Read Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Episode 15 for Free Online Page A

front of the sink, her hands wiping ineffectually at her eyes, Willow tried to pray. Words and thoughts failed. In the deepest part of her heart, hidden under the secrets in her soul, a small part of her was comforted by that pain. It meant she had not forgotten Mother or their life.
    Willow awoke half an hour later, refreshed. It took a moment to realize just what she was doing on the floor, but when the memories flooded her again, she felt comforted. “Thank you, Lord,” she whispered.
    Chickens. Time to butcher chickens. She changed clothes and jogged down the back steps to the barn, setting up her butchering station. Portia raced between her legs, charged the coop fence, and barked at the slightest movement. “Well, girl, your herding skills are excellent, but I do not want my chickens herded! Go!”
    Portia did not go. She chased again, until Willow, frustrated and ready to lock her in the cellar, tied the yapping bundle of fur to the front porch. Although the chickens weren’t any more cooperative, Willow didn’t care. She grabbed the first bird, wrung its neck, and carried the animal to the barn. In nearly record time, she had the birds skinned and ready to process in the kitchen. Once she plucked and gutted the last two birds, she would be done .
    The clock showed five-thirty by the time she finished the butchering, fed the animals , milked Ditto, and put away the rest of the tools. She grabbed her favorite skirt and top, a towel, and raced for the shower. After the day ’ s work, she looked forward to relaxing in the porch swing until Chad got home.
    Showered, dressed, hair braided— refreshed. Willow strolled out to the summer kitchen to give the chicken a final baste before she walked around to the front of the house and untied the puppy. She grabbed th e journal she was currently reading and Portia’s favorite bone and settled into the porch swing , kicking the bone across the porch. While she found her place in the journal, the puppy bounced after the bone, grabbed it, growled, rolled and made a puppy nuisance of h erself over it. Willow read.
     
    June 2001,
    I realize that I need to stop treating Willow as my child. I mean, she is my child but she ’ s an adult now. The law can say what it wants , but she ’ s been an adult for many years already. I think I need to ease her into a different way of interrelating. I ’ m not sure how to do it.
    I have tried to remember what mom and dad did. I don ’ t know. It seemed as if one day I was just there and had been for ages. One thing that I am certain of — she needs a solid idea of what work comes when , so she can plan her own time and not rely so heavily on me. I just don’t know how to do it .
    She could do it. If I dropped dead right now, she ’ d be fine , and that ’ s always been my focus. I need to focus on how to live as two adults together rather than as just mother and daughter. I don ’ t know, maybe I ’ m overcomplicating things. There has just always been this implied authority in our relationship , and well, I ’ m not sure it ’ s appropriate anymore. At her age, I would have resented it I ’ m sure.
    I need to condense our work journals. I need to encourage her to choose what she wants to do rather than delegate. I can make this happen. I must make this happen, if I hope to keep her happy here.
     
    Chad ’ s truck bounced across the driveway and into the yard. Portia raced for it , sending Willow and Chad both into mock cardiac arrest. Willow swallowed hard, remembering how Othello had stopped Saige from nipping at them. He had been a good dog.
    “ Next time I drive up , hold her back until I turn off the truck. Maybe if we don ’ t let her go until the truck turns off, she ’ ll learn to wait for it , ” Chad called before grabbing an arm full of uniforms from the passenger ’ s side and slamming the door behind him.
    “ What if it ’ s two in the morning and you don ’ t see her? ”
    “ Better lock her in the barn