Page 47 of Yours Truly, Fall

“Sure is.” She pushes off the mattress, landing back on her feet. As she heads for the bathroom again, she says, “If I can hold out for Brad Pitt from Legends of the Fall days, you can wait for that perfect ass.” That’s my competition? Way to set me up for failure, Brad. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”

Just before the door closes, I ask, “Before or after the war?”

She pokes her head out with her eyebrows pulled together. My gaze drops to her bare legs. “What?”

“Brad Pitt in Legends. Are we talking about Brad before the war or after?”

Her smile reaches her eyes. “Before. Always before.” She shuts the door, leaving me wondering how fast I can grow my hair out and whether dying it blond will be worth it. I’m beginning to think my feelings for her are making me foolish enough to do such things.

I scrub a hand over my face, wondering what I’m supposed to be doing. Sitting here? I’ve snooped enough for one visit. Chuckling, I like the way I think I’ll be here again to snoop around a second time.

I lie down, tucking my hand behind my head. Her bed’s not so bad despite how noisy it is. With those springs, though, there’s no getting it on in here without the whole house hearing. But that probably means she isn’t bringing anyone else home, either, and that makes me feel better. I pat the mattress as if it’s got my back.

I’m still not sure why I was brought over here, but she doesn’t seem to be in a hurry. I close my eyes, searching the inside of my eyelids for some of the rest I’m still in need of. I didn’t want to whine to Autumn, but she’s hell-bent on staying unconfirmed on how we will continue, whether purely professional or flirting with temptation.

The water still runs, becoming the background to slumber as my breathing slows and the orange behind my lids begins fading.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” The sweet melody is only a whisper, but the siren’s call pulls me from a deep sleep until I open my eyes. “Hi.”

Turning to the side, I’m met with soft orange curls encircling pretty pastures of green eyes staring back at me. I smile. “Hi.”

But it’s the room beyond her that has me waking up faster. I sit up. “I fell asleep.”

“You did.” Autumn sits up, then slips off the other side of the mattress. “I’m all ready. Are you?”

“What are we supposed to be ready for exactly?” I scrub a hand over my face, trying to wipe away the last of the nap that dragged me down. “All you’ve said is errands. I get that you needed clothes and we need some groceries, but why does my intuition tell me there’s a grander plan in motion?”

“Because there is.” Nodding toward the door, she says, “Come on.”

I get up and rub my shoulder to ease the twinge. She grabs her bag and is out the door when I stop to take one last look around. Nothing is particularly out of the ordinary for what I’d expect from a girl’s room, but she’s not a girl anymore. She’s a woman who’s outgrown this space.

Dolly greets us when we come down the stairs, holding a photo for me to take. “I wanted to show this to you.”

The photograph has yellowed a bit with age, and the edges have seen better days, but the two kids are unmistakable. The girl and her red hair, the boy in his blue suit with matching bow tie, sitting together on these very stairs. The lighting isn’t great, but as they look down, the girl with a daisy in her hand, I can remember the exact day. I remember the girl, sitting on the stairs with tears in her eyes.

I take the photo and hold it for a closer look, my chest tightening and a lump forming in my throat as I stare at her. “I remember you.”

“You do?” Autumn moves closer to me, her eyes volleying between mine as she waits for answers.

“That day. I remember sitting here with you after the funeral.” I glance down the hall. “People from town had crowded the living room and overflowed from the kitchen. People were cooking on barbecue pits in the yard, and the littler kids were running around playing tag.”

Wrapping her fingers delicately around my wrist, she nods with tears in her eyes. I look at Dolly over Autumn’s shoulder, giving her a shared smile that holds the somberness of that day, and a gratefulness for giving me some memories back. My throat feels dry, making swallowing too difficult, let alone speaking. I hand the photo back to her and give my own nod, which seems to be all I’m capable of right now.

She reaches over, wrapping her hand over the top of mine. “You brought such great comfort to our little Autumn that day. I never had a chance to thank you.” She holds my gaze, and adds, “Thank you, Brandon. I hope to see you around more often.”

“Daniel is due home soon and plans to be here for a week.”

“You don’t have to save up your visits for when he’s here.” Dolly rubs Autumn’s shoulder before walking to the living room. “You can stop by anytime.”

When I look at Autumn, the tears that hung heavily in the corners of her eyes have cleared, but they still glisten like glass over the surface, brightening those greens like summertime grass. She says, “You’re always welcome here.”

I look toward the front door and the large stained glass window beside it, running my hand through my hair, trying to think back. “I can’t seem to remember why I stayed away so long.”

Rubbing my back to pull my gaze back to her, she inhales a shuddering breath and raises her chin with a renewed certainty set in her stance. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

“Why am I here again?”

“I want to show you something.” She opens the door with her bag in hand. “Bye, Dolly.”