by Irene Brand
“I wanted to tell you I was going, so maybe you can pray for me tomorrow morning. I’ve always been a little scared of my mother. She expected perfection from her daughters, and we didn’t measure up to her expectations.”
“Certainly, I’ll be praying for you, Autumn. You’re in my prayers most of the time.”
“Thanks. I hope you don’t mind that I’ve unloaded my troubles on you. When I was a child, I always ran to Daddy with my problems. I couldn’t talk to him about my fears of tomorrow, so I came to you.”
“My door’s always open to you, and I’ve got broad shoulders.” He patted his bulging, muscular shoulders, and Autumn lowered her gaze, wishing he hadn’t called attention to the part of his anatomy that would make a good resting place for her head when she was troubled.
After he’d finished eating, he rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher before they left the house.
“I don’t mind cooking, but washing dishes is drudgery to me. I spent some of my hard-earned money on a dishwasher,” he said.
He had the cart stored in a metal utility building. The vehicle had two large wheels and a narrow seat on a sturdy frame. The metal parts were rusty and the paint was cracked.
“Whew! This is going to take lots of work.”
“I know,” Nathan said ruefully. “With all of the farm work I have to do, I’d about given up having this ready for the county fair. When you offered to help, I began to hope again.”
Autumn eyed the vehicle critically, trying to remember what the carts at Indian Creek Farm had looked like. “The vehicle looks to be in good condition, but I believe it’s sat out in the rain. If we strip off the mottled paint, cover the surface with shiny black paint and touch up the decorative parts with chrome paint, it should be all right.”
“That’s my opinion, too. When shall we start?”
“Right now,” Autumn said. “I always carry a pair of coveralls in the car as well as the truck. I’ll put them on and we’ll get started. Do you have plenty of sandpaper?”
“Yes. And an electric sander, too.”
For the next two hours, they worked companionably, chatting about church activities, community affairs and even the national news. Autumn told him about some of her veterinary classes. He commented on the desert climate of the Middle East and the native customs he found interesting.
Autumn remembered the times in the past when they’d worked together with her filly, Noel. They’d enjoyed this same peaceful, satisfying camaraderie. Perhaps that’s the way it should be. But how could she be only friends with Nathan, when every fiber of her body and every instinct of her heart cried out that she wanted more from him than friendship? Having Nathan for a friend was about like handing a starving man an ice cube and expecting him to survive on it. She’d never tried to analyze why she’d been attracted to Nathan when she was a girl, but the past few weeks, she’d started to understand what there was about Nathan that had kept him in her heart during years of absence.
He was a deeply religious man. It wasn’t only that he prayed, read the Bible and taught a Sunday school class. God was a part of his life—everything he had was committed to his Lord. When she considered Nathan, she understood the nature of God. He was kind, understanding, compassionate—characteristics that some would consider signs of weakness. In Nathan’s case, these attributes had enabled him to throw off the poverty, uncertainty and unhappiness of his childhood to become the confident, strong, optimistic man he was today.
When Autumn’s arms started to ache from the pressure she was putting on the wood, she said, “I’d better stop, now. I have a heavy work schedule tomorrow, and you must be tired, too.”
Surveying their work, Nathan said, “We’ve made a lot of progress though. Thanks.”
“I’ll come as often as I can,” Autumn promised. “Even if I’m on call, I’ll bring my phone with me, so I can be contacted.”
At the car, he gently pulled her toward him in a brotherly hug. “I’m glad you came back to Greensboro,” he murmured. “I’ve missed you, Autumn.”
That wasn’t a whole lot of encouragement for the future, but Autumn cherished every word that proved she was important to Nathan.
The road from the highway to the buildings of Indian Creek Farm seemed a mile long, although it was only half that far. Autumn couldn’t believe the change in the property. Not only were the fences no longer white, but quite a few of the palings had fallen to the ground. A house shutter hung askew, the flower beds were weedy, and the lawn hadn’t been mowed for weeks. The horse barns still looked good, but not in the prime condition they’d once been.
