A Beautiful Fall (22 page)

“I remember eating dinner over there, spending the night,” she said. In her mind’s eye Emma saw an image of herself brushing her teeth next to Samantha, giggling together at the bathroom sink.

“Your mother died in July and you started school in September. I worked all day while you were at school, and I made sure I was home when you got off the bus. We did that until you were in high school.”

“You were always here. I do remember that, Dad. Then I left for college.” It was the end of one kind of sadness, and the start of another.

“It was a very empty nest,” Will said. “Until now.”

“Yes, until now,” she told him, reaching for his hand. “I’m so sorry that I waited so long to come back. I won’t do that again.”

“Emma, it’s okay. You don’t need to apologize. I feel like everything’s being put back together again.

“Emma, your mother was the love of my life, and you were the love of hers. She’ll always be a part of this farm, because she’ll always be a part of us. Just like we’ll forever be a family. And we’ll always be a part of Juneberry, too.”

“I don’t know, Dad. I’m not so sure I fit in Juneberry.”

“Emma, you’ll always fit in a place where people love you. Besides, this house is the place she hoped you’d always think of her.”

“What do you mean?” Emma asked, puzzled.

“She just asked me before she died to keep some pictures of her on the walls while you were growing up so you’d know who your mother was and how much she loved you. She wanted you to have some things that were special to her, stuff I gave you a long time ago. Do you still have those things?

“What things?”

“Oh, let’s see, that was a long time ago. She wanted you to have a little Clemson key chain from when we were in college together because she always hoped you’d go there. And the ring I gave her the night I proposed because she always hoped one day you’d find true love. And there was a framed picture of the two of you. She said she always wanted you to see her holding you.”

Emma burst out crying, “Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this? I didn’t know the meaning behind any of those items!”

“Explanation? Honey, are you serious? Explain why you have a photo of you and your mother, her engagement ring—what does that symbolize? A Clemson college key chain? Honey, it’s obvious. Haven’t you ever noticed there are three weeping willow trees in our yard?”

“Yes, but …”

“Before she died, your mother asked me to plant those trees to represent the three of us. Always together on the farm.”

o o o

From the crows’ nest–like view atop the Macintosh house, Michael watched the dark, foreboding clouds approaching from the west.

“How you coming?” Michael shouted. Bo was at the other end of the roof, finishing another row of shingles. They’d been working for an hour longer than Michael had planned.

“Perfect timing,” Bo said. Rain began to fall—big, fat drops. There was a flash on the horizon, then the rumble of distant thunder. He pressed the nail gun’s metal tip against the last shingle—once, twice, three times—and stood to stretch his back.

The wind whipped Michael’s T-shirt like a flag. “Let’s get off this roof before it starts to get slick.”

Bo lifted the nail gun to unplug it from the air hose. A sudden gust of wind struck Bo in the face and he wobbled backward on his heels. Instinctively, he raised his arms to balance himself, with the heavy gun still gripped inside his right hand. Michael saw a look of horror on his face. Bo was too close to the edge of the roof, and he knew it. It was the last time Michael saw his friend Bo before he fell blindly off the high pitch of the house, leaving behind only his image in the irregular light of the gathering storm.

Michael rushed across the wet roof to the place where Bo had fallen and peered over the edge. Thirty feet below lay the body of Bo Wilson, his face pointing skyward, his limbs stretched out in the shape of a star. Bo lay motionless with the tears of the sky rolling down his sun-browned cheeks.

~ Seventeen ~

I’ll always come back,
come back baby to you.

—K. T. O
SLIN

“I’ll Always Come Back”

The afternoon rain cascaded down Samantha’s kitchen windows in heavy jagged lines. She was busy washing a few dishes when the phone rang. It was Emma.

“Samantha, it’s Emma. Michael’s just called. Bo’s fallen off the roof of the house they were working on this afternoon and they’re rushing him to Wellman by ambulance.”

“Oh my gosh. Is he badly hurt?”

“They don’t know yet. Michael said he fell a long ways and that he wasn’t moving when the ambulance got there.”

“Oh my gosh …” Samantha gripped the edge of the countertop with a hand wet with sink water. “Where’s Christina?”

