Autumn
I sat in the ICU waiting room, slumped against my brother’s shoulder. My mother sat on my other side, our hands clasped tight. Mom’s red hair was graying at the temples. Her face, always weathered, now showed signs of worry that seemed to have aged her another ten years.
My father said if he were the grease that kept the engine of our family going, Lynette Caldwell was the nuts and bolts that held it all together. I hadn’t seen her shed any tears since I’d arrived. Her blue eyes stayed sharp, vigilant, and dry as she watched the nurses come and go. I inherited my red hair and pragmatism from Mom, but I had my father’s hard work ethic and his soft heart.
The heart that almost gave out.
The doctor said Dad’s arterial blockage was 97% and it was a miracle he was still alive. But he was alive and any second now—thanks to Connor—I would see him.
My eyes fell shut and my head lolled against my brother’s shoulder. Travis, at eighteen, was a carbon copy of my father in both looks and soul. Kind and hard-working. But Mom said Travis had so many clouds in his head, she was surprised he didn’t float away. He was content to be a farmer. The love of the land ran simple and true in his blood. Growing up, he spent summer nights in our front-yard hammock, drinking lemonade and watching the fireflies, while I sat at the porch table with my schoolwork.
My dream was to go to college and get out into the world. Travis felt the world was already there in his backyard.
We all sat up together as a nurse emerged from the hallway and headed straight for us. “You can see him now.”
We followed her down the hallway toward the ICU. At Room 2014, the nurse opened the door. Tears sprang immediately to my eyes. If Mom looked ten years older, Dad had time-traveled twenty years into the future. His tanned, weathered face was now gaunt and pale. His hair had been salt-and-pepper when I saw him over the summer. Now it lay thin and white against his head, so small on the pillow. All of him looking so diminished, lying within a nest of tubes and wires and machines that breathed for him.
But he was alive.
“He may go in and out of consciousness,” the nurse said from the door. “I’ll leave you to visit for a little while, but then he must rest.”
“Hello, Henry,” Mom said, and sank into a chair beside the bed, as if her vigil against death was over and she had won. For now.
I went to the other side and slipped my hand in my father’s. Once a hearty and strong grip, now weak and limp.
“Hi, Daddy,” I whispered. “I’m here.”
“Hey, Dad,” Travis said from the foot of the bed.
For a handful of seconds, there was only the steady push of oxygen from the machine, and then my father opened his eyes and looked right at me. A small, weak smile stretched his lips.
He was too weak to do more than twitch his fingers against my hand. But he was there with me, and I was there with him. And I wouldn’t have traded that moment for anything in the world.
After the nurses shooed us out to let Dad rest, we went down to the cafeteria to grab an early breakfast.
“Tell me about this boy you’re seeing, Autumn,” Mom said, as we sat down with our trays of oatmeal, fruit, and coffee. She folded her napkin in her lap and nudged my brother’s elbows off the table as if we were back at home. “Connor, was it?”
“He’s not like anyone I’ve dated before,” I said. “Certainly not like Mark.”
My mother pursed her lips. “Good to hear.”
“He’s really the son of a senator?” Travis asked. “And a billionaire?”
“Yes, but that’s the least important thing about him,” I said, earning an approving nod from my mother. “Until last night, his money had no bearing on how I felt about him. It still doesn’t, except that I’m grateful to him.”
“As are we.” Mom took a bite of her sandwich, chewed, and swallowed. “So are things serious with him?”
I had no idea how to answer that. “Yes and no,” I said. “Mostly yes, but…it’s complicated.”
“Mm. How’s your Harvard application coming along?”
“It’s not. I’ve been a little distracted. Honestly, I still don’t know where to put my focus.” I toyed with my spoon. “How are things with the farm?”
Travis glanced at me, then Mom.
“First things first,” Mom said, shooting him a look. “Your father’s health is the most important thing right now. Let’s concentrate our energies there.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Travis said.
“Okay, Mom,” I said.
My brother and I exchanged smiles. Lynette Caldwell, rain, shine, or tragedy, never changed.
We spent the afternoon in Dad’s room, mostly holding his hand while he slept. He couldn’t speak with the breathing tube in place. So many tubes: in his chest, his neck, his stomach, plus an IV in his arm and an oxygen monitor on his finger. A thin white bandage poked up from his hospital gown, covering the seam where his chest had been cracked open.
