Summary:   I’ve always wondered how Adam’s life would turn out after he left the Ponderosa. This story takes a look at the later years of his life. He’s had a distinguished career as an educator, philanthropist and businessman, and is “comfortable” with where he is and not looking for more. That changes when he sees a woman fall on the sidewalk in front of him and finds out that 40 years ago, she was his student in Virginia City. While getting to know her again, he comes to realize many things about himself – in particular – that being in love again is wonderful…but never easy.

This is a long story that has taken over 2 years to write. I’ve tried to imagine what things Adam might have been part of and gently inserted him into history. For those who read Transfiguration, there’s a sweet surprise at the end.

Rated: K  47,000

Story Notes:

I first started this story as a tribute to Pernell Roberts, but was barely into it when he passed away, and had to table it for a time. I’ve always felt that Pernell’s later life was lived triumphantly and this it was my desire to do the same for Adam. I wanted to show that age makes no difference when it comes to needing love and purpose. In this story Adam thinks he has all the answers he’ll need to make it through. But it takes just one evening to realize there is much in life he has denied himself because he hasn’t faced up to his feelings of loss. He has many exciting expereinces in this tale and will find that his heart has always been firmly rooted to the 1000 square miles of land in Nevada.

Alert: Since this story deals with Adam’s later life, we will have to face that his life is not indefinite. But this topic is handled with dignity. There is no death scene or sadness because this story is a celebration of life! Thank you for reading this labor of love. And my sincerest thanks to my beta reader, Sandspur who has already read this story twice and helped make it better each time. It would not be the story it is without her assistance.

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Prologue: A scene from:  A Little Home Schooling.  (My story describing Adam’s first day substitute teaching in Virginia City – a “what happened within“ story for Right is the Fourth R.)

 

Adam sighed again as he thought about releasing the information that was weighing on his mind. He wondered if his father could understand, but decided he needed to solicit another adult’s point of view. “There’s one girl, Emily, who got tear-eyed, and lowered her head if I so much as looked at her. Pa, I didn’t do anything to make her afraid of me, yet she seemed terrified!” A moment later, Adam clarified. “Well, maybe one thing. But that couldn’t be enough to affect her actions for the whole day.”

 

            Ben’s voice was wary. “What one thing?”

 

            Adam turned to face his father. Ben inhaled sharply as he saw the nasty red mark on his son’s right cheek. “Who hit you?”

            “No one hit me, Pa. It was an accident—with that same girl. I was doing attendance; calling out names so I could attach a face to each one, and had called Emily Mills at least three times with no response. Emily is the daughter of Martin Mills—you know, the lawyer who’s done some deed work for us?” Adam saw his father nod. “Even though I knew Emily, I wanted her to acknowledge her name just as the rest of the class was doing. But as I walked toward her desk, I realized that she was hunched forward—much as Jarvis was just prior to being sick—and feared she was ill as well. When I got to her, I leaned over to ask if she needed help.” The bruise under Adam’s eye glowed as a blush flooded his face. “I obviously startled her, but got a glimpse of the hearts she was drawing with the initials, EM loves AC—just before she covered the page with her hands and whipped her body into an upright position. The back of her head connected squarely with my face. Pa, I swear it sounded like an axe hitting a piece of deadwood.” Adam sighed again as he touched the tender area on his cheek. “Luckily it hurt me a whole lot more than her.”

 

Nearly 40 years later….

 

Transfigurations

 

Partly Cloudy With a Chance of Falling

 

It was 1907, the year after a devastating earthquake had hit San Francisco. The city still wore the scars of the catastrophe as reconstruction inched along. Burned out buildings gaped like unhealed wounds, and most city streets and walkways were in such bad repair that making one’s way on foot could be a treacherous undertaking.

 

The day the earthquake shook the city, tremors had shifted and stretched along a fault line from San Francisco Bay south for a hundred miles. Yet the worst damage was not from the quake; rather it occurred when the bent and twisted gas lines invited fire to play along with this insult against the citizenry. The events had left San Francisco residents as shaken as the earth they’d stood upon. But in time, as with most disasters, life gradually found its foothold again and struck a more normal pace. Reconstruction was moving slowly, but no matter how small the completed projects might have seemed, they provided a soothing balm.

Emily Mills was a citizen bent on resuming her normal routines, and was now heading home after a morning of work followed by running a few errands and finally visiting a friend across town. Deciding to walk for a bit before finding transportation for the long trip home, she was forced to look down while playing her own personal game of pothole hopscotch on the fractured sidewalk. As the clouds overhead began to darken, Emily made the mistake of raising her head for just a moment to look for a cabstand. In that brief moment of distraction, the heel of her shoe slipped into a crack that refused to release its grasp as she tried to step ahead, sending Emily sprawling. Her cry of shock at the onset of the fall—when her packages, purse and dignity all flew in different directions—ended with “oof” as she landed hard on her arms and knees. Figuring any illusion of grace or decorum had already been lost in the fall, she was able to concentrate on getting into a more comfortable position to assess the damages without worrying about how she looked doing it.

 

Emily was in her early fifties, and wasn’t exactly old and brittle, but she wasn’t immune to serious injury either. Accompanied by an audible groan, she managed to switch from prone to supine and strain into a sitting position. While taking stock—realizing that she still seemed to be in one piece—the rain that threatened now began to fall in large, stinging drops. Emily looked skyward and avowed in a tone of voice bordering on anger, “You don’t play fair, God! This is adding insult to injury!” But with her commentary completed, she leaned back on extended arms and dissolved into laughter.

 

With raindrops trickling down her face, she noted the unmistakable taste of iron mingling with the water entering her mouth. Probing with her tongue revealed a bleeding crack just inside her lip and what felt like a good-sized bite inside her cheek. Overall she was not happy with her current position, yet couldn’t stop chuckling at the craziness of it all. She considered what she must look like: hair messed with her hat hanging at a precarious angle, woolen shawl askew on her shoulders, scrapes on her hands and wrists, a swollen lip…and finally mumbled, “People will think I was in a brawl!”

 

Collecting her thoughts, Emily figured she’d have to get moving or become soaked as she sat there. Her fervent hope that her fall had not been observed was dashed as Emily found herself unexpectedly sheltered by a large umbrella while a tall man leaned over her from behind. “Are you able to stand?” he asked with concern, “or shall I send for conveyance to the hospital?”

 

Emily wasn’t sure of the answer, so made another quick assessment, deciding everything seemed intact, even if a bit bruised and bloodied. “I think I can stand, but it won’t be pretty,” she finally offered.

 

With dead calm, her rescuer noted, “I’m not concerned with how beautifully you accomplish it, madam, just that you are able to do it.”

 

Emily returned to her knees to gain purchase to stand. In doing so, she heard a ripping sound issuing from somewhere under her skirt as her petticoat was pulled to its breaking point. With a quiet snort of laughter to accompany her unceremonious righting, she gathered skirt and slips—hoisting them as much as possible without being immodest—and got one foot planted on the ground.

 

As she readied herself to stand, her Good Samaritan spoke again as he leaned further over her from behind. “Please, let me help you.” But as he bent forward, Emily raised her head, which connected in a soft “whacking” sound with the Samaritan’s cheek. His startled, “Ouch,” was followed by a whispered, “You’d think I would have learned this lesson years ago.”

 

Emily paused in her maneuver to inquire as to whether he was injured. She heard him mumble something that sounded like;” it just brought back an old memory.”

 

Grasping her elbow, the Samaritan assisted Emily up while still managing to keep the umbrella in place above her head.

 

In one fluid movement of effort and assistance, Emily was on her feet…just in time to feel her world begin to tremble. Oh, please, God. Not another earthquake, she thought, and then realized that the earth was still. It was simply her head that was in motion from her sudden position change. The man, whose face she was unable to see from her orientation, kept a firm grip until the spinning stopped and she no longer felt the aftershock of her tumble. “Thank you so much. I think I’m all right now,” she offered in gratitude as she turned to thank her rescuer. “I’m sincerely sorry that I raised my head so suddenly and hit your…”

 

The spinning started again when her mind registered the identity of the man in front of her. Her heart began to beat wildly—this new symptom having nothing to do with her fall. “Aren’t you…Professor Cartwright?”

 

“Guilty as charged,” he chuckled. “Might I suggest we move to my apartment? It’s close by. We can get out of this rain and see to your injuries before deciding whether you’re sound enough to head off on your own.”

 

Emily’s heart continued beating so fast that she had trouble breathing.

 

The professor misinterpreted her wide eyes and shocked expression as apprehension. “I don’t bite. Or at least haven’t bitten anyone in ages,” he assured her with an encouraging smile. “You seem to be aware of who I am so I’d assume you know that I am trustworthy, and I have a nosy neighbor who will come dutifully if she hears any unseemly noises issuing from my apartment.”

 

A wink had completed the professor’s statement, keeping Emily speechless. As her heart and breathing slowed to a more normal rhythm, she was eventually able to provide a coherent answer. “I’d appreciate being able to get cleaned up a bit. Thank you.”

 

Professor Cartwright retrieved her packages and carefully led her to a building just two doors from where she had landed. “Just a little farther,” he commented as he walked her up the steps. “May I ask how it that you know who I am?”

 

“I’ll tell you inside if I may,” she answered breathily.  The shock of the fall and then finding out who had rescued her, were having a combined effect, leaving Emily still a bit wobbly. She needed to concentrate on making it into the house before participating in conversation. The thought pounding a cadence in her mind at the moment was that while falling once in front of the man she had loved most of her life was something she couldn’t have avoided, falling again would be inexcusably tacky.

 

Professor Cartwright helped Emily remove her cape and hat, and after depositing her safely in his parlor, brought a basin of warm water, wash cloths and antiseptic. Thankfully, there were no serious injuries visible at first glance, so before beginning any first aid measures, he walked to the sideboard beneath his massive wall of books, and poured two small glasses of a brown liquid he delivered as he encouraged her to drink. “Here,” he said as he handed her a glass, “It’s brandy: my family’s medication of choice for as long as I can remember. My father prescribed it to help mend broken hearts and battered bodies, and I’ve continued dispensing it over the years, myself. It does seem to take the sting out of lot of what life unexpectedly throws at us.”

 

After they had each taken a few sips of the soothing balm, the gentleman gently washed the dirt and blood from her face, and then dabbed at the bruises on her hands, tying a small bandage over one ragged abrasion on her wrist. “I’ll leave for a moment so you can check your knees. It seemed like you landed pretty hard on them.” As he left the room he added, “Let me know if you need any assistance. I’ll go next door to get Mrs. Calhoun if you do.”

 

Emily did as she was told, but found only minor bruises that didn’t even tear her stockings. Her petticoat showed the most damage, and she had to tear away the bottom ruffle to put it back into working order. Looking around, she wasn’t quite sure what to do the fabric remnant, finally wadding it together and stuffing it into her purse.

 

With the first aid accomplished, the professor returned, hoping to find out a little more about his guest. He didn’t recognize her as anyone currently with Berkeley, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t met her somewhere at a university function, perhaps accounting for her knowing that he taught. “Emily…Mills, is it?” he ventured.

 

Emily’s eyes flew open. “You remember me? That was so many years ago and I’m sure I don’t resemble what I looked like as a child. You’re remarkable!”

 

To her surprise, the expression on her host’s face was questioningly embarrassed.

 

“Should I know you?” he inquired. “I’m afraid I just saw your name on one of the packages you were carrying.”

 

Emily laughed. “Well, that certainly makes more sense!” After another swallow of brandy to calm her jangling nerves, she continued, “There’s no reason you should remember me, but I was in a class you taught for a while when our teacher, Miss Scott, broke her arm. My family lived in Virginia City for a few years before we moved back to San Francisco. I was in the third row on the center aisle: Strawberry blonde, braids..?  My father was a lawyer and did some real estate work for your family? Any of this ring a bell?”

 

The professor nodded in remembrance as he raised his fingers to his cheek where it had impacted Emily’s head minutes ago. It was the same place her blond, braided head had hit his cheek back in Virginia City on his first day of teaching when he had startled her as he bent over her desk thinking she was ill. She had sat upright and clobbered him then, just as she had today. “That was a lifetime ago.”  Rubbing his cheek again, he smiled wryly. “I do remember you. It seems like your head and my cheek have an affinity for one another.”

 

Emily blushed. “I’ve already apologized for today’s incident, but let me offer belated apologies for that day in school.” She paused as her mind strayed back to what she had been doing at the time, making her cheeks blaze even hotter. She’d always assumed that he hadn’t gotten a good look at the heart she’d been drawing that day and had covered it before she had sat upright. “It really was a lifetime ago.”

 

Adam Cartwright smiled. “I remember your father as well. Didn’t my father do business with him for a number of years, even after your family moved here?” Following Emily’s confirmation of this, he added, “I’m very surprised you recognized me, though. I’m sure I don’t look like I did back then. ‘Time and tide tarrieth no man.’”

 

The warmth created from the brandy, as well as the courage it seemed to unlock, resulted in her glass emptying quickly, to be refilled just as quickly by her gracious host. Another sip or two, and Emily, who did not drink often or well, felt her tongue being loosened: with no desire on her part to tighten it again. “Not remember you!” she giggled. “I was very taken with you, Professor Cartwright. You were such a wonderful teacher and so very handsome.” After a pause, she added. “You still are, you know.”

 

It was his turn to blush as he stuttered, “Ah…Um. You’re being kind. And please, call me Adam.” Thinking back to those odd days shortly before he had left the territory, he added. “Those were some strange times as I recall. The territory was changing, and much of what I’d always believed to be true about the people that were the cornerstones of its history was tainted. But I do recall enjoying the children in that class. You were all so accepting and willing to try…” His smile took on a wry tilt. “…After a little prodding.”

 

“My father was called back to his firm in San Francisco before the new teacher took over after the whole mess was cleared up, and I heard that you left the area soon after as well.” To his questioning look, Emily explained, “Your father gave my father updates when they got together here for business matters. But he really didn’t tell much. I recall him telling Father that you traveled and married, but that’s about all I remember.” She struggled with whether to ask the next question; but with the courage the brandy gave her, was swayed toward doing so. “Do you remember anything about me back then? I mean, other than the black eye I gave you?”

 

Adam thought back to those two weeks. He’d gone from the joy at discovering how his words could encourage and motivate young minds, to despair as his simple history project exposed the city founders as the thieves and murderers they were. Even worse was that others had died as he had pushed for the truth. That incident, along with an impatience to experience more out of life than the workings of the Ponderosa, had led to his decision to leave. He had never put a final reason to his going, but had figured that he had to change his scenery for a bit, chart his own course and maybe find what he just couldn’t seem to in the 1000 square miles of his home.

 

He did remember Emily Mills for more than just the face-smacking incident, and sat down across from her to explain. “I recall that you were intuitive beyond your young age. Do you remember the essays I had everyone write about that incident outside the school where I found Miss Scott tied to the flagpole?” Her smile indicated that she did. “Everyone wrote a story that absolved themselves of responsibility for it, while you examined the situation. Wasn’t she playing some sort of game along with the group of children?”

 

It all came back clearly, “We had to get out of the ropes and tag someone else before they got ‘home.’” Emily laughed as she thought about it. “We sure came up with some silly ideas back then. I remember that no one was tied tightly. The trick was to relax back away from the ropes instead of pushing against them. The kids had figured it out but Miss Scott panicked when she couldn’t get loose and started shouting at us to help her. The more she struggled against the ropes, the tighter they seemed. The older boys found that to be very funny, and the rest of us were just scared. We had never seen a teacher act so fearful and it made us afraid too. And then you walked in and took control. I was so grateful when you arrived, but can’t imagine what you thought.”

 

“I didn’t know what to think, but Barbara agreed with your assessment. She hadn’t watched closely enough to see how you were getting loose and did panic. Wow, I can’t believe I still remember all that.”

 

“It is amazing what we can recall when someone pokes at our memories a little. I know that I learned a good lesson from that episode, and many more in those two weeks with you.”

 

Rubbing his cheek again, Adam sighed. “I thought I’d learned never to lean over anyone to ask a question when their head was down. Apparently it was a lesson I didn’t learn as well as I should have.” His chuckle resonated. ”What lessons did you learn?”

 

“I realized that we need to know what’s really happening before we insinuate ourselves into an unfamiliar situation. And if we don’t understand what’s going on we should ask for clarification. I also learned from Miss Scott’s reaction, and how it affected us, that an adult can’t let those in their care see how frightened they are. When she realized she was trapped, she should have simply asked to be shown how to do it. That would have allowed those of us not interested in humiliating her to step in. But her screeching and antics frightened us, and we just did what the other kids were doing. She was young though, and not a seasoned teacher. I figured she was probably an only child who hadn’t spent much time around children. On the other hand, I was an only child, but a schemer and instigator, so I was never surprised with the things kids came up with.”

 

“I repeat my earlier assessment: you are intuitive. Barbara was an only child who was raw to teaching, especially in a frontier town like Virginia City. Schools out East where she was educated were far more organized and strict. She had good intentions, but wasn’t prepared for the wilder spirits of the kids out here. I know my own brothers and I made my father gray-haired before his time, and when there finally was a territorial school set up, Little Joe was the cause of many threatened teacher resignations. I tried to do a good job those weeks, but had a whole new respect for what teachers contend with by the time I was done.”

 

Emily considered Adam’s adjective for her: intuitive. She agreed with that. In fact, she had felt his pain the last time he had come by the school, and had wondered what it meant for his future. He’d reconvened class after the shooting incident, but just to let the children know that they would have an extended leave while another teacher was found. After he’d given them assignments to do at home, he’d presented the completed history project they’d all worked on. “Much of this history is honorable, and shows what great thought and effort can accomplish,” he’d told them. “On the other hand, some of it is ugly. But all of history must be told: the good, and the bad.”  As the day had come to a close, Adam had said something that Emily had held onto her entire life. “Anything you do in life can come under scrutiny, so live a life above suspicion and in true service. Doing the right thing is always better than trying to cover up what you did wrong. Take your education seriously and meet the challenges of your life head on. It’s the only way to live.” As the last images of that day washed across her memory, Emily was finally able to issue a soft, “You were a very good teacher back then, Professor, and I’m sure that’s still true.”

 

The shock of the fall, the sedation of the brandy and the headiness of finding out that the man she’d loved all these years actually remembered her, combined into exhaustion. Leaning her head back while closing her eyes for just a moment, Emily mumbled, “I was so sad after that last day you were with us. You know I loved you, don’t you? Matter of fact, I still do.” Her voice had quieted during her avowal, replaced by a soft snoring sound as she drifted into sleep.

 

Praise the Lord and Pass the Mashed Potatoes!

 

Smiling at the unexpected sleeping beauty across from him, he decided that she wasn’t quite the princess of fairy tales. While she was blond and pretty, she was also taller and curvier than the tiny princesses of story. But all the curves were in exactly the right places, and she wasn’t so tall that those curves wouldn’t fit nicely into his frame if he held her. Blushing with that thought, he tried to remember the girl he had taught so long ago. She’d had those long, golden braids pinned into loops and had always seemed so nervous when he came past her desk. Emily Mills: shy at times, but intellectually way ahead of her age group and always ready with an answer or a question, at least when he was at the front of the classroom and not standing near her. His father had tried to tell him back then that the youngster’s affectation was infatuation with her teacher, but he’d refused to believe it. A few years later, Ben had provided his son with evidence that he’d been right all along, and Adam had come to accept that Ben seemed to have a point. But had he heard the truth from his guest just now as well? He grinned, looking upward, finally giving his father his due. I guess you were right all along, Pa. Just like always.

 

He shook his head to clear the jumble of thoughts about how his day was ending. Yet it was an intriguing end, and as he thought further, realized it was far from over. Trying to make her more comfortable, he lifted her legs onto the sofa, placed a pillow under her head, and covered her with a nearby afghan. He turned to leave, but glanced again toward the couch as he heard Emily’s soft snore, and the shadow of a smile turned his lips. Love!<’I> he thought to himself. It had been many years since he even thought about giving or returning love. Yet this woman spoke so easily of it: of feeling it and holding onto it. He wondered if she had experienced such loss as he had, figuring that if she had the word would not roll so easily off her tongue.

 

There had been love in his life, but he had issued a pact with his own heart not to let that emotion gain entry ever again. He was comfortable where he was now. His work with the engineering students at Berkeley gave him joy and satisfaction, and he could even say that he “loved” what he did. But he had decided he was too old, too comfortable and too set to ever “fall” in love again. Over the years he had quieted the voices that taunted him for being a coward as he chose to remain alone. It was safe this way. His life was solid. What else could he possibly want…except that somewhere in the dark loneliness of his heart, he heard a whisper telling him to pay attention.
Pushing those thoughts from his mind, he set off for the kitchen to prepare dinner, noting that it would probably be best to forego the wine he had planned to enjoy. He too had sipped on brandy as they had reminisced. What was the line his students always lived by? Something like, “Wine before brandy, everything’s dandy. Brandy before wine—won’t leave you fine.” That wasn’t right, but it was the gist. A chuckle erupted that he quickly stifled with a raised arm. He figured Emily was already going to be in pain when she awoke and the stiffness of her fall set in. No need to add to that with the effects of alcohol. Then again… The half-smile returned as he thought again about Emily’s curves, and her tipsy profession of love. “Better just keep my mind on cooking!” he muttered to himself, as he grabbed an onion and started chopping.

 

Adam had never been considered a cook in the Cartwright family, and in fact his brothers always found excuses to make the meals when they were with him on a drive or camping. But he had taken an interest in culinary arts once he had left the Ponderosa. On his own he had developed a fondness for simple cooking and fine wine and had continued to help in the kitchen even after he had married, finding it a way to relax and refocus after a busy day. Tonight he was braising beef tenderloin medallions to which he would add an assortment of savory vegetables to simmer in a red wine reduction. While his guest slept, he busied himself with cooking and set his small kitchen table for two, figuring Emily would need some nourishment before setting out again.

 

In the parlor, Emily awoke with a start, feeling panic at the unfamiliar surroundings that were muted even more by the coming dusk and gray fog encasing the world outside the windows. Hearing a baritone voice humming in another room, she began to remember the earlier events—as well as where she was. Rising stiffly, she walked as stealthily as she was able, until she got close enough to the kitchen to observe her host without being seen. Adam’s clothing was protected by a long white apron as he presided over the stove with the familiarity of someone comfortable in their surroundings. She started to smile, until the pinch she experienced from the expression reminded her of the small cut she had noted earlier.

 

A thought crossed her mind that she should pinch herself to make sure this was not a dream. How else could she explain where she was? Once assuring herself that it was real, then the question that eluded her was, why? What turn of fate had dropped her here?

 

Emily had known that Adam had moved to the Bay area some years back, and that he’d been here for shorter stays over the years. He was a prominent businessman, a respected academic, a patron of the arts and a philanthropist, so his actions always merited notations in the Chronicle. Articles had told of his trips to the area, and later of his settling here after being offered a professorship at Berkeley. Those were followed by news of his private business, with the most recent news noting first his retirement, and then reinstatement to the faculty with a commission to work on structural tolerances in rebuilding the city. One human interest piece some years earlier had even noted that he was a widower: a morsel of information that had prompted a lot of thought before she had decided against acting on it.

 

The truth was that with so much public information, she could have found out where he lived, or arranged to “bump” into him if she had chosen to do so. But her love for him had always remained pure in nature, based on the wonder in her heart when she first realized that she liked everything about the man. Even at age twelve, she understood that he was far more than a handsome face. He was deep, intelligent, and encouraging: a perfect man. Of course there was the hope that she would meet him again, but her greatest fear over such an encounter was that all the love she’d given him from afar would be exposed as fraud if he expressed no interest in her. Her fantasy could stay intact if it was never tested. Emily loved the works of Victor Hugo and held to a line from Les Miserables:” Not seeing people permits us to imagine them with every perfection.”  She’d lived in her cowardice: always wondering what might happen, while refusing to find out.

 

Watching Adam from the darkness, she wondered anew what this chance meeting might mean. She’d often thought that perhaps she had consecrated her feelings for him so much that it was too hard to love others: expecting them to conform to an ideal. Yet, she had opened her heart—even married, thinking it was the real thing. In the end her search for true love had left her suspecting that she would never again find what she’d known for this man.

 

Deciding that standing in the dark wouldn’t bring any answers, she resolved to just enjoy whatever the evening might bring and stay open to the possibilities. Clearing her throat, she walked to the doorway and stood there briefly to give Adam ample warning that she was up and moving around. “It smells heavenly,” she admitted to the busy chef.

 

“Thank you. Are you feeling better now?” He indicated a comfortable chair in the kitchen. “Please, have a seat. You probably shouldn’t be moving about too much just yet.”

 

“I’m fine. Thank you… for everything—helping me outside, bringing me here and letting me rest, being so kind—just everything.”

 

“My pleasure, I assure you.” Turning toward her with a dashing smile, he continued, “I haven’t had a woman fall at my feet in some time.”

 

“Very funny.”  Looking around the full kitchen for the first time, she saw the cozy table set for two, and realized in horror that he must be expecting a guest for dinner. It seemed obvious that the evening would be ending sooner than she hoped. But that was life. It could take away as rapidly as it gave. With a deep breath, she set her face with a smile. “I should get going. It appears you’re awaiting someone,” she said, indicating the table.

 

Adam stopped stirring for a moment as a look of embarrassment shaded his features. “Oh, I should have asked instead of assuming you could stay for dinner. You’re probably expected elsewhere. May I send word to someone to let them know that you’re safe and sound…or hail a cab?” It wasn’t like him to miss such an important detail. He’d been lulled into a sense that the evening would continue at least through dinner, and hadn’t even considered that there might be a family waiting for Emily wondering what had become of her. It was his turn to feel disappointment.

 

“I’d be delighted to stay. There’s no one to notify. I am alone in this world and have become rather adept at being so. Having company for a meal will be much appreciated.” After a moment she added, “Further, judging from the aroma of whatever is in that pan, I should be most grateful to stay since you are undoubtedly a better cook than I.”

