A Beautiful Fall (30 page)

Emma couldn’t come up with one detail in her work or personal life that was the same as when she’d woke up that Monday of the trial ten days earlier. She couldn’t begin to unravel and make sense of it all. Somehow her predictable ticktock world had gone haywire.

She finished her bath, pulled the stopper out of the drain, and made her way to the kitchen wearing warm pajamas, her bathrobe, and slippers. Her hair was wrapped in a towel on top of her head.

Ten days out of town left few choices for dinner. All the lettuce and fresh produce in the refrigerator had gone bad. Emma opened a jar of spaghetti sauce, lit the gas stove, and set a saucepan half filled with water to boil for pasta.

Even more than the bombshell meeting with Robert, thoughts of Juneberry continuously played on a movie screen in her mind. She lifted the cordless phone in the kitchen and called the one person she wanted to speak to most.

“Hi, Dad, it’s me. Sorry I didn’t call you earlier,” Emma said.

“I knew you’d call when you got a chance,” he said. “So how was your first day back?”

Emma covered the saucepan with a lid. “From one lawyer to another—it was a long day. It started with a trip to the woodshed this morning when our senior partner reprimanded me for being away longer than is allowed.”

“That’s always a lot of fun.”

“Yes, then I spent five hours listening to a new client confessing their sins and their troubles, and asking us how we planned to get them out of it.”

The audacity of it made Emma laugh rather than cry. She covered her eyes for a moment with her open hand.

“It’s clients like those that make you glad you became a lawyer,” he said in jest.

“At the end of the day, our senior partner brought me back into his office, dangled a whole lot of dough in front of me, and intimated a powerful career in state politics could be mine if I had the ambition to chase after it.”

“So he tempted you with money, power, and fame. What do you think he wants from you?”

“That’s a good question. I’m not sure I know. But it wasn’t a good day for bribes, not coming off all that happened in Juneberry,” Emma said, breaking angel hair pasta and letting it fall into the boiling water.

“Something happened to you down here, didn’t it?”

She took a seat at the marble island in the middle of her small kitchen. “Yes, something did happen to me, but I don’t know what to do with it. It’s like there are five masked strangers, but I know they’re good. And they’re helping me in five different ways, but I don’t understand what they’re doing.”

“But you trust them and believe in them?”

“It was something that came to mind on the flight this morning. I thought about the image again in the taxi, but like so much else, I’m not sure what it means.”

Emma got up from the island to stir the pasta. She unscrewed the cap from the jar of spaghetti sauce and poured half of it into another saucepan.

“Honey, it sounds like you’ve had an exceptionally eventful day. Are you ready to hear a little feedback?”

“Please,” she switched the phone to her other ear while she stirred the sauce.

“Well, first, I think your senior partner is afraid of losing you. His first instinct was to lash out, but after he saw you back at work doing your job, well, he got to thinking you can attract more bees with honey, so he went to his checkbook.”

“Yeah, I thought of that too,” she said. Her dad’s voice sounded comforting and wise.

“Point two, I’ve had clients like the ones you’ve described. They’ll pay well, Emma, but let me tell you if you don’t know already, they’ll exact a pound of flesh from you along the way. Last, but not least, I’m intrigued by this image of five helpful strangers. It sounds like a dream to me. You weren’t dozing off were you?”

“Maybe.”

“And you don’t know who they are?”

“Christina, Samantha, Noel, Michael, and you.”

“What made you say that? I thought you didn’t know who they were?”

“I don’t know, I just thought of it, but it makes sense.” Emma lowered the heat on the spaghetti sauce. “I don’t know if it means anything, but you’ve all helped me in some way this week. Maybe it did come to me like a dream.”

“I know this week has meant a lot to you, Emma,” Will said. “It’s meant a lot to me, too. Why don’t you get some rest tonight and maybe things will make more sense in the morning.”

The pasta boiled inside the stainless steel pan. Emma shut off the burner, letting it sit.

“I’m just going to have dinner and go to bed. You’re right, things will make sense in the morning.”

