Emma watched Michael walk out the door without looking back. A moment later, she followed, more convinced than ever of the mess she’d made. Samantha had wanted to know why, and Michael didn’t. It was a toss-up which one felt more unsettling. It had stopped raining completely. The streets of Juneberry were dotted with puddles, and the air crackled with the scent that comes after a heavy autumn rain.
Emma picked up her father’s prescriptions at Brown’s Drug Store, climbed back into Old Red, and set the package beside her on the passenger seat. Starting the truck, she switched on the wiper blades to clear off the last remaining drops of rain before making her way home.
Emma hurt for what she’d done to Michael. If only mistakes could be washed away like the rain. But she didn’t have a choice then, Emma reminded herself—not a serious one. After all, it wasn’t an error in judgment that caused her to leave. No more wrong than leaving a blue underwater world for the life-giving oxygen above.
Emma could clear it all up if she told them the truth––her father, Samantha, Christina, and Michael. She could just dig up the precious jewelry box she’d buried in the cool South Carolina mud and show them all what lay inside.
Her heart raced at the thought. Then she said the words out loud.
“I’m not that child anymore. I won’t be afraid any longer.”
On route SC59 between downtown Juneberry and home, Emma’s cell phone rang. She picked it up off the vinyl seat and answered it.
“Hello?”
“Emma? Hey, it’s Colin.”
“Colin?”
“Yeah, you sound surprised. How is everything down there?”
“Everything’s fine,” she said, adjusting to one far-off world intruding into another. “Thanks for checking on me. Are you at the office?”
“No, I’m in my car. I just bought a new cell phone.”
“I thought you just bought a new cell phone in July?”
“I did, but I didn’t like it. This one’s a PDA, but it still feels like a cell phone, plus it plays video, too. So tell me, what’s going on with your father?”
“There’s good news. He’s coming home today.”
“That is good news. The sooner he’s home and settled in, the sooner you can get back where you belong.”
The signal from Colin’s phone was remarkably clear. It sounded like he was calling from across the street.
“I’ll need to keep an eye on him for a few more days. Sorry to employ such an old cliché, but I’m taking this one day at a time.”
“Those old clichés work for a reason. How are you doing with all this?”
“That’s a good question. In lots of ways, I prefer the law. Its a lot harder when you have to humble yourself and make things right with people.”
“What?”
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m not making sense. There’s a lot on my mind, I guess.”
“Couldn’t you bring in a home-care nurse?”
“No, it’s not that. I was referring to a much older story.”
“Do I detect some history?”
“Maybe.”
Emma turned Old Red onto Mills Road, or as Christina always called it, “Madison Avenue.” Just a half mile more and she’d be home.
“At least you’ve got your friends. Someone to talk to about it, right?”
“Right,” she said, as if her talks with Samantha and Michael that morning had both gone well. “It’ll all work out.”
“I want you to know I’m here, Emma. I mean, if you need anything. I’m just now pulling into my building. I know from experience that the signal goes out when I’m underground so I’m going to let you go.”
“Thanks for calling, Colin. I appreciate you checking in with me, and I wouldn’t mind talking again sometime if you …”
Emma listened for a few seconds until it was obvious the line had gone dead.
~ Six ~
Every time I hear a buddy say
he’s put lots of dust and clay
between him and yesterday,
I get the fever.
—BILL ANDERSON
“I Get the Fever”
The elevator doors opened and Emma stepped out onto the fourth floor at Wellman Medical. The hospital didn’t feel so foreign anymore after being there most of the day before. Dena Johnson greeted Emma.
“He’s all ready to go home.”
“You do good work around here,” Emma replied. “I had no idea he’d be coming home so soon. It’s quite a relief.”
Dena made her way around the open end of the crescent-shaped workstation. She was dressed in another cheerful smock, this one a Tweety Bird print.
“He’s been chomping at the bit to get out of here, but the process is actually going faster than normal. Usually a patient’s moved off ICU before getting released, but it worked out in this case just to release him home.”
“Dena, I’ve been so delighted with the care he’s received, both from you and his doctors. I don’t know how to say thank you.”
“You’re welcome. He’s been a great patient. Wish they could all be that way.” Dena smiled, then paused before continuing. “Do you have a moment?”
“Sure,” Emma said. Dena led her away from the nurses’ station to a private corner in the hall.
“I don’t know why, but I really feel moved to share something with you. I was on duty yesterday when you’re dad was admitted to ICU. He was my patient, and I got a chance to talk to him. I just thought you should know that the minute he knew you were coming in from Boston, his condition rapidly improved—not just his demeanor, but his body’s response to treatment as well. I know it was a sacrifice for you to drop everything and come down here. I just thought you’d like to know, from a medical standpoint, I think your being here really made a difference.”
“Thank you for telling me this. My dad has always been there for me, but I can’t say I’ve always been there for him. This was a wake-up call.”
