In My Father's Eyes (14 page)

I would like to end by thanking God for the small mercies He has shown us at this dreadful time and for taking Harold into His radiant Grace.

As the minister’s words faded away, Emily found herself remembering the day she’d met Harold, of the person she’d been then and how much his faith in her had changed her in such a short time.

Mathew and Roland approached as they turned away from the grave, mourners shifted and rose quietly moving away into the chilly morning, their voices hushed and solemn.

“Your father was a good man,” Mathew hugged Colin, “a good friend. We’ll miss him.”

“Thank you.” Colin answered, releasing the older man. “I hope he’d be pleased you’ve both agreed to take over the store. I wouldn’t know what to do with it.” Colin said, including the somber Roland in his appreciation.

“I think he would,” Mathew answered, his eyes wrinkling in pain.

“I know he would,” Emily assured, her hand on Mathew’s arm. “He knew how much you loved working there these years.”

With the interment ended, the mourners straggled away by ones and twos, small quiet groups of friends and well-wishers, until only Colin and Emily remained to watch the workers begin the process of returning the cemetery to normal. Colin looked down upon the markers, the one awaiting placement bearing the name of the father he never knew and the other, its weathered surface holding the name of the mother he’d never met.

As if sensing the well of emotions roiling in the stoic young man, Emily turned, enfolding herself in Colin’s embrace; taking the warmth of him and sharing her own for what little comfort it could bring.

Since Harold’s death, Emily had shared her memories of him with his son; trying in some small way to relate the essence of the man who had touched her so deeply; welcomed her into his life and tried to reach beyond the walls she’d built around herself. Together they had gone to The Gardens, sat upon the stone bench bearing his mother’s name and spoken long and quietly of his father.

Colin, for his part, had learned more of the young girl; surprised by her openness, her willingness to share her fears, her failures, her shame as she explained to him his father’s gift for seeing past those barriers; seeing to the person within.

Love is not a feeling; it’s an ability.

His father’s words. Emily’s voice. He held her for a long time there in the cold December morning.

Chapter Fifteen

“Probate will take a while, you understand,” said Michael Halloran, his father’s attorney. Doctor Tierrasante had put them in touch soon after his father’s passing and he’d received the call a day after the funeral.

He was still stunned by the extent of the bequest. As the only relative, his father had left him the store, the house…everything. After considering it for the last week, he’d decided to gift the store to Mathew and Roland in equal parts. Harold had inherited the pair of salesmen from his father when the store had been downtown. They’d moved together into the new location and had toiled for years to make a success of it. It was only right that it go to them.

Besides
, he thought,
it’s not like I need the money anymore.

He kept the house. Inanimate it may be, but inside its walls Colin felt he could sense the presence of his father, his mother in every line and corner, every closet and room. It was all he had left of them and he refused to let it go. Emily had agreed and helped him move his few belongings into the home over the weekend. Sam immediately set about ferreting out every nook and cranny in the large backyard, marking his territory and having a ball chasing the squirrels up the old oak trees out back.

“That’s fine,” Colin answered, rising and shaking the lawyer’s outstretched hand. “I’ll be here if you need me to sign anything else.”

Halloran nodded. “Again, I’m sorry for your loss. If there’s anything I can do for you, don’t hesitate to call on me.”

Colin turned back from the door, “As a matter of fact, there is. I’m trying to find someone…a man.”

Halloran heard him out and agreed to help. In the end, it hadn’t proved difficult for the experienced attorney and he’d called the day before with the address.

He slowed the truck to a stop at the curb in front of Emily’s house. Sam, recognizing their location after the frequent visits over the last weeks, excitedly wagged his tail, bounding into the front seat as Emily emerged from the house.

The day was unusually warm for mid-December and Emily had opted for a sweater and jeans. Colin’s face lit up as he caught sight of her. Even knowing her for scarcely three weeks, he found himself unable to contemplate a life without her.

When he worked up the nerve to tell Caroline he’d met someone, he could hear her grinning over the phone and had promised to bring her out to California at the earliest opportunity.

“What are you smirking about?” Emily asked, opening the door. “Hey, Sam I Am.” She greeted the dog and slid into the seat.

“Nothing. Just…you.”

Emily cocked her head, looking at him from under her dark bangs. “I amuse you?”

“In uncountable ways,” Colin assured, turning the key and starting the engine.

“You were so mysterious over the phone. Where are you taking me?” Emily asked, lifting her feet and placing them on the dashboard, reclining. Sam settled his head in her lap, accepting the ruffling of his ears as only his due.

“Patience is a virtue, you know,” Colin advised.

“Not many people accuse me of being virtuous.” Emily answered. “Now, come on, give.”

Colin considered. Telling her meant she might back out, might be too afraid, too confused to see it through. If he didn’t tell her, she might never forgive him for presuming too much; for interfering where he wasn’t wanted. In the end, he thought, it’s more important that she make the decisions for herself; he could only offer his advice, his experience, his faith. He had to have faith in her or nothing else mattered.