“They always do,” Will told her. “And, Emma?”

“Yeah, Dad?”

“I love you. Good night.”

Emma drained the pasta and moved it to a plain white dinner plate. She added the sauce and parmesan cheese, and took her dinner to the small table in her kitchen. It was the first time she’d eaten by herself since the breakfast before the trial.

“The trial,” Emma thought to herself. It seemed to her in a weird way that her entire day, week, and life had been a kind of trial. She twirled her pasta around a tablespoon with her dinner fork while she twirled thoughts around in her head.
All trials eventually go to the jury for a verdict
, she thought.
Even if nothing else in my life makes any sense, there’s going to be a verdict
. She started thinking about handing her life over to a jury and what kind of a verdict they’d bring back. She didn’t like the answer.

~ Twenty-four ~

Yes, I admit
I’ve got a thinking problem
She’s always on my mind

—D
AVID
B
ALL

“Thinking Problem”

The following morning, Samantha placed a kindness call to Will Madison. Samantha’s personality tilted toward melancholy, and she sensed in her spirit that if Emma’s absence had left a gap in her life, there was an even larger hole in Will’s.

“I’m doing fine, Samantha, though I appreciate your call. Emma and I spoke last night. She’s home now, safe and sound, and I’m told my new office furnishings will be delivered sometime between the hours of 9:00 and 5:00 p.m. today, so I have plenty to keep my eye on around here.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Will. It’s just so different not having her around this week. We all went so long without seeing her, and then she was here every day, and now she’s gone again. It takes some adjusting.”

“You know she’d probably love for you to call her, Samantha. Just to talk, check in on her. I think the last week and a half meant a lot to Emma, and she’s just beginning to figure that out.”

“Having her gone just feels strange to me and I can’t put my finger on why.”

“You know she appreciates you, don’t you, Samantha? Just call her. She’d really enjoy that.”

Samantha said good-bye, offering her usual help if there was anything he needed. She hung up the phone and listened to the sounds of her house. Jimmy was sleeping—everything seemed as it should.

Except for one thing. She missed Emma.

o o o

Michael finished the last of the work on the Macintosh house while Bo was laid up at Christina’s place. It was his first trip back to the scene where his best friend had almost died.

There wasn’t much to do. Michael leaned the ladder against the side of the house, scaling to the rooftop again. He collected tools, nail clips, and scraps, tossing them safely to the earth below. In the yard where Bo had fallen, Michael found the nail gun he’d been holding, hidden in the tall grass. He loaded everything into the truck and headed back to town.

Michael hadn’t planned any visits that morning. He was as surprised as Samantha was when he found himself knocking at the Connors’ door around eleven thirty. Before the door opened, he looked down at his work clothes, checking to see if he was presentable.

“Michael?” Samantha said, opening the door. Upstairs, Noel moved the shade from his bedroom window and saw Michael’s truck parked out front.

“Hi, I ran into Jim at the Mobil station and asked if he thought it’d be okay for me to pay you a visit.”

“Sure, it’s fine, Michael. Come on in.”

Samantha swung the door open wide and he stepped into the Connors’ house.

“Thanks,” he said, wiping his boots on the doormat. “I can’t remember the last time you and I got the chance to talk, just the two of us.”

“I can’t believe I remember this, but I do. It was at the high school football game,” Samantha said. “Probably twelve years ago.”

“Good memory. That sounds about right.”

“Well, do you want to come into the kitchen? You probably don’t drink tea, do you?” she asked. “I’ve just baked banana bread, and there’s a fresh loaf cooling on the kitchen counter.”

“Ah, sure. Tea would be great,” he said, as they walked together through the living room.

“You know, Michael, I kind of hoped we’d get a chance to talk at some point. Have you spoken to Emma since she’s gone back to Boston?”

“No.”

Samantha went about her business of serving tea and bread.

“Here you go,” Samantha said, handing Michael a cup of tea on a saucer. She set down a plate and napkins on the table between them. “The baby’s just gone down for a nap, so we should have a little time before he needs attention.”

