by Gayle Hayes
Emma took a deep breath of the fresh evening air and hoped she could recall these sights and sounds once she was back in Denver. She considered staying in Buffalo Jump for Harold's backyard alone. She had never thought of herself as a small-town girl, but something in this lush, peaceful, beautiful place called to her. Emma wondered if the differences in their choices of homes came between Frances and her father. She could not imagine anyone who loved this backyard surviving amid the concrete and asphalt of New York City. Anyone who felt at home there would not have been stimulated by the serenity of her father's yard.
Phyllis and Carole were satisfied that all seemed well at the house. They suggested calling it a day. Emma knew she would not mind returning to the house alone and even looked forward to doing so at the first opportunity.
Emma awoke refreshed Tuesday morning, dressed in running shorts and a loose-fitting top, and jogged away from Main Street toward the residential area of Buffalo Jump. The homes adjacent to the business district were older but still in good repair. They were mostly of the Craftsman style with stone chimneys, low sloping roofs, exposed rafters, detailed trim around the entry, classic columns, or trapezoidal supports. A few had cobblestone exteriors. Some had been repainted in blue tones recently, but most were painted in colors to mimic nature--terra cotta, gray, and green color schemes popular in the 1930's. These homes were large for that time and some had been enhanced with horizontal additions. The homes probably belonged to the merchants, doctor, lawyer, and mayor. The lawns were manicured, and a variety of flowers created borders along sidewalks, concealed concrete foundations, or were clustered in semi-circles surrounded by large rocks. Emma waved to an elderly lady who was thinning golden day lilies in her yard under the cover of a generous straw hat. The sky seemed endless, cloudless, and breathtakingly blue.
Emma discovered Lewis Avenue ended abruptly at a home where children played hopscotch on the sidewalk. She ran to the right along Clark Street that turned into Sacajawea Lane. The three streets formed a U and returned Emma to Main Street. She ran south on Main Street past the church, and followed Charbonneau Drive out of town. She turned on Discovery Way and jogged to her father's house. Emma opened the front door, made a mental note to look for a can of WD-40 to fix the squeak, and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. Sun streamed in the many windows, and the home was bathed in a welcoming, soft morning light.
Emma went right to the garden. Buffalo Creek had slowed, the shallower water revealing moss-draped rocks. She sat in a lawn chair facing the creek and the garden. The scent of irises, pine, and chokecherry blossoms filled the air. She thought about the comments her parents' friends had made at her graduation. If it were true that the dead could still see us, she imagined her father would enjoy knowing how much his garden meant to her. She felt at one with all the things he loved, and so with him. Tears filled her eyes. She wished they had discovered the bond between them while her father was alive. Now, she wanted most of all to be his daughter and to call him her father. She had only felt this alone once before when John and Lynn were killed in the accident. "Why did you leave so soon?" Like a lost child, she gave in to her tears. She was sad and angry. If there was a God, why did he take her father before they had a chance to know each other better? Why had John and Lynn Favager never trusted her with the truth?
Once she was composed again, Emma reluctantly left the garden and continued her jog back to the inn.
After a shower and breakfast, Emma walked to her father's office, unlocked the door, and sat behind his desk. She looked for a notebook with his passwords and found a small brown spiral book with alphabetical indexes. She typed his password into his laptop, and began to familiarize herself with his desktop. After reading a few legal documents he had drafted, Emma saw a document with her name on it: Draft letter to Emma. She selected it and read with a sense of urgency.
Dear Emma,
I suppose it's because you bear such a striking resemblance to Frances, but I feel a sort of kinship with you that I've never felt with anyone before. So, I hope you will keep that in mind as you read this. I know this is a lot to ask, and you may choose not to do as I ask. In that case, I understand and release you of any obligation.
Saturday I added a codicil to my will specifying you would be the executrix unless you were unable or unwilling. If so, Phyllis will take the role as I originally planned.
In addition to being my executrix, I would greatly appreciate it if you could close my office in the event of my death. I have put off providing for this eventuality, because I did not feel comfortable asking another attorney. Closing my practice is something best not left to Phyllis or Carole, since they have no knowledge of the law.
Perhaps, you will even decide you like Buffalo Jump. In that case, I hope you will consider taking over my practice. I think I am a pretty good judge of character, and I am impressed with yours. I know you would do a wonderful job taking my place as advisor to the good folks of Buffalo Jump. At the end of this letter, I have made a few notes about certain things you will need to know. Those include the location of my passwords, current cases, office organization, etc.
In the above-mentioned codicil, I also stated my feelings of kinship with you and leave my meager estate to you in full. My will specifies my estate will be left in equal parts to any issue I might have at the time of my death. The will was written several years ago when there was still a possibility I might actually produce an heir. Now, I know I will die childless.
It would make me very happy if you could enjoy living in my home and practicing law in Buffalo Jump. The years have been very good to me, and I know you will enjoy the folks here. If you need the stimulation of a larger city, Missoula would probably be of interest to you. It is more on the liberal end of the political spectrum, unlike Buffalo Jump. The law school there has a very good reputation. I enjoy the law library whenever I have the time. I think people who live in a large city never enjoy its attractions as much as they anticipated. We all settle into routines of work, raising children, and maintaining homes. Missoula has good airline service. You could fly to exotic places when you have the time.
