A Beautiful Fall (8 page)

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.

Emma stood and walked from the den to the entryway, surveying the house like a treasure hunter looking for the “X” on a map. Emma spotted the half-open door to the guest bedroom.

“What about turning the downstairs bedroom into a home office?” she said, turning to face her father.

“That’s my storage room. I like it just as it is.”

Emma charged back into the den animated by a good idea.

“Dad, that would be a great space for a home office.”

Emma and Will walked down the hallway and pushed open the bedroom door. It creaked like the door of an old forgotten chamber. They stepped beyond the threshold without speaking.

Inside the ten-by-eight-foot room was a double bed with a brass frame. A dusty rose-colored bedspread neatly made and decorated with pillows covered the mattress. Above the bed hung a pastel watercolor print of a bouquet of roses with faded red petals and green leaves. Against the wall stood a tall chest of drawers—an antique Will bought just after his wedding. A delicate lace doily decorated the surface, and in its center was a wedding photograph of Will and Hannah. They both looked at the photo in silence.

“This room hasn’t changed at all,” Emma said. “Has it gotten any use as a guest room?”

“Not much, but your mother liked the room put together like this. After she passed away, I just decided to leave it this way.”

A narrow double window on the long wall let in the room’s only light through a sheer curtain, as white as a wedding veil. From the bed the window looked like a frame around a picture of the farm. Emma touched the bedspread with her fingertips. It felt textured and soft like a tightly knitted sweater.

“So it’s never been used?” Emma asked, still looking down at the fabric, feeling its pattern against the side of her thumb. Wondering if the sensations would trigger another memory.

“I didn’t say that. When your mother got too sick to climb the stairs, this was her room. She liked seeing the farm outside her window, hearing the cowbirds and wrens in the trees.”

Emma turned to look at her father. He let out a long exhale and walked over to lean his back against the windowsill.

“That’s the chair she liked,” he said, pointing to an old Shaker rocking chair in the corner behind the door. “She used to rock you in that chair, praying over you.”

“I didn’t know any of this,” Emma said. “I shouldn’t have suggested changing the room. Let’s just forget it.”

“Maybe that’s why we
should
change it, Emma, because it’s a room packed with memories. Maybe it keeps me thinking about the last months of her life after she was frail and sick when I should keep focus on all the good times.”

“I’m really embarrassed. We can come up with another idea for your office.”

Will reached for Emma’s hand and gave it a playful bounce.

“Emma, I think you came up with a good idea. We should change this room. It should have been done a long time ago.”

“Are you sure?” she asked him.

“Positive. It’s a little tight for space, but once we get the bed and everything else out of here, it will look a whole lot bigger.”

“Until we bring in office furniture …” Emma said. “Isn’t the pantry on the other side of this wall?”

Will focused his gaze on the wall behind the headboard where the painting of a rose hung.

“Yes, I think it is.”

“If we knocked out that wall, there would be plenty of room.”

Will raised his eyebrows. He knew that was a big job, more than they could handle.

“Michael Evans could probably do it. Right? I mean he has his own construction company …”

It would mean a lot of changes to the house, but Will Madison was ready for change, not only to his home, but also his life. He liked the idea of working on a renovation project with his daughter, even more than the prospect of having a home office.

“Why don’t you ask if he could come by? I’m not saying we should start knocking down walls, but I’m open to hearing his ideas.”

It was an act of humility and selfless love that brought Emma to the kitchen phone. She paused before lifting the receiver, hearing her dad’s hard-soled shoes on the stairs as he went to his room for another nap. Was she really about to call Michael and ask for a favor?

She picked up the receiver and cradled it between her neck and shoulder.

The number stenciled on the side of Michael’s work truck had been easy to remember. She pointed her finger inside the rotary dial and spun the numbers.

The phone rang once.

Michael made it clear he didn’t like how things had ended after their last rendezvous twelve years before. But she needed his help just the same, even if it meant eating a slice of humble pie. The phone rang a second time.

She sat on one of the kitchen’s hard oak chairs, listening to the third ring and realizing she’d probably have to leave a message on his machine when Michael finally answered.

“Hi, Michael. It’s Emma.”

“Hi,” he said.

“I’ve got a question for you. Do you remember when you asked if my dad needed help with anything?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, there may be something you can help us with. I was … we were wondering if you’d come look at the downstairs bedroom here at the house. We’re thinking of renovating it. I don’t know what your schedule is like, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.”

“It’s been awhile since I was … do you mean the downstairs bedroom off the hallway?”

“Yes. We think that bedroom would be a great space for an office.”

“I built a home office for Bonnie Lloyd so she could sell real estate and still be home with her girls. Sure, I could come and take a look. It might a simple renovation.”

“There’s also a pantry space behind the back wall. We think that might be a way to add some extra room.”

“Okay, that’s a little more involved but easy to do. I’d have to come out to the farm again and take a look. The only tough part is adding a new project to the schedule. We’re committed to working out here on the Macintosh place for another week, unless we get rain. Sounds like your job would be all indoors though.”

“I think so,” Emma said, feeling a little guilty about requesting something of Michael. He’d always been there when she needed him, but where was the evidence she’d ever returned in kind?

“Last I saw, the weather guy was saying mostly sunny the rest of the week. I’ll come by either tomorrow after work or Friday to take a look at it.”

“Michael, thank you,” Emma said. After a brief, uncomfortable silence, she continued. “I’m sorry for how our conversation went at the bakery. I know that was … awkward. It means a lot that you’re willing to help out my dad.”

“That’s the deal, Emma. It’s what I’m here for,” Michael’s voice was surprisingly sweet and light, his words skipping like stones thrown across a calm pond.

Emma hung up the phone and glanced out the window at the sky. It was more blue than white and that disappointed her. She might not be in Juneberry for the completion of the project, but she wanted to at least be in town when Michael started it. She climbed the stairs, heading to her bedroom for a nap.

As she lay down, Emma thought about how awkward she felt asking Michael for help; about how kind her childhood friends were to her even though she didn’t reach out with a similar generosity. She thought of her father and the grace he’d offered her over the years and across the miles. These were good people. But there were gaps, holes in her relationships with them. Holes she had dug.

“I have no idea how to fix this,” she said.

Emma drew a pained breath and reminded herself that in just a couple of days she’d be back in Boston where all of her trials were fought inside a courtroom. At least there she knew the rules, she knew how to solve the problems.

Then she rolled over to face the bedroom window on the second floor and looked out over the farmland, watching the clouds grazing the sky like white buffalo.

~ Seven ~

Someday, some way,
you’ll realize that you’ve been blind
Yes, darling, you’re going to need me again
It’s just a matter of time.