Autumn Short Stories

The Last Warm Day

The late October sun bathed the city of Nashville in an unexpected warmth. The air felt heavy with the whispers of summer, yet the streets were draped in the oranges and reds of fall. Ella Mae Carter rolled down her car window, letting the breeze tangle her dark curls as she drove into the city she once called home.

It had been six years. Six years since she'd left for New York, chasing dreams of designing high-end fashion. But now, sitting in the familiar rhythm of her old car, the city streets felt more like a distant memory than a homecoming. She passed the Bluebird Café, its marquee boasting the names of artists she didn't recognize, and smiled faintly. The Nashville skyline loomed in the distance, but her destination was far from downtown's buzz.

Ella was headed back to her childhood neighborhood in East Nashville to pack up her late grandmother's house. Magnolia Walker—Maggie, to those who knew her—had been a force of nature. It was Maggie's voice Ella heard on the nights when doubt crept in. Never forget where you came from, darling, her grandmother had always said.

Parking in front of the old bungalow, Ella stepped out and was greeted by the creak of the gate. The house stood stubbornly unchanged, save for the weeds creeping up along the walkway. With a deep breath, she climbed the steps and unlocked the door. The air smelled of lavender and lemon, Maggie's signature scents.

Ella wandered the rooms, running her fingers over faded furniture and stacks of handwritten letters. Each corner of the house seemed to carry a memory. In the living room, she had played dress-up in Maggie's vintage dresses. On the porch swing, she had confessed her high school crush to her best friend. And in the kitchen—

A knock on the front door interrupted her thoughts. Ella frowned and opened it, blinking in surprise.

"Noah?"

Standing on the porch, guitar slung over his shoulder, was Noah Hensley. He'd grown since she last saw him. His lean frame carried a quiet confidence now, and the dimples that once belonged to the boy next door were still as disarming as ever.

"Ella Mae," Noah said, his Southern drawl warm and familiar. "Heard you were back in town."

She crossed her arms, unable to hide her smile. "Word travels fast, huh?"

"East Nashville hasn't changed much," he said with a chuckle. "Mind if I come in?"

Ella hesitated but nodded. Noah had always been good at making himself at home. He stepped inside, glancing around the house with a wistful smile.

"I used to love coming over here," he said, his voice soft. "Your grandma had the best sweet tea in the county."

"She'd be glad someone remembers," Ella replied, leaning against the doorframe. "What brings you here, Noah?"

He shrugged, looking almost bashful. "I was in the neighborhood. Thought I'd check on you."

Ella raised an eyebrow. "You just happened to be walking around with your guitar?"

Noah grinned. "Fine. You got me. I was playing over at The Wild Roost and figured I'd drop by."

The Wild Roost. Ella remembered it well—a tiny café with mismatched chairs and live music every Friday. Maggie had taken her there every week to hear the local talent, and Noah had often been onstage, strumming his guitar and singing with a voice that could silence a room.