Well, Emma, I have gone on too long, as is the practice of older folks, I guess. You have your own life to live, and I will not assume that mine is just your cup of tea.
Whatever you choose to do, I hope you will take the responsibility for closing out my practice. My home can be sold at your discretion. Aside from my garden, which I treasure, I have no particular affection for the items in it.
Live well and fully, Emma. Your entire life stretches before you. I know you will represent me well. I could not have asked for a daughter of my own who would make me more proud than you.
Affectionately,
Harold Lowe
Emma reached for a tissue from the box on the desk and dabbed at her eyes. Then she read the letter a second time. She opened the safe and removed the envelope with her father's will in it. After reading through the will and codicil, she found a printed, final draft of the letter that was on her father's computer. It was essentially the same as the draft she read, but it was signed and dated for the previous Sunday. Emma realized he must have done so while waiting for her at his office before Mass. That would mean he had not known she was his daughter as late as Sunday morning. Perhaps he had a premonition about his death. That would explain the letter and the sense of urgency in his voice when he spoke to her after Mass and asked what she believed. She had thought at the time that he spoke to her as a parent might have done. Still, she did not know if he read Frances' note before he died. She set the envelope with the will, codicil, and letter back in the safe. For now, she was anxious to pursue an idea that occurred to her after visiting with Rick Alexander and Coach Anthony.
Emma began researching the subject of concussions online. She had run by the park on her way back to the inn and was reminded of the fight she witnessed the Sunday after she arrived in Buffalo Jump. That stirred a memory about the boy at the grocery, Sean Garret
t. His red hair and sturdy build reminded her of one of the boys who were fighting in the park. She was sure she had recognized Ryan's photo because he was the boy Sean Garrett punched. Emma surmised Ryan was not able to stand up after being punched because he suffered a slight concussion. That would explain the severe headache the following Thursday. It might also explain why he succumbed after being tackled during the game on Saturday.
Emma read several articles on the symptoms of concussion and then found information she hoped would clarify Ryan's injuries and prevent an unnecessary and painful suit between his parents and Coach Anthony. She found them in her father's rolodex, reminded them who she was, and asked both parties if they could meet at her father's office that afternoon.
While Emma waited for Ryan's parents and the coach, she began composing a eulogy for her father. Phyllis and Carole would speak also. Emma's focus would be on her perceptions as his daughter. She knew the small town would be shocked to learn Harold Lowe had fathered a child. She knew there would be gossip if she closed his estate and claimed her inheritance. She preferred to tell the truth as she knew it so her father's memory would not be tarnished by whispers. By the time the Alexanders and Coach Anthony arrived, Emma was polishing her remarks.
"Hello, again, thank you for coming," Emma said. She shook hands with them. She had arranged three chairs in front of her father's desk and asked the Alexanders and the coach to sit down. Coach Anthony was again wearing his Go Bisons jacket. Rick Alexander was wearing a white shirt with a solid navy tie and dress slacks. His crew cut and mustache had been trimmed recently.
"We did find an attorney in Great Falls after we talked to you yesterday," Rick Alexander said.
Coach Anthony looked surprised.
"I might start this by saying I thought it was significant somehow because both the Alexanders and Coach Anthony came by here yesterday seeking my father's advice. As you know, I told you to look for an attorney in Great Falls, because I will be going back to Denver. After talking to you a little yesterday, and especially after recollecting something myself this morning, I did some research on concussions. What I found interested me enough to contact you," Emma said.
"It's not news to us that Ryan suffered a concussion, Miss Lowe. The problem is the coach here made him play in spite of it," Rick Alexander said.
"Now, just a damn minute…," the coach began.
"Please allow me to continue, and feel free to call me Emma. I think there's a distinct possibility Ryan suffered a concussion the Sunday prior to the game. Coach Anthony told me he did not require Ryan to practice the Thursday before the game because Ryan had a severe headache. I did not have that information when I spoke to the Alexanders yesterday. Now, I am wondering if Ryan might have acted differently or been ill at all after last Sunday morning," Emma said. She directed her comments to Ryan's parents.
The Alexanders looked at each other in confusion as if they hoped the other spouse might know the answer.
"What do you mean by ill?" Rick Alexander asked.
"Did anything seem out of the ordinary? Not normal? Was he vomiting or bleeding?" Emma asked.
"He did have a nose bleed on Sunday afternoon. Sometimes he'd get one if it was too warm and he was real active. I thought he seemed a little preoccupied, but he could be moody, so I didn't focus on it," Lisa said.
"Why do you think he was hurt on Sunday?" Rick asked.
