The Way Home (16 page)

He transferred his gaze to his father, who had come to watch the filming and was now sitting quietly off to one side. That was the next hurdle, Cal thought, his stomach churning. But Cal had taken Reverend Mitchell's sermon about decisions, as well as Doug Howell's suggestion, to heart and had made the only choice that would allow him to be true to himself. He was going to return to the mountains. Doug already knew, and Cal had spent the last couple of weeks looking into office space in nearby Maryville in anticipation of setting up a local practice. On this trip, while Amy had been busy working, he'd also found the land he wanted to buy and build on—assuming Amy liked it, as well. He planned to show it to her later in the day—then ask her to be his wife on the very spot he planned to build the cabin they would share. But first, he wanted to break the news of his career change to his father. Though he knew the older man would be disappointed, he also knew in his heart it was the right thing for him to do.

“Okay, Steve, that should do it.”

The cameraman turned off his lights and hefted the camera from his shoulder. “Looks like another good piece, Amy.”

“Thanks. Are you heading back this afternoon?”

“Yep. What about you?”

“Tomorrow. I have a few things here to attend to first.” She glanced toward Cal, whose lazy smile brought a flush to her cheeks.

As Steve put away his equipment, Cal pushed away from the door frame and strolled toward her. She watched him approach, her pulse accelerating at the banked fire in his eyes.

“So am I finally going to get you to myself for a while?” he asked huskily when he came up beside her.

She gave him a guilty look. “I'm sorry, Cal. I didn't expect it to take quite this long.”

“I'm not complaining. Yet.”

She smiled. “Message received. My evening is yours.”

“Good. Because there's something I want to show you.”

She tilted her head and gazed at him curiously. “What?”

He reached over and touched the tip of her nose with his finger. “Take off your reporter hat. No more questions for now. It's a surprise. Didn't you tell me once you liked surprises?”

“I believe I did.”

“I rest my case.”

“Okay, Amy, I'm taking off.” Steve came up beside them. “See you back at the studio.”

“Right. Have a safe trip.”

As the cameraman left, Amanda appeared from the back room, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “My,
wasn't that fun! I hope everything went the way you wanted,” she said to Amy.

“Perfect. I think it will be a great story.”

“Are we ready to head home?” Cal asked.

Amanda nodded. “Soon as we find your dad.”

Cal glanced toward the empty chair where his father had been sitting. “He was over there a few minutes ago. I'll round him up and meet you ladies outside.”

“I expect you're tired,” Amanda commented as she and Amy exited. “All that running around doing interviews, not to mention all the research you did before you came here. Even I learned something about the economy of Appalachia, and I've lived here all my life.”

Amy grinned. “Cal says I never do anything halfway. I guess he's right.”

“There's a lot to be said for… Cal, what is it?”

At the alarm in Amanda's voice, Amy turned back toward the door. Cal stood on the threshold, his face pale and tight with tension. There was fear in his eyes, and Amy's stomach plummeted to her toes.

“I think dad's having a heart attack. Call 911.” Without giving either woman time to respond, he turned on his heel and disappeared back inside.

“Dear Lord,” Amanda whispered, automatically moving toward the door. Amy followed, dumping her shoulder tote on a chair before going in search of Cal and his father. She found them in the back hall. The older man was sitting on the floor clutching his left arm, his back against the wall. His face was gray and creased with pain, and he was sweating profusely. Cal
was down on his haunches beside him, holding his father's hand.

“Everything will be okay, Dad. Just try to relax.”

Amy knelt beside them and put her hand on Cal's shoulder. “Can I do anything?” she asked quietly.

“Just pray,” he said tightly, his gaze never leaving his father's face.

Amanda joined them a few moments later, and the three of them kept a silent, agonizing vigil. It seemed to take hours before the distant sound of sirens signaled the approach of help. Though Amy knew the wait had been less than fifteen minutes, she also knew every second counted with a heart attack. And so she did as Cal asked—she prayed that the emergency crew would arrive in time to keep the damage to a minimum.

The paramedics went into action immediately, quickly confirming Cal's diagnosis. When they whisked the older man off in an ambulance a few minutes later, Cal accompanied them while Amy and Amanda followed in his car. The older woman was clearly distraught, and Amy wished she could think of something comforting to say. But until they knew more, any hope she offered would be just that—hope, with no basis in fact. And so she remained silent, continuing her prayers—as she knew Amanda was doing.

Cal was in the hospital waiting room when they arrived, and he answered their question before they could ask.

