Chapter Twenty-Eight

Photographic Memories

W illow took time to go through her grandmother’s closet. It was harder than she thought. In a box marked, Willow, she found a handwritten note from her grandmother.

Dearest Willow, your mother never told me where she lived, and the post marks came from different states, so I figured she moved around. I have treasured each image of you, and some day, I hope you find it in your heart to forgive your mother. I’ve kept her letters for you to read and you will notice them time-worn. I reread them at least once a year. Love, your grandmother who loves you more than life.

Willow wiped away her tears and searched the box. Most photos were of Willow, baby through toddler years, and then more sporadic from once a year to one every two years, up until Willow turned twelve and they stopped. Willow didn’t want to remember the years from twelve to fifteen, so it was oddly comforting that there were none. She had never seen the photos. After going through the pictures, she stored them on a high shelf, so they were out of sight. One day, when she was stronger, she would read the letters.

The underground shelter was next on her list. She loved the ingenious swing-away door that covered the storage below. There were additional supplies such as canned food, and five-gallon drums of water. The handgun Dale warned her about was attached to the side wall with tools and several knives. The blades were the defensive kind and something she couldn’t afford to be caught with. She found a sheath for the smaller of the three, and decided she would wear it on the property. It worked better for her than carrying a gun.

Next came Lucy. Her grandmother had named the truck after the I Love Lucy show. She decided to take her out the first time without Dale, determined to do something by herself. Unfortunately, the clutch was beyond her. Dale smiled when she told him, stopped what he was doing, and showed her what was up. Lucy huffed and puffed for her inadequate driver, stalling repeatedly, and causing tears to fill Willow’s eyes at her inability.

Dale couldn’t keep a smile off his face. “There are a handful of farm kids that can drive a stick,” he told her. It takes finesse and power because she’s old and they didn’t make it easy back then. Keep trying and eventually you’ll find the balance. If it were easy, they’d call it knowing, and not learning.” He walked off whistling.

It took three days before she could get Lucy out of the barn. Willow didn’t stop there and drove her to the dirt road north of the property. After only one stall, Willow felt she’d conquered the beast. Dale took her out weekly and gave her instructions on the rules of the road.

Three months flew by.

"Have you considered getting a name change,” Dale asked, over dinner one night.

“Change my name?” she questioned.

“I’m talking about your last name. Willow kind of works for you, but I thought it might be nice for you to have a new beginning. You can change both if you like or keep what you have.”

“I didn’t know it was possible,” she said, while thinking about the idea.

“It takes a superior court judge,” he stopped because he had to have seen the look on her face. “I would be with you every step of the way if you decide to do it.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said .

That was one of the nicest things about Dale. He gave her room to make mistakes and didn’t pry too deeply.

Within twenty-four hours she knew she wanted to change her name. Dale looked into exactly what needed doing to make it happen. The first being a valid ID. Willow took the driver’s tests and passed though she was more nervous than she expected. Dale printed the paperwork she needed from an online site and helped her fill it out for her new name.

“What did you decide to call yourself?” he asked.

The smile she gave him was maybe the happiest she had shown. “Willow Joan Morgan,” she said.

“Perfect.”

Neither said anything about the tears that welled in his eyes.

On her assigned court date, she went before the superior judge, Dale at her side, and the request was granted. He also agreed to seal the name change record.

“Good luck, Ms. Morgan,” the judge told her with genuine warmth, and she went from

Willow Gail Humphrey to Willow Joan Morgan. She took the paperwork to MVD, and they told her it could take up to two weeks before her new license arrived.

Dale brought the mail from town, with her license in it.

“This calls for a celebration, Ms. Morgan. I say we pop another bottle of wine open, and I’ll make a special dinner.”

“Only if I have salad duty,” she said with a laugh and smile that wouldn’t leave her face.

For the first time, she drank three glasses of wine over dinner, and stumbled into bed tipsy after Dale went to his trailer. It had been a great day.

Max’s low growl woke her. His large snout pointed toward the window beside her bed.

A strange face peered inside.