A Beautiful Fall (20 page)

“Wednesday morning,” Emma said, taking hold one shoulder of the coat and helping Janette into it.

“If you have time, dear, come see me before you leave, okay? I’d like to talk with you.” Emma wasn’t sure she’d have time, but something about Janette’s invitation conveyed it was more important than just a social call. She’d almost gotten the words “I’ll try” out of her mouth, when the storm door closed and Janette was already out of earshot.

“Samantha, I’m just amazed by this day,” Christina said. “Thanks for getting everybody together. It couldn’t have been any nicer.”

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it.” Samantha hugged Christina and Emma at the front door. “A week ago I would have never believed we’d be here having tea today. There’s a part of me that’s been unsettled, and now I feel so much better.”

“I think I’ve been feeling that way too,” said Emma, stuffing the last snack bag into her purse.

“What are you all going to do for the rest of the night?” Christina said.

“Bo and I have a movie date at home. It’s part of our new Sunday-night strategy to hang out more. What about you, Emma?”

“I don’t know,” Emma said, thinking out loud. “I’ve thought about calling Michael.”

Samantha smiled. “To talk about the renovation I suppose,” she ribbed. “Emma, are you even considering the possibility that Michael means more than you’ve come to terms with?”

“I’ll think about it,” she said, just before Jim and Noel opened the front door from the outside and Emma slipped through it.

The sun had dropped behind the tree line, lowering the temperature by ten degrees. A gust of wind wound inside her coat, and she hurried to the shelter of the truck. Emma pushed the key in the ignition, the green Sinclair dinosaur key chain bouncing back and forth like a hypnotist’s watch. She switched on the heat, pushing the level all the way into the red zone before heading toward town. The wind had picked up, blowing leaves through the beams of her headlights as the bleak October sky closed out light and color. One thought tumbled round and round inside Emma’s mind, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to admit it: She wanted to see Michael again, and soon—that night.

She got out her phone and dialed his work number, but there was no answer. She opted not to leave a message, unsure of what she’d say.

“Wouldn’t you know it.”

Emma tossed the cell phone back on the seat, and it bounced end over end into shadows. She returned her attention to the drive back out to the farm.
Why couldn’t Michael just be at home? And what is this urgency to see him all about anyway?
She considered swinging by his place, then decided that would be lame.

Except for the local grocer and a BP station on the end of West Main, all the shops in Juneberry were closed. Emma didn’t feel like closing so early on a Sunday. She felt energized and not in the least bit ready to call it a night.

Christina and Bo had their planned movie night. Samantha and Jim had each other. Emma felt like something was supposed to be happening in her world too, but what? The musical pulse from her cell phone chimed in the dark and she felt around on the truck’s long front seat to find it. With a long, right-leaning reach, her hand bumped against it. She grabbed the phone just before it slid between seat and door.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Michael. Did you call me?”

“Yes, I did. Thanks for calling back,” Emma laughed with a mixture of surprise and relief. “Do you have plans tonight?”

“No, no plans. I’m unhitching my boat right now, but that’s about it.”

“I didn’t know you had a boat.”

“It’s just an old fishing boat. I was out on the lake this afternoon until the fog rolled in and the fish went deep.”

“Did you catch anything?”

“Not this time. It was too late in the day. I just wanted an excuse to be out on the water.”

A misty spray of rain landed on Old Red’s windshield as Emma drove the winding country roads. She liked listening to the sound of his voice in the dark, like FM radio at night.

“Sounds like you won’t be having fish for dinner.”

“Not unless I open a can of tuna,” Michael said. “Dinner sounds good, though. I’m starved.”

“Well, what would you say to having dinner with me?”

Michael was silent for a moment on the other end of the phone, and Emma entertained the painful possibility that he might say no.

“Give me thirty minutes. I’ve just got to stow the boat and tackle, clean up.”

This felt right. Emma smiled.

“Hey, is it raining where you are?” she asked, finally turning the knob that switched on Old Red’s wiper blades.

“It’s rained off and on at the lake all day.”