“No word yet. The nurse said they'd let us know something as soon as they can.” His gaze rested on
Gram, and he frowned. For the first time in his memory, she actually looked her age. Deep lines were etched in her face, and she seemed old and frail. He put his arm around her shoulders and guided her to a chair. “Sit down, Gram,” he said gently. “I'll get you some tea.”

“I'm fine,” she protested shakily. “Don't bother with me.”

“I saw a snack shop down the hall,” Amy said quietly to Cal. “I'll get the tea. Do you want coffee?”

He nodded, but as she turned to go, he restrained her with a hand on her arm. She glanced back, and for a moment their gazes connected—as did their hearts. “I'm glad you're here,” he said softly. And she knew he meant not just here, in this hospital waiting room, but here, in his life.

Her throat constricted with emotion and she laid her hand over his. “So am I.”

When she returned a few minutes later, the questioning look she directed at him was met with a shake of his head, and she slipped into the seat beside him and reached for his hand. He gripped it fiercely, like a lifeline, as they kept their silent, tense vigil.

It was almost an hour later—an hour that seemed like an eternity—before a doctor finally stepped into the waiting room and looked in their direction.

“Are you the family of Mr. Richards?”

They were on their feet instantly. “Yes,” Cal replied, his grip tightening on Amy's hand.

The man walked toward them. “I'm Dr. Douglas. Let me put your minds at ease right away. I think Mr. Richards will make a good recovery.”

“Thank God!” murmured Amanda fervently. Though Cal made no comment, Amy could feel the sudden release of tension in his muscles, and she squeezed his hand.

“Let's sit down for a moment, shall we?” the doctor suggested.

When they complied, the doctor opened a folder and withdrew several pieces of film. He walked them through the images, explaining the extent of the heart damage and the good prognosis for recovery.

“Your father is in excellent physical condition, and fortunately the damage is minimal. With therapy and common sense, he should do very well,” he concluded as he slipped the film back inside the folder. “We'll watch him closely for a few days just to be sure, but I don't expect any complications.”

“Can we see him?” Amanda asked.

“We're moving him to intensive care right now. I'll have the nurse come get you as soon as he's settled.” At their looks of alarm, he raised his hand reassuringly. “Cardiac intensive care is standard procedure for at least twenty-four hours after a heart attack. And don't be alarmed by all the equipment and monitors. We just want to play it safe. Please trust me on this. I believe in being honest, and I often have to deliver a prognosis that's much more grim. In this case, I'm very hopeful about recovery.”

He stood, and they followed suit.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Cal said.

“Glad we could help.”

As they watched him leave, Amy's vibrating pager
went off, and she removed it from her belt to glance at the message.

“Work?”

She responded to Cal's question with a distracted nod. “I need to call in. There are some phones by the coffee shop. I'll be back in a couple of minutes.”

“Take your time.”

Only when Amy reached up to punch the numbers in the phone did she realize how badly shaken she was by the events that had transpired over the past couple of hours. Her fingers were trembling, her legs suddenly felt unsteady and a tension headache pulsated in her temples. She was
not
in the mood to talk about work.

“Newsroom.”

“Jarrod? Amy Winter. I got your message. What's up?” Though she tried for a businesslike tone, she couldn't control the tremor that ran through her voice.

“Where are you?”

The news editor was certainly living up to his reputation for not mincing words, Amy thought in irritation. “I'm still in the Smokies.”

“How quickly can you get back?”

She frowned. “Why?”

“Remember those rumors that were going around a few months ago about one certain very influential and powerful alderman with national political aspirations who supposedly had mob connections? Looks like it was more than rumor. We've got a hot tip that a major scandal is about to break, possibly as early as first thing in the morning. Could result in criminal charges. We want you here to cover the story.”

Amy knew she should be flattered to be singled out for such a high-profile story. She knew that it could move her up another rung or two on the career ladder. She knew that she would be the envy of her colleagues for being handed such a plum assignment.

She also knew she didn't want to go back. She wanted—needed—to be here with Cal.
For
Cal.

It was decision time. And she knew the choice she was about to make wasn't going to sit well with the news editor. She drew a deep breath and willed the pounding of her heart to subside.

“There's a complication here, Jarrod,” she said as evenly as she could.

The silence on the other end of the line communicated his reaction more eloquently than words. It was the first time in her career that she hadn't responded by dropping everything when the station said “Jump,” and Jarrod was clearly shocked.

