An Autumn Stroll

by Leah Atwood

  Paige contemplated her words. “I suppose there are no easy solutions in situations like these.”

  “No, there isn’t.” Creases formed on Mrs. Bryant’s forehead. “For years, family and friends prayed for Jenna. Then several weeks ago, Mary—Jenna’s mom—went to the house and found Jenna passed out on the floor. She’d overdosed and had a blood alcohol content three times the legal limit.”

  Her chest tightened. “What happened?”

  “Mary called an ambulance and Jenna was rushed to the hospital. Only a miracle can explain why she’s still with us today.” Closing the gap between them, Mrs. Bryant wrapped her aged fingers around Paige’s hand. “From what I understand, Wes had been out running when he got the call about Jenna and immediately rushed to the house.”

  An ache formed in her heart. She’d been so absorbed in her own grievances, she hadn’t given him a chance to defend himself. Had that happened to one of her siblings, she easily could have acted the same way as Wes. “He must have been terrified for her.”

  “Wes and Jenna were very close as children and teens, so all of this has hit him hard. He hasn’t said as much, but I get the sense he feels responsible like he should have been able to protect her.”

  “She’s an adult and makes her own decisions.” Unexpected tears welled in her eyes. “Remember Jessica Franklin?”

  Mrs. Bryant frowned and nodded. “She was such a sweet girl to get caught up in such a mess. I still have a card she made for me when she was around Myla’s age.”

  “We were best friends in middle school, then she went her own way in high school. By the time the drugs killed her, we weren’t friends, but I remember struggling with guilt. I would tell myself if I had made more of an effort to reach out to her, maybe I could have prevented her death.” She wiped a tear from her cheek before it fell to the counter. “It took several years for me to accept that Jessica was responsible for her own actions and that I shouldn’t hold myself guilty. I didn’t give her the drugs or encourage her. The few times we did talk, I pleaded with her to stop.”

  “It’s difficult to see someone we love going down a path we know is destructive.”

  Paige brought her emotions under control. “How is Jenna now?”

  “Doing good from what I hear. She is in a year-long Christian treatment program, and she didn’t want to go at first, but Mary told me her attitude has changed in the last week.”

  “I’ll keep her in my prayers. It’s a long road ahead for her, but nothing is impossible with God.”

  Mrs. Bryant smiled. “You’ve got that right.”

  She squirmed in her seat as a nagging thought swirled in her mind. “Do you think Wes would mind if you give me his number? After what you’ve told me, I feel like I should call and speak to him, apologize for being so short.”

  “I don’t think he’d mind at all.” Mrs. Bryant left the stool and withdrew a notepad and pen from a drawer. After she scribbled down numbers, she handed Paige the paper. “That’s his cell number. I know you young folks hardly use your home phones anymore, if you even have them.”

  “Thank you.” She folded the slip of paper and tucked it safely in her pocket. It might take a day or two to work up the nerve to call him, but she would. Her attitude toward him had been less than gracious, and she believed in doing the right thing, which in this case was apologizing and offering her best wishes for Jenna.

  And to think, she’d been upset about her new boots being ruined. In light of all that Mrs. Bryant had shared with her, the spotted footwear was a petty grievance compared to what Wes’s family faced.

  Perspective changed everything.

  Chapter Six

  The forecast predicted snow tonight, and Wes felt it in his bones. He refused to let it interfere with his run, though. For the first time in over a month, he had an evening free. No houses to show, no corporate events to represent the realty company he worked for, and his parents had Myla over for a sleepover through the weekend.

  He thought he’d enjoy this weekend without a child, and he had so far, but he missed the noise. A quiet house satisfied him for five minutes before he realized he’d become accustomed to Myla’s constant chatter and running. The silence felt unnatural and lonely, so he’d gone for a run, despite the cold temperature.

