A Beautiful Fall (9 page)

—B
ROOK
B
ENTON

“It’s Just a Matter of Time”

“So, have you agreed to go out with him yet?” Lara Gilmor said. She was the firm’s youngest and newest associate attorney, and like Emma, was single. Emma and Lara often took lunches together at a small Thai food restaurant near Chinatown. It was the kind of Boston eatery where you could get in and out in an hour.

“Who? Colin?”

“Yes, Colin. Who else? He’s such a hottie and he’s obviously smitten with you.”

“Lara, I can’t believe you,” Emma held her cell phone in one hand and a paper grocery sack in the other. “Nothing could be further from my mind these last few days.”

“Emma, how is it that even smart girls can become so dense when it comes to the subject of men and dating? Colin is so the one for you. He’s a successful lawyer with great teeth and a six-figure, high-rise salary. You’d be crazy to let him stay on the market.”

“You make him sound like a prized ham in a butcher-shop window.”

“He is, and you need to ring him up in the express lane, get him bagged, and bring him home.”

“That’s just gross. Get him bagged?”

Emma pulled a bag of fresh tomatoes from her grocery sack and set them on the counter.

“It’s not gross, it’s practical,” Lara said, reaching into the top drawer of her desk and sliding a red Twizzler from its bag. She bit into it. “When you find what you want in life, you just gotta go for it.”

Emma tried to picture herself and Colin together. The two of them racing down to Cape Cod in his BMW for a getaway. Colin would talk to clients on his cell phone while he drove, and she would wonder why he had to talk to clients on the way to their getaway.

“I’m not sure he’s my type.”

“Colin is every woman’s type. Tall, rich, and handsome … and rich.”

“What’s gotten you all excited about Colin anyway?”

“Oh, I don’t know. He stopped by the office this morning to meet with Robert. He chatted with me awhile, gave me the news about your dad, and he asked me about you, of course. Want my opinion? He’s seriously missing you.”

Emma stuffed a head of lettuce and bag of carrots in the refrigerator crisper. She folded the paper grocery bag in thirds and stashed it in a lower cupboard.

“Why did Colin meet with Robert?”

“He didn’t say, but it must have been important. Their meeting went on for over an hour. It was business, but I can’t tell you what kind.”

“Hmm, that’s interesting.”

Lara bit into her Twizzler again.

“I guess, but now you’re avoiding the subject.
If
Colin were to ask you out, what would you tell him?”

“He already has, Lara, and I told him I see us only as friends.”

“I can’t believe you!” Lara said in mock disgust. “You’ve got to get back up here as quick as humanly possible so I can talk some sense into you.”

Emma watched out the window as the wind shook the leaves from a maple tree.

“I don’t know. I’ve always thought there’s one special person out there for each of us, and I think when it happens, we know. I don’t think we have to be talked into it.”

“I’m not talking you into anything except popping open those eyelids of yours to see this special person who seems to have found
you
. I mean, if you’re not gonna go for him, maybe I should … oh, never mind. So when
are
you coming back to civilization?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Robert is under the impression you’ll be back on Friday.”

“I know. I’ll talk to him. He knows my situation.”

“You’re not getting any heat from me. We all just want to see you take care of things, and get back up here where you belong as quickly as possible.”

o o o

Michael agreed to stop by the Madison farm as soon as he and Bo finished the roof at the Macintosh place, or when rain fell, whichever came first. The following morning all of Juneberry awoke to the sound of a steady September downpour. Michael heard the rain as he lay in bed.

Before the weakened sun rose to reveal the morning’s gloominess, Michael called Bo to officially cancel their planned work. He stood at the gas stove in his kitchen and fried eggs, sunny-side up, for breakfast. But his mind wasn’t on breakfast. He was recalling one of his earliest memories of Emma. He was in the seventh grade and she was just a fifth grader. During recess, he taught her how to hit a softball. At first, he’d been frustrated by her impatience, but the way she reacted when her bat finally connected with the ball was enough to erase any uncertain feelings.