“The lake,” he said, his eyes on the road. Even so he felt her stiffen beside him, her feet coming off the dashboard and landing on the floor with a thump, disturbing Sam’s rest.

“Why?” She asked, chilly, restrained. She moved until she sat against the door, her arms folded across her chest, as far from him as she could get without tumbling from the truck.

“These last few weeks since my father’s death made me think.” Colin started quietly. “Think about the choices we make, and how sometimes those choices come too late to do any good. Life,” he breathed heavily, “moves on without us. From one day to the next we have no guarantees that we’ll have the time to make amends for the things we’ve done, to make peace with the people we’ve hurt and the ones who’ve hurt us.”

Easing onto the freeway, he looked over at her. “If I hadn’t been too angry, too hurt, too proud…maybe my father wouldn’t have died thinking his son hated him, wanted nothing to do with him.” His hand reached out resting on her thigh, palm up, asking for her understanding.

Emily’s thin, soft fingers entwined with his, cool and electric.

“It’s too late for me…don’t let it be too late for you.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Emily whispered. He felt her quiver through their connected hands.

“There is more strength in you than you know, Emily Walls,” Colin assured. “Have faith that you can overcome anything the world throws at you. There is grace enough in you, you just have to be open to it.”

“You sound like him,” Emily grunted, her hand gripping his tightly as if she feared she would float away into the sky without him there to hold her to the earth.

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Colin teased. Emily grimaced back at him. “Oh, come on…I’ll be right there with you the whole time. We’ll get through this together.” He lifted her hand, kissed her knuckles.

“You promise?” Emily pleaded.

Colin eased the truck onto the access ramp from County Road 44 heading east on 90. The weekend traffic was light, moving at a good pace. Even so it would take a few hours to reach the turn off to Armington Lake.

Emily gazed out the window as the suburbs with their neat rows of cookie cutter homes faded into isolated houses on large tracts of open land dotted with second growth trees. Colin checked the GPS and soon slowed before turning off the main highway onto a secondary road.

They passed an old filling station and country store that sparked a memory of ice cream cones melting in the summer heat. Emily looked back at the store, watching it until the curving road took it from view. The trees grew thicker as they followed the road meandering deeper into the forest. Dappled sunlight flickered in stroboscopic effect hypnotizing Emily as the memories flooded back.

Mailboxes bearing wooden signs carved with names like
Last Roost
and
Hideaway
spotted the road beside red clay driveways leading back into the oaks and elms. The air grew damp and chill as the road ran alongside the small river feeding the lake and Emily rolled up her window to Sam’s disappointment.

“Here!” Emily barked as she spotted the sign she’d learned to look for on their drives to the lake; the sign that let her know they were almost there.

Colin stepped on the brakes coming to a stop. Reversing the truck, he backed beyond the well worn clay drive. Shifting, he pulled onto the side road between tall rows of brown grass and brush. Leafless trees arched across the driveway.

Tall telephone posts bordered the drive supporting a thick railroad plank that carved with deep, thick white painted cursive letters announcing
The Walls.

Colin drifted to a stop beneath the sign.

“You okay?” He asked.

Emily, staring off into the twilit tunnel snaking into the forest, chewed her fingernail and merely nodded.

Colin reached out and took her hand away from her mouth, entwining his fingers with hers.

The drive to the house seemed to take hours. Emily wanted it to be over with, wanted to turn around and go home. Forget the whole thing.

After an interminable time, the drive widened into a clearing. The white two story clapboard house came into view. The wide wraparound screened in porch the same as in Emily’s memory. She half expected to see the old bicycles lying on the ground, thrown their as she and Emma dropped them and ran inside, chasing each other with laughter.

There were no bicycles though. Off to the right, the doors of the shed stood open showing the tail end of an old station wagon sticking out. Between the shed and the house, a path led from the clearing to the back lawn fronting the lake.

Colin pulled to a stop in front of the quiet house. The woods were silent this late in the year; no spring songbirds or chittering squirrels bringing the forest to life. Only the ticking of the engine breaking the silence as Colin shut off the truck. Emily realized it was the first time she’d seen the lake house in winter.

“Well…here we are.” Colin said, his hand moist from the nervous perspiration coming off Emily’s palm.

Emily sat silent, staring at the house, the path leading away. Her thoughts roiled with terror and anticipation; fear and longing.

“He’s here?” she whispered the question.

“Yes.” Colin answered, watching the young woman struggle with her emotions.

“Okay.” Emily removed her hand from Colin’s, wiping it on her jeans and taking a deep breath. Her right hand caught the door latch and hesitated. ‘I can’t do this.” She stopped, looking back at Colin.

Colin reached out, tucking her hair behind her ear, his lips smiling softly. “Yes. You can.”