When Autumn stopped the truck and stepped to the ground, she heard a feeble bark from the back porch. If she needed any more evidence of the passage of time, it was her border collie, Spots, tail wagging, limping toward her on stiff legs. She rushed to the dog, dropped to her knees, and wrapped her arms around him. Gray streaks mottled his black hair. Autumn swiped away the tears threatening to overflow.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re still here, Spots. Are you glad to see me?”
The dog barked, licked her face and ambled beside her on arthritic legs as she went toward the house. No one came to greet her, and she wondered if she should knock or just walk in. She knocked.
The door was opened by her sister, Summer, who except for her shorter stature looked enough like Autumn to be her twin.
“Come in. Mother is in her bedroom.”
“Aren’t you glad to see me?” Autumn whispered.
Summer’s eyes filled with tears and she reached her hands to her younger sister. Autumn hugged her closely.
“It’s been terrible around here since you’ve been gone, Autumn. I wish you hadn’t run away.”
“There’s been times when I’ve wished the same,” Autumn admitted. “But I’m stubborn just like Weavers are supposed to be.”
Summer stepped away from Autumn and wiped her eyes. “We’d better go to Mother.”
“How is she?”
“You’ll have to see for yourself.”
“How are you, Summer? Do you have a job?”
“Yes. I have a job as a caregiver,” Summer replied without bitterness. “When Mother had a stroke, she sent for me. I quit school and came home, and I’ve been here ever since.” A tinge of rancor entered her voice as she added, “Six years of sacrifice she doesn’t even appreciate.”
“Why didn’t they employ a nurse?”
“Mother demanded my services. I really didn’t mind delaying my career for a few months. I didn’t realize she wouldn’t get well and that the situation would stretch on for years.”
“I’m sorry,” Autumn said.
At least the house was clean, Autumn noted, as she followed Summer to her parents’ bedroom. Mrs. Hayes must still be the housekeeper.
Autumn came to a sudden halt on the threshold of the bedroom. Only the piercing blue eyes provided a clue that the emaciated invalid in the wheelchair was her mother. Clara had never been a fleshy woman, but now her pale skin stretched over a rack of bones. Her reddish-brown hair had turned gray. With some guilt, Autumn thought that her mother’s bad health was due in part to emotional problems. Clara’s whole life had been wrapped up in Indian Creek Farm and her three daughters. When Spring married and Autumn ran away, the emotional trauma was probably more than Clara could bear. Had her departure brought on the stroke? she wondered, adding another prick to her already overworked conscience.
“Well, Autumn,” Clara said, in a demanding voice that hadn’t changed.
Autumn moved to her mother’s chair, bent over, and kissed the dry cheek. “Hello, Mother. I’m glad to see you. It’s good to be home again.” She sat down on a stool at Clara’s side.
“I’m happy to hear that, but I find it hard to believe,” Clara said with asperity. “You’ve been gone for eight years without a telephone call or a letter to us. You’ve been in Greensboro over two weeks and haven’t called.”
“When I left home, I went to N
ashville to visit Trina Jackson. You remember Trina, don’t you? She’s Bert’s cousin who came here for Spring’s wedding to Bert. While I was there, Trina’s mother had a letter from Spring, who was upset because she’d learned that Daddy said I was never to come home again. Because of his ultimatum, Trina’s family agreed not to tell any of you where I was. They kept the secret well, it seems.”
“Your father doesn’t make all the decisions around here.”
“Then I would have been welcomed back home?”
“Naturally!” Clara said, then she added, “Under certain conditions, of course.”
“Of course,” Autumn said bitterly. “I’d have been welcomed if I was willing to become a slave to your wishes. That’s the reason I left in the first place.”
“I thought you left with Nathan Holland.”
“That isn’t true. I wasn’t with Nathan. I didn’t have any idea where he was until I came back to Greensboro.”