"It was my first full day in Buffalo Jump. I was on my own, and I went for a walk to see the sights around Main Street. I was standing on the bridge and heard voices. They were angry voices. I looked to the park and saw two boys fighting. One of them punched the other. He kept goading the boy on the ground to get up, but he didn't. One boy left, and I hailed the first person I saw and asked him to drive me to the park. By that time, the boy on the ground had disappeared. I think he was Ryan. I remember seeing his photo in the newspaper and thinking I knew him. I thought I recognized the boy who did the punching yesterday, but I couldn't place him until I ran by the park this morning," Emma said.
"Emma, I'm sorry, I don't get the connection," Lisa said.
"Well there may not be a connection, but my research led me to an article about something called secondary impact syndrome. Evidently this is fairly common, but it hasn't been documented very much. It occurs in teenagers who are active in sports. The theory is a slight concussion goes undetected. When another head trauma occurs shortly after, sometimes as much as a week later, a lethal concussion is the result." Emma said.
"Who's the boy you think punched Ryan?" Rick asked.
"I'd rather not say at this point. I haven't talked to him, so for all I know, he wasn't even in Buffalo Jump last Sunday," Emma said.
"I'll bet it was Sean Garrett," the coach said. "Ryan and Sean didn't get along. I warned Ryan more than once there was no fighting on the field," the coach said.
"Do you know what caused the animosity?" Emma asked.
"Sean's parents started the group to oppose the ski hill here. Ryan knew his parents were in favor because his mom works for Phyllis Carle. That and the proverbial girl next door came between them," the coach said.
"He's right. I knew Ryan was upset over the Wallace girl. I went into his room to put underwear in his dresser. I saw an email on his computer. I never asked him about it. I was afraid he'd be mad at me for snooping," Lisa said.
"So what's the point of this meeting?" Rick asked.
"Well, I thought it was worth alerting you to the possibility Ryan might have sustained a concussion in the park, and the tackle proved fatal because of it. I don't think a jury would find Coach Anthony was culpable. He had no reason to think Ryan suffered a concussion and shouldn't play on Saturday," Emma said.
"What about Sean Garrett?" Rick asked.
"If it was Sean who hit Ryan, he might be charged with disturbing the peace as a juvenile. Ryan was able to get up and go home. You didn't seem to notice any physical clues, like bruising or lacerations that might lead to an aggravated charge. Whether it was Sean or someone else, a jury wouldn't likely convict him in Ryan's death a week later. It was a series of unfortunate, really tragic, events. I realize there's a desire to place blame, to make sense of it, but I thought you should consider this other possibility before you proceed with a suit. Bringing a law suit will be costly and personally painful. After my brief conversations with all of you, I don't believe you would choose to sue unless you thought there was no other choice," Emma said.
"What do we owe you for this appointment?" Rick asked.
"No charge. I'm sure my father would've done the same thing if he were alive. I hope I've been of some help, but you are still free to pursue whatever your conscience dictates," Emma said. She shook hands with them.
Coach Anthony was first to leave the office. Emma wondered if the meeting would make any difference to the Alexanders. Then she saw Rick Alexander place his hand on Coach Anthony's shoulder and shake his hand. The two men embraced and wept. Both men loved Ryan, and now they could comfort each other. Emma watched them drive away, took a deep breath, and returned to her father's eulogy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Phyllis and Carole walked on either side of Emma as she carried her father's ashes into the church accompanied by the DiscoveryCountry quartet playing Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring. The women slowly progressed down the aisle, placed the urn on a pedestal in front of the altar, and sat in the front row. Instead of having a wake in the days preceding the funeral, the women preferred to greet friends in the half hour or so before the Mass began.
Soon friends of Harold lined up to express condolences to Carole and Phyllis, who introduced everyone to Emma. Once the rumor started, everyone was anxious to meet her. People were surprised Harold found time away from the office to father a child. Those who had known Harold for a long time were not surprised. They remembered him as a handsome young attorney. A few people knew about his affair with Frances, but most of his contemporaries at the time had passed on before him, moved out of state t
o be closer to their children, or were in assisted living or nursing homes.
Emma knew she would never remember the names of everyone she met, but she did her best to remember many of them by associating some aspect of their appearance, voice, or memory of her father with their names. Emma had no trouble controlling her emotions unless she saw someone else cry. She was relieved when the people who introduced themselves were not emotional. She was genuinely interested in knowing who her father's friends were for a better understanding of who he was. Also, she was surprised she was actually considering her father's suggestion that she move to Buffalo Jump and assume his practice. If she did, she would probably come to know many of these people professionally.
By following the lead from Phyllis and Carole, Emma managed to stand, sit, and kneel when it was called for by the ritual of the Mass. She was reminded of the previous Sunday when she attended with her father. Emma knew her father was very devout and was sure he would be pleased to know his last day on earth began at church. Emma was aware Father O'Sullivan was speaking, but she was lost in her own reverie. She wondered if Harold might be in heaven enjoying the spectacle of so many people in the church to honor him. The idea was appealing. How much nicer to think the dead were able to enjoy being the center of attention than to think of them as cold and removed. Would she see her father again as Father O'Sullivan said? Is there really an afterlife? Do we have an immortal soul? Emma found herself confronting questions she had always chosen to dismiss with a shrug.