While he slept, Mom worked on her cross-stitch and Travis sat on the window ledge, scrolling his phone. I sat in one of the chairs beside Dad’s bed, eyes drooping. I hadn’t slept in more than twenty-four hours, and my thoughts became nonsensical. Breaking apart and reforming. Visions shifting and scattering until finally, I was in Connor’s arms, his beautiful green eyes gazing into mine.
There’s so much I want to tell you, he said.
Tell me, I whispered.
He bent to kiss me instead. I got lost in the sensation of pure want that bloomed in my belly and the heat that swept through my veins. I clung to him as the kiss became urgent, deeper, my mouth opening wide to take everything he could give me. We kissed like breathing until finally, I broke away.
Now it was ocean eyes holding my gaze. Blue-green and a million miles deep.
It was Weston’s arms around me. Weston’s hard body pressed to mine. He held my face in his hands, his thumbs stroking my cheeks, and the way he looked at me…
I’d never in my life felt so cherished.
There’s so much I want to tell you, he said.
Tell me, I whispered.
He opened his mouth to speak, then raised his head to look at something over my shoulder.
It’s time to go.
What? No…
“Auts? It’s time to go.”
I came awake with a start to my brother shaking my shoulder.
“What…”
“They’re kicking us out.”
I blinked and glanced around, the dream still clinging to me. I could feel Connor’s mouth lingering on mine. Or was it Weston’s? It had felt so real, both kisses. Connor’s, I could still feel on my mouth and body, while Weston’s, I felt somewhere deep, in the center of me…
I shook off the dream and leaned to kiss my father’s cheek. “Bye, Daddy,” I whispered. “Sleep tight. We’ll be back first thing in the morning.”
I had flown to Nebraska literally with nothing but the clothes on my back, so Travis drove me to Wal-Mart so I could get a toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, and underwear. Then we grabbed barbecue chicken from Sully’s BBQ and took it home.
Home.
The big rickety farmhouse with its old wallpaper and creaking boards. The kitchen’s smell of wood and time and my mother’s cooking. The sound of the chickens a little ways down the path to the barn, and the cows lowing in the field. As we drove up, the sun sank behind the crops, casting a gold and lavender hue over the horizon that seem to stretch on forever.
I understood why my brother was content to live here all his life. I loved it here but I’d always known, since I was little, that I wasn’t meant to stay. I would leave, but one day, I’d come back with the man I was going to marry and show him the sunset over our farm. I wanted to share my beginning with him, and see the place where he began too. His home. Then we’d venture out to find the place that was ours.
After dinner, I settled myself in my room that still had posters of Moulin Rouge and Keira Knightley’s Pride and Prejudice hung over the bluebell wallpaper. I still had some clothes stashed in the old dresser. I took a shower and changed out of the dress I’d been wearing, into an old set of men’s style pajamas. I bundled myself up in one of Mom’s afghans, and sat on the porch swing to watch the stars come out.
Around nine o’clock, I opened my phone and reread the last text exchange with Connor. Smiling, I pushed the call button. He answered in three rings.
“Hey you,” he said in his deep voice.
“Hi,” I said. “Are you busy?”
“No, I’m just hanging around here at home. How’s your dad?”
“He’s okay. He made it through the surgery and he opened his eyes.” The tears were already coming. “Thank you so much.”
“It was nothing.”
“It’s everything,” I said, my voice breaking.
“Don’t cry. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is to me,” I said, wiping my eyes with the cuff of my PJs. “It’s a very big deal.”
A short silence fell.
“Okay, well…” I pressed my lips together. “I guess that’s all I wanted to tell you.”
I heard a shuffling and muffled voices, then Connor said, “Autumn, can you hold on for a second? Just give me a second.”
“Uh, sure.”
More shuffling and I thought I heard someone swear. Then Connor came back on the line, his voice whispery and rough.
“Hi. Sorry about that. I was just…getting my thoughts together. Long day.”
“Are you getting a cold?” I asked.
“Hmm?”
“Your voice sounds a little hoarse.”
“Yeah, I got this little tickle going on.” He cleared his throat. “Driving me crazy. And I have to keep it down. Wes is trying to sleep.”
“Oh, I forgot he had a meet this morning,” I said. “How’d it go?”
“Not good. He crashed bad on the hurdles.”
I sat up on the porch swing. “He did? Is he okay?”
“Some bruises and road rash, but he’ll be all right. I think his pride took the brunt of it.”
I laughed a little and sank back down.
“So your father is okay?” he asked.