 

After a quick inquiry as to where she might “repair” herself before dinner, Adam showed her to the bath and then retrieved her purse as she requested, handing it to her along with a fresh set of towels. Figuring that if Emily was like any other woman he’d ever known, he would have a good twenty minutes before she’d emerge, and so he returned to the kitchen to finish dinner. What surprised him was the odd sense of anticipation he felt as he looked forward to the remainder of the evening.

 

Emily entered a room lit softly by the tapers on the table. Steaming bowls of food awaited serving, and Adam stood at her chair, ready to assist. The setting was perfect, the man was perfect, and for an instant, she let herself believe that the evening would go perfectly.

 

For his part, Adam was surprised to see how much repair was possible with whatever had been hiding in Emily’s small—but fully packed—handbag. The last remnants of her fall had been washed away and replaced with fresh powder and rouge. Her hair was now neatly swept into a chignon, as it must have been before her sliding hat had pulled it askew during the fall. He had to admit that had he not known that this woman was in her 50s, he’d have thought her to be much younger.

 

As she sat, he detected a light, natural scent—unlike the heavy, floral perfumes worn by most women. He breathed deeply, lingering a moment as he helped to adjust her chair. The presence of this lovely dinner guest nudged at those feelings he allowed entry into his subconscious earlier, and he was pretty sure that Emily’s sidelong glances and soft smiles spoke to flirtation, yet he embraced a moment of self-doubt when he wondered if what he was seeing was that—or merely pity for an old fool. Putting an end to his reflections, he served his fare.

 

The dinner was truly as delicious as it had promised to be, and they ate for a bit in companionable silence. Emily was ravenous, but tried to adjust her speed to at least appear to be ladylike, and take into account the minor swelling that was still affecting her lip. Adam smiled with raised brows as Emily moaned with pleasure at the combination of flavors on her palate. “This is so good,” she repeated several times until her plate was empty.

 

“More?” he asked.

 

“No thank you,” she replied, wishing she were brazen enough to wipe her plate with the crusty bread he’d supplied. “Mmmmm,” she said again as she laid her fork down. “Ponderosa beef?” she questioned her host.

 

“Of course. I have a steer butchered as needed and held at a meat locker for my use. There’s no finer beef in the west.”

 

“Agreed,” she replied as her satiety increased her enjoyment of the evening. “Now all I need is another brandy and a good cigar,” she joked.

 

One graying eyebrow rose in anticipation. “Which would you like first?”

 

Where’s There’s Smoke, There Might be Fire

 

After arguing about who should clean the mess in the kitchen, Adam finally convinced his guest that he would not allow her to do anything that night except relax. Adjourning to the parlor, he procured a small glass of brandy for each of them, but just one cigar, since she refused one for herself. But to his surprise, Emily set her glass aside and took the cigar from him; clipped the end, and struck a match. The tightly packed cylinder of tobacco sparked to life as she drew air through it.

 

He stared with interest at the display, wondering if she planned on smoking it. There were many times in his life when he was not sure of the import of a woman’s action, and this one confused, while simultaneously fascinated him. He’d never shared a cigar with a woman before, but would consider it if he really thought that’s what she wanted, but being unsure of her intentions, he decided to just watch and see what happened.

 

When the ash grew too long to ignore, Emily tapped it off and handed the cigar to Adam with a laugh. “My father had breathing problems later in life, so my mother lit his cigars for him. When she passed, I did it,” she explained to the curiously expressioned Cartwright. “I was probably abetting a very bad habit, but it was his one guilty pleasure so I didn’t deny him. I have to admit that if the cigar was a good one, I sometimes hated to give it away. Then again, ladies don’t smoke cigars, do they?”

 

“You may smoke one with me any time you’d like,” was returned with a conspiratorial smile.

 

“Thank you. But a few puffs are really all I can handle. This one is particularly good though, almost sweet.”

 

This time, Emily sipped her brandy more slowly, and was thankful that Adam had offered to make coffee to accompany it. As she waited for him to return with the freshly brewed pot, she walked to the bookshelves and began reading through the many titles. Her brandy sloshed as she abruptly halted to examine one small, red-leather bound book that looked all too familiar. Her cheeks began to turn much redder than her modest amount of rouge would account for, and she whirled in shock when Adam spoke from directly behind her.

 

A devilish grin played at his lips as he asked, “See anything of interest?” In honesty, until he had entered the room and saw Emily intently looking at one particular volume, he’d forgotten the book was there.

 

Emily was grateful that her host moved toward the coffee table rather than remaining where he was. She was having problems putting coherent thoughts together. “Um. Ah. Uh. I’m afraid I spilled some of my brandy.” She gave what she felt was a disarming smile and asked if he would get her a wet cloth to blot it before it stained her dress. As he left the room, she hastily set her glass aside and pulled the book from the shelf, cringing as she saw what she expected, >“When Love Is Young”I> by Emily Mills. Her thoughts raced. Why on earth would Adam Cartwright have this book of schoolgirl poetry? She’d written the collection of poems as a college project, and after receiving an unsatisfactory grade from her teacher, who described them as boorish and childlike, had sent them to a publishing company to prove that they were better than he had given her credit for. She was amazed when they were published and even more amazed when it sold an unimaginable number of copies. Checking to make sure he was still in the other room, she opened to the first poem and glanced through it to see if it still said what she thought it did. Her eyes darted over the verses:

 

First Love

 

As alpha seeks omega, as Adam sought his Eve

First love draws us to itself and asks us to believe.

 

First Love’s truth is that it knows no place or time or age

It happens when we’re young or old, innocent or sage.

 

The saddest truth of my First Love is that he never knew

He was a man: I was a child—no matter, it still grew.

 

You see he was my teacher, and he helped us all to know

The trick to surely feel alive was that our minds must grow.

 

Such was the man of my First Love—a mentor and a friend

His name remains etched on my heart until my life should end.

 

Were I Eve in the garden, if Eden were my home

I’d pray that Adam find me there, no more to be alone.

 

I ask God grant me one request—to meet again one day

To tell him of First Love’s sweet breath and hear what he would say.

 

But as faith does not work by will, it may not come to pass

And should we never meet again, First Love will have to last.

 

Known only in my silent heart, while in my soul kept secret

Even so, to love this way is done without regret

 

Her face now crimson, she could only hope that he had purchased the book when he saw her name as the author: perhaps had never even read it. She had to believe that this was the case. Her mind was moving at such a rate of acceleration that she again missed his entry into the room until he was standing behind her.

 

“I thought that might be what you were looking at.” He turned her toward him as he took her hand and blotted the spots where the brandy had wet the fabric, making a fuss that he was sorry, but that the stain might already have set in.

 

Emily eyed the man and his grin, and finally blurt, “I’m surprised you have this.”

 

“It was a gift.”

 

“From your wife?” Emily hoped it had been from his wife. A woman might have thought the love poems to be sweet, and he probably skimmed through a few pages to please his spouse and paid no more attention to it. She breathed a little easier until…

 

“From my father.”

 

“Your father?” Emily croaked, not able to figure out why a father would gift his son with such a book: especially if that father was Ben Cartwright. “Did he know what it was?”

 

Adam’s grin deepened. “He did, but he had good reasons to purchase it. My father saw the book at your father’s office when he was here on business many years back. He was always anxious to help out the sons and daughters of Virginia City.” His features softened into a look of reflection. “You know, my father once bought a copy of my engineering textbook for everyone he knew when it was published. I can just imagine Roy Coffee and Doc Martin thanking him, while silently wondering what in blazes they would ever do with it.” The smirk returned. “Anyway, he bought a copy of your book before he returned home from that trip.”

 

The blush was returning to Emily’s cheeks, as she instinctively knew what was coming. Yet even though she knew she should stop now, she felt she had to play it out. “So what was the other reason, the one that made him send it to you?”

 

“To prove a point.”

 

Emily’s voice dropped to little more than a whisper. “And what point was that?”

 

Adam looked like a cat about to eat the canary. “After my first day of teaching all those years ago, I went home with some grave doubts about my ability to handle a classroom. I told my father about one young lady who had been drawing hearts in her notebook, clobbered me in the face, and then acted as though she would cry if I even looked at her.”

 

She couldn’t face Adam any longer and turned in apparent fascination with the items on his shelves. She felt just as she had all those years ago when he’d caught her drawing “E.M. loves A.C.” on the sheet of paper she still carried in her purse to remind her of what real love should feel like. Her earlier admission of love had been given and forgotten in a haze of brandy and exhaustion, and now she felt vulnerable and embarrassed over what she knew was about to be exposed. She knew that meeting Adam again one day might end the illusion she held onto all those years, and it was now clear that her suspicions were correct. Her heart was breaking: yet not so much as she might have expected. She’d held onto this love for almost 40 years and it was time to face the fact that she would never experience the eagerness and joy of a love like she had hoped for—that such love didn’t really exist.

While these thoughts raced and tore at her heart, she felt the evening seemed the right way to finally end her childhood expectations. This situation had been unexpected, and had given her a brief respite before reality had begun to stab at her heart. It hurt, and yet the wound could be quick and clean, and heal well in time. She decided that there was no need to prolong the suffering or linger in the goodbye. “What did your father have to say about that girl?”

 

“He thought she might have a schoolgirl fascination with me.”

 

“And did you agree?”

 

He laughed. “I did not.”

 

Of course Emily knew what Ben had found in her book of poetry and pressed on. “So what was it your father hoped to prove by sending you my book?”

 

Adam couldn’t see the look on Emily’s face and continued in a teasing tone. “I think you might know that answer.” He took the book from the couch where she had set it down. Holding it at arm’s length while resting his opposing hand against his chest, he began reading from the first poem in an exaggerated, theatrical voice. “The saddest truth of my First Love is that he never knew. He was a man: I was a child—no matter, it still grew.” Then skipping ahead, he finished, “You see he was my teacher…”

 

“So?” Emily almost snapped, still without turning. She reevaluated her expectations that the wound be quick and clean. This was beginning to have a horrible feel to it. Exposure was one thing, but Adam’s tone made her feel sleazy.

 

“So my father figured he’d been correct about his assessment of your feelings. He sent me the book so I’d have to admit he was right.” He chuckled at this admission.

 

Her anger flared even as her tone remained calm. “Your father might have been wrong, you know. You might be wrong too. I had other teachers. It might have been one of them or simply a reference to someone who had been like a teacher to me. It’s poetry, for heaven’s sake. Not everything is literal.”

 

Adam laughed a third time and read another line. “Were I Eve in the garden, if Eden were my home, I’d pray that Adam find me there, no more to be alone.” He finished with one last hearty laugh. “You know, I’d honestly forgotten about this until I saw you with that book, and I guess I hadn’t considered that it could have been about someone else. Did you have another teacher named Adam?”

 

There was no reply. Emily’s heart grew smaller and more shriveled each time he laughed. She found it impossible to put her thoughts into words, and finally lied. “Yes.”

 

He placed the book on the edge of the shelf it had come from, sensing that he might have pushed too far in his teasing. Had he offended her feelings? He hadn’t meant to do that, but that “Yes” sounded as though it carried a weight of hurt. He tried to understand why she would feel that way. Surely she couldn’t still have those feelings for him. It was absurd. She didn’t even know him… and yet…her statement about love earlier in the evening had been enough to prod him into examining his feelings about that emotion and how having someone love him again might make his life different.

 

Adam suddenly realized that there was more going on here than he could fathom. Not knowing what to do to make it better, he started to talk, hoping something would come out that made sense. “I’m sorry to have teased you. It was just that my name was mentioned—twice. My father, um…and I too, felt that you really meant it to be about that time back in Virginia City. But it seems we were both wrong, and I’m sorry to have made so much of it. Let’s just put it aside, shall we?”

 

Emily finally turned to face him. “Of course it was about you! I think I might have said something to that fact earlier. And it wasn’t a ‘schoolgirl fascination,’ it was a love that I kept alive in my heart all my life. And now that I’m saying this, I realize how childish it sounds.” Her mind raced as tears of embarrassment and pain welled and spilled.

 

After taking a quick deep breath to help stop the tears, she continued, “As far as the poem…I was young and amazed when the collection was actually published. I never thought you would read it. I honestly never thought I’d meet you again. Please understand that while you were the object of my love, it was the feeling that I kept alive, not some sick desire for you. You touched my heart with your honestly, your encouragement and tenderness. More than anything, you made me feel as though I could do whatever I wanted in life. My heart felt whole when I was around you. That’s what I’ve held onto all these years. I just hoped that one day I’d experience the absolute wonder of loving someone like that again.”

 

She looked directly at him for a moment, her posture becoming less rigid as she thought aloud. “I think it was the love I’d always hoped to find…” Her voice trailed off, “And never did.” Her back stiffened again as she finished. “I owe you a debt of thanks for helping me understand what a fool I have remained all these years. Believe me, I never meant to embarrass you then…or now. If you find what I wrote, funny, so be it.” She breathed deeply again, this time finding enough oxygen to keep from passing out. “If you’ll get my shawl, I’ll leave before this gets any worse! And please don’t be concerned, Professor, I’ll not contact you again.”

 

Adam reached out and drew her toward him as she turned to walk away. When it appeared she would say more, he simply pulled her closer. “Shh, Emily. I knew it was about me as soon as I read it. I’ve never thought that it was foolish. Truth is, I found it endearing and that’s why I packed it up and sent it along with my other volumes every time I moved. I am sorry if I hurt you. Please, don’t cry. And please, don’t leave just yet. The evening has been…so…good.” Adam stopped to truly consider what the evening had been: interesting, companionable, fun…confusing. He couldn’t say exactly why, but he knew he didn’t want it to end—not yet.

 

Throw A Log on the Fire, Would You, Deary?

 

Emily leaned into Adam’s embrace as she inhaled his scent. It was an odd mixture of a spicy soap, braised beef, brandy and cigar, making for a strangely heady combination. She momentarily forgot her embarrassment and just breathed again. Breaking away enough to look up, she offered, “I’m sorry for the histrionics, Adam. It felt awful to think you’d been laughing at me all these years.”

 

But Adam was having trouble hearing. Holding her this way was stirring ashes he thought long cold. It felt comfortable and pleasant: perhaps a lot more than pleasant. He had to gain hold of his thoughts before he could respond. “I assure you that I never laughed, until tonight when I thought you were denying it…in jest. I misread the situation completely, and again, I’m sorry if I hurt or embarrassed you.”

 

They walked together to the couch where he sat close—closer than he should have to keep those ashes cool. But he had to admit that he liked stirring the fire a bit. He was always careful with fire though, and while enjoying the embers, still didn’t throw a new log on the hearth. Yet, the voice in his heart that had spoken earlier seemed now to be joined now by a chorus of others telling him to just enjoy the warmth.

 

***

 

The evening passed far too quickly, but as it came to a close, Adam insisted that he escort Emily home, and went to hail a cab while she gathered her things.

 

While alone in the house, she removed the sheet of notebook paper from her purse and glanced at it one last time. The heart she’d drawn with her avowal of love for Adam Cartwright was still readable after all the years of handling. Tracing the outline of the A.C. one last time, she refolded it, tucked it into the red leather bound book of poetry, and replaced the book on the shelf where she had found it. She had decided during the evening that it should remain with the man who had started it all. The old spell was broken. It wasn’t that she’d stopped loving him, but she faced the fact that she couldn’t continue to love him as that perfect man of her childhood dreams. Adam was real and flawed, just like everyone else. As he had teased her earlier, she found that he could be hurtful, and he didn’t perfectly understand all situations as she thought he would. Yet she realized that she honestly liked this imperfect Adam even better. She had felt this man’s heart beat as he’d held her, and she’d experienced the warmth of his breath on her cheek as he’d asked her to stay. This Adam was the real thing. Maybe he wasn’t a perfect man, but he was a man that was perfect for her.

 

Emily had finished her task by the time Adam came for her. Taking his arm, she glanced back at the room where her present life was leaving its past ideals behind. She knew her life had changed in this house. How the change would affect her remained to be seen.

 

Ooo, Baby It’s Cold Outside

 

During the course of the evening and the ride home, Emily and Adam managed to cover 40 years of history in an abbreviated format. Nothing was dwelt on, yet both participants were able to find out enough to make sense of the intervening years.

 

The question of how Emily had known the “Professor” when he came to her aid became clear as she noted seeing articles about him that included pictures. He laughed when she avowed that he was far more handsome in person than the grainy pictures could ever convey.

 

Adam didn’t explain his departure from Virginia City more than to say he needed a change. He had gone back East, and eventually wed a woman named Melinda, a teacher he had first met in Boston when he had been there for college. He recounted, “I was pruning trees for my grandfather the first time I saw her and fell off the ladder when I leaned out to get a better look. So you see,” he told Emily with a chuckle, “falling in front of people is something we have in common.” After they married, he accepted a position with an international engineering firm, and they traveled in Europe and the Near East for a few years as he consulted on various projects.

 

“It was a happy marriage,” he admitted to Emily’s question, and his eyes danced as he mentioned returning to the states after their son, Abel, was born. But darkness overtook him as he recounted that his wife and child died while visiting his family in Nevada. “I’ve never forgiven myself for allowing them to go to the lake without me. I had business in town and had asked one of the hands, to take them out and stay with them until I could make it there a little later.  But…” Adam’s voice grew quieter as he recounted the incident, “Melinda promised me they’d just have a picnic and fish from shore until I got there to take Abel out in the boat. But I was delayed…and she took the boat out alone, telling the hand that she knew how to row and would only go out a short distance just to please Abel before they headed for home. Those winds on Tahoe were always unpredictable, but she didn’t know that, and from what the hand told me, a rogue gust took the boat out faster than Melinda could row back and it overturned when a swell caught them from the side. It’s such a deep, cold lake…and the icy water took no particular pity for a woman or child, claiming their strength before the ranch hand could save them.” His voice was overtaken by a reflective pain, “You don’t ever get over that guilt or wondering why…”

 

He stopped his narrative to wonder why he was telling all this to a stranger, but this stranger didn’t pat his hand; tell him that it was God’s will, or that it was “for the best” as others always did. He’d honestly never told anyone else the whole story, and when he had to, would just relate that his family had died in an accident. But Emily’s listening—with no sense of shock, pity or judgment—had encouraged him, and her quiet attention was all it had taken for him to speak of his pain and complicity. He had always blamed himself for their deaths, but had also realized along the way that that life wasn’t fair and there weren’t always good answers for why things happened. Talking with Emily made him realized that it had been a very long time since someone had been his focused listener, and knew that even though he was satisfied by his present life, he missed this kind of intimate connection to one person.

 

Emily waited as Adam stopped talking, unwilling to disturb his thoughts. Although he didn’t say it outright, she figured that he had never returned to the Ponderosa after the tragedy. As the conversation resumed she noted the pride in his voice as he talked about his youngest brother, Joe, telling of how “the kid” had kept his father and the ranch going after Hoss had died, unexpectedly young. The palpable grief that had hung in the air during the story of losing his wife and child, returned briefly with the mention of Hoss’s death. His tone turned reflective as he spoke of his father’s passing and how the man had worked up until the last day of his life: still in love with the land he had secured and prospered.

 

The day had been balmy, but after the rain, was now cool. Adam noted that Emily began shivering and her teeth chattered when she tried to speak. Realizing that he should have brought a blanket, he removed his own coat and reached to drape it around her.

 

“Oh no you don’t.” Emily’s teeth providing a quick staccato as she spoke. “There’s n-no n-need for y-you to f-freeze.

 

Misunderstanding her intent, Adam flashed, “Better I freeze, than you. I might be old, but please allow me to remain a gentleman.”

 

Emily gave him a withering look and responded with less dental percussion, “Who said anything about being old? I just said you didn’t have to f-freeze.” She laughed as Adam’s face relaxed. “Here,” she moved closer to him on the seat, handing him one side of his coat. “Put that over your shoulder, and I’ll do the same with the other side. We’ll use it like a blanket and both stay warm.”

 

“Marvelous idea,” he admitted as he angled himself so that Emily could snuggle in closer for maximum wrap. As he reached his arm around her shoulders to free even more space next to him, he realized he was feeling very comfortable even after knowing her for only a few hours. It seemed he’d always known her, and while that was true in theory, it was not in fact. But Emily was prompting thoughts and even emotions that he hadn’t experienced in many years. He tried to put a word to the feeling, and when it came to him, he felt cold panic’s breath whisper down the back of his neck. He was interested in her, and it didn’t sit well with the man who had resolved that interest in a woman was off-limits. Adam shut out those thoughts and concentrated on Emily’s voice. She was asking about his teaching career.

 

“After…Nevada,” he explained that he had returned to Boston where he cared for his grandfather in his last days and earned an advanced degree at Harvard. After that he went to Baltimore, studying for his Ph.D. at Johns Hopkins. With one of the first doctorates in his field, he taught at Harvard for a few years and then began to travel again, finally settling in San Francisco to teach at Berkeley. He retired in 1905, but was asked to return to teaching after the earthquake, explaining, “The city government may be corrupt but they were quick to understand that there are better ways to construct buildings to withstand natural forces. They came to Berkeley asking for plans that would do that, and the school asked me to come back to help figure out tolerance equations—something I’m truly enjoying.”

 

“And what of you?” Adam asked turning the conversation to his companion. “What have you been doing these years?” He laughed heartily after hearing that she had gone into law. To her puzzled and slightly hurt expression he quickly explained that he figured she must be a lawyer because she could think—and speak—so fast on her feet, as evidenced by her verbal barrage when she’d thought him insensitive earlier. He agreed with her explanation that as a woman in law, she had to think and talk twice as fast as any man she came up against in court.

 

Adam took a moment to inquire into her life as a poet. “Did you continue to write? I looked once years ago, but found nothing more under your name.”

 

“Ha!” she laughed. “That book gave me a lot of freedom. The money it brought has made my life much easier. But I understood my limitations and now only write as a law professional. I’d venture that no one has read an Emily Mills poem for a good 20 years. That is until tonight.”

 

“Honestly, I think you’re too hard on yourself about that work. It is what it is, and each poem reads very nicely. Some were very deep for a young person. The poetry is simple and sincere and I can see what people like about it. We should just be honored when others respect or are touched by our work.”

 

Emily proffered her thanks and told him that this was how she had come to feel about the book too. It was only in front of others that she diminished it, and now resolved to stop doing that. She snuggled tightly against him. Shameless hussy, she laughed in her mind. What will the man think? Unfortunately she knew what he’d think…that she was still cold. Her best efforts throughout the evening had led to a few sweet moments and brief looks that implied growing interest from the man, but she couldn’t quite seem to break through the wall that kept him at a distance.

 

“Did you marry?”

 

“Hmm?” She was brought back to the present by his question. “Oh, yes, I did. Funny though, I married a man named Milles—with an e, but pronounced the same. It proved rather a convenient transition after the divorce. Legally, I’m still Emily Milles, but I use my old spelling the rest of the time.”

 

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

 

“Don’t be, Adam. We remain friends. Marshall and I married mostly because we thought we should. Others in our circle were marrying, and even though we weren’t madly in love, we felt that would come. It went well enough for about five years and then became dicey. I decided that even though he would never be the great love of my life, he was still my life, and I put all my effort into our marriage. He did not share that opinion and eventually became a most disagreeable husband while being finely mannered to his mistresses. While some women might have suffered in silence and become martyrs to their marriage, I couldn’t do that. We each had means and there were no children, so the dissolution was fairly painless—especially since I caught him in a hotel room with the wife of his richest client.”

 

Adam would have loved to hear more about that encounter, but asked instead, “You didn’t remarry?”

 

“Never found a person I liked more than Marshall and wasn’t going through that again with someone I loved less.” She chuckled, as she pulled deeper into the coat and closer still to him. “I always marveled at how some women I knew and had even advised in legal matters, would free themselves of a tyrant or philanderer, and then fall back in with the same kind of man in a heartbeat. I came to realize that they could stand the pain and embarrassment of being in a bad marriage more easily than they handled being alone.  I chose to submerge my life in my work, to fight for causes and to help my parents until they both passed. I have to say there are moments when the loneliness feels encompassing…but never so much so that I’d want things to return to what they were with Marshall.”

 

Adam’s brow had lifted as she had told him about her life. She had not experienced the same amount of loss as he had, but she had certainly known challenges and sorrow. He was definitely experiencing an interesting evening with an intriguing woman. “I see. So you really meant it when you said you were alone.”

 

“I always speak the truth, Adam.”

 

The remainder of the ride was spent talking about current projects. Emily shared that she worked mostly in estate and business law, but enjoyed her work with charitable organizations, while Adam said he was teaching several classes, working with the city and had a few bright students as apprentices in his office.

 

The final thing he shared was that he was returning home to the Ponderosa in a month. Joe’s youngest son was getting married, and Adam had decided to make the trip, perhaps, he’d opined, for the last time.

 

The pair was startled when the cab slowed, finally stopping outside a generous house where Adam requested that the driver wait while he escorted Emily to the door. He took her key and walked her into the house where a single lamp burned in the foyer.

 

Before he could move away, Emily took his hands for a moment. “Thank you again, Adam. I haven’t had such a lovely evening in a long time.”

 

His eyes seemed to look past her and then to the floor as he replied, “It was great fun reliving old memories and catching up, but I should be going. You need to rest now. It’s been a long day and you did take quite a tumble.”

 

She tried to meet his eyes, but they remained downcast. “Will I ever see you again?”

 

“Perhaps in passing, or we might plan another reunion at some point.” He looked up briefly, but what shown on his face was unreadable.

 

The Fundamental Things Apply

 

They continued standing in her foyer as Emily’s confusion roiled. The night had been pleasant, and she thought Adam had enjoyed the evening as much as she had. After considering this for a moment longer, she decided there was only one way to figure out what was happening, and asked. “Have I done something wrong? Said something that makes you unwilling to see me again, other than ‘in passing’?” Emily remembered Adam telling her that she was intuitive, but her intuition was jumbled now. As she waited for him to answer, she considered two options. Maybe he wasn’t interested in starting a relationship, or what she feared more was that he was just not interested in starting one with her. Yet, there was something else happening here. She sensed a shyness emanating from the man who could have never been described as shy.  What was it? She was still wondering as he spoke again.