Their first dance came in high school—after Juneberry won their homecoming game. “Unchained Melody” had started playing when he asked her. They stayed friends throughout high school but didn’t fall in love until that summer after she’d graduated. He didn’t know the term
soul mates
back then, but thought of the two of them as “cuff-link love,” matching pieces made to go together.

“Women are like fine jewelry,” Michael told Bo one day. “Men are like the strong black boxes that hold the jewelry. You know the ones I mean? Women are the beautiful works of art, and men are there to appreciate their beauty, to surround and protect them.”

The moment he said it out loud, Michael knew that’s how he felt about Emma. When he saw her that night after work, he kissed her like she was the most precious diamond in the entire world. If a picture paints a thousand words, a kiss paints what words can never say. When the day came that she told him she was leaving, all Michael could ask was “Why?” It was a question she could not answer. A question she still hadn’t answered. But when she asked him to help her father the day before,
his
answer had come easily.

When Michael pushed the doorbell, thunder boomed and rolled a long, seemingly unending rumble. He laughed at the coincidental timing and hoped the weather wasn’t a foreshadowing of what awaited him inside. He wore his denim work clothes, but had second-guessed his attire more than once on the drive over. Raindrops darkened small ash-colored dots on his shoulders.

Emma opened the door.

“Michael,” she said.

“Looks like a good day to be working indoors.”

“Yes, it does. Won’t you come in?”

Emma pulled open the heavy front door. Michael came into the foyer and shook the rainwater off, shuffling his feet across a floor mat that looked to be made from some sort of coarse natural fiber.

“I want you to know how much I appreciate this,” Emma said. “I’m sure when my dad comes downstairs he’ll want to tell you the same thing.”

“It’s no problem,” he said, looking around the entryway. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been inside the old place.”

“It hasn’t changed much. Do you want to take a look at the room?”

“Sure.”

Emma led him down the front hallway. A narrow strip of red carpet ran through the center of the hall. Most of the downstairs was painted white. He remembered the intricate crown molding where the walls met the high ceiling, and the two fluted columns that stood at the entrance to the comfortable living room. He tried to ignore the memories that peeked around every corner, but they came anyway. The house was full of memories.

“This is the space we’re thinking of changing,” she said. “Dad’s still sleeping upstairs, but we’ve tossed around a few ideas. We really want to hear yours.”

The two stepped into the small room.

“It’s a lot smaller than I remembered,” Michael said.

Emma pointed to the back wall.

“On the other side of this wall is a pantry that really isn’t needed. Do you think we could knock it down? The room really needs to be larger if at all possible.”

“Maybe …” Michael studied the room, taking it all in. He saw the closet running the length of the opposite wall.

“You’ve got another two feet of space if you’re willing to take out this closet area.”

Emma pulled open the sliding door and looked inside. The closet was jam-packed with old clothes, boxes, photo albums, and other evidences of family history.

“You can see how things stack up in these older closets. If you wanted, we could build new storage areas into the design of the room,” Michael told her.

“I didn’t know what was in here until just now,” Emma said. “I suppose I’ll have to sort through everything and clear it out for you.”

“Do you have somewhere else to put this stuff?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure how much is stuff to keep and how much can be thrown away.”

“Well, we could build a secondary workspace with a counter and cabinets above. It’s a great way to include functionality with design.”

“I like that.”

Michael pointed to the ceiling.

“I think we can match this historic design in the new cabinets, too. As for this window, I’d recommend putting in insulated windows that will let in more natural light. Are you thinking of keeping the carpet? Or can that be removed?”

They examined the flat navy blue carpet beneath their feet.

“Looks like it’s pretty worn. I suspect it can go,” Emma said. “But I’m not sure what Dad will want to replace it with.”

Michael moved the rocking chair to the center of the room and knelt down in the corner. He removed a utility knife from his work belt and pried up the carpet.

“Did you know you’ve got a hardwood floor underneath this old rug?”

Emma took a step closer to see.

“I thought we might find that, since there are hardwoods running through most of the house.”

