Angel of Smoky Hollow (6 page)

“Are you an only child?”

“Only child of an only child of an only child,” he said.

“So no cousins to play with.”

“Plenty of others around.”

“Do your parents live in Smoky Hollow?”

“There's only my granddad. He's still here. He raised me.”

Angelica swished her hands through the water, letting the cool liquid drip when she raised her palms. She remembered that's what the store owner had said.

“I should get home. I'll need to change before Sam comes,” she said slowly. She looked at Kirk. “Thanks for the picnic and bringing me here. This is such a lovely place.”

He nodded in acknowledgment, then leaned over and brushed his lips against hers. It was a momentary touch which was over far, far too soon in Angelica's opinion. She felt an explosion of feelings, indescribably exquisite, with just that brief contact.

Without a word, he rose and offered his hand to pull her up. His touch seemed electric. Water streamed from them both as she snatched her hand back and looked everywhere except at him.
He kissed her!
Her heart pounded. She wanted to touch her lips with her fingers, stop a moment and savor the feelings that roiled inside.

Instead, she turned and stepped out of the water, her shoes squishing. She knew she would be uncomfortable all the way home. But that didn't even faze her. It was the second of his kiss that dominated her mind.

She didn't know how to react. Should she say something? Ignore it. Laugh it off. Her back to Kirk, she wrung water from her shirt, pulling it away from her body. Her pants were dripping at every step, her shoes dribbling water as she walked.

Taking a breath, she turned. Kirk had taken off his shirt and was wringing it out. She almost caught her breath at his masculine beauty. She knew his shoulders were broad and muscular. He looked like some kind of perfect male form that artists would long to paint. His skin was tanned and taut over muscles in his chest and flat stomach. She was mesmerized. It wasn't like she hadn't seen men in swimming trunks or something, but none she could remember looked like Kirk.

When he donned the damp shirt, she was disappointed. But she hoped he never suspected.

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded, and followed Kirk as he led the way along the stream and back to the picnic area. This outing was the most spontaneous fun she ever remembered. And his kiss was not something she'd ever forget.

By the time they reached Webb Francis's home, her feet felt rubbed raw from walking in wet shoes and socks. Her shirt and cotton pants had dried for the most part, but she couldn't wait to get them off.

“Next time bring a bathing suit,” he suggested as they parted.

She hesitated a moment, then nodded. Sounded like he planned on a next time. She wanted to nail that down, but still feeling awkward about that kiss, she just waved goodbye and turned to enter the house. She had not been expecting another kiss!

H
URRYING TO TAKE A QUICK SHOWER
and put on dry clothes, Angelica barely had her hair dry by the time Sam knocked on the door. With him was a girl of about the same age.

“Hi, Miss Cannon. This is Teresa Ann. Can you teach her to play the fiddle, too?”

“Hello, Teresa Ann. You want me to teach her in time for the festival?” Angelica was startled that Sam had brought another child. Was Webb Francis the local music teacher?

Teresa Ann giggled. “Not for the festival. Not this year. But if I could learn, I could play next year. My mother said I was to tell you if you take me on, she can pay five dollars a lesson. But I have to use Webb Francis's fiddle. We can't spring for one of those,” Teresa Ann said.

“I see. I'm not really giving lessons,” Angelica said slowly. At the disappointment in Teresa Ann's face, she relented. “Tell you what. I'll call Webb Francis and make sure it's all right with him if you use one of his fiddles and then I'll show you the basics. He'll be home soon and then he can teach you.”

“He'll say yes,” Sam said. “He wants us to learn.”

Angelica settled her two students on the porch with a glass of milk each and dashed over to Kirk's house. She rapped on the front door and he opened it a moment later.

“I need to talk to Webb Francis,” she said, glancing back at her house to make sure the children were still sitting there.

“Right now?” He followed her line of sight and smiled. “Doubled your class, did you?”

“I didn't expect Sam to bring a friend. She wants to use one of Webb Francis's fiddles. I need to make sure that's all right with him.”

“Sure to be. Come in and we'll call the hospital.”

Five minutes later Angelica led two children into the music room. “We'll start Sam practicing his song then I'll show you how to get started,” she said to Teresa Ann. She wasn't sure how she would manage two very different levels at the same time, but she was willing to try.

The time flew by. Sam stopped practicing from time to time to listen as Angelica explained to Teresa Ann the proper way to hold the violin and the bow. Then with a glance from Angelica, he'd begin practicing again.

An hour passed quickly and Angelica decided that was enough of lesson time for both the children. She was surprised how much fun she'd had with such rank beginners.

“You did well, Teresa Ann,” she said, wiping the violin and putting it in the stand Webb Francis had for it. “And you, Sam, are going to be the star of the festival. You're really coming along. Just keep practicing.”

Both children grinned.

“You tell your mother that lessons are once a week, but practice is every day. No charge for practices.” She suspected money was tight with the girl's family and didn't want to deny her the chance to learn because of finances. Webb Francis could make other arrangements when he returned and took over.

“Every day?” Teresa Ann's eyes widened.