 

“Emily, I’m old enough to be your father. I know that may sound silly, but some days I feel every year of my life.”  His voice trailed off as he finished, “And I have only known solitude for so long now…”

 

In a rush of emotion, Emily understood. It wasn’t her—exactly. It was the accumulation of time and loss that was keeping him from wanting to chance something new. She knew she couldn’t compete with old loves or the sadness of the past. All she could offer was life in the present, and she decided to challenge his fears.

 

She reached to take his hat from his head and moved her hand across the smoothness that had once held that magnificent shock of raven hair. “Hmm,” she commented. “Seems you have a little less hair on top and a lot more on your chin.” Laying the hat on the table next to her, she took his face in her hands so he would have to look at her. “But other than that, Professor Cartwright, I still see the handsome man I saw all those years ago at the front of the classroom. You made my knees weak then and you have the same effect now. We had a very nice evening together: you just said as much yourself. And our age difference means nothing now, so stop with the Stages of Man monologue and just look at me. You are not in your second childhood yet, sir. Your pants fit you just fine and your voice is full and strong.”

 

Adam met her eyes as she commented on his appearance, but looked away as she finished her statement. How could he see her again? He had come to an “understanding” with sadness and loss and wasn’t willing to expose himself again. Not now. Not after working so hard to forget: to tamp down the remembrances of love, and hide the scars of pain he had experienced with the death of each person he had loved. He had learned to rely only on himself. This was what he could trust. Not love, not desire, not another person.

 

And yet, as she spoke of her attraction and caring for him, he knew all the work he had done would be lost if he looked into her eyes. He convinced himself that the only thing to do would be to turn and move away without more discourse—perhaps waving and thanking her again for the pleasant evening as he walked to the cab. That was it, the way to make a graceful exit and return to the sanctuary of his home and privacy. It wouldn’t hurt Emily. After all, this meeting wasn’t planned and it would be best to stop it now before it got any harder.

 

At that moment, Emily spoke again, “I’m sure you’re thinking of every good reason to walk away. You can come up with a hundred of them if you think long enough. But the man I knew so long ago challenged us to find the truth and never make choices based on fear. So I’m asking if you can find one reason to stay. If the truth is that after all that thinking, you can’t find just one reason, then leave. I’ll let you go without another word.”

 

Adam was telling himself to turn and go as that whisper in his heart told him again to listen. The voice got louder as he took a step backward and turned to leave. “I have to go.”

 

But as he neared the doorway he thought of this woman he had only met again tonight. And without understanding the reason, he didn’t continue out the door, but rather turned back and walked to look directly at her. He found his truth: what he hadn’t thought possible. There in Emily’s eyes he saw his own hope and even more improbably, a future. After living so long trying to forget the past, he was overwhelmed by the feeling that his life could be full again.

 

Adam reached out and drew Emily to him. A sigh escaped his lips as he embraced her. “Well, maybe there is one reason.”

 

His lips gently met hers. She had no desire to release this kiss now, or ever, but finally pulled away just enough to see his expression. He was wearing a lopsided grin.

 

“Now, that was a nice way to end an evening,” she teased him at lip’s distance.

 

“Yes, it was.” His chest rumbled with a low chuckle, “Have to admit that for a second I thought maybe I’d forgotten how to do that.”

 

“Well, you have remarkable powers of recall, Professor. Perhaps a bit more pract…?” Her words were muffled as his lips returned for another kiss. This time there was no restraint by either of them. The kiss was long and deep, and when Adam gently kissed the area on her lip that remained tender from earlier, she embraced him more tightly and hung on for dear life.

 

“Goodnight,” he whispered to her as he broke away. “I’ll return for you tomorrow night at 6:30. But right now you need rest, and heaven knows I’m going to need a little time to recover as well.”

 

He waited outside until he heard her lock turn over before moving to the cab for the lonely ride home. The driver smiled and tipped his hat as he opened the door. Adam asked to be dropped off a block from his home: walking the remainder of the way to release the bound up energy he felt. He met two passersby who smiled broadly at him, leaving him slightly dumbfounded until he realized that he wore a smile that was simply being returned. He felt happy: a deep satisfied happiness he hadn’t known for so long. Breathing in the cool mist of night, he vowed to take this all slowly and cautiously. “I’m honestly too old for all of this foolery,” he remarked sternly as he entered his door.

 

The smile continued even through the cleanup he’d forgotten remained in his kitchen. The presence of two glasses and two sets of tableware gave evidence that the night had been real. Remembering their parting kiss, he felt her lips on his once more, and grinned wickedly before shoving a dirty plate into the soapy water to scrub.

 

He ran through the events of the evening, trying to figure out how it had gone from a simple reunion to an unforgettable goodbye and promise of more to come. He knew that as he’d tried to distance himself from any interest in his guest, he had felt himself pushed into paying attention from a niggling in his heart. Adam wasn’t prone to believe in spirits or visitations from beyond, but he had to admit that there were times when he “heard” his father and Hoss speaking to him. He’d always suspected that he merely ran through past conversations he’d had with them and applied what they’d talked about to his current situation. Yet, sometimes—like tonight—he “felt” them nudging him forward. Sometimes he even “sensed” their humor or concern giving him encouragement, or warning. There was only encouragement tonight urging him to accept what was happening without over-thinking it. And as he had turned to leave Emily—after deciding that he couldn’t let the evening progress any further—he had actually sensed a strong message. He remembered his father’s voice clearly, “Adam, when heaven drops a gift at your feet, it is ungracious to return it unopened.”

 

After his kitchen was returned to order, he slipped beneath his sheets, feeling their coolness against his skin. Settling his arms behind his head, he directed a question to those who still watched over him. “So what do you all know that I don’t?” Exhaustion enveloped him as he mumbled a last question. “What have I gotten myself into?”

 

****

 

Preparing to see Emily the next evening had Adam smiling. So what if he was seventy…something. Tonight he felt thirty and alive! When he was ready, he grabbed his hat—the same style black, round brimmed Stetson he had worn since he could remember—and headed out to his waiting carriage. He had hired a driver to avoid having the down time of parking and retrieving it at the restaurant, and was exceptionally glad for his decision when he exited his door to find a light bay mist swirling in the light of the street lamp.

 

At her house, Emily was having problems concentrating and couldn’t decide what to wear. She finally choose a deep violet dress with crystal beading and a style that enhanced her figure, dropping deeply enough in front to accent her décolletage while still being elegant. Her only jewelry was diamond drops in her ears along with a suspended solitaire she had inherited from her mother—sitting nicely in that décolletage. She was ready when she saw the carriage pull to a stop out front but waited a proper amount of time from the first ring of the doorbell before walking slowly to admit her caller. Emily was having trouble breathing, and it wasn’t that her corset was pulled too tight. Pausing before turning the knob, she composed herself, slowed her breathing, fanned her face and finally pulled the door open.

 

Adam’s eyes spoke what his words didn’t as they drifted appreciatively from the top of her head right down to her toes. The color of the dress made her eyes seem bluer and her hair more golden, and he felt as though he were seeing her for the first time. How could I have missed how beautiful she is? And more importantly why is this woman interested in me?I>Adam stepped across the threshold shedding his damp topcoat as he thought further, But I don’t care, and gathered her in his arms. “I’ve missed you,” he breathed into her hair.

 

Stepping back he again ran his eyes over her body, settling on the suspended pendant.

 

“Ah, Adam?” She finally remarked when he seemed not to move

 

“Oh, um, I’m sorry, I was just admiring…”

 

“I know what you were admiring.” She reached out to draw him near.

 

The kiss he gave in greeting was hardly chaste, but stopped short of passionate. “Shall we go?” he asked without moving.

 

“Mmhmm,” she replied without breaking the embrace.

 

They both began to chuckle. “We’re behaving like a couple of kids,” he said.

 

“Tonight we are a couple of kids. Would you like a drink before we leave?”

 

“Actually, we should go. I have the feeling I shall want to remain clear headed for a while longer to introduce you to the wonders of my favorite wine before you lose all sensibilities tonight.”

 

“So, you intend on getting me drunk and perhaps using that to your advantage?”

 

“Hmm, hadn’t planned that, but now that you mention it….” He pulled her toward him, nuzzling her ear before grabbing their coats and leading her to the door.

 

***

 

Sitting across from each other at the window table of the restaurant, candlelight twinkled in Adam’s dark eyes, while the crystals on Emily’s dress created a soft glow around her reflection in the panes of glass. The small restaurant featured Continental cuisine, but the wine and beef was American. The Barkley family, California friends of the Cartwrights, had taken up the art of growing grapes and creating exquisite wines, which the couple now sampled. Emily was not a wine connoisseur, but she knew what she liked and this was it. The beef was of course Nevadan, from one particular ranch, and it had been Adam Cartwright who had marketed both the wine and beef to the restaurant some years back.  Consequently, he had been greeted as royalty when they had entered and they’d been doted over by the staff and the owner, Andre, since their arrival.

 

Between courses they held hands across the table as they spoke quietly. Other diners smiled as they watched, thinking them long in love, rather than a newly acquainted couple on their first night out together.

 

The evening again ended too soon with Adam breaking the spell to escort Emily home with a promise to return the following night.

 

Communications 101:

A Message is Only Considered Properly Given if Understood by the Listener…

 

Adam felt a weight lifting from his shoulders as he prepared for his daily rendezvous with Emily, They’d been together every night for almost three weeks and he’d admitted to himself that he was tired. That sounded awful, but it was true. He’d rush through his day to get home and prepare for the evening, then rush to Emily’s home to pick her up or spend a few hours together at her place. And he’d finally rush home—always later than planned—and try to sleep enough to be alert for the following day when the routine would start all over again. He’d made a decision after concluding that he wasn’t happy with the arrangement as it stood, and planned to put an end to the rushing tonight.

 

Taking a final look in the mirror, he released a sigh of gratitude, knowing this would be the last time he’d be heading out to see Emily. He’d dressed in his best suit but his tie was off-kilter as usual. He knew Emily would help him adjust it when he got to her house, and smiled at the many times this ritual had already been performed. There were some aspects of their seeing each other in this way that he would miss, but not the pace of it. Grabbing his hat and coat, he reached back for an envelope he’d left on the table near the door, stuck it deep in his pocket and headed out to the waiting carriage.

 

He looked up the street as he moved to the coach. It was here that he’d first met Emily again. The three weeks since had proved to be a delightful time of youthful romance and courting—by a man who was not feeling youthful. It made him wistful for the days when he could have wrangled cattle, mended fences and rode the range with his brothers all-day, and still kept company with his lady of interest until deep into the night—ready to ride again early the next morning.  But those days were long past and Adam had to accept that he was not equal to the life of a young suitor any longer.

 

***

 

The patronage was light at Café DuBay, but the tables around Emily and Adam were occupied. Lit by the candle’s soft flow, they were sipping a fine Barkley cabernet, when Adam reached for Emily’s hand.

 

Her intuition told her that this night was going to be special. She’d noted his beautifully cut suit and the lightness of his step as he had ambled toward her door earlier and wondered what he had up his sleeve. He’d looked so young and handsome that her breath had caught and she’d quickly slid the curtain back into place so as not to be caught spying. She’d adjusted his tie as had come to be the norm, and as always, he’d given her a kiss, “to seal the knot.” The thought made her smile now as she contemplated whether he really couldn’t tie a bow, or just liked her fussing over him.

 

Adam was holding her hand and saying something about being tired when Emily pulled from her private musings to pay attention. “Pardon me? I’m sorry, Adam; I didn’t hear what you just said.” A mild blush colored her cheeks with the admission of her inattentiveness.

 

He gave her a questioning look and started over. “Emily, I said that I can’t continue with the pace we’ve been setting. I’ve enjoyed these weeks very much, but I’m tired, and don’t want to be in a rush every day.”

 

Emily’s hand fairly ripped from his, as she fought to understand what was going on. “Why did you bring me here tonight, Adam?”

 

Adam’s face registered his confusion. “It’s rather become ‘our place,’ or so I thought. It just seemed reasonable to do this here.”

 

“What?” Emily’s confused look mirrored that of the man she had come to love deeply. It didn’t seem to make sense, but his words made clear what was happening. Yet she couldn’t understand why he would bring her to “their” place to tell her of his decision to leave her. She gave a wounded laugh. “You brought me here to tell me you’re tired of seeing me? Adam, you could have done this at my door last night. Why make such a formal presentation?”

 

Adam tried to calm her. “Emily, I didn’t say I was tired of seeing you. It’s the distance and the time, and…” He tried again, “It’s the ‘situation’ I’m tired of.” His attempts at explaining resulted in Emily’s eyes widening even further as a panicked look swept her features.

 

Emily rethought her earlier opinion as Adam’s explanation hung between them. Some “special evening” this is turning out to be.I> His words told her that he didn’t care to put more effort into this. He’d tried, but he was tired.  Oh my lord, she thought as reality sunk in.

 

Her color rose to bright red as she stood and walked to his chair to be heard without raising her voice. All she could think of as a defense to this rejection was to leave…as quickly as possible before he said anything else that would burn in her heart like a hot coal. She rested her hand briefly on his shoulder as she leaned toward him; her voice soft, but faltering as she fought her urge to cry. “I understand, Adam. I think I told you the night we met that if you couldn’t go ahead with this, all you had to do was walk away. I’ll make this as easy as possible and leave so you won’t have to explain any further. Thank you for being so…honest.” Emily rushed from the table as her last words were left for him to digest.

 

Adam’s mouth formed an oval, but remained mute.

 

Andre, noting that Emily had left in tears, moved quickly to the table, and found his old friend looking staggered.

 

Once it sunk in that Emily wasn’t coming back, Adam arranged for the wine to be added to his tab in a series of terse grunts toward Andre, and rushed through the other patrons to exit the restaurant. He was too late; Emily was gone. Adam was furious with many things, not the least of them was that while he’d always had to wait for a cab, Emily had managed to find one immediately.

 

What in heaven’s name did I say?I> He paced along the windows that fronted the restaurant, replaying their conversation in his mind. He had simply said he was tired of the current arrangement. It’s true. Surely she’s feeling just as rushed as I. Who can possibly keep up with this: the distance between our homes, work, and evenings that go too quickly and end too late? The pacing continued as he thought about her comments. >Why did she react that way? What made her think I was tired of her…I> As his mental outburst ebbed, Emily’s words finally began to sift through the fog of hurt and anger as he realized that they had been having two different conversations about the same topic. A moan drifted straight from his heart as he spoke softly to himself. “Does this ever get any easier?” He continued to think about what had just transpired. He’d never been good at explaining his feelings, and got it wrong again, and admitted aloud, “What I said was true; it’s what I didn’t say that caused the confusion.” He wondered whether he could make this right, but reasoned the only way to know was to try, and retrieved his carriage to head toward Emily’s home.. She had stopped moving, hiding just out of sight behind a hedge on the property line of her yard.

 

Emily didn’t return home. She had the cab take her to the cemetery where her parents had been laid to rest. The park was deserted, lit only by a thin sliver of red daylight playing on the edge of night. Emily sat on the hard concrete bench facing their crypts; buried her face in her hands, and wept. When the tears slowed, she spoke to her parents. “How could I not see that he was tiring of me? Do I love him so much that I was blind to the fact that he doesn’t love me too? How could I miss that? Everything seemed so…good. It just doesn’t make sense. Maybe Adam was right about one thing; I guess I’m tired too. That might account for why I couldn’t see things as they actually were. Papa, you always said I didn’t see clearly in matters of the heart, and I guess things haven’t changed much.”

 

She became thoughtful for a moment, giving a wry laugh. “It was a grand send off though, don’t you think? I never had a man get all dressed up to declare my redundancy before. Most of them just stopped calling on me.” Dabbing her sniffles, she added. “I guess it’s best this way. No wondering or worrying, just the lance sticking out of my back with the words, ‘you tire me’ burned into the handle.” She sat there a while longer as she let the evening breeze dry her tears, deciding to head home only when the damp San Francisco mist began to chill the evening air.

 

Her house was not far from the cemetery and Emily walked there slowly, not wishing to face the loneliness just yet.  She’d never felt this way before, but now it drenched her. The ache cut through to her soul, and her clothing weighed her down to the point where she could have simply sat on a lawn bordering the walk and stayed there forever. C’mon, Emily. You’re a big girl and you’ll get over this, she lied to herself, for she knew this would take a whole lot of getting over.

 

She saw the carriage before seeing him sitting on the top porch step, protected from the mist by the overhang of the roof. She figured that since she hadn’t let him have his say before leaving the restaurant, he probably felt he needed to explain himself further. In her bitterness, she thought of turning around and heading away. > But where is “away”? It’s my house. I shouldn’t have to catch a chill walking around in the drizzle until he leaves

 

Observing Adam for moment—shoulders bent forward, arms resting on his knees—she wondered if he had come to apologize, or to merely express his anger at her hasty departure. Emily knew that she would miss Adam with every bit of her heart, but resolved that it was time to end this and move forward without him. It wasn’t what she wanted, but it now seemed that she had no other choice. She mindfully removed the lance that she’d felt between her shoulder blades since Adam had thrust it there at the restaurant, and carried it with her as she strode to the porch just as a bullfighter enters the ring. Without realizing that she was doing it, she gently swung the fullness of her skirt, as a matador would his cape to taunt the bull.

 

Jumping To Conclusions Can Often Result in Serious Injury to the Heart

 

Adam patted the porch next to him as she approached. “Please sit down, Emily.”

 

She continued to stand where she had stopped, testing his anger and resolve. “I think I got the gist of this at the restaurant, Adam, so you needn’t say more. You gave this relationship a try and it didn’t work out. I accept that, and thank you for three lovely weeks of your time.”

 

She’d done it again: the man was speechless. With this advantage, she took her stance and prepared to use the lance she’d drawn from her own back to sink the mortal wound into this affair. With a look of sadness, she performed her estocada. “I’m sure you’re ‘tired’ now, and should probably go home and rest.” It had not been a fight: he hadn’t even charged her cape or tried to advance. This puzzled her, but she was exhausted, and wanted desperately to escape into the sanctuary of her home.

 

Emily tried to leave the arena, but as she passed Adam on the steps, he reached for her hand, and pulled her down next to him. “Emily Mills, did it ever occur to you that you might have jumped to an erroneous conclusion? I wouldn’t want to face you in court, across a poker table or in a bullring. You have steel in your spine, and I admire that very much—except when it’s being directed at me.” He held his fingers to her lips as she tried to speak in her defense. “And when you get wound up…well…you do get a lot of words out in a short amount of time.”

 

Adam’s free hand moved into his pocket and pulled out the envelope he’d stowed there before leaving for dinner. “I know that I got this night off to a bad start and deserve everything you’ve said. But Emily, what I told you is the truth. I am tired: tired of wanting you all day, then rushing to be with you and going home alone to an empty house, while I leave you here, alone. I’m tired of loving you in a rush. I want to love you slowly, every day, every night and all the hours in between. In case I wasn’t clear enough in this: I love you. I should have said that to start with.” He smiled. “I think that might have removed a lot of your confusion.”

 

It was Emily who remained speechless now.

 

Adam’s fingers disappeared into the envelope. “This was my grandmother’s ring.” He slipped the golden band bearing a single, perfect pearl onto her finger. “When my grandfather gave this to me, he told me he had given it to my grandmother, saying that he had found a pearl of great value in her, and was forsaking all else to have her with him forever. This is how I feel about you.”

 

“However, I can hardly be considered a great catch. I’m old, my joints creak, I tire easily—sometimes, and my years with you may be limited. But knowing all this, will you marry me?”

 

Finding her voice and humor, she asked, “Are you sure you want to marry a quarrelsome woman with a quick-triggered tongue, who misunderstands things from time to time?”

 

“Hmm,” he teased, “Yes, but only if the quarrelsome woman is you.” He paused, “But before you answer, we must have an understanding.”

 

She had rested her head on his shoulder, but sat up to hear what he was about to ask of her.

 

“Even if all things go as well as possible, I will not live to our 25th anniversary. Let’s say I’ll shoot for ten and see what happens after that.” He chuckled, but quickly became serious again. “You must promise that you will remain strong and calm, even if my life declines or when I have to leave you behind. In the meantime, we’ll take as much as we’re given for as long as it lasts, and resolve to face whatever may come without regret. Will you do that?”

 

Emily nodded, unable to make the promise verbally without dissolving into tears.

 

“Well, then, Miss Mills, will you do the honor of marrying me?”

 

She took Adam’s face in her hands, kissed him and while nose-to-nose, replied, “I love you with all my heart, Adam Cartwright, and will marry you any time, any place—you name it, I’ll be there.”

 

He winked at his bride to be. “How about tomorrow?”

 

Marry in Haste: Repent in Leisure…Or Perhaps…They Lived Happily Ever After

 

Thanks to assistance from a judicial official in expediting their license, the couple was married the next afternoon in a ten minute ceremony witnessed by a bailiff and the judge’s secretary who were conscripted into duty. Adam and Emily were in love, and in haste to be together. Nothing else mattered.

 

Andre had pulled together a grand celebration at his restaurant following the brief ceremony, and with Adam’s assistance a few days earlier, had even managed to invite several of the couple’s friends to share in the festivities. The poor restaurateur had wondered whether he should cancel the event after the proposal had gone awry the night before. But he’d placed his trust in the ability of his old friend to get things back on track, and was rewarded when Adam had stopped early that morning to announce that the nuptials would take place as planned.

 

As Adam escorted his wife into the restaurant, the gathered friends shouted their congratulations while tossing streamers and popping champagne corks. Emily eyed Adam, asking, “How did Andre know about this?” But then she recalled the man’s stricken face as she had passed him on the way out of his restaurant the night before. He had obviously been in on Adam’s intention all along. “Forget that question. I think you two had this all planned, so maybe the better question would be: what made you so sure I would accept your proposal?”

 

Her husband leaned to her ear and purred, “’Were I Eve in the garden, if Eden were my home, I’d pray that Adam find me there, no more to be alone.’”

 

The look on Emily’s face ranged from a grin to near tears as she considered that her dreams of all those years ago had come true. She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it gently.

 

They would have stayed in a hotel for their first night together as a way to be away from anything in either of their homes that would distract them. But there were few establishments that had been adequately repaired since the quake, and those were continuously full. Being a gentleman, Adam agreed to return to Emily’s home where she would have access to all those things a woman seems to need.

 

Adam leaned in the doorway watching as Emily brushed her hair, and she glanced up to smile at him. This simple loving gesture flooded his mind with understanding. He knew now that when he had first thought he could see his future in her eyes, it was because they were the eyes of a woman in love. The love had been there from her first tipsy avowal of caring for him and had deepened over the next weeks—never wavering—even when she’d looked across the table at him thinking he had grown tired of her. He went to her, took the brush from her hand, laying it on the dressing table, and helped her rise. Cupping her face with his hands he looked again into her eyes, and found such love, desire and passion that he moaned softly while pulling her to him.

 

As they moved together to her bed, Emily asked a question that had played on her mind since the first day they had spent time together. “The night we met, you struggled with wanting to see me again, and I asked you to find one reason to do so. But you had already resolved to leave and had moved to the door when you turned around again. What made you come back?”

 

His answer of, “I’d forgotten my hat,” broke the romantic mood, and as Emily took a step back from his embrace, she reached down to the bed. The pillow she swung, hit Adam’s mid-section with enough force to cause him to fall backward onto the bed.

 

As he fell, he grabbed her arms, pulling her and her feather laden weapon down with him. “What are you so upset about, my love?” He asked with a rakish grin. “You asked, and I told you the truth. It was an expensive Stetson that I liked very much and didn’t want to leave behind. There’s no need to resort to violence.”

 

Emily’s protests were muffled as Adam kissed her into silence. Caressing her face as he kissed her again, he whispered, “Oh, I also came back because of the inexplicable fact that in a few brief hours, I had fallen in love with you.”

 

As she drifted to sleep that night, Emily finally understood that Adam Cartwright was the only man who could have ever made her feel complete and whole. It had been ordained many years ago in a one-room school when she had written E.M. loves A.C. in her notebook.

 

***

 

 

The newly married Cartwrights each took time from work to consolidate their households and prepare for the trip to Nevada. Adam was grateful that they had been able to marry quickly, allowing him to bring Emily along on the trip. It wasn’t that he dreaded returning to his home, but he wasn’t looking forward to being surrounded—almost buried—under all the memories there, and Emily would surely help to buffer those feelings. He knew it was a selfish intent but it still brought him much peace. They’d talked it through and she seemed to understand that he might act differently when they were on the Ponderosa, and she had promised not to worry that his moodiness indicated dissatisfaction with her, or that he might be having second thoughts about “them.”

 

As a couple, Adam and Emily melded well, and while arguing over some details, were able to find consensus over most issues involved with a rapid combining of two households. Emily agreed that they would be best temporarily living in Adam’s small home since it was located centrally to both their jobs. Their intent was to build a home together once they returned from Nevada. Adam had a plan in mind that he’d been mulling over for a few years and already had his eye on a piece of property that sat high on a hill overlooking the bay.

 

Everything seemed to be going well—so well that Adam sometimes worried. He tried to shut those thoughts from his mind, preferring to concentrate on his life and the time they would share. Yet, there always remained the shadow of what lay ahead…hopefully years from now. It was the one question he’d asked of all the family spirits that had gone on before him. “What’s it like…to die—to finally let go of earthly life?” He’d asked more than once without an answer, and in time he’d come to grasp that there was no answer: that those mysteries simply couldn’t be shared.

 

During his life, Adam had experienced serious illness and injury when he’d looked across the abyss between life and death—had once even sensed his mother’s presence gently guiding him back toward life—and had felt the torture of leaving her behind. He’d peered across the empty chasm again when his wife and son had died so unnecessarily. Standing at their graves, he had wanted to take the last step past the edge to join them there, and then sought to make that happen. He’d ridden to the wilderness without bothering to eat or care for himself until he looked like an avenging prophet screaming at God to take him. But like other times when death had beckoned, his father had found him, and convinced him that life couldn’t be given up without a fight. The man he’d always respected and loved told him that life was hard: that was the simple truth of it. But he had to keep living and put one foot in front of the other until he found where he was headed again. Adam had listened, had gone on with his life, but vowed to never love again. He’d reasoned that if stayed away from anyone who could break down the barriers around his heart—he might make it.