Dena nodded that she understood. She had a father too.
“Well, let’s go get him and let you take him home.”
Dena moved Will downstairs by wheelchair to the front entrance, brushing off his protests that he could walk, and staying with him until Emma brought the Cadillac around to pick him up. She’d decided to bring the good car since it was easier to climb into than Old Red.
“I can get in by myself,” Will protested. “I could drive this car if I had to.”
“Oh, that reminds me, Mr. Madison,” Dena said. “Remember, no driving for a while. Doctor’s orders.”
Dena shut the passenger-side door and waved them off before heading back inside the hospital. Emma pushed the button, and Will heard the Cadillac’s automatic door locks bolt shut.
“Ugh, what a sound.”
“You don’t like that?”
“After being cooped up in a hospital bed for a day and a half, no,” Will said, a rare agitation entering his voice. “Sorry, hon. I’m just not a sit-around kind of guy. The doctor wants me to change all the foods I eat, and now I can’t even drive my own car.”
“And … you have to buckle up your seat belt too. Sorry, Dad.”
Will made a sound like he was chewing on aspirin.
“I think once we get you home and settled we’ll both feel better.”
As smooth as ice, Emma rolled the Cadillac away from the covered loading zone, and minutes later they were on Stoney River Road taking the scenic route around the lake. In ten minutes, Will Madison would be back in his own house where he belonged, but what then? Emma’s twelve-year absence from the Madison farmhouse spoke clearly that it wasn’t where she thought she belonged. The uncomfortable silence inside the luxury sedan spoke volumes.
“It’s good to see you home,” he said, breaking the silence. She nodd
ed. It was one thing to treat a heart attack, quite another to treat a wounded heart. Emma glanced down at her father’s ringless left hand. She was keenly aware of what it meant to grow up without a mother. The memories she had of her mom were a thin scrapbook with no entries past the age of five. She’d turned those yellowed pages over and over again in her mind. She wondered if he had a scrapbook filled with memories of the wife he’d loved and lost. Did he wish it were not Emma bringing him home but Hannah?
“Don’t worry about me,” he said.
“What? I’m not worried. I’m happy you’re coming home. You’ll be more comfortable propped up in your easy chair.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Emma parked the Cadillac close to the side porch. She walked around the car and helped her father walk into the house. She hooked the car keys next to Old Red’s on the key post by the door.
“How long can you stay?” he asked.
“I haven’t planned my return flight yet. Probably Friday.”
“Trips are always like bookends,” he said. “The first one’s called ‘coming home,’ and the other one’s called ‘going back.’ They’re always inseparable.”
Emma threaded her arm though her father’s, helping him to walk into the dining room, and on into the comfortable living room. She’d always loved that room. Recessed white bookshelves filled with everything from history books to novels to framed photographs and souvenirs. The decor hadn’t changed in the time she’d been away. A colonial plaid sofa lined one wall, bordered by dark pine coffee and end tables tinted in ebony. Magazines filled the caramel-colored V-shaped rack on the floor next to his reading chair. The house smelled like spiced cinnamon. That was her addition.
“How’d you get the house to smell like this?” he asked.
“I thought it’d be nice to come home to. It’s something I picked up in town.”
Emma settled Will into his reading chair in front of the television, fishing the remote control from the top drawer of the table next to him and setting it on his arm rest.
“Are you hungry?” she asked him.
“Starved. You wouldn’t believe what they had me eating in there.”
“I’ll make some lunch,” she said.
On her trip into town to pick up her father, Emma had noticed the “We’re Open” sign in front of the Whitfields’ Orchard. She’d purchased a half-dozen Golden Delicious apples. Emma collected them from the Cadillac, emptied them into a stainless steel colander, and set them to rinse in the sink. On the countertop was a wooden cutting board and a set of kitchen knifes sitting upright in a block. Emma clutched the wooden handle of the paring knife with wet hands and pulled the first apple out to slice it in half. She quartered it, removed its dark brown seeds, then sliced each of the quarters once more.
A sharp flash of recognition pierced Emma, a memory so vivid and real she almost cut herself with the edge of the knife. Water continued flowing from the tap, making a staticlike noise as it cascaded over the apples. Emma stood there, frozen. Snapshots of decades-old images of her mother, Hannah Madison, standing at the kitchen sink cutting apples flashed before her eyes.
Her hands trembled as she relived the visual memory, seeing her mother standing at the sink, from the viewpoint of a child’s eyes.
Emma laid the knife on its side. She could almost sense her mother’s presence in the room. Inexplicably, she spun around suddenly just to confirm she was alone.
Emma shook off the feeling, shut off the water, and picked up the plate of apples, carrying them into the den.
She set the apples on the table next to her father’s chair. Will looked at the apples, then up at Emma.
“I wasn’t expecting a cheeseburger, but can’t we do better than this?”
