Autumn's Awakening

by Irene Brand

  “Should we lock the door behind us?” Trina whispered.

  “Not many people in Greensboro lock their doors, so don’t bother.” Tiptoeing quietly up the wooden stair treads wasn’t easy, but they didn’t awaken Olive. “You and Dolly take the rear bedroom,” Autumn said.

  “Okay. Wake me in the morning when you want to get up.”

  “It’s almost two o’clock now, so let’s sleep late if we can.”

  For weeks Autumn had been dreading the return to her childhood haunts, and now that she was finally here, she doubted she would sleep, but an antique wooden bed with white sheets, covered with one of Olive Wheeler’s handmade quilts, looked inviting. Autumn pulled off her denim shorts and cotton shirt, slipped into a cotton nightshirt and snuggled beneath the fresh scented covers.

  God, she prayed, I feel sort of like Jacob in the Old Testament, who’d run away to escape the wrath of his brother. Jacob returned a rich man, and I’ve come home penniless. So maybe I’m more like the prodigal son, who came back home wanting his father’s forgiveness. Will Daddy be as willing to forgive as the father in the parable? Will I have the nerve to approach him and ask forgiveness? Maybe I won’t be able to make up with my family, but I want to. You know there’s never been a day I haven’t missed them. Even if I can’t be received back into the good graces of my parents, it still feels good to be home.

  In spite of her unpleasant memories, incessant rain dripping on the tin roof soon lulled Autumn into a sense of peace, forgetfulness and sleep.

  “Autumn! Autumn!” A quiet voice intruded into her thoughts, and she sat up in bed, momentarily forgetting where she was. A soft knock sounded at the door.

  “Come in!” she said, and Olive Wheeler opened the door. Autumn blinked when she turned on the ceiling light.

  “When did you get in, Autumn?” she asked. “I didn’t hear you.”

  “About half-past two. What time is it now?”

  “Four o’clock. I hate to bother you, but I’ve had a call from one of Ray’s good customers, so I think you or your friend ought to check it out.”

  Swinging out of bed, Autumn said, “I’ll go. Trina doesn’t know anything about this country, and she’d never find her way tonight. Besides, we brought her niece with us, and Trina should be here if Dolly awakens in a strange house.” Pulling a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt out of her bag, she asked, “What’s wrong, and where am I going?” Olive answered the second question first, and her words, “Woodbeck Farm,” halted Autumn with one long leg in her jeans, the other still bare. Matthew Holland, Nathan’s uncle, owned Woodbeck Farm! Why was the first call as Ray’s assistant to a place that dug up best-forgotten memories?

  She finished dressing and followed Olive downstairs to the clinic. “What’s wrong?”

  “The boy who called said the cow had fallen down in the pasture field, and Mr. Holland thinks she has grass tetany. This happens to cows lots of times in a wet season.” She unlocked a large refrigerator. “Ray keeps all his drugs in there. Do you know what to take?”

  “Yes. A lot of my clinical work was among dairy herds in Wisconsin. You go back to bed, Miss Olive, I’ll manage all right.”

  Olive opened a desk drawer and handed Autumn a set of keys. “The truck’s in the garage.” Before she left the room, the angular woman peered up at Autumn, eyes compassionate, above a long, bony nose. “I think Ray put you on the spot to ask you to come back here, Autumn, but now that you have, I hope everything works out for the best. They may not admit it, but your family needs you.” She gave Autumn a quick hug before she went back to bed.

  Autumn had often helped Ray Wheeler with his veterinary work, and she’d been in and out of the Wheeler house often. Apparently Olive and Ray had remained Autumn’s friends when her family and other neighbors had been quick to judge her, for Ray had been friendly when she’d seen him last month. Now Olive’s compassion brought a lump to Autumn’s throat. But she’d become adept at stifling her heartaches, so she gathered up several bottles of drugs and dropped them in a plastic bucket. Ray’s work clothes hung in the garage, and Autumn stepped into a pair of none-too-clean coveralls, took off her sneakers and pulled on a pair of Ray’s rubber boots. She found a wide-brimmed rain hat to put on when she got to the farm.