 

But Emily had reached inside his soul, told him that she had always loved him, even when he hadn’t loved himself, and made him think about what life with love was like for the first times in years. He’d taken a step toward her, and just kept putting one foot in front of the other until he found his way to a complete life again.

 

Transfigurations

Part 2 – Going Home

Zoom Zoom

 

After enduring the discomfort of travel by horseback or kidney jarring wagons and stagecoaches for much of his life, Adam found he actually enjoyed modern train travel. He had a window seat on their journey to Nevada for the wedding of Joe’s youngest son, and when he wasn’t dozing against the glass, he watched the world go by. Spotting a number of automobiles along the roads adjacent to the tracks, prompted him to think about how soon people might travel in their own vehicles instead of using public transportation. Henry Ford had recently produced a simple, inexpensive auto with an assembly line, but that was only part of the equation. Adam’s engineering mind also considered the miles of roads needed to make travel practical and comfortable, and chewed over the need for refueling stations along those same roads. By his reckoning, it would still take some years before the automobile could be the common man’s mode of transportation, and he found himself impatient in the wait.

 

In a moment of melancholy, he realized he probably wouldn’t live long enough to see the practical application of man’s ability to get around in a hurry. He’d recently read of experimentations with a flying machine out East by two brothers named Wright, and wondered if air travel might someday be possible. He might not ever fly or own an automobile, but he surely wanted to experience the speed of a personal motorized vehicle. With this thought, a sly grin crossed his lips as he thought about the gift he’d had shipped to his youngest brother’s family, and hoped it had arrived so he could try it out during the visit.

 

Adam had always professed that there was no value to grieving over what he couldn’t have, and had always tried to appreciate what he did, but with new technology moving along at an incredible rate since the turn of the century, he was rethinking that philosophy. He now thought that if things were moving this fast, it wouldn’t cause any harm if they went just a little faster so he’d be able to experience some of them.

 

The trip from San Francisco went quickly when compared to horse travel, and as they transferred to last rail spur into Virginia City, Adam recalled Joe’s warning that their hometown was in bad shape. He’d read about the fires that had ravaged the city, with the largest taking down some 2000 buildings in 1875. But he also knew that what ultimately had taken its toll had been the end of the boom mining years. The population in Virginia City had expanded and contracted many times, and Adam doubted there were many people left who would remember him, yet he was anticipating his arrival there. But Joe’s letters hadn’t prepared him for how worn out the city actually seemed as he got his first good look while the train pulled into town.

 

Mining had created a few rich men and had given hope to the masses that came to try their luck. But once that hope of being the next to find a million dollar lode dried up, folks didn’t stick around to keep a town going: not a town like Virginia City that seemed to crawl up the side of a mountain and hadn’t developed businesses outside the scope of mining. And unfortunately, much of Virginia City’s mining wealth hadn’t remained there. Many of the original investors were from San Francisco, and they left along with the others who found little of interest after the silver veins went cold.

 

As the train pulled to a stop, Adam saw a number of people waiting on the platform, but recognized his nephews even without having seen them in a few years. The two men looked just like Joe did when he was in his early thirties: a mass of dark curls; and wiry bodies that seemed ready for action. They waved, obviously recognizing him as well. Adam took Emily’s arm and led her outside to his waiting family.

 

After being introduced to Emily as “Little Ben,” the young man corrected, “Just Ben, Ma’am, if you please. I haven’t been called Little Ben for some time now, and have to admit that I always disliked it. But since my pa had been stuck with the name Little Joe for so long, he thought it only fair to pass on the torment to his firstborn.”

 

The younger brother, Eric, chimed in. “Yeah, I heard Pa wanted to call me Little Hoss, but then thought better of it and named me Eric—just Eric. Grandpa Ben told me that my pa wanted to honor Uncle Hoss with a namesake, but just couldn’t name me that. Part of it was that he remembered all the times the name was mispronounced as horse, and Uncle Hoss had to spell it out for folks. But mostly, having the two puny parents I did, I just figure Pa never thought I’d be the ‘big friendly fellow’ that the name implied. Whatever the reason, I’m just glad I wasn’t Little Hoss. I think it would have been confusing…kind of like calling me a tiny giant.”

 

After the laughter died down, Emily asked about the third brother who was not with them. “And what do you all call your youngest brother, Joe? Is it Little Joe, after your Pa?

 

“Nah, ma’am,” Ben replied. “He’s Joe Jr. to most people, but we sometimes call him JC, or when Ma was really mad, it was Joseph Frances Cartwright Junior!” The two brothers laughed heartily at their mother’s expense. “I’m afraid we drove our mother crazy sometimes. You could hear our entire names being hollered all over the county when we’d been up to no good. Pa, on the other hand, only had to look at us to make his feelings clear. He said he’d learned that look from Uncle Adam, and it was a lot more terrifyin’ than Ma calling our names. Apparently Pa had been the recipient of that look many times in his early life.”

 

Emily heard Adam chuckling in a knowing way as Ben was speaking, and she figured he was recalling the many times he’d used the look the boys were referring to on his youngest brother.

 

Adam finally broke into the conversation, “Well, I’m glad your father carried on a time honored family tradition. I learned that look from Pa, but have to admit, I was better at it than even he was. I could stop your father cold at 20 paces and send him running the opposite direction. It worked well until he got so fast he could outrun me.”
The group was still chuckling as they gathered the luggage from the platform, and began their journey to the Ponderosa. Emily got the first inklings of something afoot when after the two nephews asked a few polite questions of her, they quickly closed ranks around Adam as they began discussing “it.” She wasn’t exactly eavesdropping, but then again, there wasn’t much else to do while being a captive audience on the long carriage ride to the homestead. From the rapid give-and-take, Emily ascertained that whatever this was had arrived just as Adam had written them it would. They declared that it ran faster than they could have imagined, and so far had provided some wonderful moments of pure, fear-laden ecstasy for everyone brave enough to ride it. Emily imagined a fine new steed, and although suspecting this was all about a manly sort of thing, she felt a tinge of thrill at finding out what they were talking about. However, at one point as the boys continued telling her husband about whatever it was, a cold chill replaced the excitement she was feeling, and made her shiver despite the warm day.

 

The Mills family hadn’t had a social relationship with the Cartwrights, and had never been included in their get-togethers when Emily had lived in Virginia City, so her heart began to race when the outlines of buildings she assumed were the Ponderosa homestead began to take shape in the distance. She shook off the chill she’d experienced moments earlier and turned excitedly toward Adam. Seeing his tense posture confirmed her suspicion that while she was getting more excited about nearing the heart of the ranch; her husband was becoming more tense. She’d noted the phenomena on the train ride as well. He’d started out in good humor—wry though it always was—and had easily joked and teased. But as they’d neared their destination, she’d noticed a correlation between the shrinking miles between San Francisco and Nevada, with a tightening in Adam’s deportment. Even now, while he talked and laughed with his nephews, she saw the tautness in his smile and the set of his face. His back remained rigid even as he leaned forward to hear what one of the boys was saying, while his hands clenched and released the hem of his yellow barn-coat.

 

In their brief marriage, Emily hadn’t seen much of this side of Adam. He had only displayed these nervous tics when talking about the trip home. Despite her desire to comfort him in his unease, she had listened to him when he told her that there was nothing she could do to make this trip easier for him, except to be with him. He had asked that she not try to fix the situation for him, because she simply couldn’t. She’d accepted that, and figured that this was only the beginning of Adam’s confrontation with the demons and heartaches waiting for him at his home. When Adam glanced her way, she smiled. For that moment, Emily noted that Adam breathed deeply, relaxed and smiled back, before stiffening again as he gazed out over the land that had been his legacy.

 

About the time the distant buildings were becoming recognizable forms, a buzzing noise overtook the pastoral landscape. It droned, becoming louder as it closed in on the wagon. The buzzing seemed to emanate from a cloud of dust that effectively hid whatever was creating the haze.

 

“That’s it!” cried Ben.

 

The conversation and the carriage came to a stop as the droning went from annoying to offensive, and the dust cloud neared the four travelers. An older man, with white, coiled hair, tanned skin, and well-muscled arms emerged from the flying dust and gravel as the din silenced. “You old dog, you!” The man was off the machine and clambering onto the carriage while Eric jumped down to grab what the man had just vacated to keep it upright. It was a prairie ballet of sorts, choreographed by a familial intimacy.

 

Emily hadn’t paid much attention to Little Joe Cartwright unlike most of the girls she’d known at age twelve—but even though she knew he must be nearing 60 now, he still had the looks of his youth.

 

Joe squeezed between Adam and Emily, draping a dusty arm around each of them as he spoke. “If you two only knew how much I was looking forward to this visit.” Turning to Adam, he embraced him, slapping his back in welcome. “It’s been way too long, brother.” He repeated the sentiment as his voice cracked with emotion. “But it’s good you’re here now.” Turning away from Adam, he found Emily’s gloved hand, kissed it and welcomed her as well. “We’re all mighty proud to have you here at the Ponderosa, Emily. When my old codger of a brother, wired us to say he had taken a bride and would be bringing her along…well, I almost died of surprise. But it was good surprise, so I would have died happy.” Joe dissolved in a fit of giggling that only stopped when he began coughing from the dust he’d inhaled.

 

Emily was caught up in Joe’s high spirits and thanked him for his warm welcome while taking a verbal lunge at her new brother-in-law. “It’s good to finally meet you, Joe. Years ago when I lived here, my friends were all smitten with you, yet I only had eyes for Adam. But after meeting you—even for just a minute—I can maybe understand a littlebetter what they might have seen in you.”

 

Joe parried Emily’s comment. “Well, ma’am, I can understand what they saw in me too.” More laughter erupted into more coughing. Then he thrust with his own verbal epee; “Yup, my oldest brother had some appeal to the young ladies in town, but they always seemed to be the more ‘bookish’ girls. Were you one of them?”

 

Adam brought the verbal fencing match to an end as he answered for Emily. “She was smart Joe, but she’s the one who gave me the shiner that first day I taught school for Barbara Scott. I know Pa never told you what happened, but I remember you were mighty curious about it.”

 

Joe pumped Emily’s hand in welcome again. “Well, Emily, anyone who can pop my brother in the eye is right fine in my book. Welcome to the family.”

 

Emily’s curiosity was growing as she watched Joe’s sons fiddling with the machine he had ridden up on. “What is that contraption?” she asked pointing at the noisy, dust creating thing.

 

“Why, ma’am, that’s Adam’s motorcycle.”

 

“Adam’s motorcycle?” She asked, her question echoing her confusion.

 

“Sure thing. He bought it from a couple of guys in Milwaukee, wherever that is, and had it sent out here to try it out when he visited. It’s supposed to do 60 miles an hour on a flat stretch. I’m not sure it does that, but I know that it goes faster than anything I’ve ever been on in my life.  Sixty miles-an-hour, that’s more than three times as fast as a good horse can go when in full stride. Just imagine…” Joe’s voice trailed off in a reverent tone as he turned toward Adam, whose eyes seemed to hold a similar reverence. Regaining his focus, Joe commanded, “Hey, we better get to the house before June comes out here lookin’ for us.”

 

The earlier ballet was repeated as Ben and Eric climbed back onto the carriage while Joe reclaimed the cycle and brought it roaring back to life. He was soon no more than a cloud of dust as the whining machine tore off into the distance.

 

Emily turned toward Adam as they completed the journey to the house. She was now sure that the motorcycle was what had been excitedly discussed earlier in the trip. “What did Joe mean about that ‘thing’ being yours, Adam?”

 

The look in Emily’s eyes, told Adam everything he needed to know about her feelings toward the cycle. “It was over a year ago that an old buddy was in Chicago for an engineering conference, and wired me that he’d met a guy named Bill Harley and a couple of brothers named Davidson from Milwaukee, who were constructing gasoline powered cycles for public sale, and wondered if I’d be interested in buying one. I sent my order the same day, and had them ship it out here. I thought it would be fun to drive it around the Ponderosa…see what it feels like to fly.” What Adam didn’t say, was that at the time he’d ordered it, he thought it would be a great icebreaker with his family, and might ease his transition back onto the ranch.

 

The conversation was cut short as they pulled up to the house. Emily shook off the ominous feeling that had clutched at her heart when she had first heard the buzzing noise approaching the wagon. “We’ll talk more about this later.” She didn’t mean to sound petulant, but she did.

 

His reply was equally terse. “There’s nothing more to discuss, Em. It’s just a machine, I ordered it months before I met you, and I’m going to have some fun with my brother and nephews. You can even try it if you like.”

 

Emily’s cross “harrumph” was replaced by a sincere smile as she saw Joe’s family heading from the house in welcome.

 

Joe had made it back to the ranch in seconds on the cycle, and was now standing as king of his castle, surrounded by the excited faces of his family. He helped Emily to the ground and waited for Adam to make it down before beginning the introductions. “Emily, I’d like you to meet my wife, June.” The two women were still exchanging a hug when Joe went on. “You’ve already met Ben, and this is his wife, Mary. I’m pretty sure they have four youngsters in that group behind me, but June will take care of telling you about all of the grandchildren. I can remember all of them, just not their names or who they belong to.”

 

Joe’s admission brought nods of agreement from his family and laughter from his guests as he moved to his middle son. “This is Eric, whom you’ve also met. He’s married to Victoria.” The proud father-in-law pointed out a petite young woman standing over by the group of children. “We call her Tory for short, and since she’s a teacher, she went and set up our own little school here, turning that room we used for bathing in the old days into a classroom. Some of the neighbors and our hands send their kids over here too. Things aren’t so good in Virginia City, school wise, so Tory did everything she needed to get our home school recognized by the state. Eric and Tory have three, no…I think it’s four as well, in that group of young ones she’s standing with.

 

Grabbing his youngest son’s shoulders, Joe continued, “This is Joe Jr., the poor young fool who’s getting hitched in two days. His bride-to-be is by her folks until the wedding; Sherry’s her name, but I call her Cherie’ just to make Jr. mad.  And yes, I know my sons all look just like me. And I know you’re also thinking that I’m not original in naming my kids, but that’s June’s fault. If we’d had daughters, I would have named them May, July and August. Since there’d have been June in the middle of that, I figured I would’ve have been surrounded by summer the whole year round. But the poor woman only produced boys, and I figured it best to just stick with names I already knew how to spell.” He turned toward Emily. “Always wished we’d have had one more boy to name after Adam, but believe me, it wasn’t from lack of trying.”

 

Joe waved at his wife after she chastised him for his comment, then winked over his shoulder at his brother before turning toward the group of youngsters standing together outside their Ponderosa schoolroom. Motioning for Adam and Emily to join him as he addressed the group, he began by complimenting them. “Don’t you all seem to be waiting politely for me to finish the introduction of your parents? You do us proud, and I thank you for that. But I’m thinking your motivation in being so good is more about finding out if your uncle and aunt have brought you gifts from the big city than from being true ladies and gentlemen.”

 

Squeals of delight preceded the thundering of the eight children bearing down on Adam after he moved to the back of the wagon and withdrew a large bag. Even though Joe admitted to not having a good handle on all of his grandchildren’s names and parental ties, his older brother knew their names and ages from pictures June always sent at Christmas. Preparing for the trip, he’d gotten the latest in windup metal toys for the young boys, new jackknives with their initials etched on the cases for the older boys, and dolls for the young girls, but had  been stymied over what to get Ben’s two older daughters. He was relieved when Emily volunteered to help and quickly decided on things that every young woman had in San Francisco: small drawstring purses trimmed in the same lace as the dainty shawls they came with. From the happy looks accompanying the quiet admiration of their gifts after the wrapping paper lay strewn about, it seemed clear that both Cartwrights had chosen well.

 

June, the tiny woman who had tamed wild Joe Cartwright, came over to rescue Emily from the push of children and led her to the house, asking as they walked, “Did you grow up in a big family, Emily?”

 

“No, I was an only child.”

 

June laughed, “Then I imagine what just happened out there was a little overwhelming. We’re a big, loud, crazy family. Hope you’re prepared for that.”

 

Taking her hand, Emily offered sincerely, “After Adam told me a little about what to expect, I couldn’t wait to get here. Just because I didn’t have a big family, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have liked one, and so far, yours seems just perfect.”

 

“So far is right! Give us a few days, and you might change your mind.”

 

Adam had told Emily a little about Alice’s death, and the fact that Joe had gone on a mission of self-destruction, living his life on the edge of his pain. Adam knew Joe had pushed the limits of everything, not caring whether he lived or died, and had driven Ben to distraction with his thoughtless escapades. But then, June had found Joe, held on, and never let him look back. Adam had called Joe’s change a metamorphosis, since he had gone through death to emerge a changed man.

 

***

 

Emily received a grand tour of the solid house that Adam and Ben had built. While upstairs, June showed her the bathroom they’d made out of the guest room, using the plan that Adam had drawn up for them, and then explained a little more about how the family had used the house. “Joe and I have always used the bedroom that was his growing up. Of course I tossed out a lot of his old things and added some feminine touches. Our boys used the other two rooms that were Hoss and Adam’s, and Ben used his room until he passed. We’ve not done anything to change it since then, and I’ll find Joe in there sometimes when he has a lot on his mind, sitting in his pa’s chair, looking at the pictures of his mother. He says he finds peace and focus when he’s in there.”

 

June opened the door to the bedroom that Emily and Adam would be using during their visit. “This was Adam’s room when he was young, although I doubt there’s anything in here that was his. We moved a few books and other things out to the barn before our boys took over the room, but I don’t recall there was much.” After checking to make sure no one else had come upstairs, June dropped her voice, “Don’t be surprised if Adam is a little skittish about being in his old bedroom with a woman, even though he’s married to you.” To Emily’s questioning look, she continued as she giggled, “The first month after we were married, Joe would jump out of bed every time he heard Ben walk past our door. It got so bad that the poor man wouldn’t even come to bed until he knew his father was already sleeping. To Ben’s credit, I think he understood some of Joe’s discomfort and started heading for his bedroom pretty early in the evening. We finally got Little Ben started when Joe’s pa took an extended trip to Sacramento, leaving us alone to watch the ranch.”

 

Both women were laughing at June’s confession as they headed back downstairs. June walked to the small room off the dining area that Joe had taken over as his office. “Ben always worked at that desk in the alcove off the entry. He could concentrate through anything, and often did his books with one of our boys sitting on his lap or playing under the desk. But Joe needs more privacy, so he moved into this room instead. It’s close to the family, but he can shut us out when he needs to.”

 

June ended the tour by taking Emily over to large desk that Ben had used.  Thinking of her father-in-law had brought tears that she quickly wiped from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I think Joe said you never really knew Ben. He was an incredible man, Emily, and I still miss him so much.” With her tears under control, June explained that the final change they wanted to make to the house was to move Ben’s desk out, and make an area inside for the children to play when the weather was bad. “We would like Adam to have the desk. Joe feels that his brother would appreciate it more than anyone. Do you think he might want it?”

 

Emily had no idea what ties Adam had to any parts of his family’s home. “I’m sure he’ll be honored by the offer. It is a beautiful piece of furniture, isn’t it?” She rubbed her hand across the worn surface of the desk as she considered the size and scope of the house she had just toured. “Adam told me about this house when we were traveling here. From what I see, you and Joe have done a remarkable job preserving it. It’s fabulous. I can only wonder what people thought as they rode up to it all those years ago when it was first built. They must have been dumbstruck! Adam told me they’d push the furniture back, and open up this entire space for dances and parties. Carriages would fill the yard and Chinese lanterns danced on strings to light the outside. Just imagine what that would have been like…the four handsome men of the house, bowing to their female guests as they asked them to dance…then whirling around the floor until the women’s faces would flush with excitement…”

 

Both women were lost in their imaginations as the men entered, startling them out of their reverie.

 

“So whaddaya think of the place, Emily?” Joe inquired.

 

“It’s amazing, Joe. I love the changes in the kitchen. June’s a lucky woman to have a new work area like that, and yet, it looks like it was always there. You did a wonderful job!”

 

Adam broke in, “Everything looks good Joe. You and the boys have done a great job keeping it updated and in good repair.” Moving to his wife’s side, he continued, “you should see the homes that Eric and Ben built on either side of this one, Emily.” He chuckled with his next thought. “Of course the plans were drawn up by a world famous engineer, but they did a wonderful job with the construction.”

 

A loving smile washed over Emily’s face as she commented, “World famous engineer, hmm. What’s his name? Maybe I can hire him to do the plans for our house.”

 

***

 

As Emily and Adam prepared for bed after their first night on the Ponderosa, he remarked how thankful he was that life had truly blossomed for Joe and the ranch. “When I left here for good, after…what happened, I wouldn’t have bet that the ranch would still be functioning in 20 years. I’m glad I was wrong. I see now how great sorrow can actually turn into greater joy.” He pulled Emily close as he finished. “I know that happened for Joe, and I’m beginning to see that it’s possible for me too.”

 

Overdue Apologies

 

Work on a ranch didn’t stand still just because a wedding was imminent, and the Ponderosa was no exception. Joe and Adam sipped from mugs of coffee laced with brandy while leaning on the corral fence in the cool morning air watching the younger Cartwrights brand spring foals. Not much had changed from the days when the two older men had done the same kinds of jobs. Cattle were now shipped to market by rail, which made life more pleasant for the younger generation who spent fewer back-busting miles driving beef to market. But raising livestock still relied on long watchful nights in the saddle, and longer days making sure their investment was cared for and protected.

The morning quiet was broken by shrill whistles from the riders, and snorts of displeasure from their mounts as they breathed in the sharp, chilly air while moving the colts toward the pen. The frightened foals added to the serenade with a chorus of panicked cries for their mothers. A flood of old memories drifted toward Adam on the tendrils of the hot wood fire, along with the tang of burning hide as the branding iron made its mark. His hands pulled at phantom reins as he remembered guiding Sport to herd the uncooperative animals, decades ago.

 

The morning was still painting a scene from the past in Adam’s mind, when Joe broke into his thoughts.

 

“Pa did some job building this place, didn’t he?”

 

“He surely did.”

 

A brief silence hovered just as morning fog hung over the low ground. “But I can’t run the ranch like Pa did,” Joe stated hesitantly. “Maybe it was that Pa sweat his own blood to make this legacy…and found it hard to give up any control over it…or us.” Another pause brought no comment from his brother, so Joe continued, “Mind you, I’m not criticizing Pa, but I’ve given my boys more freedom to make their own decisions. They’ve always been a big help on the ranch, but June and I let them know early on that they had to make their own lives, even if that didn’t include the Ponderosa.”

 

Adam looked directly at his brother. “I know you’re not being unkind toward Pa. You learned well from him, and have adapted things to work to your own family’s needs. I imagine you’re just as vigilant as Pa ever was—just in your own way.”

 

“You’re right about that. I’m not as different from Pa as I try to sound, but I am glad I pushed the boys out of the nest early. It’s been good for them.”

 

“They’re good kids, and you should be proud of them. It’s interesting that even though you gave them the go ahead to pursue whatever they wanted, they’ve all stayed on.”

 

“Ain’t that something! I still have to pinch myself when I think about it. And each boy has something here that drives them.”

 

Adam nodded. “Seems like Ben really knows the timber business. All I’ve heard him talk about is board feet and construction. Who would have thought that Ponderosa lumber would be rebuilding large parts of San Francisco? But Ben got his bids in early and is making you a rich man in your old age.”

Joe’s chest puffed just a breath as he enjoyed the truth of Adam’s words. “That’s Ben all right. And Eric, the college boy—like you—came home from school with what he called strategies to keep our name in front of every beef consumer on the West Coast and it seems to be working pretty well. By the way, thanks for taking him under your wing when he was by you some years back and just starting out. I know you introduced him to most of the people who now sell only our meat. You taught him a lot, and he really admires you.”

 

“He’s a bright young man, and I only opened the doors, Joe. He stuck his foot in to get the contracts, and it’s everyone’s efforts here on the ranch that keeps those people as satisfied customers. You raise good beef; there’s no doubt about that.”

 

Joe Jr. went riding by, prompting Adam to ask about the youngest son’s aptitudes. “What’s Joe Jr. doing with the ranch? Seems I remember he always liked the animals best: like Hoss.”

 

“You said a mouthful there. Sometimes Joe Jr. is so much like Hoss, I think our middle brother is whisperin’ in his ear. It gives me shivers. I’ve got him learning the business end of the ranch, and handling the hands and drovers. He hires and fires them, keeps track of their wages and makes sure they do their jobs. He’s good at it too. One thing about Joe Jr. that really reminds me of all us brothers is his willingness to take in strays: both animals and people. He seems to have better luck rehabilitatin’ them than we did with the hard cases we picked up over the years. Remember that one drifter: the one you tried to help after he pulled you from the river? Didn’t he almost end up killing you—a couple of times?”

 

Adam grinned wryly. “Yes he did. But he was nothing compared to that giant guy Hoss brought home that time. Didn’t they call him the ‘Ape’? Seems to me he nearly did our brother in too, and that wasn’t an easy thing to do. And I won’t even go into some of the people you tried to help.”

 

“Thank you for that. You know, my kids were dickens at times, but never even came close to causin’ the problems for me, that I did for you and Pa.” He laughed, “Must have been June’s influence on them. She’s a good woman.” Joe’s voice softened. “She was good with Pa too.”

 

“June is a wonderful woman, and Pa always spoke highly of her in his letters. You two have made a very good life.”

 

The two stared at the horizon as neither seemed to have more to say. It was Adam who finally broke their silence.

 

“I’m sorry, Joe.” The apology seemed to breathe as it left Adam’s mouth, almost as though the words had escaped from a sealed cask, stored somewhere in his soul for far too long.

 

“Sorry? For what?” Joe turned, but found Adam staring toward an unknown object in the distance.

 

“For many things, but mostly for not being here when you and Pa needed me. I’m sorry you never got the chance to…what I mean is…that you had to stay here after…what happened to Hoss.”

 

“Is that what you think? That I was ‘forced’ to stay on the ranch because you didn’t come home to rescue me after Hoss died?”