“How about going someplace warm for dinner, where there’s a fire. Do you know of a place like that?”

“Not around here, but there’s a Sportsman’s Lodge in Anderson.”

“Anderson? Isn’t that too far to drive in the rain?” she asked, as the truck’s headlights carved a tunnel of light from the rainy darkness on SC59.

“I don’t think so,” Michael said, unwinding the crank on the boat hitch, slivers of rain hitting him in the dark. “Where are you now?”

“I’m about five minutes away from the house.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up in forty minutes.”

o o o

Noel Connor worked underneath his Dodge truck inside the Connors’ garage, removing the oil-pan cap. He’d slid an old, stained aqua-colored blanket beneath the car to lie on while he changed the oil; the cement floor was too cold for comfort.

Noel saw his dad’s feet step inside the garage door. The radio was on Q98 Country, but the volume was set low.

“How’s it coming?” Jim squatted down to peer underneath the truck.

“Fine. I’m just puttering around out here tonight. Helps me relax.”

“Your mom just sent me out here to tell you we’re having leftovers from the party tonight. They look pretty darn good too. Why don’t you take a break, come on in for supper.”

“I’ll be right there,” he said. Noel reached for a faded red rag next to the toolbox and wiped grease from his hands.

“Panthers are playing tonight too if you feel like watching the game.”

Noel tilted his head to look at his dad. “That sounds great too. I won’t be much longer. This is the last thing I’ve got to do.”

Jim lowered himself down even farther to get a better look at Noel’s work on the truck.

“You know, I’m proud of you.”

“For what?”

“I guess for a few things you’ve done this week. If I were a rich man, I’d give you a hundred dollars and tell you to go have fun with your friends.”

Noel joked, “Make it a fifty.”

“I don’t think I have that either,” Jim teased. He lay back on a mechanic’s rolling sled and wheeled himself underneath the truck next to Noel.

“Fancy meeting you here, Dad,” Noel said, smiling.

“Hey, I’ve always thought it was better to have conversations face-to-face whenever possible. What I was going to say was … your mom and I are proud of your decision to go to seminary, for helping Emma at the airport, leading worship today at church, lots of things. You’ve got a lot on the ball for someone your age, even for someone my age.”

Noel just nodded. “Thanks, I guess I feel like God’s got me where He wants me. I’m kinda excited to see what’s next.”

“Your mother really liked your answer today about coming back to Juneberry to work someday. You scored some major mama points, Son.

“It’s rare that people receive a calling so specific. Your mother and I have prayed a long time, that your faith would grow more important to you, and that God would show you what He wants you to do. Sounds like He’s done just that.”

Noel stopped tinkering for a moment to look directly at his dad. “Sometimes it’s like He’s telling me what I need to pack for a trip before I ever set out on it. I mean, I just follow basic instructions and find myself standing in the place where God’s working.”

Noel’s answer silenced Jim. He waited a moment before saying anything, watching his son work on the old truck.

“I imagine there are more than a few of us who wish we could hear God as clearly. I know one thing, though: Your mom and I sure heard Him right when we decided it was time to start a family. We love you, Son.”

o o o

A strong wind sent the fallen leaves scurrying like packs of spiders clacking along beneath the streetlights. The air was chilly, like Friday-night football weather, on the starless night, and corn stalks from the harvest lay broken in the fields.

Few vehicles were on the main highway as Michael and Emma piloted their way toward Anderson in scattered rain. In the time before Michael picked her up, Emma had changed her clothes, touched up her makeup, and fixed her hair in a new way that she actually thought looked good.

The lights of the Sportsman’s Lodge emerged from out of the dark like a warmly lighted oasis. Inside, the rustic restaurant looked like it’d been carved from wilderness timber a hundred years before. A fire glowed in the fieldstone fireplace, freshened by new logs. The dining room was nearly empty, with many patrons kept away by the night and the weather.

The drizzle outside only enhanced the cozy atmosphere inside, making the surroundings all the more alluring. The hostess seated them in a wine-colored booth by the fire.