  This wouldn’t have been an easy assignment under any circumstances, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to meet Nathan’s uncle. She’d hoped, while she was in Greensboro, to learn what Nathan had been doing since she’d seen him, but was she ready to learn that he was married and had a family? The thought had ruined her peace of mind for years. That knowledge would hurt, but on the other hand, if, as Trina insisted, Autumn needed something to put a lid on the past, Nathan, happily married, should do it.

  Autumn drove carefully to avoid ponding water on the narrow secondary road. After she’d driven for eight miles, a large sign at the roadside pointed the way: Woodbeck Farm, half mile. When she reached the farm buildings, a boy emerged from the shelter of a shed. Stifling a yawn, he stood by the car door when she got out.

  “I’m Tony Simpson. Mr. Holland’s out in the field with the sick cow. He told me to fetch you.”

  Autumn took the bucket of supplies out of the car, and carrying a flashlight, she followed Tony into the darkness.

  She heard Indian Creek tumbling along its course, but so far, the stream hadn’t overflowed its banks. The soil beneath the grass was soft and spongy, and when they reached a muddy, grassless area, Autumn’s feet flew out from under her. She sat down suddenly in the muck. Tony didn’t even know she’d fallen and he plodded onward.

  After a quick examination, Autumn decided that nothing was broken, so she struggled to her feet in the slick mud and hurried to keep the boy in sight. All in the life of a vet, she figured, remembering the times they’d called for Doc Wheeler to come to Indian Creek Farm in the middle of the night.

  A lantern burned in the distance, and Tony shouted, “The doc’s here.”

  Covered with a hooded raincoat, a man knelt in the mud beside a cow. The large animal’s wet black coat glistened in the dim light as it bellowed and struggled with severe paddling convulsions.

  “I believe your diagnosis of grass tetany is right, Mr. Holland,” Autumn said, observing the symptoms of a disease found in cows that fed on luxuriant, rapidly growing pasture in the spring, leading to a chemical imbalance. She pulled a stethoscope from the bucket and knelt beside the large animal. “I’ll listen to her heart.”

  The farmer quickly lifted his head and peered at her from under the hood. The lantern’s light shone on his face. For a few breathtaking moments, Autumn was speechless, then she whispered, “Nathan?”

  “Autumn!”

  She pushed back the brim of her hat, and the rain streamed over her face. The cow forgotten for the moment, each stared at the other. Autumn’s heartbeat swelled with wonder, thankfulness and affection as she laid her hand tenderly on the shoulder of this man she couldn’t forget. A man she never expected to see again.

  “So you became a vet after all?”

  She grinned slightly. “Just last week. And I’ve got a little piece of paper to prove it.”

  He reached out his hand and she placed hers in it.

  “Welcome home, Autumn,” Nathan said, and Autumn felt that she really had come home.

  Chapter Two

  One of the cow’s flailing hooves struck Autumn’s leg, and remembering why she was here, she put her stethoscope on the animal’s trembling side. The loud palpitations hurt her ears. She handed the stethoscope to Nathan so he could hear the hammering heart, wondering if he could also detect her pulse beating almost as fast as the cow’s.

  “I’m sure it’s grass tetany,” she explained, “but Ray has plenty of medicines, so I hope it’s not too late to save her.”

  “I didn’t find her until after dark,” Nathan said, concern in his voice. “She was bawling and galloping around blindly before she fell down. I haven’t had this happen to any of my cattle before. What c
an you do?”

  “I’ll slowly inject her with a mixture of magnesium and calcium compounds and monitor the heart carefully while I’m doing it. If she reacts favorably, I’ll administer a sedative to settle her down so we can take her into shelter. All of this rain has increased the potassium and nitrogen in the herbage, so she needs to be taken out of the pasture.”

  After an hour or so, the cow seemed stable, so Autumn, Nathan, and Tony urged her to her feet and alternately led and pushed her toward the barn. After the animal was bedded down in a sawdust-littered stall, Autumn said, “You should feed her hay and concentrate for the next few days to keep the blood magnesium from falling again. I’ll come back later on today and bring some more medication for you to give her every day.”