 

“It’s more that because I didn’t come home, you didn’t have the chance to leave: not that you were forced to stay.” Adam had rehearsed this in his mind a hundred times over the years, yet found he still had difficulty putting his worries about his youngest brother into words. “Your loyalty to Pa…well, you wouldn’t have left him here, and I’d already had my chance in the world by then… I knew that Hoss would never leave here, but always suspected you would want to try your hand at other things for a while…and you didn’t get the chance you might have if I’d have come home…

 

Joe took Adam’s shoulders and turned him to see his face. “Stop it, Adam.” The words were stern, but not unkind. “There’s no need for this, although there was a time back when it all happened that I wanted an apology and a whole lot more from you. Gotta say, I expected that you’d show up and was pretty darn upset when you didn’t. But Pa always said that you had your life to lead and the last thing he wanted was for you to come back only because you felt obligated to. At the same time, he told me that he didn’t want me to stay if I felt I had to just because I was the last son here. He meant it too. I considered his words: even thought I’d head out, but then a strange thing happened. Once Pa told me I could leave, I wanted nothing else but to stay.”

 

Adam watched his brother’s face for telltale signs of insincerity, but found none.

 

“It took some time for me to understand this, brother, but if you had come home, I would never have been able to do what I’ve done. On my own, I felt the freedom to do things as I saw best. It’s what I always fought for as a kid, and it felt good to see my ideas make this ranch even better than you and Pa did. So I guess you could say I’m glad you didn’t come back.” Joe laughed, pulling Adam closer while raising his index finger close to his brother’s nose in emphasis. “But you sure could’ve visited more often.”

 

Adam snorted in laughter at Joe’s final comment, but otherwise remained silent as he felt the weight from years of guilt lift from his shoulders.

 

Joe continued, “Pa was content at the end of his life. I figure you probably feel bad for not making it back before he died, but he understood that too. We both knew how hard it would be to come back after what happened to your family. Pa and me had faced some mighty hard times too, but had always found our peace in this land. It was different for you, and Pa often said that he was relieved that you had found the will to go on and do so well. He was proud that you took care of Abel at the last, and it was enough for Pa that you took a part of him with you as you did all those other amazin’ things. He had you out there in the world and me here, and was happy. When he passed, it seemed less that he died, and more that he just stopped living one day: like a clock that had wound down too far to be restarted. He was just ready to go.”

 

Adam shook his head as he smiled at his brother. “When did you get so smart?”

 

“Seems to me I was always smart. It’s just that when you were around, nobody paid much attention to me. Gotta admit though, I’ve surprised even myself with the way this has all turned out.”

 

“Pa must have been so proud of you.”

 

“He was, Adam. The last year by his side, learning every trick he knew to make things work; those were the best times of my life.” Joe’s voice broke and he busied himself sipping at his coffee.

 

Adam nodded in understanding.

 

After a few moments of reflection, Joe moved the conversation away from the past. “I really like Emily. You two seem well suited.”

 

“Seems so, doesn’t it?”

 

“So she really gave you that black eye?”

 

Adam chuckled. “Yes she did. And what’s worse is that she did it again when I met her a month ago. I bent over her to help her stand up, and wham; she raised her head and smacked me again. I guess I learn hard. Maybe that’s true in a lot of things.”

 

Their laughter ebbed as the oldest and youngest Cartwright brothers stood watching the boys: remembering. Adam finally spoke. “I think I’ll go see what Emily is up to.”

 

“And I should probably go help the boys finish up so we don’t keep June waiting with lunch later.” As Adam turned to walk away, Joe flashed a smile. “Be on time for lunch. We’re back on June’s ‘schedule’ today. If you think Hop Sing was a tyrant in the kitchen, he was a saint compared to June when you make her wait.”

 

Marriages: Past and Present

 

They had been at the ranch a few days and now the wedding was just hours away. June and Emily had become easy acquaintances, and they chatted while finishing garlands of pine boughs and wildflowers to adorn the stair rails and mantel.

 

“So how do you like ranch life, Emily?”

 

“Oh, I think I’ll always be a city girl. But if I had to move to the country, this would be the place I’d want to be.”

 

“It does get under your skin, doesn’t it?” June stopped to give directions to Mary and Tory, sending the two daughters-in-law scurrying to help organize efforts in the kitchen. Turning back to her decorating efforts, she commented, “I’ve noticed that Adam seems to be having a good time with the boys.” She paused, reflecting, “You want to know something strange? I don’t think I ever heard him laugh before this visit.”

 

“I do think he’s enjoying himself, thanks to your family, and while Adam is a serious man, I’m surprised by what you just said.” Emily’s face brightened with a mild blush. “He does have a wonderful laugh though, don’t you think? It gives his face an inner glow. And that chuckle of his…well it gives me notions.”

 

“I’m the same way about Joe. There’ve been times that I’m so mad at him I could spit, and then he starts laughing, and I can’t help but soften.” After another pause, June ventured further into the subject she had on her mind. “I’m so glad to finally hear Adam laughing and carrying on. It’s taken a lot of years for him to get there, but he seems to have made it. Yet, there are still times when I see him tense, like a jaw trap ready to spring.”

 

The truth was that Emily had noticed the behavior June spoke of. She had seen Adam turn expectantly as he had heard someone on the stairs, or whip his head around whenever the door had opened. Just that morning, she had awakened to see Adam staring out his bedroom window with the orange light from the rising sun highlighting his face. She’d seen his initial smile turn to melancholy as she’d watched, and wondered if he was seeing shadows of people long gone, but longer remembered. She finally answered June’s question, “Maybe it’s just because it’s been a long time since he’s been here. From what he told me, he hasn’t been back since he was here with Melinda…” Emily realized her comfort with June had allowed her to stray into a conversation she probably had no right to have. “I’m sorry, June. I’m not trying to pry about that.”

 

“Did he tell you about it?”

 

“Only that it happened. Did you know Adam before that? Somehow I thought you were from around here and knew the brothers when they were young.”

 

“I grew up in Placerville, so I never had any contact with the Cartwrights before Joe rode into my town and stole my heart away.” She laughed but then turned serious again. “The first time I met Adam was after I married Joe, when he came here with his family. I remember being so scared to meet him after hearing about all his travels and how smart he was. But he was so nice I couldn’t help but feel real easy with him. Same with Melinda; we got on well. She was a tender woman, and little Abel was much like his father—so serious and intelligent, but playful and tricky in own his sweet way. Unfortunately we didn’t have much time together before the tragedy.”

 

Emily felt uncomfortable posing the next question, but not enough so that she didn’t ask anyway. “What was Adam like after the deaths?”

 

June sighed, “I can’t even describe it. But it wasn’t just Adam; it was all three of them: Ben, Joe and Adam. It was like their hearts had been yanked out and stomped on. What hurt one of them hurt all of them. I stayed on for the funerals, but was expecting Eric at the time and had Little Ben under my wing already, so I had Joe take me home to my folks after that. I had to get out from under the grief that darkened this place until it felt I was suffocating. When I got back, Adam was already gone and the other two looked liked they’d been dragged behind a horse through a field of creosote brush.”

 

What June didn’t tell Emily was that when she had looked into Adam’s eyes following the funeral of his family, she had seen…nothing. It was as though his soul had left him, and she had truly thought at the time, that he would die from his grief. She knew Joe kept going after Alice’s death by his need to find out what really happened, and who was responsible. But Adam had known exactly what had happened to Melinda and Abel, and declared himself guilty in their deaths.

 

Eric had come along soon after her return, washing the Ponderosa with new life. June knew that the ranch and his family had given Joe something to strive for after the tragedies he’d faced, and had no doubt that his grandchildren had given Ben an optimism and peace that had seen him through his later years. But she had always wondered what had kept her brother-in-law going after he’d returned home alone.

 

“June…June?”

 

June was roused from her thoughts. “I’m sorry, Emily. Did you say something? I was just thinking back to those days.”

 

“I said that I think I understand why it’s taken Adam so long to come home again. I know I have problems going to places where my memories are clouded with pain, and unfortunately, this is that place for him. I’m just so happy that he decided to come back now, so that we can share in this happy time.”

 

A smile crossed June’s face as Emily spoke of Adam’s “decision” to come, since she felt she had a good deal to do with him making that choice. When their youngest son decided to marry, June had a sense that it was time to bring Adam home, and had written him with her personal request to return for the wedding. She’d cited Joe’s private wish that Adam would come home someday so they would have the chance to enjoy some time together again. She had written that she knew it wouldn’t be easy to face the darkness that had sent him away, but that perhaps he would find peace and joy to replace the sorrow after all these years. When she had heard him laugh two days ago, she knew she’d been right.

 

June suddenly embraced Emily. “I’m tickled pink that Adam came home, and even happier that he brought you. I don’t know how much you know about the Cartwright family, but they’ve had enough grief and loss, and it’s high time to put all that behind the name, and just enjoy what we have now!”

 

***

 

Thinking over the day while she waited for Adam to come to bed, Emily was amazed at the how beautiful the wedding had been. She felt June had a real talent for organizing, and motivating people to help. Each portion of the celebration had gone off without a hitch, and June had seemed to be everywhere at once: tending to every arrangement without a hair out of place. Emily secretly wished her new sister-in-law lived closer so she could take advantage of her talents.

 

Adam slipped under the covers with a sigh of exhaustion. He and Emily had helped to clean up after the last guests had finally been encouraged to depart, and he was bone tired. He pulled Emily close and whispered, “Joe Jr. and Sherry made a lovely couple, didn’t they?”

 

“The groom was handsome and the bride was beautiful, but what’s even better is that they seem so much in love. Joe and June sure put on a wonderful wedding.”

 

“Are you sorry now that we didn’t wait to plan a big wedding, my dear?”

 

Emily tucked herself under Adam’s arm. “I would rather be married to you during a ten-minute ceremony in a judge’s chamber, than to anyone else in a cathedral.”

 

“Good answer, my love,” he replied in a yawn.

 

She drew her finger through the thick black curls on her husband’s chest, hoping he’d recall their wedding night activities. “Sweetheart, didn’t all that love in the air at the wedding leave you with any ideas of how could we end this day?” Emily chuckled as she heard Adam’s response: a low strangled snore that cut through the darkness. Laying her head on his shoulder, she whispered, “Goodnight, my prince.”

 

“Doing nothing is happiness for children and misery for old men.” (Victor Hugo)

 

With the wedding over, Adam and Emily now had another week without set plans before returning to California.

 

Emily awoke as Adam kissed her cheek to say he was leaving for the day, and would see her toward evening. She wasn’t aware that the men of the family had made plans for the day, but the “girls” of the Ponderosa were going into Virginia City for lunch at the International House. In an effort to be more continental, the hotel had begun serving a tea in the afternoon, complete with cucumber sandwiches and fruit tarts. June thought it would be fun for the ladies to partake of the event while they had the chance, and Emily was excited for the opportunity to be included in this rite of sisterhood with her new family.

 

Noting that Adam had on a pair of Levi’s—something she had never seen him wear—and a black chambray shirt, she felt the cold chill she’d experienced days before on the way to the ranch, return with force. “May I ask where you’re off to?” She tried to ask this in a cheerful tone, but the edge in her voice belied her chipperness.

 

“While you women-folk are off to town, the men of the ranch are heading out to the south pasture for a little fishing, hunting…and things.” Adam flashed his winning smile, meant to forestall further questions. It didn’t work.

 

“What ‘things’ are you talking about, Adam?” There was no more humor.

 

“We’re trying the cycle on the flats out there. Seems like the boys have even built a few dirt mounds to drive over.” He kept his voice calm even though his eyes narrowed, almost daring Emily to say more. He should have known better.

 

“And will you be trying this cycle out today as well?”

 

Adam tried to sound soothing. “Of course I will, Em. It’s why I had it sent here. I’ll be careful, but I‘m anticipating this very much.”

 

Emily was up and out of bed, pacing the room. “Adam, you can’t just toss your life on the seat of that…thing, fly forward with obscene velocity, and expect me to think it’s alright! What if something goes wrong? What if you fall, or crash?”

 

He’d made his way to her and held her shoulders. “Then I suppose I’ll get back up and try it again. It won’t be the first time I’ve fallen off something, and it probably won’t be the last either.”

 

“And what if I ask you not to do this? What if I say I don’t want you riding that thing today or ever? What if…”

 

Adam laid his fingers gently across Emily’s lips. “You cannot ask me to stop living, Emily. One of the best things about this trip is that everyone here just expects me to participate. No one worries that I’m too old, or asks if I think I should risk injury by joining them.”

 

She moved his hand as she voiced her next thought with dead calm. “But I think I can ask you not to risk your life.”

 

His eyes narrowed further as his face and voice tightened. “Actually, no, you can’t. I love you, but won’t allow you to make me live only as you permit me to.”

 

Emily pulled away from his hold, staring him down. “Then perhaps instead of going with June and the girls today, I might go to Lake Tahoe and take a boat out for a ride. That way we would both take risks with our lives today.” She knew she had gone too far and actually heard herself gasp as the final words left her mouth. She tried to say more; retract her outburst—but Adam was gone.

 

He was already outside by the time Emily dressed and made it downstairs. She felt the eyes of the family watching her with interest. The argument with her husband had not been loud, but she figured Adam’s demeanor probably had spoken volumes as to his state of mind, just as her red-rimmed eyes gave witness to her unhappiness. She ate little, and then helped with the dishes as Joe and June finished packing a lunch for the men’s outing. Knowing she had to make this right before he left for the day, she hurriedly dried her hands to get outside and find her husband.

 

***

 

Adam leaned on the corral fence watching as Ben and Eric lifted the cycle onto the back of the wagon and secured it. He heard someone exit the house and knew that it was Emily approaching just by the sound of her footfall: uneven, favoring her left side. It had always been a skill of his to be able to “hear” some things better than most people saw them. He smiled sadly, realizing that while he could tell that Emily was coming, he had no idea what she would have to say. He wondered if she was coming to declare a ceasefire, or to continue the war of words they’d begun earlier.

 

In the moments it took for Emily to cross the yard, Adam’s mind moved to recall the other footsteps he had known intimately through the years. Each of his family members had distinctive walks that were affected by their moods or purpose. Hoss had been light on his feet for a big man, but his step had deepened and solidified when he had become angry: sounding like a bull in full steam if he’d been truly upset. Ben’s stride was so purposeful that he always commanded respect just from the way he carried himself. Very few men had ever doubted or confronted Ben Cartwright after they got to know him. Those that had tried usually limped away from the encounter licking their wounds.

 

A quick memory turned Adam’s lips to a wide smile as he thought back to the time his youngest brother’s walk had changed following the arrival of new boots the 18 year-old had ordered from the Napoleon Shoe Company. As Joe had stood next to Adam wearing the boots, the older brother had instantly known that the change in Joe’s step had been due to at least two inches of lift that must have been built into the heals. Adam had often wondered if his father and Hoss had noticed, but had also figured that the change in Joe’s height was so obvious, they couldn’t have missed it. He’d come to respect that it was just one of those things families didn’t comment on to protect the dignity of someone they all loved.

 

Adam heard Emily’s step hesitate and slow as she neared, giving evidence that she had not come to continue the hostilities. She touched his elbow, signaling her arrival.

 

“I’m sorry, Adam. I was cruel. Now you know that I fight dirty sometimes.”

 

Adam continued looking forward. Emily’s words in their room had stunned him, and he wanted to hear her reasoning before he let his reserve grow to anger.

 

Her voice was soft as she struggled to explain. “Life is often…unfair for a woman, and I’ve learned that meekness in those situations accomplishes nothing.”

 

Turning so he could see her face, he asked pointedly, “Have Itreated you unfairly?”

 

“Not exactly.”

 

Adam’s tone leaned dangerously toward anger. “Then what, exactly?”

 

“Please don’t be angry, Adam. You weren’t being unfair, but you weren’t listening to me, either.”

 

His voice calmed while still holding an edge. “But I did listen, Emily. You just didn’t like what I had to say about it. That’s different.”

 

She tried again. “That’s true. But what’s also true is that you didn’t actually acknowledge my concerns. In my law practice, I’ve found that when someone isn’t really listening to what I’m saying, it’s best to take control of the situation. Most times it takes a pretty brutal statement to make someone stop and pay attention. I admit that I’ve become an expert at that technique, but there was no reason for me to use what I did. That was hitting low and hard. I’m ashamed.”

 

“Emily, why would you feel you had to control this…or me? It’s a day with my family. I’m not doing this out of spite, or to hurt you. You must realize that.”

 

“I do.” She recalled the fear that had seized her heart whenever the cycle was discussed, and the absolute dread that had washed her when Adam had told her of his plans for the day. “It’s just that I’ve had an ominous feeling about that cycle ever since I first heard it. It isn’t necessarily rational, but it is real. For a moment upstairs, I felt you would leave today and never return and was overwhelmed with the need to stop you any way I could.”

 

Adam drew his wife to him as he began to understand that she struggled with trust just as he did, and had come to her own conclusions about how to deal with it. Yet, he didn’t want to have a war declared each time she was uncomfortable with his decisions. “Emily, at the time I met you, I was long dedicated to the decision to trust only in myself. But you challenged my fears, making me believe that my life would better for trusting you.”

 

Emily remained quiet. She wasn’t sure what Adam’s next words would be, but hoped he would be able to forgive her. She had “reasons” for saying what she did, but they weren’t good enough to explain her intolerable outburst.

 

“I’ve had moments of terror since being here too. At first my heart raced each time I didn’t know where you were. I still remember what it’s like to be powerless over a situation. But I needed to step past that, and believe that I’m getting there.”

 

Emily moved closer to Adam and wrapped her arms around him. She felt ill with the thought of how she had betrayed him and the words she had used. In their short time together, she had examined Adam’s heart for signs of his trust, but realized that she had never examined her own, assuming it was so filled with love that none of her old pain and doubt could gain entry. Yet her fear still gnawed. “I understand what you’re saying, but you ‘trusted’ Melinda, and I ‘trusted’ Marshall, and yet… How do I get over the fear that no matter how much faith I have in another person, it might not be enough to keep bad things from happening?”

 

Adam closed his eyes and sighed. It was a question he had also struggled with and considered how best to explain his conclusions. “I guess that I now realize there are two kinds of trust. One is in the goodness of man. I know that you love me, and want what’s best for both of us, and I need you to believe that I love you just as much, and will never hurt you in the ways you’ve been hurt before. As concerns the past, I’ve come to understand that Melinda just wanted to do something special for our son that day. But unforeseen things do happen—things we can’t predict or control—and when they do, we have to acknowledge a greater trust: an encompassing faith in a Creator, a Sustainer who has a bigger plan and sees how all this comes together even when we can’t.”

 

He paused as flashes of insight prodded at his thoughts. He couldn’t share the conversation he’d had with Joe just yet, but wanted to put what he’d learned from it into words. All those years he’d been plagued by guilt that in not returning to his home, he had kept his brother from becoming the man he might have been. Now he realized that his absence had allowed Joe to grow into the man he was meant to be. Life sure took some interesting turns. “I continue to learn that no matter what has gone wrong in the past, the universe will unfold as it should. That’s all we can trust when times are hardest.”

 

Emily wrapped herself even closer around him, feeling his words as much as hearing them; the rhythm of his heart beat in such cadence with hers that it was hard to distinguish between them.

 

Adam continued, “There’s another thing we need to come to an understanding on. I did listen to your concerns, and took them into consideration. But I can’t stop enjoying my life to protect myself from danger or pain. The greatest lesson I’ve learned is that we have to face each day with eagerness for new experiences, no matter how they turn out.”

 

It was Emily’s cue to speak. “You have every right to do whatever you want to, and have given me much to think about while you’re gone. You are a remarkable man, Adam Cartwright, and I’m a lucky woman to have you.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and then motioned him toward his family waiting in the wagon. “Hurry up now and get going.”

 

Adam looked back as they left the yard. Emily waved, and stood watch until he was out of sight, only then wrapping her arms around herself to stifle the icy cold that again clutched at her heart.

 

A Death Knell Peals: A Life Is Lost

 

Emily enjoyed both shopping and tea with her new family and was so caught up in the fun that she managed to forget what her husband was doing. Sara, June’s 13-year-old granddaughter had been a very attentive listener as Emily had told a little more about her life. The young woman seemed fascinated that Emily was a lawyer, and questioned her about it as they left the hotel.

 

“Aunt Emily, are you the kind of lawyer who defends murderers and such?”

 

Moving Sara aside from the group, Emily explained. “There are all kinds of law practice, Sara. Many are opening a bit for women, but criminal law—that’s where you defend those accused of crimes like murder—is not welcoming to female lawyers just yet. It’ll come in time, but a male attorney is always the first choice in that situation.”

 

“So what do you do then? I heard Uncle Adam say that you talked so fast because you defend people in court. Why do you do that if they aren’t criminals?”

 

“My specialty is property and estate law. I joined my father’s firm after finishing law school, and that gave me a leg up in getting started in my profession. He always told me that the law we practiced was just as interesting as criminal law because you always find the biggest crooks where the money is. And when it comes to property, figuring out who really owns it, has title to it, or inherits it, can cause some big ruckuses, and that’s when we end up in court. I’ve had to argue against some mighty high-handed men who thought making a case against a woman lawyer was so easy they didn’t even bother to prepare.”

 

Another granddaughter was now paying attention. Melanie asked, “So what happens when they don’t come prepared?”

 

“They find out that going up against me is not a cake-walk. I am always prepared, and can talk faster than any man alive, as your uncle seems to have figured out too. Sometimes the opposing attorneys are just so flabbergasted when I finish that they can’t decide what to say. The other more pompous ones try to argue with bombastic accusations or platitudes that do nothing for them in the end. I usually win my cases because I only take the ones with merit, and then put everything I have into making them indisputable.”

 

Melanie was just voicing her thoughts about becoming a lawyer too, when she was interrupted by her younger brother, Sage, running toward the women, waving his arms and crying.

 

His mother Mary, Ben’s wife, caught him as he arrived, demanding to know why he was in town and what he was so distraught about.

 

The young child sobbed as he tried to explain. “I was at Doc Feinstein’s, but I saw you all out here by the hotel.”

 

Mary held him, soothing him to get more information. “Why were you at Doc Feinstein’s? Where’s your father and the rest of the family?”

 

“Papa’s at the doc’s with Uncle Eric and Grandpa. The other kids are there too.”

 

Emily had taken in this brief snippet of information, and noticed with concern that one name had been missing in his recital. Kneeling next to Sage, she pressed him for details. “And what about your Uncle Adam, sweetheart? Is he with you too?”

 

Sage looked first at Emily and then clung to his mother as he whimpered, “Uncle Adam is…oh, Mama, Uncle Adam was driving really fast and my pet snake, Harvey, went across the road in front of him. He tried to swerve but ended up tipping over and crashed, and now he’s…he’s…” A great sigh took every ounce of his breath, as Sage shuddered.

 

Emily almost shrieked, but managed to keep her voice calm. “And now he’s what, Sage?”

 

“He’s dead!” The child burst out before burying his head in the folds of his mother’s dress.

 

Emily didn’t need to hear more. She was already running toward the door she’d seen the child exit minutes earlier, murmuring as she ran, “I knew it would end this way… I just knew it.” Emily arrived at the door of the doctor’s office, but as she reached to turn the handle, her head began to swim with darkness and bursts of light. She realized what was happening, thinking ironically that it might have been better for her to breathe instead of rant as she ran—just before she fell in a dead faint—breathing out the only word that mattered to her, “Adam.”

 

***

 

The world began to take form again in fuzzy images. One of the images wore a white bandage on his head and a black sling on his arm and looked amazingly like Emily’s departed husband. She wondered briefly if she had perhaps had a heart attack instead of merely fainting as she had thought she was about to do. Maybe she had joined Adam in death—and she found great satisfaction in that. But then other forms took shape behind Adam that she recognized as Joe and his boys.

 

A voice she hadn’t heard before, cautioned the group, “Back up and give the poor woman some air. She’s coming around now and you don’t want to give her reason to pass out again, do you?”

 

The apparition that looked like Adam leaned close and spoke softly. “Are you all right, Em? You scared me half to death. Are you ill?”

 

“Adam? It’s really you!” Emily sat up and grabbed her husband. “He said you were dead!”

 

“Who said I was dead?”

 

“Sage. He came running for Mary and said you had swerved to avoid a pet and crashed. He said you were dead.”

 

“Well, you can see I’m very much alive. I did swerve, the bike fell and I banged up my shoulder and head.”

 

Emily was confused. “But then…who died?

 

Joe intercepted the conversation. “It wasn’t a ‘who,’ Emily, it was a what. Harvey was grass snake. Sage found it in the field while we were taking turns on the cycle, and promptly adopted him and named him Harvey. The dang thing took off across the road just as Adam came barreling along at top speed. I’m sure Adam heard Sage scream about the snake and tried to avoid it, but alas, Harvey is now in his eternal rest, while thankfully Adam is only a little worse for wear.”

 

The Cartwright men filled Emily in on the high points of the day while waiting for the women to make their way to the office. Since Adam wasn’t seriously injured, they were able to laugh about his acrobatics as he tried to keep the cycle upright. Within minutes of joining the men, June had the group organized and headed to wagons to start for home.

 

Riding in the back of a buckboard with Adam, Emily noticed him wincing as the wheels hits ruts in the hard ground. “You deserve every bit of pain you’re in,” she teased. “But don’t worry; I’ll make you feel better once we’re home.”

 

“Oh yeah? How do plan to do that?”

 

Emily leaned to whisper in Adam’s ear, leaving him blushing from neck to forehead.

 

They rode in silence for a time as the blush faded, and Emily finally asked how it had felt like to ride that “thing.”

 

Adam became very animated. “It’s pure wonder, Em. You feel like you’ve sprouted wings and can fly.” His mind was flying just as he had earlier. “It was like looking down at the universe and fulfilling every childhood dream all at once. It was…amazing.”

 

Memories Are Precious Things Adam.