When he finally spoke, his voice was cautious. “What do you mean?”

Amy played with the phone cord. “A friend's father just had a heart attack. I'm at the hospital now, in fact. I need to stay a couple more days. I have plenty of vacation saved up.”

“Is this friend the guy who answered the phone at your apartment after you got hurt covering the hostage story?”

She hesitated, surprised by the question. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Look, Amy, romances come and go,” Jarrod said impatiently. “You're building a career here. I think you need to get your priorities straight.”

She took a deep breath. “So do I.”

“So are you coming back?”

“No.”

She cringed at his crude expletive. “Fine. Stay in the mountains. But don't expect us to call you first the next time a great story comes along.”

The bang on the other end abruptly ended their conversation, and she slowly replaced the receiver. Jarrod might be a good news editor, but his interpersonal skills could definitely use some polishing, she concluded as she took a deep, steadying breath. Yet he'd put into words what she'd always known instinctively. If she wanted to get ahead in this business, the job had to come first. That was the expectation. And until now she'd always accepted it. Somehow, though, in the face of what had transpired in the past few hours, the “job first” philosophy had a hollow ring.

As she made her way back to the waiting room, she reflected again on Reverend Mitchell's sermon about choices. She'd made a career choice once, a long time ago, when she'd set her sights on a network feature slot. She'd made a choice just now, one that could cost her dearly. And yet, it felt right. Because over the past few months she had learned something. Success was important to her. But so was love. And if making the two compatible meant revising her definition of success, maybe that was okay. Maybe a job that didn't allow her to put the people she loved first wasn't worth having. After all, Atlanta was a big city. There had to be other options.

For the first time in a long while, Amy didn't have
a clear vision of what her future held. It was an unsettling—and unwelcome—feeling. And yet, in her heart she knew that it was time to face some of the questions that Cal's presence in her life had raised. The choices ahead of her weren't necessarily going to be easy, she realized. But supported by Cal's love, and guided by her renewed faith, she had the courage to hope for a tomorrow that was even better than the one she'd so carefully planned.

C
al watched Amy's Atlanta-bound plane disappear into the clouds, then turned and walked wearily back to his car. The last two days were a blur of images in his sleep-starved brain—his father's face, pale against the stark white of the hospital sheets; the impersonal beeping and blinking of high-tech health care, a sharp contrast to the folksy print of a country doctor that he'd stared at for hours on end in the waiting room between visits to the cardiac intensive-care unit; and Amy, always close by, her quiet presence a balm on his tattered nerves.

A wave of tenderness swept over him as he recalled her concerned eyes, soft with sympathy and shared pain, which had made him feel less alone and afraid; her delicate hand entwined with his, the touch of her slender fingers giving him strength; her tired face, relaxed in sleep when she'd drifted off during their middle-of-the-night vigils, the shadows under her eyes
offering a mute testament to her empathy and worry. He'd tried to convince her to go home with Gram and get some rest, but she had categorically refused. Her steadfast presence had meant more to him than he could ever say—and reaffirmed for him how much he wanted her to be a permanent part of his life.

Unfortunately, he'd had no opportunity to tell her that, he thought ruefully, fingering the small, square box in his pocket. The ring that he had hoped she would now be wearing still lay nestled on its velvet cushion. But not for long, he resolved. His first priority when he returned to Atlanta was to put the ring where it belonged—on the third finger of her left hand.

The timing on his other piece of unfinished business—breaking the news about his career shift to his father—was less clear. As he parked in the hospital lot and made his way to the older man's room—a regular room now, not cardiac intensive care, thank God—he prayed for guidance on how and when to broach the subject.

When he reached the doorway, he paused to study his father, whose gaze was fixed on something outside the window. The lines of pain in his face had eased, and his color was much better, Cal noted with relief. He seemed to be resting comfortably, though it was odd to see him in a prone position. While his father had always moved at a slower, more methodical pace than Gram, he was always busy doing something—usually for other people. Only in recent years had he allowed himself the luxury of time for himself, to read or go for walks or take in an occasional movie or
sports event. Through all of Cal's growing-up years, his father had always been a quiet, dependable figure who put his family above all else. Only as an adult had Cal come to fully appreciate the extent of the sacrifices his father had made to give his only son a good education and a better life.

As if sensing his presence, the older man turned and smiled. “Hello, Cal.”

Cal swallowed past the lump in this throat. “Hi, Dad.”

“Amy get off okay?”