  Exhausted, the boy curled up on a stack of hay and went to sleep. Nathan grinned. “Tony’s not used to working all night. He’s a neighbor boy, who helps me occasionally. His parents are gone and he was spending the night with me, but he hasn’t gotten much sleep.” Nathan shook the boy’s shoulder. “Tony, come in the house and go to bed.” Tony didn’t stir. Nathan took a blanket off a hook and covered the boy with it. “The night’s almost over, so I might as well let him sleep here.”

  The rain had ceased and daylight had come when they left the barn. “So you’re the assistant Ray hired while he took a two-months’ world tour. Wonder why he didn’t tell me you were the one?”

  “I thought you were surprised to see me. Didn’t Ray tell anyone that I was helping him for a few weeks?”

  “If he had, I’m sure I would have heard that the runaway Weaver daughter was coming home.”

  Autumn was tired, and she didn’t like the cynical tone of his voice, wondering if Nathan had changed for the worse since she’d seen him. He’d been a shy, soft-spoken, understanding youth. She opened the door of Ray’s truck, pulled off the muddy coveralls and put them and the bucket of supplies on the floor of the cab.

  “Do you want to come in for breakfast and a cup of coffee?” he said in a matter-of-fact voice.

  Autumn hesitated. She’d only be in Greensboro for two months, so was it wise to open up old wounds? But she couldn’t turn down an opportunity to find out about Nathan. Was he married? Was he inviting her to eat on behalf of his wife? There was one way to find out, so she said, “Yes. I’d like that.”

  She followed him up two steps to the back porch, and when he held the door open, she entered the kitchen, a large, squarish room, with an oval wooden table in the center. One corner of the room held a television, a plastic-covered lounge chair and a matching sofa. The room smacked of masculinity. Although it was neat and orderly, Autumn didn’t see any evidence that a woman lived there—no floral arrangements, no feminine apparel, no knickknacks on the shelves. At the sink, Nathan ran water into a teakettle and took cooking utensils from a cabinet, as if he knew his way around the kitchen. No wife now, Autumn was sure, but had there been one in the years since she’d known him?

  Until the warmth of the room reached out to comfort her, Autumn hadn’t realized she was shaking from the dampness. Or was it a reaction to his unexpected presence? Nathan directed her to the washroom near the kitchen, and when she returned, he had two plates laid, and eggs and bacon frying.

  “Where’s your uncle?” she asked.

  “He died two years ago and willed the farm to me. I’ve been living here for a year and a half.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. When she was a girl, she’d admitted to Doc Wheeler that she had a serious crush on Nathan. Why hadn’t he mentioned that Nathan was now the owner of Woodbeck Farm?

  Autumn watched Nathan as he worked. Above his straight, wide eyebrows, the years had marked his face with a network of deeply etched lines. His forehead ran freely into the structure of a high-bridged nose. He still wore his dark-brown hair short and his slate-gray eyes were calm but guarded when he looked at her. Nathan had been unsure of himself and exhibited a low self-esteem when he’d first come to work at Indian Creek Farm, but while they had worked with the sick cow tonight, she’d been impressed by his confidence and skill.

  If memories of the slender, youthful Nathan had kept her from being interested in any other man, what effect would a brawny, mature Nathan have on her? Nathan’s shirt stretched tightly over well-muscled arms and shoulders, and his hands were quick and deft at his tasks.

  God, is Trina right? Could Nathan be the reason You brought me back to Greensboro?

  Nathan placed two eggs, bacon and three slices of toast on her plate. “Do you take your coffee black?”

  “Yes, and the stronger the better. I started drinking coffee in vet school. After I worked and studied most of the night, I needed something to keep me awake.”

  He looked keenly at her. In some ways she looked as he’d remembered her. Curly auburn shoulder-length hair always falling carelessly over her brow. Keen, azure eyes on a level with his. Above-medium height that matched his own. These physical characteristics hadn’t changed. What was missing?

  Enthusiasm that had marked her youth had been replaced by resignation. Once he could detect what Autumn was thinking by looking at her, but her steady gaze was unfathomable now. There was a new maturity about her. Dark circles under her eyes indicated a strain that was more than skin deep and her smooth pinkish complexion was marred by slight worry creases across her forehead. When she relaxed, she looked tired.