They’re Always There When You Need Them Most

 

The last few days at the ranch were spent simply: picnics, trips to areas of the ranch Adam wanted to see again, a few more “uneventful” rides on the Harley, and Emily learning to fish under the young Cartwrights’ tutelage. They declared her to be a real sport when she actually baited her own hooks with the worms they had dug from behind the barn.

 

One sunny afternoon, Adam asked Emily to take a carriage ride with him. She expected a group to tag along as was the norm, but this time no one volunteered—making her a bit suspicious that Adam had prearranged their absence. The suspicion turned to interest as the ride continued to a small fenced area overlooking the lake, and she realized that Adam had brought her to the family cemetery.

 

He escorted her through the stones that marked the lives of the people he had loved. The largest of the markers was for his father, and next to Ben’s was one that was older, with the name Marie Cartwright. Adam told Emily the story of his father returning from New Orleans with the beautiful, young Marie, the arrival of Joe into their family, and of her untimely death when Joe was five. As they moved through the long grass, they found another stone etched with the name, Eric “Hoss” Cartwright, and two matching stones remembering Melinda and Abel.

 

Adam reminisced briefly about Hoss, noting that he died while saving a family from the river. He sighed as he said he couldn’t believe his father and Hoss were gone. “They still seem so much a part of everything connected with the ranch, that for the first few days I was here, I expected to see them come down the stairs or walk through the front door.”

 

Emily knew then that she’d been correct in her assessment. Her husband had been chasing shadows, but in the last few days, he had truly relaxed. Being with Joe and his nephews seemed to have brought back the past while grounding him in the present.

 

Her musings were cut short as Adam took her shoulders, turning her to face him. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before beginning. “I honestly didn’t know what I expected to find on this trip. I knew I’d get on fine with Joe and the boys, but truly thought it would be a tense and fruitless time: that I would leave, feeling no more connection to this place than before I arrived. But it’s been just the opposite, Emily. I was reluctant to come, but the time has gone so fast that now I’m reluctant to leave.”

 

Emily nodded as she smiled. “You do seem to be enjoying your time here.”

 

“It feels like I’m home, Emily, and I’d like to buried here. I know it’s a lot to ask, but will bring me to be with my family after I die?

 

The tears were unintended, but unstoppable. “Of course I’ll bring you home. Just promise me it won’t be any time soon!”

 

Adam drew his wife to his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt. “I promise to live as long as I can.”

 

Emily raised her head to give him a wilting look. “That’s not quite the reassurance I was looking for.”

 

Adam grabbed a blanket from the carriage and helped Emily to sit atop the warm, thick grass amid the markers. Surrounded by his family, he told her more about his life with Melinda and their son, then turned to thoughts about growing up with Joe and Hoss: their fierce disagreements as well as their ferocious defense of one another. Taking Emily’s finger, he moved it across the scar on his upper lip to tell the story of how the area had been split when Hoss had mistakenly swung a wooden sword at his face during a childhood reenactment of David and Goliath. “After my father passed out trying close the gaping cut, Marie took over and put in a row of tiny stitches so I’d have the smallest scar possible. Hoss always felt awful for doing that, and I had to be careful shaving because of it. But it made me think of him every day.” He grinned. “It’s the only part of shaving I miss.”

 

The stories continued as Emily sat in rapt attention. She came to know of Adam’s respect and admiration for his father. He spoke of the journey to this land and their family’s fight to get it, keep it and make it prosper. Dusk was falling as they finally folded the blanket and boarded the carriage for the ride home. Emily moved in close to her husband as his arm encircled her shoulders, pulling her even closer. They were both quiet as they rode, their silence broken only as they neared the house when Emily reached to kiss his cheek and whispered, “Thank you.”

 

***

 

Adam at first rejected Joe’s suggestion to move his father’s desk to San Francisco, but was finally convinced that it would be the best solution to their dilemma over where to store it. By evening, Adam and the boys had it taken apart, crated along with the green leather chair, and moved it to the shipping office in Virginia City.

 

By the time Adam and Emily were ready to leave, the alcove had been transformed into the play area for the grandchildren that June had envisioned. The shelves that had held Ben’s serious looking book collection were now filled with stories the children could enjoy, and they’d purchased soft, pillow laden chairs to encourage the youngsters to linger and read. This was an attempt, as June had explained, “To give the adults the chance to enjoy time together without constant interruption from children who have nothing to do.” Joe had even constructed a small game table with a checkerboard expertly painted onto the surface. Adam had feared that the absence of the desk would leave a hole in the heart of the house, but after seeing the youngsters playing in the area, he was sure Joe had made the right decision.

 

The day before Adam and Emily’s departure, Joe and his entire family left them to attend a housewarming at a neighbors’ home. Since the party was for a family that Adam didn’t know, he felt reasonable in turning down the invitation Joe extended. In truth, both he and Emily were looking forward to a little time alone at the ranch.

 

Emily had finished packing and had straightened their room as well as the kitchen, when she realized she hadn’t seen her husband since he’d headed outside much earlier. The house seemed oddly quiet with the rest of the family away, and when her “wondering” about Adam’s whereabouts turned to “unease” at his not returning, she went out to look for him. On entering the barn, his humming could be heard drifting down from the hayloft. Emily looked at the steep steps, then at her slim-bottomed dress, and decided she’d go for broke. She appreciated the new women’s clothing that had abandoned the billowing petticoats for a much sleeker style, but the dress she had on was not meant for climbing. Taking a deep breath, she held the skirt up above her knees with one hand while leaning on the wall of the barn with the other.

 

Emily had overheard the boys tell Adam that they had torn down the old ladder to the loft some years back when Ben had trouble with it, and had replaced it with the steep, but more gradually rising steps. It wasn’t an easy climb, but she was most grateful it wasn’t still a ladder. Reaching the top, she saw Adam bent over an old trunk paging through a book. Emily stood as she reached the platform, still holding her dress as she remarked, “So this is where you ended up.”

 

Adam smiled, indicating her uncovered legs with a nod, “Now that’s a hemline I could get used to!”

 

A blush colored her cheeks as she walked over to hug him. “I bet you could, you lecherous old man.”  She kissed his dusty cheek. “So what are you doing?”

 

“Joe said that there were trunks up here that might have some things from my mother.”

 

“Find anything?”

 

“There’s a book that belonged to her, but that’s about it.” He pushed the lid shut before flashing a rakish smile. “You know, I’ve always wanted to bring a girl up here and have my way with her.”

 

“Are you telling me that I’m the first woman you ever got up to the hayloft? Maybe you weren’t quite the lothario I always assumed you were.”

 

“Well, there were reasons for that. There was always someone around the ranch, so privacy would have been an issue, and I can’t even imagine what Pa would have done if he’d ever discovered one of us up here with a girl. I think that thought was enough to make us stay on the straight and narrow when it came to loft romancing.” He laughed at that, but drew Emily closer. “But right now the hired hands are all out working, and Joe’s family is away…so what do you say? Want to do something a little wicked?” When she didn’t answer immediately, he added a double eyebrow lift. “You know you’d make an old man really happy.”

 

Once he winked at her, Emily knew she would give her husband his secret wish and grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket to draw him toward her with an inviting kiss. “I’ll try anything once, but don’t get any ideas about doing this on a regular basis.”

 

Ten minutes later they were climbing down the stairs, covered in loose hay, while laughing so hard they had trouble navigating the steps.

 

Adam was finally able to compose himself enough to say, “I guess a little fun in the hayloft is something reserved for the young, my dear,” before dissolving in a gale of laughter again.

 

Holding the torn edges of her skirt together as she tried to descend without tripping, Emily giggled through her reply. “I’m not sure about the young, but it’s surely reserved for those with good backs and tough clothing.”

 

His look was sheepish as he apologized. “I’d been leaning over that trunk so long, I should have known my back would cramp up if I tried to lift anything…sorry I dropped you…”

 

“And I’m sorry I clonked your head with that pitch fork handle, dear.” Emily had to stop her descent to laugh. “I didn’t see it laying there until it was too late. Luckily it only hit your head and ripped my skirt instead of impaling us.”

 

Adam pulled Emily close as he assisted her down the last few steps. “Thanks for trying that, Mrs. Cartwright. You are a trooper.”

 

Swatting the loose hay from their shoulders, Emily asked, “Are you feeling alright now? Is your back good…head doesn’t hurt too much?”

 

“Yes, dear, I’m fine.” His tone moved to a plane of irritation. “You don’t have to mother me, Emily.” He was met with a very un-motherly look he had seen a few times already from the new Mrs. Cartwright.

 

“I’m glad you’re fine. Then I won’t feel badly when I beat you to our room.” With her challenge issued, she lifted her torn skirt and walked off in a briskly. When Adam didn’t immediately follow, she turned in mock impatience. “Are you coming? Your old room may not be the hayloft, but we can still be a little wicked.”

 

Adam watched for a moment as he thought over what she had said. “Oh! Wait for me!” As he caught up, he teased, “I’d offer to carry you to our room, my love, but we both know how that would end.”

 

Part 3: Go East Old Man, Go East

 

Remembrances of the Nevada trip kept Adam and Emily chatting through the train ride back to San Francisco, and often broke into their thoughts in the years that followed.

 

The couple was able to build their new home in the first year of their marriage, with frequent flare-ups over the decor of the interior rooms. Arguments that Adam thought should end with his, “I’m the architect here,” often escalated with Emily’s, “Well I’m the woman of this house.” In the end, Emily got final say on almost everything inside with the exception of Adam’s study. He finally told her that if she didn’t let him have his way with that room, he was going to build a shanty in the back yard to live in, and only come inside when he needed to eat. She’d agreed, patting his whiskered chin, saying, “Yes darling…and we both know what a good appetite you have, so I doubt I’d even realize you weren’t living in the house.”

 

Adam had known when to declare détente, and in the end was appreciative of Emily’s good taste and savvy style. The house he’d imagined was even better with her influence, and as he told the story of its construction to others, he would compliment his wife and then say that he’d ”almost told her how much he appreciated her influence many times.”

 

The house was immediately filled with guests and students, as the duo truly became a couple with common friends and purpose. Emily and Adam celebrated the eclectic nature of the people they knew, and hosted get-togethers featuring everything from Shakespearian enactments, to nights of singing the prairie songs Adam had learned or made up on the trip West with his father. From time to time, Adam even sang the bawdier songs that he’d learned around campfires on trail rides moving beef, or when touring the mining camps on the edges of the Ponderosa. But the nights the couple cherished were those when Adam and Emily worked while sharing the broad expanse of Ben’s desk.

 

It was those moments of closeness that Adam appreciated most. After being a solitary man for so long, he had feared he might resent Emily’s intrusion into his privacy, but found he longed to have her near no matter what he was doing. He was overwhelmed with a sense of belonging that he had unconsciously missed.

 

One of the Cartwrights early invitations to their new home went to the family of a young man Adam had befriended and mentored years earlier. Charles Whittlesey was an architect who had apprenticed with Prairie stylists like Louis Sullivan and Frank Lloyd Wright in Chicago before moving to Los Angeles in 1891. He soon realized he had no familiarity with what was termed “cabin” or “lodge” architecture so common in the west, and began asking around to see who would be his best source of information. A name he had repeatedly heard in connection with this style was, “Cartwright,” and one of his builders had recommended a trip to Virginia City to see the house that had set the standard. After making the trip, it was clear that he needed to speak to the man who had designed the homes that graced the Ponderosa.

 

Charles had sent word to Adam, asking for his help, and the two had traveled back and forth between Los Angeles and San Francisco with frequency over the next few years as Charles perfected some of the building techniques that were common to his mentor. During this time, Whittlesee’s creative style was noted by the board members of the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Railroad who hired him as their main architect charged with designing a number of hotels they wanted built along their rail lines.

 

The friendship had continued even after Charles had no longer needed his mentor’s tutelage. More recently, Adam had welcomed the Whittlesey family to San Francisco when they relocated there. Adam was already working on the engineering challenges of building from the rubble, and had convinced the city fathers that Charles would be a valuable addition to their team of architects because of his work with concrete. The older man preferred structures of wood, brick, and stone, but his engineering background let him see the value of concrete in stabilizing structures that might have to withstand the tremors of another quake someday.

 

The Whittlesee family had attended church with Emily and Adam and then accompanied them to the new house for Sunday lunch.

 

After their meal, the two friends left their wives happily sharing information about the charitable organizations they each supported, and walked the property to view the home from every angle. “It’s a fine structure, Adam,” Charles commented with a twinkle in his eye, “But I expected to see some heavy beams, massive fireplaces and lots of exposed timber inside. This isn’t your ‘usual’ style.”

 

Adam stroked his beard as he considered his answer. “You have a point, young man. Yet, you’ve worked with men far greater in this field than I, and they would point out, as I do, that a structure must compliment its setting. Men like Frank Lloyd Wright speak of designing homes that incorporate trees into their living space rather than destroying them for the structure, or cantilevered rooms next to waterfalls to totally meld into their natural setting. So as I saw it, to build the Ponderosa in San Francisco, I’d have had to transplant a forest of pine and raise the sea level of this house several thousand feet to capture the essence of the Sierras. I didn’t have time to do that, so I just designed a house that overlooked the sea.” His comments were punctuated by a wink.

 

“Seems reasonable, sir.” Charles laid an arm around the older man’s shoulder. “This must be the influence of your Boston days. But whatever the inspiration, you’ve created a beautiful place here. Its warmth comes from the inside out, not from the structure. If I may be sentimental for a moment, it’s you and Emily who create that warmth. You are both so welcoming that to walk through your front door feels like I’ve come home.” The young man’s arm tightened to embrace Adam.

 

When Adam had worked closely with Charles, he had occasionally wondered… He’d never shared those thoughts with anyone, but for just a second, his mind was filled again with the whisper of what might have been. A soft, “Thank you, son,” slipped from Adam’s heart before suggesting they go find the ladies and see what the children were doing.

 

The couples were enjoying the warm afternoon from a shaded area of the terrace while watching the Whittlesey youngsters play in the yard when Charles began to speak in a very serious manner. “Adam, I know that I’ve always thanked you verbally for all the help you’ve given us over the years. But I was never in the position to thank you in a concrete way.”

 

Adam wore a wry smile as he tried to lighten the conversation, “Your thanks have always been enough, Charles. I’m not sure I’d appreciate a gift of ‘concrete,’ although I do admire your work with it.”

 

“Funny, Adam,” Charles groaned. “You know, many people have told me that it’s nearly impossible to give you a gift. But with some thought, and suggestions from Carolyn,” Charles nodded toward his wife, “I think we figured something out.”

 

His cheeks began to tint with color as Adam tried to deflect the conversation away from himself. “Again, Charles, there’s no need to do more than you already have. You’ve succeeded in your profession. There’s no better gift. Why don’t we head out in the yard and play with your boys?”

 

Adam rose and started to walk away when Charles called to him. “Get back here, Adam, I’m going to finish this!”

 

Emily rose to escort her husband back to the terrace and held onto his arm, whispering for him to “be nice.”

 

Charles handed the couple two envelopes. “One of those has a rail pass for the Santa Fe that you can use anytime, and the other has a certificate for a two week stay at the El Tovar hotel at Grand Canyon, Arizona. You might have heard of it.” The grin turning Charles’ lips was broad. He knew that Adam had seen articles about it being the finest hotel ever built by the Santa Fe railroad in conjunction with the Harvey House brand, because the older man had quoted parts of the story in a congratulatory note that he had sent to Charles at the time El Tovar opened. “I want you to take this trip as my thanks. And just so there’s no misunderstanding…I’ll be offended if you don’t go.” Charles flashed a triumphant smile. “So there. All you have to do is call them or write to confirm your date of arrival.”

 

***

 

Work for Emily, and Adam’s teaching and consulting with the city planners, kept the couple busy for some time, but they finally decided to make the trip to Arizona for their third anniversary.

 

The train ride was long as it crossed California, skirted Nevada to the south, and finally made its way to the center of Arizona. Adam and Emily stepped onto their train car’s platform to observe the display of nature during the last leg from Williams, Arizona to the south canyon rim.  Adam identified several species of trees he was familiar with, noting how much the general feel of the terrain reminded him of the Ponderosa, while Emily stood watching in amazement as herds of elk watched the train pass by, and then went back to eating the grass growing along the track frontage. Train service had only been active for a few years in that area, and yet the wildlife had adapted to its noise and intrusion with barely a glance.

 

As they neared their destination, Adam got his first glimpse of the hotel Charles had designed peeking through the branches of Ponderosa pine from a rise above them.

 

A young man approached them as the couple waited for a coach to take them from the train station up the winding drive to the hotel. “Are you the Cartwrights?” he asked. With a nod from Emily, he handed over an envelope addressed to Adam, in Charles Wittlesey’s messy printing.

 

Adam’s face took on an odd expression as he scanned the note from Charles.

 

Observing him, Emily’s curiosity got the best of her. “What does it say, Adam?”

 

Motioning her away from the crowd, Adam read from the note.

Welcome to El Tovar, Adam and Emily! So glad you finally made it. I had the hotel alert me once you’d reserved your suite, so I could send this note.

 

Remember about ten years ago, Adam, when I was having so much trouble with a project I was trying to design? The engineering was way over my level of understanding, since the building was to be constructed twenty feet from a mile deep drop-off. You stayed with me for over a week while we engineered a structure that wouldn’t weaken the side of the cliff it needed to be anchored to. Your work with the Sacramento Embarcadero sure came in handy with that, and you shared your knowledge without ever probing or questioning what it was for. When you read about El Tovar, you probably realized what you had been working on. With your guidance on the foundation, as well your mentoring through the years, this hotel became a reality! Enjoy your stay. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me!

 

By the way, the brochure will say that the hotel is designed to offer Victorian elegance in a setting that is part European hunting lodge and part log cabin. But once you see it, you’ll know exactly whose influence inspired it.’”

 

“Oh, my!” Emily wasn’t sure what the note meant exactly, but was pretty sure she got the gist. “The trip wasn’t the thank you; this project was the thank you.”

 

“I don’t think that’s quite what he meant, but from what I can see, it’s an impressive building.”

 

Adam craned his neck to peer up at the hotel from the tram as it wound its way up the road to the hotel entrance. A sly smile crept onto his face as he got his first full view of the building, but by the time he looked back at Emily, he was poker-faced again.

 

He took Emily’s hand as they walked up the steps past the porch and into the building. His eyes widened as he took in the interior with its heavy beams, huge hearth and wooden floors. As he looked around, he noted that most of the other arriving guests were wearing the same expression of awe.

 

Emily nudged Adam excitedly. “I know that some of the exterior is stone, but the roof lines of the entrance are similar to the Ponderosa, and the hotel profile resembles the house you designed for young Ben. And this plank and mortar interior, and its focus pieces…well Charles certainly learned well, didn’t he. It is absolutely astounding!”

 

“It is that, Em. The student exceeded the teacher.”

 

“I don’t think that’s true, Adam.” She walked toward a window that looked out on the canyon. “Adam, come here.” Motioning her husband to join her, she waited until he got near enough to appreciate the view before speaking. “I think what Charles was trying to say in his note is that none of this building would have been possible if you hadn’t helped him figure out how to put it here. What a spectacular view! I’ve always heard you tell your students that whatever they’re constructing should enhance its setting instead of fighting it. The way this building clings to the canyon ridge is like the roots of a tree holding up the mighty branches above it. If the roots weren’t strong, the rest of it would fail as well.”

 

Adam’s arm encircled his wife as he kissed the top of her head. “I always said you were intuitive, my dear. That’s a wonderful way of describing this place.”

 

Their third anniversary was celebrated in style as they were treated like celebrities at the resort. Their room overlooked the canyon, and when they weren’t enjoying each other’s company there, they walked the paths and stood on the cliffs of the canyon, overcome with the wonder of nature that could create such a thing. Viewing the scenery with reverence, Adam voiced softly, “I will speak of the glorious honor of thy majesty, and of thy wondrous works. All thy works shall praise thee.”*

 

Emily felt the same way, but her awe kept her silent while clinging to Adam’s arm. She had not known herself to be afraid of heights, but standing on the edge of the overlooks often proved a dizzying experience that left her breathless. To his credit, Emily noted that Adam didn’t tease her. Yet she often felt his chest rumbling as he tried to quell his chuckling when she held onto him and moaned while burying her head in his shoulder to avoid the views that made her freeze with fear.

 

The Cartwrights were offered the opportunity to ride a mule train to the bottom of the canyon, and while Adam seemed anxious to do it, Emily became nauseous at the thought. She finally had to insist that Adam go alone. “It’s perfectly all right, dear. I’ll wait up top at the hotel in the Ladies Lounge, appropriately wringing my hands until you return.” She laughed, adding, “Just go, Adam. Have a good time and I’ll do the same up here. There are some intriguing people around this place, and I’m sure I’ll not even notice that you’re absent for the day.”

 

He had responded with assurances that the hotel wouldn’t offer the experience if it was dangerous.

 

“I know,” Emily replied. “I read what Mr. Harvey wrote: ‘the mules are sure-footed and don’t fall off the edge of the cliff…and the paths are neither as steep nor as narrow as they will be described by guests once they return home.’ And, you will be careful, right? You’re a good horseman, so this should be easy.”

 

Adam had resisted the urge to tell his wife that mules were different than horses, and experience on one, couldn’t guarantee success on the other. But he truly wanted to make it to the bottom of the canyon, even if it meant saddle sores and an aching back, so kept silent and simply signed up for the excursion. He knew he’d need to acclimate to the jerkier gate and less fluid ride on a mule going downhill, and he’d once read that riding a mule with a conventional saddle was big trouble since the donkey-horse mixed breed didn’t have the withers that horses had. This allowed the saddle to slide forward onto the animal’s neck, pulling both mule and rider off balance, which would spell disaster on a downhill ride overlooking a mile drop.  He’d breathed a relieved sigh as he reported for his trip the next morning, noting that the saddle configuration on his mount had extra straps around the mule’s rear and front ends to keep it in place.

 

When he met his wife in their room late that evening after completing the ride, he asked that she go without him to dinner, citing the need to relax the tight muscles in his back and legs. Had he been able to stay awake more than a moment after stretching out on the bed, he would have heard his wife laughing at him. “Back and leg muscles, my aunt Petunia,” she muttered as she removed the boots from her snoring husband, “Judging by the way you walked in here, I suspect it’s more like the muscles between your back and legs that are causing the most grief.” She kissed him as she whispered into his ear, “I’ll bring up some fruit for you to have later, darling. And hopefully, you’ll be able to sit in a chair without too much discomfort by tomorrow morning for breakfast. I’m glad you had a good time.”

 

Their two weeks at El Tovar passed quickly, and on their final walk before leaving, Emily garnered enough courage to make it around one southwest section of the canyon to a scenic spot that was higher, overlooking the hotel from a few miles away. She was out of breath and sweating as no polite woman should, but proud to have actually followed her husband down a craggy path to a ledge with a panoramic view. She didn’t want to intrude into his thoughts, but was curious to know what he was thinking as she made it to his side.

 

“You have a strange expression. What’s going through your mind?”

 

There was no immediate response as he continued gazing over the corner section of the great gorge, but finally broke his spell to answer. “This is such a remarkable place. It’s so beautiful that it feels like I’m looking at a picture rather than at real rocks and shrubs—depth and width. The vastness allows ultimate peace and calm to wash over you, yet brings you to your knees with its massive power.” He pointed to the building in the distance, nestled in the rocks and trees. “And just look at Charles’ hotel sitting there like it was formed by the same forces that created this place. It’ll stand for a hundred years or more with a little care.”

 

He grew silent, standing in reverent observation until he realized that Emily had moved up close and was now holding onto him with a death grip. He looked over to find that her eyes were closed; she wore a line of perspiration pearls on her upper lip and looked way too pale to stay on her own feet for more than a few more minutes before passing out. Realizing that her bravado hadn’t lasted as long as their excursion, he reacted quickly. “I’m sorry, Emily. You’re as white as a sheet. Let’s get you back onto solid ground.”

 

A Peaceful Life

 

When they returned from Arizona, Adam retired from teaching—again—while agreeing to lead one seminar each semester. The rest of his time was spent in private practice and assisting with the continuing reconstruction efforts of the city. He worked with the city planner, Daniel Burnham, and like most others who saw the scope of Burnham’s plans; Adam found merit in some aspects, while completely disagreeing with other parts. But the best part of working on the reconstruction was his continued association with Charles Whittlesey.

 

Within five years, San Francisco was on its way to becoming a cultural and business center again. The Cartwrights were always at the forefront of projects meant to entice visitors and consumers back into the city. They lobbied their professional organizations to hold their conventions there, and encouraged others to become involved with the reawakening arts.

 

Emily was instrumental in bringing one of the first large conventions back when she twisted enough arms to get the California Bar Association to meet in San Francisco in 1912. She also lobbied to ask a young lawyer turned philosopher, writer, and poet to be their keynote speaker.

 

Max Erhmann’s law practice had taken a back seat to his writing by that time, but he had so much to offer in teaching members of a contentious profession how they could view the world through a softer lens, and treat those they served with greater humanity. After agreeing to speak at the convention, Max did a bit of research into the woman who had extended the invitation, finding some very interesting things about her, as well as that her husband had worn Harvard crimson as he had. When he’d expressed his interest in meeting Adam, Emily had invited him to dinner.

 

The Cartwrights didn’t employ a cook, but when Adam was too busy to perform the task and company was coming, Emily had Andre deliver a meal she could warm and serve. After introducing Max to Adam, she headed to the kitchen, leaving the two to get acquainted. Peeking into the living room a few minutes later, she saw the two in an active discussion and decided to leave them alone while she changed and finished the details for the evening.

 

After dinner, Emily joined them in Adam’s study, listening rather than participating, as she glanced over items for the convention that needed her attention. She had already spent quite a lot of time with Max over the run of the gathering, and sensed that the two men were kindred spirits: confrère enjoying their brief time together.

 

Since Adam was a philosopher at heart, the two had rapidly found common ground and spoke easily of their time at Harvard, world situations, family histories and then moved into their personal beliefs and experiences.