“I just called her. I’m on my way over to pick her up right now. I’m trying to get in touch with everyone I can while I drive.”

“Who do you need me to call?” Samantha asked, hearing the news like a fire alarm and springing into action.

“Could you call Bo’s parents? Christina is
really
shook up. I’ll be at her house in about three minutes, then we’re going directly to the hospital.”

“I’ll call them and be on my way,” she said.

Samantha hung up, leaving soapy water in the sink, and ran through the house.

“Noel!” she called. She heard noises outside in the garage. Samantha grabbed her purse from the table and moved quickly through the back door, nearly slipping on the slick back steps.

Samantha walked with quick, little steps toward the garage, hitting the soggy grass with her shoes as often as the slate stones of the footpath. The garage door was ajar and she could hear music from the radio as she approached.

“Noel!” she hollered. Noel peered around the open hood of the truck. He switched off the radio.

Samantha spoke in controlled, urgent tones. “Bo Wilson has fallen off the house he was working on and is being taken to Wellman. I need you to start praying and I need to get down there.”

She turned back through the door without waiting for Noel’s answer and headed toward her van. Noel darted out the side door after her.

“Mom, let me take you. The truck’s almost ready to roll. I just need to …”

“There isn’t time, Noel. I have to go right now. I’ll be fine,” she said, opening the driver’s-side door. She climbed into the vehicle and searched through her purse for her keys and cell phone.

“Come on, come on,” she said to the purse.

Samantha overturned her purse, dumping the contents onto the seat next to her. She sorted through the pile with her fingers until she found her key ring—the one she bought at Myrtle Beach the summer before—and started the engine. The van revved to life. She backed out of the driveway, switching the wipers on high as she drove.

Once in the street, she shifted the van into drive and pressed down on the accelerator. Samantha punched Jim’s office number on her cell’s speed dial and by the time she rolled through the first stop sign, Jim picked up.

“Honey, I need you to start praying,” Samantha cried.

“What’s happened?”

“Bo fell off the house he and Michael were working on,” she said. “He’s unconscious and they’re taking him to the hospital by ambulance right now. Honey, I’m scared. My heart is beating about a hundred miles an hour.”

“Slow down, Sam. Where are you?”

“I’m driving to the hospital. Christina is a wreck. Emma is going to get her and I …” Samantha voice collapsed, falling into a long, uncontrollable sob. “I’m so sorry, I just don’t know what to do. I can’t believe this is happening!”

“Samantha, I need you to pull over to the side of the road.”

“Jim, I can’t. I’ve got to get to the hospital.”

“Sam, I need you to pull off the road. Do it now.”

Samantha brought the van to a stop along the curb on Agnes Street in front of the elementary school. The buses would be here in half an hour to take the kids home.

“Are you parked?” Jim asked her.

“Yes.”

“Okay, now just take a few deep breaths and relax a minute. You know you have to keep your blood pressure from going up. Are you breathing?”

“Yes, but I can’t … can’t slow down my heart.”

“Samantha, listen to me. You’re just overexcited. You need to do the things Dr. Sharron told you to do, the things we practiced.”

“I can’t. Can’t make it slow down.”

Samantha started to cry.

“Honey, I need you to listen to me. Focus on the sound of my voice. You’re having one of your attacks and you need to slow down your breathing.” Jim lowered his voice, calm and steady, the way he always did when Samantha’s emotions rose like a thermometer set in boiling water. “I want you to take three very long breaths.”

Samantha took three breaths. The first one sounded choked and nervous. On the second breath, Samantha relaxed, and the air went in and out clearer. The third breath seemed almost normal.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Samantha said. “But I have to call Bo’s parents. Will you meet me at the hospital, please?”

“I’m leaving right now and should be there in twenty minutes. Tell me what your heart rate is doing?”

“It’s slowing down, but something else just happened.”

“What?”

“I think my water just broke.”

o o o

Emma and Christina entered Wellman Medical through the emergency room doors. The two women were dripping wet. They saw Michael waiting for them at the registration desk, his T-shirt soaked with rainwater, soiled with dirt from helping the EMTs lift Bo onto the stretcher. Christina read the seriousness of the situation in Michael’s face.