“Won’t it be in bad shape?” Emma asked.

Michael stood, nearly bumping into Emma. She took a step backward to avoid him.

“We won’t know until we pull this carpet out, but sometimes the carpet works like a shield and the flooring can look better than you’d expect.”

“Do you want to see the pantry now?”

“Sure.”

Emma and Michael walked to the back of the house and into the pantry.

“Well, this is it,” said Emma. “It’s kind of an all-purpose room.”

Michael looked in.

“You’re right. There’s a lot of space in here, and I’ll check, but it doesn’t appear that the bedroom wall is load bearing. It shouldn’t be a problem knocking it out.”

“Sounds like you’ll have your work cut out for you. Any ideas what a renovation like this would cost?”

Michael looked at Emma. She was looking around the room—anywhere but at him. Their conversation had been all business thus far.

“I don’t know. I’ll break down the costs for you. It shouldn’t be too expensive.”

“Thanks, Michael.”

“This a great house. How soon do you want me to get started?”

“The sooner, the better. I mean … as soon as Dad agrees, of course.”

“Well, we can get started right away if you want. Why don’t you give me a hand clearing out the furniture. Once that’s done, we’ll take some measurements and then I can draw up a design plan. That will help me with the estimate, too.”

“I’ll get to work on clearing out the old closet.”

o o o

Upstairs in the quiet of his room, Will Madison prayed. As he knelt down at the side of his bed, he felt the warmth of his breath against the wool bedcovers. With eyes closed, he uttered softly worded expressions of thankfulness and supplication. He didn’t pray for his health, the heart inside his chest that had broken earlier that week. He didn’t pray for relief from the broken heart he’d carried for so long. Will Madison prayed for his daughter, the second of two women he’d lost.

Hannah was the only woman he’d ever loved. They’d grown up together in Juneberry. At first, Will thought of their love as a game. He played the role of pursuer, wooing Hannah with his love antics in high school and through four years of college. She was full of beauty and life.

During the fall of their senior year at Clemson, a group of friends and classmates were talking about what they might do after college. When Hannah mentioned the possibility of moving to California, the reality hit Will that he couldn’t live without her.

By Thanksgiving that year, he’d asked Hannah to marry him, and over Christmas break, they wed. She never broke his heart until she passed away at the young age of thirty-four. His consolation prize? A five-year-old daughter named Emma who he’d raise as a single parent, with a single-minded hope of never losing her.

Will steadied the wavering sound of his voice before the Lord; his gratitude showing in both words and tears. A decade of unceasing prayers had been answered after his heart stopped beating and he opened his eyes in a hospital bed to the beautiful face of his daughter.

“Lord, You have brought her back to me …

“Thank You for Your goodness. You are so kind to us.”

The old man’s voice broke as he whispered his heart to His God.

“I don’t know how long she’ll be here, Lord, but if there’s any way You could …”

Will closed his eyes again, pressing out tears, quieting his voice. His prayer sounded selfish to his ears. How much more it must sound that way to God. He lowered his face to the bed, emptied himself of the illusion of control in his life. He thought of the heart attack that nearly took his life. A feeble yet sincere smile came to his lips. In a strange way, he was grateful for his heart attack. He would go through it again for a chance to see his daughter. Yes, God did indeed work in strange ways. He listened for, and heard, The Voice. The Silent Voice:

“I am in control of all things.

I am in control of you, and

I have your best interests in mind.

Rest.”

Will Madison sat on the hardwood floor in his bedroom and leaned against the dark Shaker dresser, wiping tears from his eyes. He had confidence in an invisible God, certainty in unfulfilled promises. He drew in a calming, tremorless breath and pulled himself up to sit on the bed.

“Lord, You are so good to me, an ordinary man. How can I ever repay You? I trust You, and I am Yours.”

o o o

Downstairs, Michael and Emma pulled the top mattress off of the bed, walking it in half steps out the narrow door, and down the hallway to the living room.

“Tell me more about your life in Boston.”

“What do you want to know?”