  Even in Vermont, snowfall in October was an unusual occurrence. When he’d told Myla about it earlier, before dropping her off, she’d been torn between excitement and worry that Halloween would be ruined. He’d assured her the snow wouldn’t last until Tuesday, and even if for some reason it did, the church would move their annual Hallelujah Treat Fest indoors. Myla was in no danger of missing out on wearing her frilly pink princess costume, complete with a tiara.

  His phone rang near the end of his run. After what had happened last time he’d ran along this path, he was reluctant to answer, but this time was different. He had a child under his care, and if something had happened to her, he didn’t want to miss the call. When he glanced at the screen, however, he saw the call came from an unknown number.

  He slipped it back in his pocket. One day he’d get those headphones with a built-in microphone so he could talk and run without holding his phone, but he was one of those rare people who didn’t like listening to music while he ran. Because of that, and the fact he found them to be a nuisance, he didn’t want to wear earbuds just for the off chance he’d get an important call during that time.

  Once back to his car, he checked his phone and saw the caller had left a message. He dialed into his voicemail, taken aback by what he heard. The call had come from Paige Hopkins, the girl he’d run into. How’d she get my number? She didn’t say much, except to leave a callback number.

  Strange. Curiosity got the better of him. He sat in his car and returned her call.

  “Hello,” she answered on the second ring. “Wes?”

  “Yes. I just got your message to call.” His questioning tone came out strong, even to his ears.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but Mrs. Bryant gave me your number. She was babysitting your niece the day I dropped off some pies, and I recognized Myla.” Her voice wavered, and she sounded nervous. “We started talking, and she shared your story, or rather your sister’s.”

  His fist clenched. He didn’t like for people to air his family’s dirty laundry, but he knew Mrs. Bryant wouldn’t have spread it without good reason. “How much did she tell you?”

  “Enough to know I should have let you explain instead of brushing off your apology. I’m sorry I treated you rudely.” The sound of tapping fingernails came through the line.

  Or was it from him? He hadn’t realized he’d undone his fist and tapped the steering wheel. “You don’t owe me an apology whatsoever. I take full responsibility, and I truly am sorry. I was worried about Jenna that day, and it overruled all other senses.”

  “Regardless, I feel bad.”

  “Please don’t.” He chuckled. “Then we’ll get into a case of feeling bad for the other feeling bad because we both feel bad.”

  She laughed. “I can’t argue with that logic.”

  “You mentioned at the farm I ruined your shoes. If you text me your address, I’d like to send you a check to replace them.”

  “Absolutely, not.” Her refusal came firm and irrefutable. “I may have been overdramatic when I said they were ruined. There’s no reason I can’t still wear them, and it’s inconsequential compared to what you’re going through.”

  He covered the microphone and sighed. An apology didn’t seem enough, but what else could he do? “Can I take you to dinner one evening, then? Just my way of saying I’m sorry.”

  The offer slipped out before he processed what he’d said. There’s no way she’d accept that invitation.

  “Let’s make a deal.” She cleared her throat. “Since we both feel the need to make amends, how about I’ll go to dinner with you if you bring Myla to the Christmas Fest starting the first week in December—my treat, of course.”

  Surprised, he s
tuttered when giving an answer. “It’s a deal. Are you free at all this weekend? My parents have Myla until Sunday.”

  “This is our final big fall weekend, and I’ll be working every hour we’re open.” To his further astonishment, her voice held a hint of disappointment.

  “You have my number. When you have a night off, let me know, and I’ll get a sitter for Myla.”

  “And cause you more inconvenience?” She chuckled. “That defeats the whole purpose. Besides, she can join us for dinner. I wouldn’t mind.”

  “If you recall, the dinner is my atonement to you, and it’s not an inconvenience to get a sitter. If Mom can’t, Mrs. Bryant will, and they both adore her.” He leaned back comfortably in the seat, realized he was enjoying this banter.

  “I have another idea. We close at seven on Saturdays, and I can finagle leaving a few minutes early. If you don’t mind a late dinner, we can go tomorrow.”