“She's almost back to Atlanta by now.” Cal moved toward the bed and dropped into the chair beside it, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

“Nice girl.”

“Yeah.”

“You look tired, son.”

“It's been a tough few days.”

“I'm sure sorry to put you and your grandmother through all this.”

“It's not your fault, Dad.”

The older man sighed. “I suppose not. But I don't like just lying around. I have things to do.”

“They'll wait. The most important thing you can do right now is rest.”

“Can't say that's ever appealed to me much. I like to keep busy. But I guess the Lord has His reasons for things.” He hesitated and glanced down, picking at the white blanket that covered his slight form, a frown creasing his brow. When he spoke again, he seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “Fact is, I've had a lot of time to think during the past few
days. About things I've put off coming to terms with for too long. I'm grateful that I came through this so well, but it sure was a wake-up call. Reminded me I had some unfinished business.”

Cal looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

The older man sighed. “I realized something, lying here in this hospital, Cal. I'm a selfish man.”

Cal frowned and straightened up. “That's ridiculous, Dad. You're one of the most
unselfish
people I know. All those years you sacrificed for me, put my future above everything… How can you say that?”

“Because it's true. I
am
selfish, and it's been weighing heavily on my mind. I should have said something to you years ago, but I just couldn't get the words out. Took a heart attack for me to realize how wrong I've been, and to be grateful for having a second chance to make things right.”

“What are you talking about?”

The older man fixed his gaze on Cal and took a deep breath. “Here it is in a nutshell, son. I always knew you loved the mountains. Loved them in a way I never did. You're like your grandmother, born with the mountain mist in your veins. I could see the joy in your eyes when you came back, and the pain every time you had to leave. But I ignored it. I wanted you to have a better life, and in my mind that meant a good job in the city. And you've done me proud on that score, son. So proud that I didn't want to give up bragging rights. And too proud to do the right thing. Which is to tell you that I love you, and that if your idea of success is different than mine, you
need to follow your heart and do what's right for you without worrying about disappointing me. I don't want you to look back at the end of your life and discover that you've lived someone else's dream. You're a fine man, Cal, and you deserve to follow your own dream, whatever that is. Because more than anything else, I want you to be happy.”

Cal stared at his father, his vision blurring as his eyes slowly misted with tears. He'd always loved and admired the man who'd given him life, but now his father had given him the most precious gift of all. Freedom. Freedom to pursue his own vision of happiness without worrying about disappointing the man who meant so much to him. He felt as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

“I stand by what I said earlier, Dad,” Cal said in a choked voice. “You're still the most unselfish man I've ever met.”

His father's own eyes looked suspiciously moist as he reached over and clasped Cal's hand. “I'm glad you still feel that way, son. But I should have done this years ago.”

“I've had a good career in Atlanta, Dad. I've learned a lot. The time wasn't wasted.”

“But you're coming home now, aren't you?” It was more statement than question.

Cal nodded slowly. “Yes. As a matter of fact, I'd already made that decision. I was just waiting for the right time to tell you.”

His father smiled gently. “I guess my timing was pretty good, then. Can I ask you something else?”

“Of course.”

“I don't mean to pry, but Amy sure is a nice girl, and I wondered… Will you be coming back alone?”

A hopeful smile touched the corners of Cal's mouth and his eyes grew tender. “Not if I can help it, Dad.”

 

As the doorbell rang, Amy glanced at the clock and smiled. Seven o'clock on the dot. Punctuality was just one of Cal's many admirable qualities, as well as a reflection of the solid dependability she had come to count on in him.

She glanced in the mirror and adjusted a stray strand of hair, smoothed down her pencil-slim black skirt and took a deep breath. Though Cal had returned from the mountains two days ago and they'd spoken frequently by phone, there'd been no opportunity to get together. And for her, like Cal, phone conversations just weren't cutting it anymore.

She opened the door eagerly, but before she could say a word she found herself pulled into his arms as his lips hungrily claimed hers. Though momentarily surprised by his ardent greeting, she didn't object. She felt need in his kiss, as well as fire, and she returned it fully. When he at last lifted his head, he kept his arms looped around her waist and gave her a smoky, intimate smile.

“Hi,” he said huskily.

“Hi, yourself,” she replied breathlessly. “I think I like this greeting much better than a mere ‘hello.'”

He chuckled. “Sorry. I got a little carried away. In case you haven't figured it out, I missed you.”

Her gaze softened. “I missed you, too, Cal. How's your dad?”

“Improving every day. But it will take time.”