Michael sipped the hot tea, burning his lip and scalding the roof of his mouth. He set the cup back on the saucer.

“I just wanted to talk to you about something,” he said. “It’s been on my mind yesterday and today.”

Samantha gave him her complete attention.

“Are you still keeping it?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “How about you?”

“Yeah, me, too,” he said, suddenly looking disappointed and frustrated. “I really thought something was going to happen this time. It had been so long, I just expected some different outcome.”

A silent tear fell from Samantha’s eyes. She wiped it away quickly.

“I just feel like maybe there was more we could have done, I just don’t know what it is,” she said.

“Does Christina know?”

“I’ve never told her. What about Bo?” she asked. “Have you ever said anything to him?”

“No.”

Samantha shook her head.

“It’s the only secret I’ve ever kept from Jim in all the years we’ve been married. I guess he probably suspects something, but he’s never asked me.”

Samantha looked away. “We were so young, but I really feel like it had meaning. Like it was a calling. I just never imagined it would go on for this long.”

“I think I would like a slice of the bread,” Michael said.

“Help yourself.”

Michael carefully unfolded the neatly wrapped foil. The bread was still warm. He took out one slice and laid it on his napkin.

“The vow,” he said.

“The vow,” Samantha repeated. Michael noted how silly it sounded coming out of the mouths of adults. “When my mother asked me, ‘Who’s gonna take care of that little girl now?’ I knew the answer. We made a promise that day to watch over Emma, and I know we’ve done our best. I haven’t done it perfectly, but you do what you can.”

“I can’t believe how young we were when we did that. You were her cousin, so it made sense that you’d want to keep an eye on her, but I was just a guy who felt drawn to her. It was probably just a little grade school crush.”

“Whatever it was, we kept our eyes on each other, and tried to make sure the people we loved were okay. I think maybe we knew we were supposed to do that. I don’t think my mom would have called what she did a pledge, but she looked after so many people over the years, including Will and Emma. Surely that’s where we got the idea. Or maybe we would have done this anyway. God does work in mysterious ways.”

“So how do you think we’re doing?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Samantha said. “She’s so wonderfully complicated. She’s a mess!”

They laughed.

“What do you think drew you to love Emma so much?”

He tore at the soft bread.

“You know … I just
saw
her. From the very beginning I saw something in her that was … for lack of a better word, special. Then, at every turn, what I saw in her grew, changing into something bigger. We played softball when we were kids and I saw it. I noticed her standing at the high school dance without a partner and it wasn’t loneliness that drew me to her—it was something more. Of course, it all culminated in that amazing summer when we laughed and loved and dreamed together. When she left so suddenly, I couldn’t stop ‘seeing’ her. You know what I mean? I prayed for her for a dozen years, that she was well and that God would take care of her. I don’t know, Samantha. Even though for a brief time I thought we were meant to be together—and maybe I still do—I guess I have to admit it’s more likely that God just made me a shepherd. Calling it The Vow just gives all of this a name.”

Michael leaned back in his chair and popped a piece of the banana bread into his mouth.

“You sound a lot like Noel.”

“In what way?” Michael said, placing his hand on the cup of hot tea, then deciding to let it be.

“I think his only interest is being the right person at the right time. You must have a special calling on your life too. To love her, and live without her. I’ve watched it all my life.”

“Sometimes I feel like a minor character in my own life. I fit in with everything going on in Juneberry, but there’s this one piece in me that never feels quite right. I guess all I can do is watch and wait for God to restore that, and believe I’ll see one day why He cast me in this role.”

“Does she know how you feel?”

“Not really. At least I don’t think so. I have a feeling all she sees is the romantic yearning … and I’m not going to deny the truth of that. But the deeper love? The love that wants the best for her no matter what? I really don’t know if she understands that kind of love.”

“Did you ask her if she wanted to stay?”

Michael nodded his head. “Yeah, she wanted to go back. It’s just something I have to come to terms with. We fit together so well, but I just don’t think she sees it. I can’t even assume she’s had the same experience I’ve had then or now.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s true.”

“You don’t?” he said.