“Where is he?” Christina demanded.

“They took him directly up to surgery. We’re to go up there and wait,” Michael told her.

Christina pushed through the ER doors without waiting for the others, searching for the nearest elevator, Michael and Emma following a step behind. She entered the elevator and pushed the button for the fourth floor three times in rapid succession, then drew in breath. She pressed the “Close” button and the doors finally closed.

“What happened?” she asked Michael in the elevator.

“We were finishing up the roof just as the rain was starting. We got up to go and then there was a gust of wind and he just lost his balance.”

Christina’s face contorted and she bite her bottom lip. “How far did he fall?”

“About thirty feet.”

Christina forced her eyes closed, praying for sanctuary inside her wounded soul from the horror of the news. Emma held Christina’s arm, steadying her.

The doors opened and the three hurried down the hallway looking for answers. A woman wearing green surgical scrubs walked toward the restricted doors.

“Miss, Miss,” Christina called out. The woman stopped and looked back.

“Yes?”

“Do you know what’s happening with Bo Wilson? He was just admitted to surgery.”

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to wait in there,” she said, pointing to the waiting area. She continued her scurried walk through the set of double doors to the OR.

Emma and Michael escorted Christina into the room to wait. There were twenty empty leather chairs. Judge Judy was sorting through the messes of some poor soul’s life on a muted TV mounted in the corner. They sat down in chairs next to one another, then Christina immediately stood and started to pace.

“Was he breathing? Was he breathing on his own when they brought him in?” Christina asked.

“Yes.”

“Tell me everything you know.”

“When the paramedics brought him in he was unconscious, but alive. They had a mask on his face and he was breathing. But when I got down from the roof, he wasn’t. He was just lying there. I thought for sure he was …” Michael stopped short of saying the word. “Mrs. Macintosh came running out and told me she’d already called 911 and the ambulance was on its way. I knew not to try and move him, so I called his name and felt for a pulse, but there wasn’t any. So I started to administer CPR. Paramedics were there in ten minutes or so. He started breathing on his own in the ambulance. They took him up to surgery as soon as we got here.”

“You rode in the ambulance?”

“Yes.”

“Did he regain consciousness?”

“No.”

Christina’s body wilted into her chair. She lowered her head. Emma reached out to touch Christina’s hand and held it. It was cold as ice. Christina moved her lips in silent prayer, her eyes closed.

Emma couldn’t help notice the way Christina seemed so comfortable praying. It seemed more of a two-way conversation than a plea to some unreachable being. Sometimes it looked like she was reminding Him of something. Sometimes it looked like pleading, or praise, other times she would sit still, hardly breathing.

Ten minutes later the OR nurse entered the waiting room.

“Are you with Bo Wilson?”

“Yes,” Emma said. The woman walked to where they were all sitting in the waiting area, her green scrubs swooshing as she approached.

“My name is Valerie Sala. Dr. Timbrook asked me to tell you that he and Dr. Jenkins are doing an initial diagnostic evaluation on Bo right now. They’re waiting on X-rays to determine broken bones and the possibility of internal bleeding. They’ll be in surgery for a while yet, but Dr. Timbrook will be out to talk to you as soon as he knows something.”

“What are they saying about his condition?” Christina asked. “Is he going to come out of this okay?

“His condition is listed as critical,” Valerie said, in a calming tone. “But Drs. Timbrook and Jenkins are excellent surgeons. They’re doing everything they can. Right now it’s too early for us to know much of anything, but as I can, I’ll come back out and let you know what’s happening.”

Christina drew in a long, shaky breath nodding in a herky-jerky way.

“Thank you.”

Christina’s voice weakened into a thin whisper of resignation, and Valerie turned to exit the waiting room. There might be no news on Bo’s condition for hours. Emma wondered how Christina would last another minute.

o o o

On the top floor of Wellman Medical Center, Samantha Connor started the first stages of childbirth. Jim had arrived at their private birthing suite on the fifth floor, sopping wet from the rain. Samantha was ecstatic to see her husband step through the doorway, wet or dry.