  “That sounds great. What time should I pick you up and where?” He pulled a pen and napkin from the console to write directions.

  “Seven thirty. I live on the farm’s property, but if you come in through the main entrance, you’ll get caught in the departing traffic. There’s a non-commercial gate off Tanner Road. Do you know where that is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Turn there and make your first right. Follow that road to the end, and I’ll be the only cabin on the right.”

  “Perfect.” He shoved the napkin back, not needing it after all. “I’ll see you then. If anything changes, you have my number.”

  ***

  Wes drew a long breath when the entrance for Hopkins’ Farms came into view. This wasn’t a date, not exactly, so why did his stomach turn inside out as though it were one. He second-guessed everything from what he wore, to his decision to not splash on cologne.

  He’d kept his outfit lowkey—a comfortable pair of jeans and a jade button-down shirt. The perfect combination that said he wasn’t sloppy, but neither was he trying to impress.

  Aren’t you?

  Maybe he was. His first impression stunk, his second one not much better. The third time had to be the charm, and he was determined to prove his true self. And in those moments that he was completely honest with himself, he’d admit something about Paige attracted him. He barely knew her, so he didn’t know why, but he’d like to know her better. It could be only that he saw her as a challenge because she didn’t like him. At least not initially. Their phone call, added to the fact they were about to have dinner together, said otherwise.

  Even so, that’s not how you operate.

  Which circled him back to his original thought—he was attracted to her. And that added a new dimension to tonight.

  Don’t think of it as a date. It’s not. Take it as a night out with a possible new friend.

  For all he knew, they had nothing in common. What would they talk about?

  He turned onto the unnamed road—driveway—and followed Paige’s instructions to her home. A small log cabin appeared just before the road ended. It was a quaint, one-story structure with a front porch that had two roughhewn chairs on it. No seasonal decorations adorned the outside, which surprised him. He’d assumed her home would be decorated since every facet of the main farm was decked out in fall décor.

  Flexing his fingers, he prepared himself for the evening ahead. He’d made the invitation in haste, and while he didn’t regret it whatsoever, he couldn’t deny the dance his stomach currently performed. He left the phone in the car and walked to the door. Leftover snow from last night crunched under his feet. He didn’t see a doorbell so he knocked.

  Paige opened the door. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Not rocking on his feet took a conscious effort. Get a grip, Wes. Where’s your confidence, poise, and maturity?

  “Did you find the place okay?” She stepped out of the doorway, onto the porch.

  “Yes. No problems at all.” With the porchlight on, and the lights coming from inside, he could see her as clearly as he could in the daylight. She wore a pair of skinny jeans tucked into a pair of burgundy leather ankle boots. How many pairs of boots did she own? Her cream shirt came down to her hips, and she wore a cardigan-style sweater over it that matched her boots. “You look nice.”

  Not the smoothest line, but it’s what came out. Apparently, he’d have to think about every word he said before speaking to her.

  She glanced down at her outfit in a fluid movement. “Thanks. You too.”

  “I should have asked yesterday, but do you have any special diet you stick to?” He cringed at how stiff he sounded.

  “No. I’m an equal opportunity eater. Most days I eat at the restaurant here, which is delicious, but any changeup is good with me.”

  He laughed at her quip. “Do you like Dublin’s?”

  “Are you kidding? It’s one of my favorites.”

  “Whew. At least I got one thing right.” He winked, letting her know he hadn’t taken it that seriously. Not that he would admit he’d obsessed over a choice of restaurant all day.

  Her arms shook in a shiver. “Let me grab my coat, and I’ll be ready.”

  She went inside and came back out within a minute, wearing a knee-length wool coat and a scarf wrapped around her neck.

  He supported her elbow, assisting her down the steps. He’d noticed a few patches of ice on his way in, and he wouldn’t risk her falling and getting hurt before their night even began. That wouldn’t do at all.