 

Max was amazed at the wide range of encounters Adam had lived through, and finally remarked, “I figure from our conversations so far, that you were an explorer, pioneer, student, engineer, rancher and cowboy—all by the age of thirty. After that you studied further, traveled, taught and practiced your craft for many years. That’s a lot of living for one man. And while you seem to be a man of such peace, I doubt your life was always as it seems now.” He thought for a moment to clarify. “What I mean is that your early life—that time with your family in Nevada…well…I’ve heard what the West was like in those days and my guess is that you had to make some life and death decisions. It leaves me to wonder how those experiences contributed to the man you are now.

 

“There are many kinds of peace, Max, as well as many dichotomies in each person. I have often had to defend myself or what I believed in. And as you have surmised from the places and times I’ve lived in, I’ve had to face another person, knowing that I would take their life, or they would take mine.” Adam’s response silenced as images from the past sped through his mind like heavy rain washing down a mountainside. Names jabbed and poked, bringing back the pain and loss associated with the decisions he’d had to make regarding them. They were all still there, even though he had tried to forget: Jesse Sanders, Jeb Drummond, Sam Bryant, Gerald Eskith, Ross Marquette, Ed Payson, Bill Enders, Peter Kane, Tom Wilson, Howard Meade… Those encounters could have turned him into a jaded killer, but instead, the experiences had allowed him to learn the lessons of their lives and he understood that they had each left him stronger rather than diminished.

 

He began to speak again as he regained his focus. “Each person must make decisions as to what to believe, whom to trust, and how to manage their life. It’s those inner qualities that go into our responses in any situation. Sometimes our decisions are literally life and death, and many decisions can feel that way even when we’re only facing only ourselves in the duel. So true peace comes from inside us and takes a strong will to maintain.”

 

Max’s puzzled look registered his confusion. “I understand that to a point, Adam.”

 

“I learned long ago that life constantly forces us to make decisions over how to act, what to honor, and whether to go after someone with a measured response, or with guns blazing. Unfortunately, many of those decisions are made in the heat of the moment. A person who has peace within himself can make every decision with care and thought rather than out of reaction. It takes practice…and learning through failure to get it right. And believe me when I say it takes a lot of work to become comfortable with the fact that the world will try to shake your peace—to convince you to take the easy way out of your problems, or to back away from your convictions.”

 

“Might you put this into an example from your life?”

 

Unsure of whether to share intimate details of his past with this stranger, Adam took a few moments before deciding there was something inherently good about the young man, and realized that he trusted him. “There was a time when I saw a good man murdered. I knew who had done it, yet all the evidence pointed away from that person. The murderer tried to discredit me in several ways, and finally called me out in a gunfight. I refused to be taunted because he only wanted to create a public display of his innocence, and at the time, my refusal to face him made others doubt both my accusation and my courage. Even my family tried to make me ‘reconsider’ my absolute surety of this man’s guilt; but I wouldn’t. It wasn’t that I was hard-headed as I was considered to be; I just had a peace about the truth of the situation that allowed me to go forward and I stopped listening to those who were determined that I was wrong.

 

Max nodded as he tried to summarize the thought. “So you’re saying that you can’t surrender the peace of your convictions to those trying to convince you to distrust yourself? Or perhaps that when you know the truth that’s in your heart, the best course of action is to say what needs to be said, and then let other think and say what they will?”

 

“That’s a good way to describe it, Max. You seem to have a gift of being able to explain thoughts very clearly and concisely.”

 

“Thank you, sir. I think that’s why I was a good lawyer, but it’s also why I think I have a chance to reach people with simple truths told through my poetry.” After waiting a moment as his host nodded and expressed his agreement with Max’s plans, the young man continued, “May I ask you about how you’ve dealt with all the people you’ve met throughout your lifetime? There must have been a wide variety of personalities.”

 

Adam nodded as names and faces surrounded him again. “I have always tried to listen to others without judging them or their circumstances. Some of the most interesting people I’ve known were scoundrels, thieves, ne’er-do-wells or those disregarded by ‘proper society.’ But even though they often paid the ultimate price for their indiscretions, I learned many life lessons from them.”

 

Max responded, “I think I’ve learned that lesson as well. Everyone has a story if you care enough to listen.”

 

A laugh from Adam was followed by clarification. “You have to understand though that some people should be avoided at all costs. While most folks have something worth listening to, there are those who just enjoy hearing themselves talk. I’ve met up with a few of them over the years as well.”  Adam paused as Max chuckled knowingly. “Emily tells me that you’re putting all your efforts into poetry and writing now rather than the practice of law. Has that met with much resistance from your family and associates? It’s never easy to walk away from one life to move to another. This I know from experience.”

 

“Of course some think I’m throwing my life away while chasing after dreams but for me it’s more important to keep going wherever life takes me.” Max gave an exhausted sigh, “Maybe I need to pay attention to what you said, Adam, and stop trying to convince others that I’m doing the right thing. I think I’ll stop explaining my intentions and just do what I need to do.” He smiled then and added. “I don’t think Emily’s had a chance to tell you, but I’ve asked her to be my counsel on legal matters with my future publications, and since she is an author, I’ve also asked that she take a look at what I hope to publish.”

 

Adam’s eye’s widened in surprise. “That sounds wonderful.”  He looked over at his wife who wore a satisfied smile. “Emily must trust you if she told you about her book. She is usually very shy about it.” He sent a wink toward his wife, who discreetly rolled her eyes at him in response.

 

“I recently found out that I’ve known Emily’s work since I was a child,” Max admitted. “My mother had her book of poems, as does my wife. But that’s not what drew me to her. I think I’ve read every legal opinion that she’s published and they reflect ideals similar to mine as regards the treatment of people who are often not esteemed by the legal profession. I’m very impressed in her work with endowments and funding of charitable organizations.”

 

“I’ve always been proud of Emily’s work with the poor. The officials in San Francisco might be managing the job of getting the city back on its feet, but the corruption here has never favored those who can least provide for themselves. Emily’s efforts have helped to created large sums of money for groups to use in charitable pursuits.” Adam glanced over at his wife again, noting her glowing smile as she worked at her papers without looking up. “I’m sure she’ll very much enjoy working with you.”

 

“If I may get back to a few thoughts before I leave, sir? I’m wondering why you are still teaching as well as working at a time when you could be retired and away from the fray?”

 

It was Adam’s turn to grin. “I’m not sure if you’re implying that this is a good thing or bad, but I’m committed to staying interested and involved in my work. My father ranched until the day he passed, and lived well for it. It’s important to me to keep abreast of new developments and share with those who are starting out.”

 

“I ask only in admiration,” Max replied as his cheeks glowed pink. “You mentioned your father staying active. If I may be so bold, and since I’ve stuck my foot in it already…may I ask how you view getting older?”

 

“Hmm,” Adam stroked his beard as he was known to do while contemplating an answer. “I think I don’t enjoy it as much as I might have hoped.” His chuckle was contagious as Max joined in. “But I think I’ve found that age brings wisdom, a deeper appreciation for life and even a few wonderful surprises. I don’t find it necessary to pretend to be what I’m not anymore and would hope that others think I that I’m aging…gracefully; I think that’s how it’s described. My accumulating years have given me strength to face what’s coming, and I find that staying active and involved tends to keep the fears of that in check.”

 

“I can’t think of a better way to live. Emily tells me you have great faith despite a life that was often wrought with loss, and keep a very positive outlook.”

 

Emily’s head popped up as she heard Max speak, fearing Adam might be upset that she had shared personal information about him with a stranger. She noted with relief that Adam’s look was simply questioning, not angry, and she joined the conversation to explain. “I told Max that there was a time when I struggled with fear that I would repeat my old mistakes and that no matter how much I trusted someone, it might not be enough to forestall unforeseen things from happening. You helped me see that the only way we can make it through life when we face hardship or doubt, is to trust that God has a plan for us…that life progresses as it should, and that we often cannot control those things that affect us the most.”

 

“Wow,” Adam teased, “I said all that? I’m smarter than I thought.”

 

Max observed the couple, deciding that they had something very special. “I should be getting back to the hotel now. My train leaves early tomorrow and I would like to do a little writing before I turn in. I want to thank you both for a wonderful evening. I know you married later in life and had each gone through some rough years before finding each other, but I hope you both understand what you have. Love is the one human emotion that can bring out the best or worst in us. In you two, it brings out the best.”

 

Adam and Emily talked about the visit until late into the night, deciding that Max Erhmann was a person with deep insight into the human heart. Adam commented with a yawn, “That young man will write something one day that will touch a lot of hearts with its message. I hope I’ll be around to see it.”

 

And Then There Was One

 

The San Francisco Cartwrights were readying their home for the visit of Joe and June Cartwright in the summer of 1914 when they received a telegram stating that the trip would have to be postponed until later. June’s letter arrived after that, explaining that Joe had come down with “something” and was having a hard time getting over the effects. She gave reassurances that once his strength was back they would proceed as planned.

 

Summer turned to fall with no further word on a new travel date, and Adam worried that they wouldn’t be able to make it once the weather got too cold in the high country.

 

Letters had continued to arrive at regular intervals as Joe wrote of the ranch and feeling better, but not really up to snuff—or at least not enough to make the long trip to San Francisco.

 

***

 

Adam walked into the house with the day’s mail stuffed under his arm and dropped his brief case and packages to the credenza by the door before shuffling through the letters. His eyes were instantly drawn to his brother’s unruly scrawl on an envelope addressed only to him. Sinking into his favorite chair, he quickly opened the letter and scanned it, hoping it would finally bring news of a visit.

 

He was rereading the page when Emily walked in and moved to stand behind him. Recognizing the handwriting on the page, she asked with enthusiasm, “What’s the news from the Ponderosa?”

 

Adam turned to her with a puzzled expression. “It says nothing really, Em. Yet I’m afraid it says everything.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Listen to this part.  I really wanted to see you and Emily yet this year, but I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. My illness continues with no abatement and little reassurance from the hacks they call doctors inhabiting Virginia City. I’m sure it will ease eventually, but should we not get to see you, I just want you to know that you have always been in my heart, brother. I’m glad we had that chance to talk things out a few years ago. Just remember that you always made the right decisions and I always looked up to you.”  Adam shook his head sadly. “What do you make of that?”

 

“It almost sounds like he’s saying goodbye?”

 

Adam nodded as he slipped the page back into the envelope and tucked it in his pocket. “But you know Joe. He’s pretty crazy at times and probably wants me to think things are dire—just before he shows up on our porch.”

 

***

 

It wasn’t entirely a surprise when a telegram arrived from Ben a few days later, telling of his father’s passing. The note advised not making travel plans since winter had arrived early in the Sierras and they didn’t want Adam and Emily stuck somewhere in a storm.

 

A later letter from June explained that Joe had died of a wasting sort of disease that had taken him down in a matter of months. “Cancer,” she wrote, “and there was nothing to do for it.” She expressed her relief that Adam had honored their wish that they not come, since a train had gone off the tracks in a storm about the time they would have been traveling. She also included the grizzly fact that the ground had been frozen so hard that Joe’s body had to be stored in the barn for days while a fire thawed his gravesite enough to bury him.

 

Emily knew that his brother’s death was having a deep impact on her husband. And though she found him sitting behind his desk staring into space a number of times since receiving the news, he would wave her off when she asked him to speak to her about it, saying that he was fine. Coming upon him looking lost one day, she finally knelt next to him. “Please tell me about it, Adam. I don’t know what you’re going through, but I can listen.”

 

He turned and took her hands. “How do I share something like this, Emily?” The response wasn’t meant as unkind: just fact. “I actually had a client come to the office to express his sympathy, but then congratulated me on being the last Cartwright standing!” He heard Emily gasp as he continued, “Would someone honestly think that there should be some meaning or glory attached to outliving your family? Can anyone think there’s satisfaction in that?”

 

His shoulders had slumped as a tear slid silently down his cheek. Emily reached to enfold him. “Of course there’s nothing good about it, Adam. Maybe they just don’t know what to say and instead of keeping still, they just say ‘something.’”

 

Adam sighed, “You’re probably right, Em. People really don’t know how to react to bad news, and don’t know enough to say nothing other than that they’re sorry for the loss.” He took her hands again. “There is something that has come from this, though.” He slid a brochure across the desk top toward his wife. “After the problems Joe’s family had after his death, I realized that should my passing occur during the winter months, you would be faced with many obstacles in trying to take me to Nevada. I was going to change my plans, but then I found this.” He indicated the title, “Cremation Services in San Francisco.”

 

Emily looked at him, not understanding. “What’s this about?”

 

“I’ve been in touch with a place that does cremation, Em. It’s becoming an accepted method of dealing…instead of a burial. I want to be cremated, and then all you need do is get my box of ashes back home and let me loose over the land whenever the timing seems right. That would be a very simple solution, don’t you think?”

 

Her eyes widened as she considered what she’d just been told. “I know that you’re thinking of me by going this route, Adam, but you don’t have to make such a drastic decision. I’ll do what you’ve asked, even without…this.

 

He lifted her chin and kissed her gently. “I know you’ll honor whatever you promise to do. You always have, and this will be no different. But I’m not doing it for you; I’m doing it for me. I want to die knowing that my last request will not put others in harm’s way or prolong your mourning. What June wrote about the agony in delaying the burial made me think about what honoring my wishes could really mean for you.” He smiled then. “Besides, you know I’ve always loved to embrace new developments. It will be in keeping with my trend-setting nature.”

 

She smiled at him, knowing that no matter what he said, this decision wasn’t easy. There would be those whose eyebrows would raise in shock and call him a heathen. But this was just one more loving gesture from the man she adored. “Thank you, Adam. I’ll do whatever you think best.”

 

Remembering the Men They Loved

 

There was a Cartwright family reunion in San Francisco the spring of 1916. Joe was being honored with a posthumous “Lifetime Achievement Award” by the Cattlemen’s Association, and the Ponderosa had again won the Outstanding Ranch of the Year designation. June and two of her sons booked rooms at a hotel near the convention, but Adam and Emily suggested that Joe Jr. stay at the house, suspecting that his wife and baby would be more comfortable in their home.

 

The first morning after their arrival, Emily awoke in an empty bed, and padded through the house to see where her husband had gone off to so early. She stopped her descent from the second floor to stare lovingly at the scene below. Adam was rocking his six-month-old nephew and namesake, Adam Abel Cartwright, while humming softly as the baby slept. Closing the distance to the rocker, Emily passed him a questioning look.

 

Adam whispered, “I heard him fussing earlier and went to pick him up. We’ve been rocking for about an hour now.”

 

“You look very nice with that baby on your lap, Mr. Cartwright. It suits you,” she teased in a whisper as well.

 

“I admit I had no idea what I was doing, but he seemed to like it, so I just kept rocking until he dozed off. As I recall, Abel often just liked to snuggle and rock when he couldn’t sleep.” As Emily sat next to them, Adam noted a tortured look wash over her face that vanished as she regained her composure. “What’s wrong, Emily?” he asked quietly.

 

“Nothing’s wrong.”

 

“Yes there is. I know that look.”

 

“It’s just that you seem so perfect with that baby that I wonder why you didn’t marry a younger woman who could have given you children. It was something I could never offer you.”

 

His chuckle made the baby squirm with the movement of his chest. “Emily Mills, do you honestly think you were the first woman that ever tried to catch my eye?” He moved his finger to his lips to shush her when she attempted to respond. “Don’t disturb little Adam here, or I’ll have to wake his mother to get him back to sleep.” He waited for Emily to understand that he was teasing her. Once she smiled, he resumed, “The truth is that I could have married many times. One of the main reasons I left Boston was because I was being introduced to every unmarried female in Cambridge and the greater Boston area. I would accept a dinner invitation and arrive to find an unescorted single woman for me to partner up with for the evening. I grew weary of it. I didn’t want another family, and another child could never ‘make up’ for the one that I lost.” His tone gentled even further as he smiled, “And maybe, I knew that someday I would meet the perfect woman, and wanted to make sure I was still available.”

 

She rose and walked behind him to kiss his bald pate. A tear dropped as she did so, causing Adam to tease her about her “leakage problem.” He reached up with his free hand taking hers, and bringing it to his lips for a kiss. “My life is perfect the way it is.”

***

 

The entire Cartwright clan was invited to the house for a celebration before heading home. Their women spent the day in “female” activities while the men found plenty of adult playthings awaiting them in Adam’s shed, including the newest Harley Davidson motorcycle. But they all gathered toward evening. Talk soon drifted to remembrances of the four Cartwrights who had built the Ponderosa, the impact they’d made and the fun they’d had. Adam recalled some of the wilder times he’d had with his brothers, like chasing a bull through the streets of Virginia City, buying a thoroughbred racehorse with Hoss only to be beaten by their brother on short-legged, wild-eyed ranch horse, and even some of the arguments they’d had over women. June got into the spirit of things as she recalled some of the stories Ben had told her over the years.

 

The biggest smiles came as the great nephews, who had been young children when Adam and Emily had come for Joe Jr.’s wedding, broke into their stories of the visit: their favorite being the fact that their great uncle had audibly groaned most times he had gotten up on his horse while he was there. One of Eric’s son, Mark, who’d been about five at that time, asked shyly, “Pa, can I tell my story about that?”

 

Eric laughed, saying he should go ahead, and offered apologies to the ladies, saying that it was a bit crude, but demonstrated just what his uncle and father were like when they were together.

 

Mark continued, emboldened as his story was received with eagerness. “Uncle Adam didn’t really groan, he yelped—like he’d sat on something sharp—and then sighed as he settled into the saddle.” His cousins nodded their approval of the description as he went on. “I had no idea why he did that, and finally asked Grandpa Joe why Uncle Adam made that awful noise each time he swung over the horse.”

 

The eyes in the room shifted toward Adam to see how he was responding to the story. To their relief, he was turning pink, but was also grinning widely as Mark spoke. “Grandpa took me aside and told me that Uncle Adam kept a bird in his pants pocket to remind him how to get into his saddle right. He said that when Uncle Adam didn’t get enough lift goin’ over the top of the saddle, that old bird would bite him, and it made our uncle holler a little. At first I didn’t believe him, but Grandpa said it was true, and then said that only old men who hadn’t ridden a horse in a while, had to carry those birds around. When I said that I’d never heard of that before, he reminded me that all of us on the Ponderosa were good riders, so no one needed one. I still didn’t believe him so asked what the name of the bird was. Grandpa pulled me close and whispered in my ear. He called it a ‘Warbling Nut Thrasher.’”

 

The men laughed openly at the name with Adam’s laugh being the fullest, while the ladies discretely hid their giggling behind their hands. Mark waited for the laughter to die down. “Wait! That wasn’t the worst part.” He looked toward his uncle to ask, “Do you remember when I came to you and actually asked where you kept your ‘Warbling Nut Thrasher’ when it wasn’t in your pants?” Adam’s deep laugh assured him that he did. “Uncle Adam gave me the strangest look, then patted my head and said, ‘Your grandpa put you up to this, didn’t he?’ It wasn’t until a few days later that my brother told me that Grandpa Joe was pulling my leg.” The story and admission had the group laughing to the point of tears. “Did you ever ask Grandpa about it, Uncle Adam? All I know was that I pretty much kept out of sight until you and Aunt Emily left.”

 

The deep chuckle returned as Adam replied. “I never actually asked him about it, Mark, but one day we were out in the yard and a bird flew past us, nearly hitting your grandfather in the head. I think I remarked that it must have been a Nut Thrasher, and Joe just about choked!”

 

Emily had to bite her cheeks to keep from laughing too loudly. Mark’s story had solved a mystery she had wondered about since that day in the Ponderosa hayloft, when Adam had first suggested they do something wicked. She thought he had asked if she wanted to see the bird he kept in his pocket. When she had asked about it later Adam had said she must have misunderstood. Now she knew the truth.

 

Once eyes were dried and the last of the giggling ended, the conversation took a turn toward more serious topics. It was Eric who asked, “Do you think America will end up in the war in Europe with Germany, Uncle Adam?”

 

“I think we won’t have much choice in the matter if we wish to become a real world power. We probably should have entered it when the Germans sank the Lusitania last year.”

 

Ben replied, “Pa said something pretty similar about us needing to stake our claim in the world. You really are two birds of a feather.” The reference to birds prompted another round of giggles, but Ben continued when it ended. “The one thing Pa never wanted to talk about was the Civil War. We all learned in school that Nevada became an important part of the war since there were several factions vying for the silver being mined there. Yet all Pa would ever say about it was that he had made some big mistakes. He said they weren’t mistakes about favoring the South, but in trusting some very unscrupulous people who tried to use his sentiments for their own purposes. As a result he felt he’d almost pushed Uncle Adam away and hurt Grandpa, and said he didn’t like thinking about it.”

 

Adam’s look was questioningly sad. “I think your father and I held some strong opinions about that war, but they were fair. There were a couple of rough times, but Joe was young, very idealistic and passionate. We may have both overreacted to the times, but found our way back to each other and our family. And above all, I think the look on Hoss’ face the night your pa and I both left the Ponderosa would have haunted us until we made peace. Your uncle was such a peaceful man that our argument over something that seemed so remote to him, looked to nearly kill him.”

 

It was Joe Jr. who agreed that his father had said something similar. “Uncle Hoss must have been some guy.”

 

Adam’s eyes glistened as he commented softly, “That he was, boys: a very special man.”

 

Age Is In the Eye of the Beholder

 

In Emily’s eyes, Adam seemed as young as he had the day he’d found her sprawled on the sidewalk ten years earlier. Yet, despite her selective blindness to the physical changes, she couldn’t deny that her husband occasionally appeared lost in thought—a faraway kind that he seemed to leave behind with regret. She would often tease him to rid his face of the wistfulness that lingered at such times, asking him if he was perhaps entertaining thoughts about other women, or hatching a cunning plan.

It was these journeys into solitude however that finally convinced Emily that all was not well with the man she loved. She remembered her father’s face set similarly as he grew tired of fighting the war that time waged against him, and reasoned that Adam might also be looking toward a time without physical limitation and pain, and a place where his family awaited him. Even as she grew to accept the truth of Adam’s worsening health, Emily continued to distract him from his mental excursions. She didn’t do this because she minded that he was growing older, or that she cared that he might have some health issues—she did it because what she feared above all else was that Adam was considering his last journey—the one he would take without her.

To his credit, Adam had adjusted to the gradual changes of age with grace, but he had reached a point where he had to admit that it took longer to do just about everything.  With his good humor still intact, he confessed that his lifelong tendency to lean on something when he stood was no longer just an issue of posture, but had become a convenient way to ease his aching frame and catch his breath.

Adam had been able to maintain the lifestyle that both he and Emily had enjoyed—until recently. He was under the medical care of a friend from Berkeley and visited the physician earlier in the day, where he received news that confirmed his suspicions. Although he had tried in recent months to express his concern, Emily had skillfully deferred the conversations, insisting that whatever he was experiencing would clear up with time. He suspected that she was trying to reassure him rather than refusing to face the truth, but now he needed her by his side in full understanding, and resolved that they would speak when she arrived home.

He was reading a letter while relaxing on their front porch when Emily returned that evening. Greeting her as she walked up the stairs, he asked, “How was your day?”

Her satisfaction was evident in her cat-like grin as she answered, “It was a grand day! The Franklin family agreed to abide by the conditions of their father’s will. I’m pretty sure their decision was influenced more by their desire to get at the money without using it to fight each other in court, than by any words of wisdom I imparted. But it’s finished and I’m happy.” She bent to kiss him and began her own questioning. “And what of your day? What did your doctor have to say?”

“He said that we’re having some beautiful late summer weather and asked after you.”

Her eyes narrowed as she redirected, “I should know better than to ask you an open-ended question like that. What did he say about you getting so winded when you walk? Is it a lingering cold as I suspect?”

Adam looked up at his wife as he chuckled. “Please sit down, dear. You know I feel like I’m under cross-examination when you stand over me.”

She sat as her voice became wary. “You’re stalling. What did Mark say?”

“He said it’s inevitable.”

“What’s inevitable?”

“Getting old.”

Emily challenged his platitude with one of her own, “I know you’re getting old, but that doesn’t mean you have to feel old.”

“No matter how I feel about it, aging is terminal. I can’t live forever…and unfortunately my health is waning.” Adam saw the look of panic sweep over his wife’s face and considered how to soften what he was about to say. It was the hardest thing he had ever had to tell her and he knew their life would not be the same after the words were spoken. There was no other way to say it though, and he did so with directness. “Mark says that I’m short of breath because my heart is failing.”

Emily’s eyes widened as she took in the information but she remained silent, allowing him to continue.

“The irony is that after being shot, stabbed, and beaten senseless when I was young…all of which could have caused lasting effects, Mark figures that this started with a fever I had when I was even younger. While the condition improved, the organism that caused it stuck around, and injured the valves in my heart. Unfortunately that damage is now having some serious effects. I suspect it was the sickness I had when Pa and I were heading west. I had a fever and sore throat that caused my tongue to look so red that Pa joked about it.” He chuckled at the memory. “I think Pa said it looked like I’d been eating strawberries, and Mark described that as one of the possible symptoms when he was trying to pinpoint the age when it might have happened. I was just getting over it at the time we met Inger…you know, Hoss’s mother.” Adam stopped speaking as his mind wandered to thoughts of his step-mother, remembering how she had taken him into her heart at first meeting, and how he had come to love her as she had sat with him in the evenings while he had recuperated and his father had worked.

“Adam?” Emily asked as his silence continued. “So why are you short of breath?”

“Oh, sorry,” he said as he blushed, “Got sidetracked there for a minute… Let’s see, where was I?”

“You were explaining how your heart makes you winded.”

“That’s right… Heart valves are responsible for pushing the blood out of your heart; a marvel of engineering. When these valves don’t work well, it causes a backup that affects both the heart and the lungs. It’s a simple engineering equation dealing with the back pressure caused by a faulty pump and valves. I understand it, but it doesn’t make it any easier to breathe.” Adam winked at Emily, hoping his comparison to mechanical workings would take some of the sting from what he was relaying.

“So, what is Mark going to do about it? Do you have to take medicine?”

He took her hand. “Here’s the thing…since they can’t fix or replace the pump, the system is going to fail. That’s what’s inevitable—from an engineering and human point of view.”

