Chapter Thirty-Seven

The Only Plan

Six weeks later

“J ust because the doctor gave you permission to move around some, doesn’t mean, you kill yourself,” Willow scolded.

“I’m old, but I’m not dead,” Dale complained.

She smiled and gave him her sad face.

“Stop that,” he grumbled, his hand coming up and swatting at her because she’d moved closer and tried to take the screwdriver away.

“You’re the one who will stop. If you want something to do, tackle the dishes. You are not taking that screwdriver up the ladder.” Her hands were fisted on her hips, ready to do battle .

Dale handed the screwdriver to her and marched over to the couch and threw himself into it.

Willow knew his tantrums well. He was trying to install a security system that he’d ordered online. The doctor’s orders of light exercise went right over his head. He’d been stabbed twice, once in the shoulder, and another more serious chest wound. Willow had no idea how he made it to the shack, and neither had the doctor who treated him.

Willow had only superficial scrapes and bruises that she barely felt. Dale had stayed in the hospital for a week. They’d both been interviewed. Willow told the truth, though she left out the details of her carrying a gun. Roger and Louisa had arrived first, and she’d left her holster in their truck before taking them to Dale.

He was unconscious by that time but breathing. The ride to the hospital had been harrowing because Willow just knew he would die.

Death was not in Dale Berger’s mind, and he was too ornery to let Lance Hogg win. He was now too ornery about everything, but Willow wanted to talk to him. She’d been preparing this speech since he’d come home.

She took the chair and leaned forward, her hand reaching out to rub Max’s back. Daisy jumped on the couch and lay beside Dale. He’d stopped shooing her off, because it was another fight against a female that he couldn’t win .

“I’ve been thinking,” she said.

“Very dangerous territory,” he teased, his grumpiness gone.

“You told me to think about college, and I have. It’s a no.”

He raised his eyebrows but remained quiet.

"My grandmother left me some money. It’s not a whole bunch, but it’s enough to start on a plan I can’t get out of my mind.” She looked at him, hoping he would see how serious she was and not make a joke about what she wanted to do.

“If you don’t get to the point, I’ll die of old age.” His voice held laughter.

“You’re not using your trailer.” She stopped then continued before he said the obvious. “I want to help women like my mother and girls like me. What if we gave them a place to come and heal? A place to learn to defend themselves and also learn what they’re capable of.”

He stared at her for a long time. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He finally shook his head, and grinned so wide, his jaw might lock in place.

“My property is worth some money,” he said. “I don’t need it. There are also places online, where you can raise money for good causes. I don’t know anything about that crap, but you’re smart and you can figure it out.”

Willow launched herself from the chair and wrapped her arms around him, pushing him back against the couch.

“I don’t need a ladder and screwdriver to kill me with you around.” He was back to grumbling.

“I love you,” she said.

“You sure do know how to get a man right in the heart,” he said back.

***

Three months later

Dale hammered the last of the nails into the ten-foot wooden posts that held the wrought-iron sign above the entrance to the driveway.

Dale had the iron twisted into a fancy script by one of the locals as a gift for Willow. She stepped back as Dale came off the ladder and joined her. They looked up at the entrance to Willow’s property.

JOAN’S LEGACY

“I love it,” Willow said.

“Joan would have loved it too.”