“And you came back because he’s here? You don’t care enough for your family to visit us, but you come back when you learn from Ray Wheeler that Nathan lives in the community now.”
Why deny these accusations? Her mother wouldn’t believe her anyway.
“Nathan certainly fell into wealth when he inherited Woodbeck Farm,” Clara continued, “and the local residents consider him a successful farmer, but he soon found out he’s still a farmhand as far as the Weavers are concerned.”
Autumn couldn’t resist saying, “There’s one Weaver who never considered him a farmhand.”
“That’s no credit to you,” Clara said.
Since she hadn’t come here to revive the quarrel with her family, Autumn asked, “What happened to Noel? Does Daddy still have her?”
Pride sparkled in Clara’s eyes. Her daughters had disappointed her, but she’d retained her pride in the Belgians.
“Noel is a first-class animal. She’s had four foals, and Landon always uses her in exhibitions. As a yearling, she won Grand Champion at a fair in Indiana.”
All triumphs she’d missed because she hadn’t been an obedient daughter.
“Where did you get the money to finish your education?” Clara demanded, and Autumn supposed it was natural for a mother to want details of a wayward child’s life.
“I applied for lots of student loans and worked like a dog.” She explained about the cleaning service she and Trina had started.
“My daughter—a cleaning woman!”
“It was work or starve. You and Daddy have always worked. As long as the work is honest, there aren’t any inferior jobs. I’d wanted to be a vet for years, and I was willing to make any sacrifice to achieve that goal. It will take a long time to pay off my loans, but I’ll make it.”
“We wanted to provide a college education for each of our daughters. Spring quit school to get married, and you run off and work at common labor to pay your way through school.”
“What about me?” Summer said. “I was willing to accept your support to get an education, but you wanted me to stay at home.”
Clara ignored Summer’s remark. Almost near the breaking point, Autumn patted Clara’s hand and prepared to leave. The longer she stayed, the more she realized what a sad place her home had become. She couldn’t hold her tears much longer, and Clara had never permitted her daughters to cry.
“I have an appointment on a farm east of Greensboro in a short time, so I’ll have to leave now. I’m going to the barns before I go. I want to see the horses.”
“Yes, I remember you preferred the barns to the house,” Clara said.
The housekeeper waited for her on the back porch.
“It’s high time you came home, Autumn,” Mrs. Hayes said. The housekeeper was a heavily muscled woman, and her eyes glittered with stubborn vitality. Mrs. Hayes had never allowed Clara to dominate her.
Ignoring the woman’s accusing tone, Autumn said, “Things are worse than I thought they’d be, Mrs. Hayes. Will Mother ever be any better?”
“The doctors say she could have recovered, but when she had the stroke, she didn’t want anyone to see her feeble condition. She refused to have a therapist come here, and she wouldn’t go to the hospital. She’s made a slave of Summer. The girl has to sleep in the small dressing room next to your mother’s room, so she’s on call day and night.”
“Things have come to a sorry pass, it seems.”
“Maybe it’s time for you to make a difference.”
“Perhaps it is, but I have to be accepted first.”
Spots followed Autumn to the barn, and the past flooded back as she walked through the open door. The sweet smell of molasses and oats, the tangy scent of hay, and the earthy smell of the mares peering at her from their box stalls hadn’t changed. The rest of the farm may have been neglected, but Landon’s Belgians were still cared for. Would she know which horse was Noel? Autumn wondered as she walked down the center of the barn fondly observing the chestnut-hued mares.
She recalled the days when she’d dogged Landon’s steps. When she’d been happy to be with her father. When he’d encouraged her to learn how to care for the Belgians. She remembered the first time she’d seen Nathan, and the night they’d spent in this building when Noel was born.
Autumn came to the last stall before she found her mare, which she recognized as she’d done years ago by the red star on her forehead. She approached the horse slowly, but almost as if she remembered the time Autumn had helped to give her birth, the mare whinnied and stretched her neck. When she stepped inside the stall and put her hands on the large Belgian, she could no longer hold the tears. She cried, not only for her complicated life now, but for the lost years of her youth and the months she’d missed being with her loved ones. Lost experiences, she could never retrieve.