“They’re taking the breathing tube out tomorrow, which is good. It means he’s on track. God, he looks so weak, though. Frail.”
“You’re there,” he said. “I’m sure that means everything to him. He’ll be up in no time.”
“You think so?”
“You’re worth getting out of bed for, Autumn.”
“That’s sweet of you to say.” I sniffed a laugh and wiped my eyes. “And you do say the sweetest things. Sometimes.”
“But not enough?”
I smiled, cradling the phone closer. “Well…”
“I have a lot to say. I just wish it didn’t take me so long to find my voice.”
“It’s worth waiting for. And worth getting into bed for,” I heard myself add.
The gruff whisper of his voice deepened. “If only.”
“Hmm?”
“Nothing. I just miss you.”
“Me too, but…” I swallowed hard. “I mean, I don’t know if it’s the time to tell you this…”
“Tell me everything.”
“It hurt when I didn’t hear from you after we spent the night together.”
“I know it did.” He heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry, Autumn.”
“It’s funny, but when we’re talking on the phone right now? Or texting? I feel so close to you. I feel closer to you than when I’m actually with you.”
“I know.”
“You told me you don’t always know what to say, but—”
“I always know what to say,” he said. “Always. But I can’t say it. Like I’m drunk when I’m with you. I’m drunk off of you and then I…I don’t know. I have to step back. And it takes a cold shower of reality to slap some sense into me.”
“I love everything you’re saying now,” I said softly. “But I’m scared.”
“I know. I am too.”
“You are?”
“Sure. Of fucking this up. Of hurting you. I don’t want to hurt you, Autumn. I just want you to be happy. That’s it. End of story.”
My breath became a little shallower. My heart beat a little faster.
“I don’t want to hurt you either,” I said. “Or ask more than you can give, but a part of me wishes you’d share this side of yourself with the world. I know your parents put so much pressure on you.”
“Yeah,” he said. “They do.”
A yawn I couldn’t stop came over me.
“You should sleep,” he said.
“I’ve lost all sense of time. Feels like ages since Mom called me,” I said. “Thank you again. And tell Weston thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being there for me at the bakery. He took care of me when I was freaking out.”
“He has his moments.”
I closed my eyes to the sense memories of the dream. Closing my eyes and falling into Connor’s kiss. Opening my eyes and falling out of Weston’s kiss.
They both helped me that night. They’re both special to me in different ways.
“Connor?”
He coughed a little, his voice growing more gruff. “Yeah?”
“If my dad gets better like they think he will, then I’ll head back to Boston. And if I can do that, then I’d like to go to Thanksgiving at your parents’ house.”
“You would?”
“If you still want me to.”
“It would mean everything to…me. But are you sure?”
“I never spend Thanksgiving at the farm. I can only ever afford one holiday flight and Christmas wins.”
“I can help with any flight, Autumn.”
“I know. But this is the one that counted.” I leaned back against the swing. “I can’t wait to see you.”
“Me too. And I’m here if you need me.”
“That’s all I need.” Tears filled my eyes again.
“Don’t cry,” he said, his whispering voice softer. “It’s going to be okay.”
“How did you know I was crying?”
I heard him take a long, slow breath. Full of hesitation. “I’m starting to memorize you,” he said. “Not just your words but how you talk. The silences between words. The sound you make when you’re thinking. The quiet where you try to hold back, and the little floods where you don’t.”
I pressed my fingertips to my mouth, listening, absorbing every word straight into my heart.
“I know you’re crying because I can hear you,” he said. “And I can’t hold you but I want to hold you. So much.”
“Me too. I need to feel you.” I curled hard around the phone, holding it tightly.
“I can’t hold you and be there for you, but I hear you. And I changed my mind; if you need to cry, go ahead. I’m listening. I’ll take anything you need to give. Anything and everything. I’m right here. You can give it to me. I can take it. I want to.”
His words unlocked something deep inside me. What I thought would be a tired little cry turned into a flood of tears, pouring into the phone. Fear for my father. For the farm that was already struggling. For gratitude that I was home, and for the longing to be with this man who was hundreds of miles away.
“Thank you,” I said, voice reduced to a croak.
“Try to get some sleep,” he said, his whispered voice thick now. “But call me if you can’t. I’ll stay up with you. As long as it takes.”
“Okay.”
A pause.
“Autumn?”
“I’m going now.”
“All right.”
Another silence, and then we laughed.
“For real this time. Good night, Connor.”
Another short pause, then, “Goodnight, Autumn.”