A Beautiful Fall Read online

  In record time Colin pulled curbside at Logan and helped Emma with her bags. The temperature had fallen, and the sky looked like it was about to rain.

  “Thank you, Colin, for being here for me today,” she said. “Sorry, I don’t know what else to say. I just feel numb.” A uniformed police officer blew his whistle, commanding Colin to move his car. Colin opened his mouth to say something in the rushed moment, words of consolation perhaps, but all he could think to say was “Call me.” He climbed back in and gave Emma one last wave through the passenger window, then disappeared back into the river flow of airport traffic.

  A cold blast of wind hit Emma as she wheeled her suitcase to the outside check-in. She walked through the automatic sliding doors, patiently stepped through the paces of airport security, and finally made her way down the concourse, dragging her black carry-on bag to the gate. Somewhere on her long walk through the concourse, between the bright lights of the Hudson News & Books and warm aroma of the Pizza Hut, the irony of her trip finally dawned on her. She was rushing back to Juneberry, a place she hadn’t wanted to set foot in for the past twelve years.

  ~ Two ~

  That’s the way it’s done

  when you come from, way down south.

  —JOSH TURNER

  “Way Down South”

  “Please return your seat backs and tray tables to the upright and locked position. We want to thank you for flying with us today, and welcome to Columbia.”

  Emma peered through the plane’s oval window as the aircraft descended to eight thousand feet. Beneath the jet, the rural landscape resembled a miniature patchwork world of tiny full-leafed trees bursting with autumn colors. Tangerine, sunburst yellows, crimson reds––each popped with such vibrancy you could almost taste them.

  It was unusual for Emma to fall asleep on a plane, but sleeping had done for her what worrying about her father could not. All her scattered thoughts and worries bouncing around inside her troubled mind had settled down. She took some degree of comfort in how smoothly things had come together to travel this far.

  Robert Adler had called Emma as she stood in line to board the plane.

  “Emma, I just heard the news about your father. I’m so sorry. Is there anything we can do?”

  Emma exhaled some of the tension she felt.

  “I don’t think so, Robert. I’m just trying to get down there and see what’s going on. I don’t even know how he’s doing right now.”

  “Had I known sooner, I could have hired you a private charter. You wouldn’t have had to fool around with all that mess at the airport.”

  Emma smiled at the care Robert showed. He’d always been there for her, opening career doors, pointing out the pitfalls along the way.

  “That’s very generous of you, Robert. Fortunately, my plane’s scheduled to depart on time and I’ll be there shortly.”

  She heard Adler’s grunt, his low-key way of imparting approval. His gruff, unshaven voice could intimate a kind of overbearing authority, even when showing charity.

  “Emma, I just want you to know that you’ve got the firm’s approval on this, even though you’re leaving on such short notice. McCormick and I have already discussed it and concluded it’s a family medical emergency.”

  Perhaps it was the daze Emma was in, but she couldn’t make out the tone in Robert Adler’s voice.

  “Take a few days, even the rest of the week if you must. Go down to South Carolina and take care of your pa. We’ll all pitch in around here and cover your bases while you’re gone.”

  “Thank you, Robert,” Emma said, taking his words, whether approval or permission, in their best light. Standing now at the front of the line, she handed the United Airlines agent her boarding pass. He scanned it under a red laser light and set it in a pile.

  “Thank you, enjoy your flight.”

  Emma smiled and nodded at the agent, still listening to Adler as she starting down the boarding ramp.

  “Emma, I know this isn’t the best time to bring up work, but the sooner you can get things squared away and return to Boston, the better. I don’t want to rush you, but this situation with your father couldn’t have come at a worse time for the firm.”

  In a small, cramped space outside the air-conditioned comfort of the airport terminal, Emma couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her mind was a million miles away from the office. Her heart was fixed on one man in a small town no one in Boston had ever heard of.

  “I wanted to wait until the close of the Interscope trial, but I need to bring you in on meetings I’ve been having with Northeast Federal. You know all about them: nine hundred million in earnings last year. Most of it in health care. I’ve been courting NF for a very long time, but it suddenly looks like we’ll get a shot at representing them in part of their corporate litigation. Once they got wind of your victory this morning, they requested a face-to-face this Friday. My gut is they’ll want to close the deal. Emma, it’s imperative that you be present at that meeting on Friday.”

  The plane continued its descent into Columbia Metropolitan Airport. Emma watched out the window, feeling the sensation of being pulled into all that color below. The conversation with Robert Adler played over again in her mind. She regretted having said she’d try to return by Friday, feeling coerced by pressure from work, but that was one of the sacrifices she’d made to play at the “A level.”

  Emma had seen the firm ask its associates to put business ahead of family before. As a single woman and a partner in the firm, she’d even been in favor of the practice. The demand seemed reasonable for any ambitious law firm, but suddenly the rule seemed harsh and distasteful. Not least of all because she’d been placing her own career before family for most of the last twelve years. The regret stung.

  Emma thought about Samantha and Christina, too. They would want to know why she hadn’t seen or spoken to them in the past twelve years. Both women deserved better friendship from her. Neither had a clue why it had been impossible for Emma to stay in Juneberry.