“Michael, this is so cozy. It’s
exactly
what I imagined when we talked on the phone tonight.”

A young waiter, no older than Noel, approached from the server’s station. He came bearing gifts: two glasses of ice water carried on a round tray. He greeted them with a friendly “Good evening” and joked that they should expect dazzling service since they were his only table. He was wearing a plastic nametag that said AARON.

Emma asked for hot tea with honey, a taste she still had from the afternoon, and Michael ordered black coffee, which the waiter brought to him in a tall white mug.

“Do you need a few minutes to decide?” Aaron asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” said Michael, who was watching Emma read her menu instead of looking at his own.

“Take your time,” he said. “Our specials tonight are sea bass with vegetables and rice, and filets wrapped in bacon. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He disappeared through a set of double doors into the kitchen.

“What were we talking about?” Michael asked, pushing the laminated menu to the edge of the table.

“I don’t know. I might have been saying how happy I was that you called me back. Your timing was wonderful.”

“Sorry I missed your call the first time,” Michael said. “I had just stepped outside the truck to unhook the boat trailer. It took a little longer than normal because of the rain, but I saw you’d called when I got back in the truck.”

The waiter returned, topping off Michael’s coffee. They ordered the specials, one of each, eliciting compliments from Aaron, who took their orders to the kitchen without writing them down. When he was gone again, they sat without speaking, merely looking at each other.

Emma felt as though her heart had been flipped like a pancake since she first arrived in Juneberry. She wanted to tell Michael about the changes somehow but wasn’t sure how she’d put it into words. She wanted to tell him about the morning worship service, the conversation at Samantha’s—and how everything felt new and uncertain. Emma decided to temper her emotional earthquake with the wisdom of allowing the night to run its natural course.

“Tell me about fishing,” Emma finally asked.

“After church, I like to go to quiet places where I can be alone. I hadn’t been out on the water in a few weeks, so I hitched up the boat and drove over to Lake Greenwood for the day. I got such a late start that most of the other fisherman were coming in as I was going out. I saw that the clouds were getting dark to the north, but they were slow moving. So I headed out and was able to fish for about two hours before the first raindrop fell. Got a few bites, but no fish.”

“What do you do when the fish aren’t biting?” she asked, watching the light from the fireplace flicker on his forehead.

Michael thought for a moment. “I listen to the water lapping up against the sides of the boat. I think about things. Let all the stuff from the workweek fade away for a time.”

“It sounds relaxing.”

The waiter brought out the filet and sea bass, and a basket of oven-warmed bread that he placed on the table with a small container of honey butter.

“Is there anything else I can bring you tonight?” he asked.

“I think we’re good,” Michael said. Emma nodded her agreement and he was gone again. Michael asked if he could pray for the food and Emma agreed to that, too. Then he offered her a piece of bread and the two began eating.

“Why don’t you tell me about your day?” he said.

“I’m not sure I can put it into words. More than anything else, I think I’ve been moved by a sense of gratitude, Michael.”

He looked up at her, surprised. There was something about her that was different, tranquil perhaps, like she’d de-stressed enough from small-town living to have at long last caught her breath.

“What happened today to prompt that?”

“Not just today. It’s been happening all week, one day cascading into another. I can’t put it into words, but I feel
different
. I’ve been thinking back on the way you looked after me in high school and even how we felt about each other that summer, and I see what an incredible man you’ve become … and …”

“And it’s made you feel …
grateful
?”

“Yes. But saying that somehow seems smaller than it is.” Emma leaned her fork against the dinner plate, her eyes taking on the wandering look of searching for the right words. “Something’s going on with me; I just don’t know what it is. I knew it would sound confusing when I tried putting it into words.”

Emma reached across the table and took hold of Michael’s hand.

“Michael, don’t you feel sometimes like you’re part of a bigger story? Like there’s more going on that you can see or touch?”

Michael didn’t say anything. He just stared at Emma trying to read in her eyes just how much of the bigger story she had absorbed. He’d been aware of the larger story his whole life.