“The doctor said you’d have to change the way you eat. I thought these might be a step in the right direction.”
Will picked out an apple slice and bit into it like he might never see real food again.
“In case you’re wondering, I’m also making you a chicken omelet with red and green bell peppers. I’ll go to the store later and do some shopping.”
Will muted the volume on the TV and turned his attention to Emma.
“I don’t mean to give you a hard time, it’s been an … eventful couple of days. What is important is that you know how glad I am that you came back home. It’s been too long, Emma.”
She sat down in the chair across from him.
“You don’t have a child yet, but take it as the gospel truth: When you become a parent, there isn’t a day, and sometimes not even an hour, when you don’t think about them.”
“Are you angry with me, Dad? You have every right to be.”
“I’m not angry with you, Emma. I don’t have anything to be angry about. I’m grateful we’ve talked on the phone from time to time, more grateful you’ve come back to help me.”
“It’s not that I didn’t care,” she said.
“I know. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be here.”
Will bridged the space between the two chairs, the space between the two of them. He placed his left hand on hers.
“I’ve learned to appreciate what I’ve got, Emma. I’m not going to waste an ounce of energy on sorting through the past or with worrying about the future. Life’s too short for that.”
“I love you,” she told him, wondering if he’d ever doubted it.
“I love you, too,” he said. “In the end it’s all that really matters.”
Emma saw something new in her father’s eyes, a deeper sense of peace, which she explained to herself as probably being a result of the heart attack.
“I’m thinking about starting a fire in the fireplace. Would you like that, Dad?”
“That would be nice, but I feel like I should be doing something.”
“You are. You’re getting some rest.”
After lunch, Will fell asleep in his easy chair, a few golden apple wedges left uneaten on the plate. A fire crackled beside him in the stone fireplace.
The phone rang while Emma cleaned up the kitchen, wiping down the cutting board and setting it in the dish rack next to the sink. She tossed aside the damp towel and picked up the receiver.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Emma, it’s Christina. I wanted to call you and check up on you and your dad.”
“He’s resting here in his own home now. I think we both feel better about that.”
Emma leaned against the kitchen counter, holding the phone next to her ear and twisting the black cord underneath her arm, just the way she had in high school.
“Wonderful. I want to hear all about how you’re doing too, so I was wondering if you’d be interested in coming over for lunch tomorrow? If your dad can be on his own.”
“I would love to do that.”
“Perfect! Let’s make it twelve noon.”
“Yeah, twelve noon. I’ll see you then.”
Emma hung up the phone and walked quietly back into the den to check on her father. Will had slept for over an hour. She was considering whether he’d be more comfortable in his own bed when her presence in the room stirred him.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” Will said, clearing his throat. “I just dozed a little, that’s all.”
Will rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, and pulled himself upright in his chair.
“I’m not used to being idle. I’m not used to dropping the ball for my clients either. Tomorrow, I’m going to need you to drive me into Columbia so I can work at my office.”
Emma’s face tightened.
“Dad, you know you’re not supposed to go back to work for six weeks.”
“I’m not going to do anything strenuous. It’s not like I’m a litigator any longer,
but I do have responsibilities. More likely than not, my clients aren’t even aware yet of what’s happened. I’ll need to contact them and make some arrangements.
“Dad, you understand you’ve had a heart attack, right? That makes you more susceptible to having another.” Emma was hesitant to preach to her own father, but it was too early in his recovery to entertain thoughts of cutting corners. Emma sat in the chair next to his.
“I know making changes is hard, but if you overextended … well, next time you might not be so lucky. Now is the time to revamp a few things, like eating healthier foods, and managing your stress. You can’t just go back to your normal life.”
Will scratched the back of his neck and cocked his head toward Emma.
“I know there’s going to be some changes, but do you honestly think I can sit here watching television and working jigsaw puzzles for the next month?”
“No, I don’t expect you to do that, but if you start going to the office one day a week, before you know it, you’ll be there Monday, Wednesday, Friday. It’s not just the office either, it’s the long commute to Columbia, and the pressure from clients that Dr. Anderson’s concerned about.”
“It’s not like I can operate from home,” Will said. “If I don’t go into work, I’ll hardly have contact with the outside world. You’re not going to be here forever.”
“Of course,” Emma said. “That’s it!” She sat upright in the wing-back chair. “What if we create a proper working environment here at home so you wouldn’t have to commute? We could set up a computer, get you hooked up to the Internet, and you’d have e-mail here at the house. You could work when you wanted to.”
Will looked around the den.
“And where do you see this office sprouting up? I don’t think there’s room, unless you’re suggesting we set up a laptop on the dining-room table.”
“What about making a few changes to the house?” she said, the excitement of the idea’s momentum filling her voice.
“A few changes? You mean tear the house apart? Why didn’t I think of that,” he said, smiling.
A Beautiful Fall Page 6