She reached up and caressed his weary face. “You look exhausted.”

He passed off her comment with a shrug. “I've been more tired. Like when I was cramming for the bar exam. But I was younger then, too,” he added, his lips tipping up into a rueful grin.

Amy stepped out of his arms and took his hand. “Come on in. I have some wine chilling, and you look like you could use some. I thought we might have a glass before we went to dinner.”

“That sounds great.”

By the time Amy returned with two glasses, Cal was settled comfortably on the couch. A white envelope lay on the glass-topped coffee table, and she looked at him curiously as she handed him a glass and sat beside him.

“What's that?”

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he took a slow sip of his wine, willing his pulse and respiration to behave. Now that the moment was upon him, he was filled with doubts. So much of his future depended on what transpired in this room in the next few minutes, and he was suddenly afraid. Afraid to ask the question. Afraid to hear the answer. Afraid that all along he'd been reading more into Amy's feelings than was actually there. But he'd come too far now to let fear stop him, so he took a deep breath, placed his wineglass carefully on the table and picked up the envelope.

“Pictures. I wanted to show you this place in person, but the best-laid plans and all that…”

As he opened the envelope, Amy suddenly found her own pulse skyrocketing. Cal was not a man who got rattled easily, but he was definitely nervous now—and doing his best to hide it. She could sense it in the almost imperceptible tremor that ran through his hand, in the way his Adam's apple bobbed convulsively when he swallowed, in the tense line of his jaw. Something big was in the wind.

Cal withdrew several photos from the envelope and handed them to her. “I found this spot while you were filming the story with Gram. Take a look.”

Amy slowly examined the four photos, her own hands none too steady. They were all shots of the same beautiful, serene spot, taken from different angles. She paused on the last one, a meadow backed by misty mountains, then glanced up at Cal.

“This is a lovely place, Cal. Is there something special about it, other than its beauty?”

Cal took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “I'd like to buy it. Build a cabin that looks out directly on that view.” He nodded toward the photograph in her hand.

Amy glanced back down at the picture. “It would make a great weekend getaway.”

He cleared his throat. “Actually, Amy, I'm thinking of making it a permanent getaway.”

She sent him a startled gaze. “What do you mean?”

Cal reached into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew a small jeweler's box. Amy's gaze dropped to the square package, then returned to his as her heart stopped, then raced on.

“I wanted to do this right there,” he said, again nodding toward the photo, “on the spot where I'd like to build a cabin. I wanted to stand with you under the setting sun, in the midst of God's beautiful creation, and ask you to spend the rest of your life with me. But this will have to do, because I can't wait any longer.”

He reached over and took her hand, his intense gaze locked on hers. “If someone had told me the day we met that someday I'd ask you to marry me, I would have thought they were crazy,” he admitted, his voice slightly unsteady. “But I think we've both discovered over the past few months that we have a lot more in common than either of us expected. And somewhere along the way I fell in love with you. With your energy and compassion and commitment and sense of humor—all the things that make you who you are. I want to spend the rest of my life listening to your laughter, waking up next to you, watching your eyes glow with passion and enthusiasm and joy and all the other emotions that have enriched my life so much these past few months. I want to build a future with you, Amy. A future that counts for more than dollars or prestige or power, and that will leave a lasting legacy of love for our children and their children.”

He paused and drew a deep breath. “I love you, Amy. And I want to share the rest of my life with you. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Amy stared at him in shock. Not because of the proposal. She'd known for some time that they were
heading in this direction. Cal had made his feelings for her clear, and she had reciprocated. Over the past several months she had come to accept—and love—him for who he was: a man who had the opportunity for power and wealth, but who found no inherent value in those things. A man who gave generously, and without recognition, to others. A man of both strength and gentleness, who had an infinite capacity to love.

Amy had also learned much from Cal. Thanks to him, she had begun to realign her own priorities, had begun to set some limits on the sacrifices she was willing to make to advance her career. And she had come to realize that she could be content to share a simple life with this very special man, who made her rich in ways that couldn't be measured in dollars and cents. She was more than willing to change her lifestyle.

But Cal wasn't asking her to change her lifestyle. He was asking her to change her
life.
Dramatically. It was one thing to put career in second place and live a simpler life in the city, but to give up her career entirely and move to the mountains—it was too much. Though she was prepared to modify her dreams to accommodate him, she couldn't give them up entirely. Not after all the years she'd spent honing her skills. She'd worked too hard and come too far to just walk away.