  Once the plane landed, Emma checked for new messages from the hospital. Her cell-phone screen blinked with one new message from Dena Johnson, an ICU nurse. She’d called during the flight, asking Emma to please contact her as soon as she landed.

  “Hello, this is Emma Madison. Do you have—how’s my dad doing?”

  “Miss Madison, I thought you’d like to know your dad is in ICU now. He’s awake and in stable condition.”

  Emma stopped for a moment in the waiting area, covering one ear to hear her over the noise.

  “Oh, thank you,” she said, closing her eyes where she stood, grateful for the news.

  “Yes, he’s had quite a morning, but we’re continuing to monitor him, and he’s doing all the things we want to see. He’s been talking and he’s had some fluids. Are you in South Carolina yet?”

  “Yes, my plane’s just landed.”

  “Well, when you get to the hospital, just come up to the fourth floor, that’s where ICU is, and ask for Dena.”

  “I will, thank you. Oh, and, Dena?”

  “Yes?”

  “Would you give my dad a message for me, please?

  “Certainly.”

  “Would you please tell my dad that I’m on my way?”

  “I’ll make sure he gets the message. He’ll be happy to hear you’re coming. He asked if you were.”

  “He did?”

  “Uh-huh. He asked me if you knew about his condition. That’s when I told him you’d called. I think he was just wondering if you were able to come down.”

  Emma appreciated the sweetness in Dena’s voice. She recognized the Southern strength. Dena probably could work a ten-hour shift on her feet at the hospital, dealing with life and death issues, then go home to dinner, husband, family, and laundry all without losing her marbles. She could have made Emma feel guilty
, but she didn’t.

  They said good-bye, and Emma slipped the phone back into her purse, breathing a sigh of relief. She grabbed the pull handle from her carry-on and continued her walk down the concourse toward the baggage claim. She whispered a barely audible prayer, “Thank You.”

  Emma stepped onto the airport escalator. Halfway down, she saw him. He was someone Emma thought she might have known anyway even were it not for the plain brown cardboard sign he carried, bearing her name in black Sharpie. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been all of ten years old, playing a pickup football game in the backyard with his friends. Now, Samantha’s oldest appeared at the end of the escalator in full bloom: a lean, muscular, twenty-two-year-old college-football champion.

  “Miss Madison?” Noel asked.

  “Hi, Noel. Do you remember me?”

  “Sure I do. Mom asked me to come pick you up.”

  The fresh-faced grad had been leaning against one of the airport’s support pillars. He wore a pair of faded blue jeans that seemed long even with boots. The fall weather felt warm enough to wear his orange Clemson T-shirt, and his muscular arms were tanned below the sleeve. On his head he wore a straw cowboy hat that seemed to signify a youthful, free-spirited confidence.

  “Sorry if this is a burden on you,” Emma said. “I’m sure you have plenty of other things you could be doing today.”

  “Other things, sure, but nothing better,” Noel said as the two made their way toward the baggage carousel. “You’re probably eager to see your dad, Miss Madison. As soon as we see your luggage, I’ll get us on our way.”

  “Tell you what, Noel, you call me Emma and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  Noel reached for the brim of his straw hat and tipped it slightly as if to say, “My bad.” By the smile on his face, Noel appeared to have not a care in the world. From behind them a loud red firehouse bell clanged, and the carousel started running its loop.

  Emma pointed to a large black suitcase that matched her carry-on, and Noel reached through the crowd of travelers and snatched it from the moving conveyer belt.

  “If you’re ready,” he said, “my truck’s outside.”

  The airport’s hydraulic doors opened as Noel and Emma crossed out of the busy terminal to the open skywalk. Outside, a warm autumn breeze caught Emma’s hair and blew it wildly around her. She laughed.

  “Guess I should have worn a hat too.”

  “If you had, you’d be chasing it about now,” Noel said.

  Emma enjoyed the South’s warmer temperature while the two made their way to Noel’s truck. Their small talk was blown away by the thunderous sound of a commercial jet taking off behind them.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you were saying,” Emma said.

  “I said I officially graduated in May,” Noel said in a loud voice as the jet rocketed skyward. “I had one more class this summer to finish up my degree, and I’ve been home for about two weeks now.”

  They walked across the open blacktop lot in the heat of a midday Carolina sun. It was obvious the yellow parking lines had just been painted.

  “How does it feel?” Emma asked. “Coming home after four years away?”

  Noel slowed down his pace. He peered over at Emma as if looking through her, and she almost turned away.

  “It’s always good to come home, Miss Madison, I mean, Emma,” he said. Then the carefree look showed itself again like it was the one his face was the most used to. “It’s like one season is over, and a new, better one is just beginning.”

  She smiled at Noel’s optimism and felt somehow that whatever season lay ahead for Noel, it would be a good one.

  They stopped at the tailgate of an old royal blue Dodge Ram truck. It reminded Emma of the ocean and looked as shiny as a brand-new model just rolling off the assembly line.

  “I hope you don’t mind trucks,” he said, pulling on the tailgate’s handle. It popped open with the sound of solid, well-engineered metal and lowered without a squeak. He loaded up Emma’s black canvas suitcase and closed up the back of the truck.