  Autumn squirmed under his intense scrutiny and he said, “You’re too thin. Have you had a rough time?”

  “I guess you could say that. Working my way through three years of college and four years of vet school wasn’t easy.”

  The food was tasty, and they ceased conversation until their appetites were sated. Nathan replenished their coffee cups and leaned back in his chair.

  “I didn’t know you’d left Greensboro until I came back after my uncle’s death.”

  Autumn looked out the window where early-morning sunlight revealed a verdant meadow. A herd of about thirty Angus cattle grazed contentedly. A meadowlark softly greeted the morning from a fence post. She wondered if it was too soon to stir up the past, to speak of incidents best forgotten.

  “I left Ohio the day after you did, and I haven’t been back since. I’m not sure I should have come home now.”

  “Why? Because I’m here?”

  “That has nothing to do with it,” she declared, thinking if she’d known he was at Woodbeck Farm, she might have returned sooner. “What did you do before you inherited the farm?”

  “After the things that happened between—” he paused “—between us, I wanted to put as much space between me and Ohio as possible. I got a job in the Middle East oil fields. I’d probably still be there if Uncle Matt hadn’t died and willed me this property.”

  He paused momentarily, remembering the lonely years he’d worked hard, long hours trying to force his fascination for Autumn from his heart. He’d thought he’d succeeded, but now that he’d seen her again, he knew his efforts had been wasted. The affection he’d thought was gone had only been buried, for it had surfaced the minute he’d seen her tonight.

  “But I made a lot of money,” he continued. “I sent some to help my mother and banked the rest, so I had some capital to get started. Uncle Matt hadn’t been in good health for a few years, and the place was really run-down. It will take a long time, and lots of work and money, to get the farm the way I want it to be.”

  Autumn remembered his dream of becoming a farmer, and she was happy that he’d reached his goal. She toyed with the coffee cup, refusing when he wanted to refill it.

  “I’d better go. There’s probably lots of calls to make, and I don’t want to put the whole burden on Trina.”

  “Who?”

  “Trina Jackson. She’s my friend, and we went through school together. She’ll be helping out until Ray gets back.” She thanked him for breakfast and stood up.

  “Sit down, Autumn. You can spare a few more minutes. I’ve told you what I’ve been doing. I’m curious ab
out you.”

  Reluctant to talk about the past, but even more reluctant to leave him, she settled back into the chair.

  Without meeting his eyes, she said, “When I confessed to Daddy that I—” she hesitated, and chose different words “—was interested in you, he was so angry, he threatened to cut off all my funds until I came to my senses. My mother wanted me to marry Harrison Lowe. She was ambitious for her daughters, and when Harrison showed some interest in me, she decided I’d make a good doctor’s wife.”

  “But you wanted to be a veterinarian.”

  “That’s true. I’d wanted to be a vet since I was a child and had seen Doc Wheeler save one of our colts. I wasn’t surprised that Mother would disagree, but I was sure Daddy would be on my side. He always had been before.”

  Autumn paused, recalling the year she’d been spent in an expensive boarding school in the East. Her parents’ plans to prepare her for a social life had ebbed when she came home for the Christmas holidays and met Nathan. By the end of the first year, she’d made up her mind that she wouldn’t return to the boarding school—a decision that had intensified when she reached the farm and found Nathan working for her father.

  Wondering what Autumn was thinking that had caused sadness to overspread her face, Nathan recalled that his uncle had told him how disappointed the Weavers had been when their oldest daughter, Spring, had married a missionary and moved to Bolivia. The second daughter, Summer, was a shy girl, and Clara Weaver was determined that Autumn would be trained to carry on the aristocratic Weaver tradition. Had his appearance in her life caused Autumn to rebel against her parents? Nathan wondered how much he was responsible for changing the vivacious, laughing girl he’d known into this serious woman with a resigned look on her face.

  “Harrison was all right, but I didn’t want to marry him, and I wasn’t going to fight with Mother about it. When I learned you’d gone without even saying goodbye, I left, too. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. As a matter of fact, I didn’t know what I was going to do when I drove away from Greensboro.”