Emily’s voice rose by half an octave. “We’ll find someone else for you to see. There has to be something they can do.”

Adam remained calm as he soothed, “Mark is the best there is, Emily; you know that. He’s already checked with top men at Mayo and Johns Hopkins and there’s little to do. There is a medicine I can take to make my heart beat more efficiently. It’s derived from seeds and leaves of the Foxglove plant and may help…briefly…and Mark will keep me comfortable as it gets worse. But my heart is already enlarged…”

“What does this mean, Adam?” Emily asked in a calm voice that belied the jumble of fear roiling in her mind at the moment. “I made a promise when I accepted your proposal that I won’t overreact to news like this, but I’d like to know exactly what we’re facing.”

His arm slipped around her shoulder, pulling her near. “Mark won’t put a limit on my life, but I have limited time. He did say that if your love alone could keep me going, I’d live forever, but since that isn’t a possibility…well…I’ll know when it’s time.”

Emily cleared the look of agony from her face before looking up. When she could finally face him without fear of tears, she met Adam’s gaze, kissed him and then wrapped her arms around him as she rested her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. “And what do we do until then?”

“We live, Em. Death is ultimately the absence of life, so I won’t waste the gift of life waiting to die.” Adam smiled as he raised her chin, “Mark’s advice is that I should enjoy myself, stay active, rest when I’m tired, and laugh—a lot—or in other words, keep going just as we’ve done all along.”

They remained nestled together for some time until Adam remembered what he was doing when Emily came home. “Would you like to see what I was reading before our discussion?”

“Is it interesting enough for me to stop holding you?” she asked as wrapped her arms more tightly around him.

“I think so. It’s a letter and poem from Max Erhmann. He writes that he’s been working on this since his visit with us, trying to incorporate some of the ideas we discussed that night he was here. It’s not finished, but enough so that he would like our thoughts.”

“Does it have a name yet?”

“Desiderata.”

Emily’s interest was piqued. “Desired things… What sort of things does our friend, Max, desire?”

“Maybe you should read it.” He handed her the letter as she sat up, “Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly.” She continued to read silently, finally laying the papers on her lap as she smiled at her husband. “Isn’t that wonderful! What do you have to say about it?”

“I’d say that if someone were to remember my life that way, I would be very proud. He’s communicated the essence of living with meaning and impact, while challenging us to approach our goals in a dignified manner.”

“I remember your conversation with Max that night, and he’s done a beautiful job of weaving the thoughts you two shared into what I might call the poem of a principled man.”

“I’ll write him first thing tomorrow conveying our sincerest admiration.”

The silence lingered again as the couple sat in comfortable companionship. Emily was still reeling with the news, but resolved to make the most of the time they had left. From what Adam said, it seemed improbable that his health would improve, but then their meeting after 40 years, their instant attraction, rapid marriage and happy years together had been improbable too, and she hoped improbability would shower them again with another gift… time.

 

In the Clear Light Of Day

 

Talking over the raw facts of Adam’s condition the previous afternoon had been exhausting for both of them, and even though they knew there was much more to say, they’d tabled the subject for the evening. But as they finished breakfast the next morning, Adam reached for Emily’s hand, saying, “Thank you.”

Her brows knit together in confusion. “You’re welcome, dear, but what are you thanking me for?”

“For the way you handled my news yesterday. I had anticipated tears and denial of the facts, but you remained so calm that I was able to say what I needed to in a way that kept me calm as well.”

She touched his face. “I’m afraid that what you saw on the outside didn’t quite mirror the fit I was throwing on the inside, but I promise that I won’t let my fears make this harder for you. You seemed so reasoned and assured that I wouldn’t allow myself to disturb that with an outburst.” Leaning toward him, she kissed him deeply and breathed, “Now that’s the way to start a morning.”

Adam laughed quietly as he remembered their first kiss and Emily’s words that night. “My love, it’s the way we’ve ended and started every day since we’ve been together, and I agree, it is wonderful.” His voice became serious as a mild cramping in his chest prompted him to speak.  “Emily, I have so much to say before…while I can.”

“We’ll have time, Adam. We’ll make sure of that.”

“I know we will, but I can’t wait to say this.” He took both of her hands, bringing them to his lips before continuing, “I’ve never been good at expressing my emotions, so I’ll borrow Victor Hugo’s words: ‘What a transfiguration it is to love.’”

Emily smiled as she recalled, “From Les Miserables…one of my favorite lines.”

Adam continued, “At the time we met again, I was convinced that I could best deal with the loss I’d experienced by refusing to think about the people I could only recall in pain. I thought that I’d be fine if I focused on the present. I knew that my reluctance to let others into my life was cowardice…but it worked…until that evening I plucked you from the concrete, brought you home and listened as you spoke about love with such ferocity that I had to confront my faulty reasoning. As I allowed your warmth to penetrate the coldness that had frozen my life, I was transfigured, just as Hugo divined.

He paused to arrange his thoughts. “What I had to face as I allowed you into my heart was that the absence of pain was not bliss. By not experiencing the emotions in my life, I postponed my journey to peace and the return of joy. Now I know that we have to acknowledge the pain in loss before we can ever hope for healing, and not remembering those you’ve loved diminishes them. You must remember this when you face what’s to come.

Emily rose, encircling Adam from behind as she brought her cheek to his. “My darling, Adam, I’ve always believed that love is an open heart that confirms the truth of an open mind. When we met, you allowed your mind to confirm what your heart had always known.” She kissed the top of his head. “And I find Hugo’s words appropriate too. I may have loved you all those years, but you changed my illusions about love into a deep and wondrous reality. We each learned so much in those years of searching for the truth in our pain that we were able to complete our transformations into people who could love and trust again when we found each other. All I know is that I thank God every day for the potholes and skinned knees that brought a fine gentleman to my rescue.”

Her embrace tightened as she considered asking the question that had played in her mind as she’d been unable to sleep. “Would you be willing to answer a question about…how you’re feeling now…?”

Adam interjected, “Of course, Emily, don’t ever be afraid to ask about what’s happening. If I can’t answer, I’ll say so.”

She phrased the question in her mind before speaking. “Are you truly as calm about your mechanical malfunctions and failing engineering equations as you seem to be?”

He laughed at Emily’s diagnosis and moved her to his lap. “Some moments yes, but at other moments it’s all a little overwhelming. I guess I’ve suspected that something wasn’t right, but it’s always a shock to have a suspicion confirmed. It will help me immeasurably if you continue to react and respond as you did yesterday. I know there’ll be times when you’re afraid and angry, just as there will be for me. You’re going to have opinions and I expect you’ll tell me about them, and I won’t always be so able to control my reactions, but we can resolve our feelings rationally and with dignity.

“I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

“I know you will.” Adam rested his head on Emily’s shoulder and sighed. “People facing death often say that they wouldn’t have done anything differently. I thought a lot about that last night, and I agree—mostly. There’s much I wouldn’t change, yet there are things I wish I could do over…do a better job with if given the chance. Yet in the end, my conclusion is that those experiences would probably turn out the same no matter how much we might vary the circumstances or our actions…simply because they were meant to happen just as they did. I’ve made mistakes but I’ve done a lot of penance too, so perhaps that might equalize things in the end.”

He looked up to check Emily’s response, and was reassured by her smile. “I really would hope to be remembered as Max has written. I always tried to speak my truth without bellowing, listened to all men and gave people the benefit of the doubt until they proved unworthy of it. Overall, I feel that my life unfolded as it was meant to…both good times and bad, and I think that I accepted what happened to me with as much dignity as I could muster at the given time.”

Emily spoke without moving. “I’m sure that’s true.”

“My conclusion is that I have so much to be thankful for that I can’t spend time in regret for what I did wrong or left undone. I’ll have to be satisfied that I did the best I could and face my failures when it’s time to make my accounting.”

 

 

1934: Memories of the Man She Loved

 

The high ceilings and marble floors of Union Station in Washington D.C. exaggerated the sounds of people making their way to the track exits and having conversations as they waited for their trains. Yet Emily seemed unaffected by the commotion as she remained lost in her memories while awaiting her departure to San Francisco.

She’d come East after being invited to attend a Johns Hopkins School of Engineering tribute to those who had advanced that field of study. The men honored were considered the standard bearers who guided the direction of engineering science for decades.

Emily was reading an article in the program from the event that noted her husband’s achievements as one of the first to stand for a PhD from the university, followed by an illustrious career teaching at Harvard and Berkeley, as well as having a prominent private practice. As she read, her hand moved to caress a platinum heart pendant suspended from her neck by a thin, shimmering chain. The gesture was instinctual—something she did whenever she thought of Adam. It had been 16 years since his earthly struggles had ended, and holding the simple piece of jewelry had become her way of reconnecting to the man who had given it to her shortly before his passing.

As she held the heart this time, her thoughts drifted again to the day Adam gave her the necklace, and a smile brushed her lips with the remembrance. As the Johns Hopkins article noted, her husband was a respected professor and accomplished engineer, but on the night he’d given her this gift, he’d been as excited as a young schoolboy with something up his sleeve.

***

 

As happened from time to time in those last weeks, Adam enjoyed a day relatively free of symptoms, and insisted they dine at Café Dubay. Emily remembered the candlelight reflecting in her husband’s eyes and the familiar dimples forming at the corners of his mouth as he smiled at her from across “their” table, making her wonder what he was up to. After Andre finished fussing over them and took their order, Adam pulled a small box from his pocket as he explained through a sly grin, “The last time I tried to tell you how I felt about you in this restaurant, you ended up leaving in tears, and I realized that I was a little unclear in my purpose.”

“A little unclear? I left thinking you didn’t want me around anymore,” she replied with a wink.

“I know, I know… I got that whole evening off to a bad start, but tonight, I want a second chance to do it right.” He placed the box in front of her, and when she took too long looking it over and commenting on the beautiful bow, he finally rolled his eyes and said, “The box is not the gift, Em, open it.

She lifted the lid to find a platinum heart nestled on a pillow of white satin. It struck her that although her husband often claimed that he was not a “romantic” person, this gift was a complete repudiation of that. The shape of the necklace told her that he understood her completely since her first expression of love for him was drawn inside a heart in her school notebook. She was intrigued even further when Adam reached to touch her hand, saying, “Turn it over.” Doing so, she found the engraving of, A.C. Loves E.C., and she immediately started to cry.

Adam’s face registered his confusion—the same look he’d worn 10 years earlier when his proposal had gone awry. “What’s wrong, Emily. Don’t you like it?”

“It’s absolutely perfect,” she managed to whisper.

“I wanted to give you something with meaning to help you remember that I love you with my whole heart even after I’m no longer around to say it myself.”

He rose, coming around the table to help her get it fastened. She leaned forward so he could see the clasp, and after securing it, he bent down with the intent to kiss her…just as she sat upright… As he rubbed his bruised cheek, he leaned toward her ear, purring. “My dearest Emily, you are the only woman who’s ever been able to knock any sense into me…”

 

***

 

“Aunt Emily?”

Emily shook off her memories to smile up at her niece, Sara. “Hello, dear, I didn’t realize you’d come back.”

Sara returned her aunt’s smile. “I presume you were thinking of Uncle Adam?”

“Am I so obvious?”

“I’ve lived with you 14 years, and every time you think about Uncle Adam, you hold your necklace, just as you’re doing now.” She laughed softly. “So yes, you are that obvious, but I think it’s lovely.”

Sara was one of Little Joe and June’s granddaughters: the one who once questioned Emily about what it was like to be a lawyer. As she’d grown up she’d gone to a teaching college, but after a few years in the classroom had realized it was not her avocation. After Adam passed away, she approached Emily about coming to San Francisco to study law at Berkeley. She decided to stay in the area after completing her studies, joining her aunt’s law practice, while continuing to live with her as well. Emily was in her 70s, and although she neither looked nor felt that old and surely didn’t need a caregiver, she was grateful for the young woman’s companionship, and loved her deeply.

The two women had traveled to Baltimore for the ceremony at Johns Hopkins, and then had attended a conference for women lawyers in D.C.

The law firm of Cartwright and Cartwright was holding its own in the fifth year of the depression that had hit the country hard. Emily and Sara had actually seen an increase in their business as they’d handled multiple bankruptcies after the crash of ‘29, and sadly, they’d settled a number of shambled estates following the deaths of men who had been unable to face the loss of their wealth and possessions. The downside of this was that while business had increased, remuneration had not kept the same pace. Yet careful planning and wise decisions were keeping them afloat.

 

Emily glanced toward the large wall clock across from them, commenting, “Oh dear, I really was lost in my thought. It’s already 2:30 and we’re scheduled to leave at 3. Were you able to find out if our train is on time?”

“Unfortunately it’s more than an hour behind already, and hasn’t even reached Baltimore, so it will probably be delayed further.” Sara sat next to Emily, taking the Johns Hopkins program from her aunt’s lap. “I was going to mention this earlier, but I never saw Uncle Adam with his beard trimmed like that. He looks like a Shakespearian actor. I like it.”

“I do love that photograph,” Emily replied through a sly grin. “The beard does lend him a rakish quality. I think it was taken about the time he finished his studies in Baltimore, and I didn’t meet him again for several more years. So…unfortunately…I never got to see him looking that way either.

Sara continued to look through the article. “I don’t know why it surprises me to read these things about my uncle. I know he was smart, but I think I remember him most for his kindness. I never actually met him until he visited with you when Uncle Joe got married, but Uncle Adam wrote wonderful letters to each of us on our birthdays and at Christmas. He always seemed to know exactly what we were doing and what sort of things we liked. We all waited for those letters because they made us each feel special.”

“He was a remarkable man,” Emily sighed, “And made me feel pretty special too.”

Sara added, “All four of them—Great Grandpa Ben, Uncles Hoss, Uncle Adam and Grandpa Joe—were remarkable, weren’t they?  I feel so blessed to be part of that heritage.”

Emily wrapped her arm around Sara’s shoulder, pulling her near. “Your grandmother once said that each of them was incredibly gifted, but that their greatest gift was to have one another.” She felt her niece shiver, and asked, “Are you cold, child? Where’s your coat?”

The young woman turned to face her aunt more fully. “I’m not cold. I was just remembering the day when you brought Uncle Adam home to the Ponderosa. We all gathered by the lake and you held his box of ashes up as my father prayed. Do you remember what happened?”

Now Emily shivered as she found herself looking upward as they all had that day. “There was that gust of wind that seemed to swirl around us, and then spiraled upward again, taking some of Adam’s ashes into the air where they shimmered in the sun and finally disappeared.”

Sara’s voice was reverent. “It was the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen. It felt like a breath of Heaven came down to welcome Uncle Adam home.” Her voice became a whisper. “I know they were all there that day, Aunt Emily. I felt their love.”

“I know, child, I felt it too.”

After a prolonged silence, Sara returned the brochure to her aunt’s lap, and brushed away a tear as she changed the subject, “It seems that we have some time before we leave, so why don’t we go for a cup of tea. I saw a few of the women from the conference while I was checking on our train and they said we should meet them at the restaurant.”

Patting the young woman’s hands, Emily replied, “You go ahead, Sara. I need to finish some thank you notes and it will be good to do them here instead of trying to write on a moving train.” After reassuring her niece that she was fine with remaining alone and in fact preferred a bit of quiet after the rush of the last few days, Emily sent Sara away to join the others and turned back to the article about Adam.

 

The Circle of Life Goes Once More ‘Round

 

Emily had just found where she’d left off reading in the Johns Hopkins’ program when something hit the back of her shoes and lodged between her heels. A devilish grin crossed her face as she entrapped the ball between her feet, knowing exactly what was there because she noted a youngster playing with it earlier. The ball had rolled from under her bench and away down the glossy marble floor a number of times already, and had been chased down by a boy Emily had figured to be around six-years-old. She had yet to see his face, but had seen his tweed knickers, jacket and matching hat fly by at regular intervals as he’d retrieved it. In fact she had almost said something to him when he had thrown the soft rubber ball against the back of her bench. She’d been trying to write her notes, but each time the ball rebounded against the wood, her pen would push into the paper leaving a small blotch of ink. To be on the safe side, she’d put the writing aside and had started to read the article about Adam instead.

The child’s mother had told him to stop throwing his ball against the furniture, and he’d gone to sit with her during the time Emily’s thought had drifted away to the past. But he started to play again after Sara left, this time throwing the ball into the air. Apparently he could throw better than catch, so the ball had bounded away most times. But after it was stopped by her feet, Emily saw him run to the area he expected it to have gone.  Not finding it, he retraced his steps, looking for where it might have traveled; finally ending up behind where she was seated. She was surprised when the child’s head emerged from under her bench, and had to catch her breath as he turned to look up at her. His eyes were deep hazel with golden flecks, his hair, curly and dark; and when he smiled at her, subtle dimples formed at the corners of his lips, just as Emily suspected they might.

With a soft southern drawl, he stated, “Ma’am, I think my ball is stuck between your shoes. Could I have it, please?”

Emily realized that the ball wasn’t the only thing that was stuck. She wasn’t even sure why she’d trapped the thing, but looking at this youngster, she was glad she had. Yet, now she had to come up with a reason for it being where it was. A blush crept into her cheeks as she reached down to retrieve it. “You would make a very good detective. After the ball lodged between my feet, I thought I’d see how long it would take you to figure out where it had gone. You solved the mystery very quickly.”

“I did?”

“Yes, you did. You must be good at solving puzzles.” Emily smiled as the child shrugged, and then reached out his hand.

“Can I have it back now, ma’am. I’m not supposed to talk to people I don’t know.”

“Well that’s easily corrected, I’m Emily Cartwright.” The boy took her extended hand, giving a gentle shake.

“Pleased to meet you…ah…what’s the other part of your name, ma’am?” he asked as his lips puckered in thought.

“I’m not sure what you mean by my ‘other’ name. My middle name is Miranda.”

The boy shifted his weight onto one leg, leaning into himself as he crossed his arms and explained, “No, not your middle name, your other name. My mama always says I have to call old people  by their ‘proper’ name…like my Sunday school teacher…I have to call her Mrs. Bradley; she’s old too.”

Trying to restrain her smile at the child’s honesty, Emily responded, “Your mother is teaching you very good manners. I’m Mrs. Cartwright, and what might I call you?”

“My name is…”

Before the boy could say it, Emily heard his mother call out, “Son come away from there. I don’t want you to bother the lady.”

“I’m not bothering her, Mama! I know her. She’s Mrs. Cartwright!”

Emily chimed in quickly, not wanting him to leave just yet, “I assure you he’s not bothering me. We’re old friends already, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk with your son a little longer.”

The woman smiled as she laughed. “That’s fine, but be aware that he has lots of opinions and can talk your ears off, so don’t be afraid to tell him to go when you’ve had enough.”

The boy leaned in close so Emily could hear him without raising his voice. “Don’t worry about your ears really falling off. My mama says that all the time, but it ain’t never happened and I don’t reckon it will. She’s just teasing.”

Emily responded, adopting a very serious look and equally quiet voice. “Thanks for telling me.”

After stowing the ball in his pocket, the child sat next to Emily on the bench and asked, “So what are we gonna talk about?”

“Hmm,” Emily’s face scrunched in visible thought. “Why don’t I start by telling you that I live in San Francisco.”

He scoffed, “That must be even smaller than where I’m from ‘cuz I never even heard of it.”

“It’s a big city, but on the other side of the country—in California. You’ve heard of that haven’t you?” After receiving his nod, she continued, “I’m guessing you aren’t from Washington D.C. The way you talk tells me you’re from a little south of here.”

The boy was on his feet with a hurt look punctuating his response. “What’s wrong with the way I talk? Everyone says I talk really good.”

Emily touched his cheek to soothe him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean there was anything wrong with the way you speak, just that you have a drawl. People from different parts of the country speak a little differently.  You can tell that someone lives in Boston just from the way they sound, and people from Texas have a drawl that’s much stronger than yours. From your inflection, I bet you’re from Georgia.”

“Yup. We came here to visit one of my mama’s friends and see the cherry trees.”

“Oh, that must have been fun! I saw some of those trees in blossom too. What did you think of them?”

Quickly removing his jacket, he worked on the wrist button of shirt and finally exposed his arm to show Emily a large red welt. “I liked the way they looked just fine but I think they made me sneeze. And when I grabbed at a blossom to smell it, a bee crawled up my sleeve and stung me!

“Oh, let me see that.” Emily clucked as she inspected the sting with care. “It doesn’t sound like it was a good experience for you, but I suppose you learned that you need to be very careful around bees.” She finished by smoothing his cuff, then redid the button and helped him back into his jacket.

“I learned more than that. Mama said I shouldn’t ever grab at nothin’ lest I know how bad it can hurt me first.”

“Ah,” Emily nodded her approval, “Good words to live by.”

Properly dressed again, he snuggled next to Emily on the bench, trying to get a look at what she was reading. “Who’s that?” he asked, pointing to the photo of Adam.

“My husband.”

He looked more closely at the picture, then up at Emily and back to the picture again. “You’re married to him? He looks a lot younger than you, Mrs. Cartwright.”

She laughed openly, hugging the youngster. “You do speak the truth, don’t you? That’s a picture of my husband from many years ago.”

“You think he’ll get back here before I have to leave? I wanna see his beard. He kinda looks like those guys in the movies—maybe like a pirate or a bad guy cowboy.”

“I always thought he could have played the part of a king.”

The child squinted at the picture again. “No. Definitely a pirate or a bad cowboy.”

“Well, he was a cowboy when he was very young. But he was never a bad one.”

“Wow!” His eyes rounded into circles of boyish admiration. “I sure hope he gets back here soon. I never met a real cowboy…good or bad. Maybe we could go find him. D’ya know where he went?”

Emily sighed as she considered how to explain her husband’s absence to a young child. “He’s not here any longer, son, he passed on.”

The child’s shoulders slumped as he looked down. When he faced Emily again, his eyelashes were dewy with his forming tears. “My friend passed too. He used to come over and play with me at our house, and then his heart got sick and he died. I miss him, but Mama says he’s in heaven now so I shouldn’t cry.” He swiped at his eyes with his sleeve to remove the remaining evidence of his sadness, then smiled broadly, “Hey, maybe my friend is with your husband!”

“That would be very nice. Maybe they’re both looking down on us right now…” Emily glanced over at the child’s mother and noticed that she was beginning to gather their things together. Realizing her time with the child was ending, she remembered her unanswered question. “Say, you still haven’t told me your name.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the announcement telling passengers of a train ready for boarding to Atlanta. The child’s mother came to retrieve him. “That’s our train, Sugar. We have to go now. Say goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Mrs. Cartwright. It was nice talkin’ to you. I still wish I could’a met your husband.”

Emily took his hand as he rose. “I’m pretty sure he would have enjoyed meeting you too. Always remember what you told me: make sure nothing can sting you before you grab at it.”

His eyes pinched together as he thought, “Yeah, but you know, sometimes you just gotta grab anyway. The sting doesn’t hurt so much no more.”

After a hurried goodbye, his mother gathered their suitcase and satchel and moved rapidly toward the door. The child turned back to wave at Emily as the crowd began to swallow him up.

Emily’s heart broke as she returned the wave, “Wait,” she called after him, “What’s your name?”

He pulled free of his mother to escape the crowd and shout back at her but the noise in the station made it impossible for Emily to hear what he said. But just as she thought she might never know, she heard the panicked cry of a mother who fears she has lost her child. There was no mistaking the name she shrieked: “Pernell!” Finding him standing at the edge of group, his mother first wrapped him in a hug, and then cuffed his ear, as she tugged him toward the door. Still using her adrenaline-fueled voice, she told the child, “You just wait ‘til we get home to Waycross. Your daddy’s going to have a talk with you about running off!”

Emily smiled, hoping that young Pernell would always remember that life was worth grabbing at; even if he got stung from time to time.

Sara returned as Emily watched the last of the passengers exit the door for the Atlanta train. Laying her hand on Emily’s shoulder, she commented, “Did you know that little boy, Aunt Emily?”

Emily turned to greet her niece with a wistful smile. “Yes…I think I did.”

 

The End.

 

**Psalm 145:1,11

Story Notes:

In Adam’s journeys I noted a few things I’d like to reference.

Being from the Milwaukee area, I had to put Adam on a Harley Davidson motorcycle, even if in my time frame it had to be the first one sold. It was probably a menace to drive, but did promise to do 60 MPH on a flat stretch.

The trip to Grand Canyon.

Charles Wittlesee was a young architect who worked for the AT&SF railroad, designing the Harvey House Hotels. He lived in Los Angeles during that time, but moved to San Francisco to help in the earth quake reconstruction. Adam’s story in the man’s life is of course, fictional, but I tend to think he had to have had mentors, and I made Adam one of them.

El Tovar, on the Grand Canyon rim was designed by Wittlesee, and still stands today just as Adam predicted it would. The railroad still runs from Williams, AZ to Grand Canyon, AZ and delivers people daily to be shuttled up the hill to El Tovar. The welcome center does resemble the lines of the Ponderosa house and the inside is heavily beamed, with massive fireplaces and log and mortar construction.

The mules still take visitors down the canyon trails, and are well strapped to make sure their saddles don’t slip, just as Adam was relieved to see. The mule trip was too expensive for us, but we watched as other groups left and returned, wishing we could follow in the footsteps of those who have done it for over 100 years. The wording that Emily quotes from Mr. Harvey about the mule trip being neither as dangerous nor as steep as people remember, was taken directly from an early brochure from the hotel.

I was able to hike the trail I reference Adam and Emily taking on the last day and did stand there overlooking El Tovar in the distance. However, it was my husband having trouble with the height, not me!

***

Max Erhmann wrote one of Pernell Roberts favorite poems, Desiderata. Erhmann was a lawyer who attended Harvard when he turned to writing. He traveled extensively and spoke to groups just as he does in the story. I always felt that Mr. Roberts was very much the person that Max Erhmann described in his poem and felt maybe someone like Adam inspired him.

***

And finally, the child in the last chapter is of course, Pernell Roberts. He would have been 6 at the time and certainly might have gone up to Washington with his mother. I based Emily’s conversation with him on those I have with my grandchildren, who are always truthful.

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.