  “Don’t let appearances fool you, Noel. I lived in Juneberry once too, you know, a long time ago.”

  “I know. I remember.” Noel fished out the keys from his front jeans pocket and came around Emma’s side to unlock the door. She climbed up into the tall seat in Boston-meets-Juneberry style. Inside, Noel’s truck was as well kept as the outside. The interior dash housed a circular speedometer and fuel gauges. Emma noticed the original AM/FM stock radio next to it built into the dashboard.

  “You’re strictly old school, aren’t you?”

  Noel climbed in the other side.

  “When improvements stop being made, the best things are all found in the past.”

  He turned the key in the ignition and fired the engine to life. The truck roared with so much power that it startled Emma. She reached for her seat belt and clicked it around her as the truck rolled backward.

  “Is this your truck, Noel?” Emma asked.

  “Ever since high school. It’s been in storage at my mom and dad’s the last four years. Sadly neglected. Sorry if it’s running kind of rough.”

  “Sounds mint condition to me.”

  Thirty minutes later, they exited the new freeway and turned onto SC59, the old highway route to Juneberry. Emma watched out her window as the scenery shifted from noisy eighteen-wheel trucks and SUVs to quiet, wide-open spaces. Every cornfield they passed seemed to harvest its own crop of memories for her. It had been so long.

  “Do you mind if I crack open the window? I love the way the pines smell out here.”

  “Sure. When was the last time you were in Juneberry?” Noel asked her.

  “The last time? I’d just graduated from college too,” Emma said, sticking her toe in old, forgotten memories for the first time in a long time. “I flew home to celebrate with my dad, thanking him of course, for the money he’d given me, making it possible for me to go to college in the first place.”

  Emma’s voice trailed off, quieted by thoughts that she’d almost lost him, and an uneasy guilt that squeezed her. Her father had always loved her, but Emma had never come back.

  “Your dad seems like a pretty great guy.”

  “He is,” Emma said, thinking of how it would be when she saw him again. “He’s a great guy, a great father.”

  Emma waded a little farther into her memory stream. Her mind drifted back to someone she once was.

  “It wasn’t September when I’d returned the last time; it was spring. Around late May. Got picked up in an old truck that day too,” she chuckled. “Old Red. That’s the way he liked to get around when he was feeling his roots.”

  “You mean that old red Chevy? I’ve seen him drive that classic around.”

  Emma laughed.

  “That’s my dad. He never throws anything away.”

  They raced past the green Juneberry city-limit sign, population 8,000. It had been so long since she’d been back, she felt like the sign was saying, “Welcome home, Emma. Welcome home.”

  “We’re getting close, Emma,” Noel said. “My mom asked if you wanted to go to your dad’s first, or go straight to the hospital?”

  “Hospital,” Emma answered, and Noel veered the truck right at the fork, under the railroad tracks where the road was still one lane. The road curved through neighborhoods of houses old and new before bending at the first traffic light. They were in the commercial district on Juneberry’s west side, and Emma could see the hospital in the distance.

  Within minutes they pulled into the parking lot at Wellman Medical, the small community hospital that had served the community for years. Bantam, especially by Boston standards, the five-story facility housed a first-rate emergency room, an eight-bed ICU ward, two respectable operating rooms, and three floors of inpatient beds. Wil
l Madison could have done a lot worse.

  “I know he’s in ICU,” Emma said, as they left Noel’s truck and made their way toward the hospital. “But I don’t know exactly where that is.”

  “I’m sure we can find it. There’s usually someone at the information desk in the lobby where we go in,” Noel told her, as if he visited the hospital all the time. Just as Noel described, a cheerful seventy-something woman sat at the welcome desk ready to greet them.

  “Hello, may I help you?” she asked.

  “Yes, my father was admitted this morning. His name is Will Madison, and I believe he’s in the Intensive Care Unit.”

  “Are you Emma?” she asked, looking up. The woman wore a plastic nametag attached to her pretty red sweater. On the top it read, VOLUNTEER, and below was her name, Beverly.

  “Yes,” Emma answered. Though she lived in Boston, the real location for the fictional bar from the TV show Cheers, it had been awhile since she’d been somewhere everybody actually did know your name.

  “I’m Beverly Williams, a friend of your father’s.”

  The woman stuck out her hand and shook Emma’s with a congenial welcome. She tilted the screen in front of her and read it through her bifocals.

  “You’re right. He’s in ICU, but you’ll have to check in at the nurses’ station on the fourth floor before they’ll let you see him. Just a second, I’ll write you a visitors pass.”

  Beverly collected two visitor passes from behind the desk and filled in their names with a blue ink pen. Emma noticed the slight tremble in her hand when the pen wasn’t in motion.

  “They’ll know which room he’s in. That information isn’t listed on the system’s computers.”

  She handed them both their passes.

  “Thank you.”

  Beverly leaned in over the front counter and pointed down the hallway to her left.

  “You’ll want to go down this hallway and take the second left. Elevators will be on your right. Go up to the fourth floor, and you’ll open up right at the nurses’ station.”