as much to blame as you. We were both too young to be making decisions for the future. It’s okay.”
“I hope so. Anyway, I’m thankful that God brought us together again so I could apologize.”
He nodded, and the warmth in his steady, gray eyes made her hopeful. “It’s good to see you again. Autumn.”
Chapter Three
When Autumn reached the highway, she took the long way back to Greensboro. She had to deal with this surprise meeting with Nathan before she talked to Trina or Miss Olive. In spite of the lack of sleep she’d had, Autumn couldn’t remember when she’d felt so exhilarated. After being empty for eight years, a part of her had suddenly been filled when Nathan took her hand and said, “Welcome home, Autumn.”
What had drawn her to Nathan in the first place? What had captivated her so forcefully that no other man had ever seemed worthy of her attention? With the window down, and the wind fluffing her curly red hair around her face, she drove slowly over roads that had been familiar to her in the past.
Perhaps one reason she cherished his friendship was that he’d come into her life on a Christmas Eve when she desperately needed help. Her father was returning from a Belgian horse association meeting. Her mother, Clara, and sister, Summer, had gone to the airport to meet him, while Autumn stayed at home. A freak snowstorm had delayed Landon’s flight, and Clara and Summer were marooned at the airport.
Resigned to spending Christmas Eve alone, Autumn had turned on the in-house monitoring system that Landon used to survey what was going on in the horse barns. Autumn loved watching the horses. She scanned the huge, well-lit barn with its comfortable box stalls, the huge reddish horses munching slowly on their supper of oats mixed with molasses. All seemed well until she looked at Tulip in the last stall. Instead of eating, Landon’s prize brood mare paced restlessly, acting colicky. Landon Weaver’s horses didn’t get the colic, and Autumn had known immediately what was wrong. Tulip was getting ready to foal.
Autumn had telephoned for the veterinarian immediately, only to learn from Miss Olive that Ray Wheeler was out on a call. Under ordinary conditions, the mare could deliver her foal without any assistance, but if there was trouble, it could mean the loss of the mare or foal. Autumn drew on heavy clothes and fought her way to the barn through the swirling snow. She’d helped her father many times when a mare needed assistance, but she was afraid to try it by herself.
Autumn was busily preparing the foaling stall, when a slender young man walked into the barn. Pulling a red snow-covered cap from his dark-brown hair, he’d said in a hesitant voice, “I’m Nathan Holland. I’m visiting my uncle at Woodbeck Farm, and he volunteered my assistance to clean the barns while Mr. Weaver’s been gone. Uncle was afraid this storm would delay your father’s return, and he asked me to drive over and check on the horses.”
“Oh, I’m so glad to see you,” Autumn said, warming to the sincerity in his slate-gray eyes and the slight smile on his sensitive, well-formed mouth. “One of the horses is going to foal, and I need help.”
He laughed lowly, and Autumn liked the sound. “Shouldn’t you call a vet? I’m a city boy. I won’t be much help.”
“I can tell you what to do,” Autumn had assured him, and the two of them had worked companionably as they padded the foaling stall and moved the large Belgian into place. Then they’d gone into Landon’s office to monitor the mare’s progress on the television screen. While they munched on snacks Autumn had found in the refrigerator, she had told Nathan of her desire to be a vet.
“Seems like that would be a good job for you,” he’d said. “I’d go for it.”
“What would you like to do, Nathan?” she’d asked, for they’d started out on a first-name basis.
“Since I graduated from high school, I’ve been working at a plant in Indianapolis,” he said, “helping to support my mother and brothers, and I haven’t thought much about the future.” He laughed, embarrassed, as he added, “But working here for your father the past few days, I’ve decided I’d like to be a farmer.”
“I can’t think of any better profession,” Autumn told him. “I’d love to spend the rest of my life here on the farm.”
“But to be a successful farmer, I’d need to go to college, and I don’t have any money for that nor to buy a farm. It’s only a dream.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” she’d said. “My great-grandfather started the Weaver Belgian tradition with one filly. He didn’t have any money to buy stock, but a man gave him an orphan foal the owner thought was going to die. He nursed the filly until it was well, and the rest of the story is all around us. I’ve been taught to believe you can have anything you really want.”
Their conversation was interrupted when she’d discovered that Tulip was having trouble. Autumn had spent the next hour moving the foal into position for birth. Nathan had knelt beside her, helping and encouraging her in every way he could. Soon after midnight, Tulip had given birth to a healthy filly, a sleek auburn-brown foal with a pronounced star in the long white streak down its nose. Landon had been so grateful that Autumn had saved both the mare and foal that he’d given the foal to her as a Christmas gift. She’d promptly named the filly Noel to commemorate the day of its birth.
The next day Nathan had gone home to Indianapolis, and at the end of the holidays, Autumn went back to college. She didn’t forget Nathan, however, and during the winter, she’d made two decisions that had plunged her into conflict with her parents and had charted her future course. She would not return to the fancy boarding school, and she intended to find out where Nathan was so she could pursue their acquaintance.
Elated over her chance meeting with Nathan at Woodbeck Farm, Autumn entered the Wheeler home through the kitchen. Dolly and Trina sat at a round table, that had served several generations of Wheelers, feasting on pancakes and sausage. Autumn had hesitated about bringing Dolly, fearing Olive wouldn’t want an uninvited guest, but Ray’s sister had already succumbed to Dolly’s chatter and winning smile. Dolly was a chubby child, and her long brown hair framed a dark oval face dominated by slate-gray eyes. Dolly was cheerful and lovable.
“Come and have pancakes, Autumn,” Dolly called. “Miss Olive is a good cook.”
“I enjoyed Miss Olive’s meals before you were born,” Autumn said, ruffling Dolly’s hair. “I need a shower before anything else. Besides, I’ve already had my breakfast.”
“You’re looking decidedly cheerful for a woman who drove five hundred miles yesterday and spent most of the night out on a vet call,” Trina observed.
Olive laughed, Autumn blushed and Trina stared suspiciously at her friend.
Heading for the stairs, Autumn said, “I’ll be down soon. Do we have a full schedule today?”
“Only a few calls so far. Ray’s usual procedure is to open the clinic for surgery at eight o’clock,” Olive explained, “and go on field calls in the afternoon. Since there are two of you, it should work out well for one of you to be at the clinic all the time. We have lots of emergency walk-in customers. Ray is the only vet in the area, so he’s always busy.”
“Suits us,” Trina said. “We need to put our education to practical use.”
When Autumn got back to her room after showering, Trina was struggling up the stairs with two suitcases.
“I’ll
