Read Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Episode 11 for Free Online Page A

would never stroll beneath it again as they walked through the trees, along the creek, or out to scatter feed to the chickens on a cold, spring morning. Her eyes slid toward the barn.
    She sloshed through the mud once more and jerked open the barn door. Instead of closing it, she tossed the umbrella aside and snapped on the light. The barrel beckoned her, drawing her in almost magnetically. She grabbed a plate from the box with both hands and raised it over her head. With all the force she could muster, she slammed it into the bottom of the barrel. With eyes closed, she let the sound of breaking glass against metal echo through the barn until all was silent again. Ditto bleated in protest. Then, as if she hadn’t paused at all, she grabbed the umbrella and stepped back out into the rain, dragging the door closed behind her.
    As expected, the rain stopped before she reached the creek. With her umbrella closed, she strolled along the banks of the creek, waiting for that beautiful feeling of familiarity. It didn’t come. A sense of betrayal slowly filled her heart. Where was the magical feeling that came with raindrops falling from pine needles onto the pond? Why hadn’t she seen the birds following, waiting for seeds and breadcrumbs?
    Her first instinct of prayer lodged itself in her heart and refused to budge. Every attempt failed, leaving her more discouraged than ever. At last a single thought formed into a full-fledged, if un usual, prayer. It’s not the same without him anymore. “It’s just not the same, Lord,” she whispered.
     

     
     
    Mud splashed over the sides of his truck as he drove up the drive. Where was the snow? It was too early for rain and mud. Chad couldn’t r emember a February free of snow, yet here it was, rain drenched and windswept, only occasional patches of snow remained across the bleak landscape. He’d never realized what a difference the layer of white made as it covered the fields and tree branches.
    The blue glow of the radio clock told him it was three-thirty. She couldn’t be back so soon. As he pulled up to the house, Chad started to call but decided to check the fires first. There was no reason not to have a warm house when they returned.
    He burst through the back door, an armload of damp wood in his arms . He dropped them beside the stove in the living room and turned to go upstairs for dry wood when he saw Willow lying on the couch. A braid lay over one cheek, and her hands were tucked beneath the other. Closer inspection showed what seemed to be evidence of tears.
    Stoves forgotten, he lowered himself to the floor beside her and moved the braid from her face. Willow stirred. “Wha—”
    “You ok? I thought you were off on a romp through the woods.”
    “I went.”
    “Too wet for you?”
    She struggled to sit up, rubbing her eyes with her fists. “No… it just wasn’t the same.”
    It never ceased to cut him when he had to watch as she struggled through yet another change—another part of her life ripped from her. “If I could give you just one more day with her, I’d do anything—”
    “It wasn’t that. A plate took care of that.”
    “Then…” He almost hated to ask. Hope welled in his heart as she finally met his gaze.
    “I thought I wanted this day to myself. I was so glad when you had to work so I could have the familiar again.” Her mouth twisted as she forced her eyes to meet his. “It wasn’t the same. It seemed weird without you.”

Chapter Seventy- Nine
     
     
    Spiral rollers created a Medusa-like effect to her hair, while a peel-off mask coated her face. As she waited for permission to strip the green glop from her face, she slathered her body in the cream that Cheri insisted she needed. She stood, in just her undergarments, waiting for every ounce of the lotion to absorb without any hint of residue while Cheri and Marianne pressed and steamed her dress downstairs. Her fingernails held their first, and if she had any say in it, last coat of