  When they reached his car, he opened the passenger door for her and closed it after she’d sat down and buckled.

  “Did the weather affect business this weekend?” he asked once he’d turned onto the main road.

  “Not much. Most of our customers come to our fall and Christmas festival, so they’re used to attending at least one in below-freezing temperatures.” She wrapped her arms around her purse. “It mainly affected our last-minute customers who come because they haven’t picked a carving pumpkin yet and decide they may as well have the whole experience. Those are the ones who will go to the local grocery for a pumpkin instead of coming to the farm when the weather turns bad.”

  “That’s a bum deal for you.”

  “It’s not so bad.” She shrugged. “Weather like last night doesn’t come around this early too many years, and we’ll recapture some of those customers in November.”

  “Cider and barn swings have quite the draw, don’t they?”

  “You’d be surprised how many people crave a step back to simpler times, and that’s what we offer.”

  He nodded in agreement. “I’d forgotten how fun it could be until I took Myla that day. It was exactly what we all needed.”

  “I love hearing that. It means I’ve done my job well.”

  “Do you work there year-round?”

  “Yes.” Her smile entered her voice. “This is our busiest time in terms of tourism and guests, but I work with many of our local schools to plan educational field trips.”

  “You love your job, don’t you? I hear it when you talk.”

  “I do.” Her arms relaxed around her purse. “I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

  “It’s always good to love what you do.” He braked for a stop sign and took the opportunity to give her a smile.

  “What do you do?”

  He accelerated and crossed the intersection. “I’m a realtor with Gwynn Realty Company.”

  “I’ve heard of them. I think my oldest brother used them when he bought his house last year.”

  “They’re a great company to work for. Mr. Gwynn is a Christian and follows his faith in all aspects of his business.” He paused a second, reflecting on his previous job. “My first employer engaged in unethical means of selling homes, and it’s been refreshing to work for someone who acts with integrity.”

  “I’ve been fortunate to only have my parents as a boss, and they’re great.” She turned her head and looked at him. “You’re a Christian?”

  “Yes. I was raised in the church but didn’t ma
ke a decision to follow Christ until my teen years. Are you?”

  She nodded. “Like you, I was brought up in church. When I walked down the aisle at the ripe old age of six, I remember the pastor and my parents asking me lots of questions to make sure I really understood, but even then I knew and wanted Jesus in my life.”

  “That’s awesome.”

  His attraction to her grew with the realization she wasn’t off-limits as an unbeliever. Could God have orchestrated their paths that day? It was too soon to tell, but a part of him recognized without a doubt that he wanted to know her better.

  Chapter Seven

  “Let me get this right.” Missy stopped for a dramatic pause. “This guy’s a jerk to you and rude as can be, but now you’re going on a date with him?”

  “It’s not exactly like that.” Paige cringed. Maybe she shouldn’t have complained so much about Wes before she’d known the full story. In doing so, she’d unfairly tainted his image to her sister. “He apologized and made things right. We went to dinner two weeks ago because he felt bad, and he was a perfect gentleman that night.”

  Missy arched a brow. “What other secrets have you been keeping?”

  “None. Promise.” She saw Missy’s doubt and sought to eradicate it. “I didn’t say anything because I know how you all would act. You’d read into it and think it was more than it was.”

  “Obviously it was since you’re going on a date with him tonight.” Missy smirked.

  “How was I to know I’d enjoy his company?” Paige shrugged. “It took me by surprise, but we’ve been talking since, and last night, he asked me to go out again. Besides, his niece will be with him, so it’s not like it’s a full date or anything.”

  “Sure.” Her sister drew out the word. “I guess he can’t be too bad of a guy if he willingly took in his niece.”

  “Don’t forget Mrs. Bryant had nothing but good things to say about him, and she can spot a bad egg from a mile away.” She had an innate desire to defend Wes after she’d previously spoken so poorly of him.