“Ah, Noel,” she whispered, “what would I do if I could live my life over again? Being myself, I don’t suppose I’d react any differently, but it’s been hard. Hard!”
Chapter Eleven
Autumn couldn’t generate any interest in her work for several days after the depressing visit to her home. If it hadn’t been for the hours she spent at Woodbeck Farm helping Nathan a night or two each week, she would have had a miserable time.
His encouragement helped her to throw off her despair until a few days later when she encountered her father. On her way to assist a farmer with a calf delivery, Autumn stopped at the post office to pick up a package of vaccine that had been shipped by registered mail.
She parked in front of the one-story brick building, and when she got out of the truck, her father was coming down the walk.
The sight of Landon’s beloved face caused Autumn to forget the dissension between them, and she ran toward him with outstretched arms. “Oh, Daddy,” she cried, but avoiding eye contact, Landon brushed by her without saying a word.
“Oh, Daddy,” she whispered again past the knot in her throat. She turned to watch him as he turned down the street, noting his stooped shoulders and uncertain steps. The package forgotten, Autumn rushed back to the truck, blinded by tears.
So much for coming to work as Ray Wheeler’s assistant! How could she live in a town where her own father wouldn’t speak to her? Had her actions really been bad enough to warrant her father’s rejection? If she thought Trina could handle the vet work until Ray returned, she’d leave Greensboro and never return. But could she spend the rest of her life running away? Besides, she didn’t want to leave Greensboro until she and Nathan came to terms on their relationship.
After Autumn finished her calls and arrived back at the animal clinic, she learned that Miss Olive was gone for the evening, and Trina had promised Dolly a visit to her favorite pizza shop. Autumn telephoned Nathan.
Still smarting over her father’s rejection earlier in the day, she wanted to be with Nathan. She was disappointed when she got his answering machine, although she knew he often worked until almost dark. She left a message, hoping he would find it before he prepared his evening meal.
“Hi, Nathan. I�
��m coming out to work on the cart tonight. Don’t bother preparing supper. It’s my turn to provide the food. I’ll come about seven o’clock.”
After she showered, Autumn looked through the closet in her bedroom, observing her wardrobe with distaste. How long had it been since she’d had any new clothes except the dress she’d bought to wear to her graduation from veterinary school? She had a couple of skirts and blouses that she wore to church. Except for that, her wardrobe consisted of jeans and shirts, most of which she’d bought at yard sales. Short sleeves for summer. Long-sleeved sweatshirts in the winter. She must go shopping.
But she didn’t have time to shop tonight. She selected a pair of denim shorts and a pink T-shirt, embroidered along the neckline in white yarn. She smiled when she remembered how her mother had always quarreled when Autumn had insisted on wearing pink.
“Never wear pink with a head of hair like yours,” she’d said, preferring that her daughters wore pastel shades of blues and greens. When Autumn had gotten old enough to pick her own clothes, she’d sometimes choose pink garments, much to her mother’s dismay. They’d been a close family when they were children. Too bad we had to grow up, Autumn thought.
As Autumn finished dressing, she remembered that none of the plans her parents had for their daughters had been realized.
“They couldn’t understand,” Autumn muttered, “that we weren’t robots to move how and where they wanted us to. I figure in their youth, Mother and Daddy were as wilful as their daughters. We had to inherit our traits from somebody.”
Autumn brushed her hair back from her face and secured it with a wide band. She strapped on a pair of sandals, happy to get out of the heavy boots she wore all day long. A glance in the mirror showed her eyes glowing with anticipation and a flush on her cheeks.
Trina and Dolly had walked to the restaurant, so she left Ray’s truck in the garage and drove her own car. The vehicle was ten years old, but she was thankful it ran as well as it did. Needing to pay off her school debts, she knew it would be a long time before she could afford anything better.