goat. She either has or is coming down
with mastitis. You’ve got to pull yourself together or find someone
to take her. You’ll feel terrible if you let her get sick.”
“I know—”
Chad’s voice grew stern. He hunkered down on
his heels in front of her and forced her to meet his gaze. “No.
Don’t say what you think I want to hear. I know you’re hurting. I
know it’s hard to concentrate, and I know you have more work than
you can handle, but you also have responsibilities. Let the garden
die. Buy food at the store. Sell the goat, give her to a 4H kid; I
don’t care. But you can’t check out indefinitely. Feed the animals
and yourself. Make sure you both have comfortable beds and plenty
of water. Forget the rest if you want to, but do that much or I’m
going to call Mrs. Varney and have her come give you what for.”
Fire filled Willow’s eyes for a moment and
then extinguished as though dashed with water. “You’re right. I
just don’t want to do anything.”
“Sometimes we have to do what we don’t want
to do, Willow. Do it. I’ll call you if it’ll help.” Even as he said
it, Chad’s mental feet kicked in a cranial tantrum of epic
proportions. He didn’t want to call and remind her. He
wanted out of this scenario. For good. Every time he thought he had
a chance at disappearing, Chad tied himself a little closer to the
Finley farm.
He closed the door behind him and started
for the steps. The night was strangely quiet. The chickens,
Wilhelmina, and the cow slept. He heard a bullfrog croak and the
cicadas sang in the trees but something was missing. He opened the
door, peeked around the corner, and asked, “Where is Othello?”
“I haven’t seen him, but I didn’t leave the
house all day…”
“I’ll take a look around. If I don’t find
him, I’ll let you know so you can look in the morning. G’night
again.”
Though he called for several minutes,
Othello never barked or whimpered. He didn’t come running.
Eventually Chad gave up and climbed into his cruiser. He was beat
and ready for bed. He beeped his horn once as he whirled the
vehicle around and sped down the driveway toward the highway.
Near the corner of the east pasture, he
stopped. Something near the grave moved in the beam of his
headlights. The sight of that dog lying on the fresh mound of dirt
formed a lump in is throat. Chad swallowed hard and punched
Willow’s quick dial number, not allowing himself to think about the
irritation of having her on quick dial in the first place.
“Willow, I found him. He’s out with your
mother. If he isn’t home in the morning, he’ll need food and water.
You have to make an effort.”
Her voice sounded stronger. “I’ll be fine. I
just gave myself a lecture on what Mother would say about
irresponsibility towards our animals. Thank you. Good bye,
Chad.”
The line went dead. As he turned onto Main
Street and pulled into the police station, Chad mulled the
significance of good bye vs. good night and the
irritation that came as he realized that goodbye was much too final
for him at this point. I don’t need the complications. Why do I
even care?
Chapter Six
She saw the cruiser from the flowerbed and
ran to assure Chad she was fine. He’d been so kind, so concerned;
she didn’t want to impose on him any more than necessary, but it
wasn’t Chad. Nervousness washed over her as Chief Varney exited the
vehicle.
The chief’s face looked grave. Had some
other terrible thing happened? Did someone else die? But who could—
Maybe her grandparents or an aunt or uncle. She still hadn’t had a
chance
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