show their affection for you, dear,” she had said. Her golden eyes had been sad. “I wish you would open up more. Most people just want to be friends. If you give them a chance, you will enjoy them.”
Needless to say, that had not been Jefferson’s experience. There were few opportunities for boyhood friends in the austere home his father maintained and very little free time to pursue such interests. There were even fewer people in Jefferson’s young life who had ever hugged him.
Aunt Judith had understood that. She had also been one of the few to whom he had granted that particular privilege. And as she gathered his gangly body against her thin, frail frame, he’d felt warm and cared for inside.
His mouth curved in remembrance.
Of course, Melisande Gustendorf had tried to hug him a number of times in those days. Usually when he was with the guys. Mel would sneak up behind them and wrap her arms around him. She was weird that way. And at twelve, what boy wants to be hugged in public by a girl?
Jefferson smiled fondly as he remembered the lesson about birds and bees that Aunt Judith had related when she heard about Melisande. Aunt Judith had never married; never had children. Explaining the details must have been embarrassing, but she had persevered until Jefferson’s every question had been answered. And then he had made darned good and sure Melisande never got within six feet of him!
His memories of Aunt Judith made him chuckle as he drove back to his penthouse apartment on the waterfront. Most of the time he was satisfied with the place. But today he felt hemmed in, constricted by his aloof tower.
“Dinky little rooms stuck way up in the sky,” Judith had scolded him constantly about his chosen lifestyle. “You live out of reach of people. Why, you can’t even touch God’s wonderful creation, the earth, without driving for twenty minutes.”
In a way, Judith was right. From his panoramic living room windows, he could see the city clothed in her glorious fall colors. By late October the leaves had all turned to vibrant oranges, brilliant reds and sunny yellows. Many had fallen, but there were still enough to create a picturesque view.
But it would take a while to drive to one of the reserves, park his car, and walk among the beauty.
“You should be out in the fresh air, chop a few logs when the weather gets crisp. A fire feels good in that stone fireplace when winter sets in.”
“But Aunt Judith, I have to be near my work.”
She had glared at him then and his eyes had dropped first.
“You know blessed well that your work could be conducted from anywhere. Why, these days some folks use a computer for everything. Don’t have to leave home to talk to people, shop or even go to the library.”
She had tapped her walking stick against the bricks of the patio, almost knocking over one of the pots of rusty orange chrysanthemums she always set out in the fall.
“Don’t hold with it myself. People need people. A body should have a time to work and a time to play. Too many folks taking their work wherever they go. And those danged cell phones.”
Jefferson grinned in remembrance.
“The blamed things always ring at the wrong time.” She had glared at him angrily as his own pealed out. “A body can’t have a decent conversation nowadays.”
At Judith’s estate, Jefferson knew there would be crunchy crisp leaves underfoot when you first stepped out the door. They would float down on the fall breeze, covering the vast expanse of lawns. A few pumpkins and some of the hardier vegetables would sit outside in the garden, and he could almost taste the ripe red crab apples weighing down slender trees in the orchard.
The decision was made without thinking and moments later, Jefferson found himself ensconced in his luxury sedan, hurrying toward Judith’s huge estate, aptly named Oak Bluff. Suddenly, he had a longing to see the old, sturdy brick house with its huge oak and maple trees standing guard around the circular driveway; to walk in the naturally wild terrain at the back of the grounds and feel the fresh air wash over him.
It was exactly as he remembered. Stately majestic and yet welcoming. The house stood firm against the elements, its pottery red brick and spotless white trim gleaming in the bright fall sunshine. Bennet had cleaned the debris off the walkway and the front lawns, but Jefferson knew there would be a thick carpet of crackling, wrinkled red and gold leaves just outside the back door.
He let himself into the house with the key Lawyer Jones had given him and dropped his overcoat on a hall table before glancing around. Richly polished oak paneling led the way into the library, his favorite room in the entire house.
Aunt Judith had a vast number of books, both old and new, crowded onto the shelves, carefully catalogued and indexed by subject, then author. Nestled into a nook on the far side, Jefferson knew there was a computer, printer and fax machine that Judith had frequently used. In one corner, under a window, stood the old desk her father had given as a birthday gift many years before. Its rolltop cover was closed now that the owner was gone. He brushed his hand over it fondly.
“Hello? Anyone home? Bennet?”
There was no answer. He wandered through to the patio.
The deck was littered here and there with golden yellow poplar leaves that whirled and wafted down on the delicate breeze. The redwood patio furniture was still out and since the afternoon was warm, Jefferson decided to sit outside until Mrs. Bennet returned. In his mind he could hear Judith’s voice as she fondly reminisced.
“No one can ever deny the power a home has on a family. It’s like an old friend. It wraps its arms around you and shields you from life’s problems while it draws people closer together.”
This was exactly like coming home, he thought, staring at the beauty around him. And it was nothing like the house he’d grown up in. This house was made for laughing children, a family, love. Suddenly, Jefferson wished he might raise his son here. When he had one, he reminded himself.
Obviously, Aunt Judith had wanted him to have that experience. But at what a price-married to someone he didn’t even know!
Voices from the garden area penetrated his musings and he got up to investigate. Down past the patio, a shortcut through the maze and Jefferson was almost across the lawns when he identified the happy laughing shouts of children.
“Chicken! I let you roll me.”
“No, you didn’t. I made you.”
“Ow! David! He pulled my braid.”
What were they doing here, he wondered? The estate was fenced but there were no nearby neighbours with children. At least none that he could recall. From the sounds quite a few people were present now. And they were having a riot on his aunt’s property.
“Can’t catch me.”
When he finally rounded what Judith had called the summerhouse, Jefferson Haddon III stopped dead in his tracks. There were at least ten of them, he decided. The oldest was no more than fifteen or sixteen. They were carrying the cornstalks from the side of the garden to the center, forming a huge cornstalk teepee while one person stood at the edge, arms outstretched to the sky.
“Autumn leeeves begin to faaall.”
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