“Not on the weekend,” Angelica clarified. “And only for about a half hour. Can you do that?”

Both children nodded solemnly.

“Thanks, Miss Cannon,” Sam said.

“Thank you, Miss Cannon,” Teresa Ann echoed. Both
children ran out and down the road, laughing and talking about how they would surprise everyone when they won the festival competition.

Angelica finished tidying up the music room and went to get a glass of iced tea. She'd had as much fun as the children. Maybe she had a talent for teaching as well as playing.

She would never forget the look of sheer delight Teresa Ann had displayed when she'd played a short beginner's tune. Angelica could remember her own delight when she played a song. It had seemed like magic way back when.

So when had it become more drudgery than joy? She was just tired and jaded from the hectic schedule over the last few years. This vacation was just what she needed.

During the afternoon, she'd spotted a CD player in Webb Francis's music room. Of course he'd have one. Now she could borrow CDs from the library and listen at home.

By the time she returned from picking up a selection of music it was late enough to prepare dinner. She'd eat it on the porch, listening to the quiet of the Kentucky evening. She had plenty to think about.

 

The next morning Angelica had scarcely started her coffee when there was a knock on the back door. Kirk stood on the back stoop when she opened it.

“Come with me this morning. We're working on the barn and there'll be others there who can talk to you about music. Gina's the chair of the festival this year. She's worked with Webb Francis in the past. You can meet her and talk to her,” he said.

This morning he wore another T-shirt and faded jeans, with sturdy work shoes on his feet. His intense gaze had her heart turning flip-flops even as she tried to convince herself it was merely so he could understand her when she spoke.

“I can't build a barn,” she said.

He laughed. “No one's asking you to. There's a potluck lunch, so you can meet people.”

“I should bring something, then.”

“Nope, taken care of. Are you coming or not?”

She hesitated only a moment. “Coming. Do we leave now?”

“In about twenty minutes.”

“I'll be ready. What do I wear or bring?”

He looked her over from head to toe and grinned. “Wear what you have on and bring a hat if you have one. Otherwise you'll just have to find shade. I'll be back in twenty.”

She drank her coffee in record time, eating two pieces of toast with cheese. All she had time for when she heard the truck drive round to the back of the house. She dashed out before Kirk could get out and went around to climb into the passenger seat.

“That was fast,” he commented as he backed out to the road.

“You said twenty.”

“Some people take that to mean more or less—like a half hour more or less.”

She didn't answer, but looked eagerly around as he drove. She loved the forested road embraced by trees as they drove through. When they suddenly were in an area of cleared farmland, she looked back. The line of trees marched left and right as far as she could see. And ahead, acres and acres of corn.

“That's an abrupt change,” she said. “From forest to farmland.”

“Cleared several generations ago. It's a constant chore, to keep the trees from encroaching.”

She saw the farmhouse and framed barn when they turned down a driveway. Cars and trucks were parked every which way in front of the house. There was one large oak tree sheltering the front yard.

“They kept one for shade,” she murmured, watching the activity in the yard.

Kirk drove around the side of the house. A long trestle table had been set up beneath some large umbrellas. A few bowls of food were sitting on the table beneath netting. Plenty of room ready for the rest of the food that was sure to come.

A group of men were talking, two already climbing ladders to start in on roofing.

“Come with me,” Kirk said when he parked.

He introduced her to Carrie Cooper, who with her husband Ben, owned the farm. He took off for the barn while Angelica stayed with Carrie. Her hostess introduced her to everyone as they arrived. By midmorning, there had to be more than fifty people around—men working on the barn, women fussing with food, children laughing as they raced around the yard.

Angelica felt a bit overwhelmed with all the names and faces and at one point stepped away from the crowd a little. She searched the men on the barn, finding Kirk with no trouble. He was on top of the roof, swinging his hammer with precision. She caught her breath for a moment, wondering what kept him anchored on the steep pitch. It looked as if he could slide off with no trouble.

Carrie joined her, looking in the same direction. “We're lucky to have him, you know,” she said.

“Oh?” Angelica didn't move her gaze. He looked amazing, all muscles and broad shoulders and tanned skin. She swallowed.

“He knows so much about construction. We'd have had to hire a contractor if Kirk didn't donate his time and expertise. Our old barn burned, you know.” Carrie studied Kirk for a moment. “Actually, we're all lucky he survived the mortar attack.”

“Where he lost his hearing?”

“Yes. And then I didn't think he'd come back to Smoky Hollow. I mean, what is there here for a single guy? Not a lot
of women, not a lot of business around, you know? Farming's our biggest industry. His granddaddy farms, but Kirk never took to it like old man Devon wanted.”

“You've known him a long time,” Angelica said, looking at her hostess. Here was someone who could tell her more about the man who so intrigued her.

“We went to school together. He was a grade ahead of me and one behind Ben. Wild and fun, that was Kirk.” She smiled in remembrance. “I've got to get back to the mob. Don't let us overwhelm you. Kirk said you wanted to know more about the music festival. Gina's just arrived. Come meet her. You two can talk about the festival. She'll love a fresh ear, you know.”

Angelica and Gina clicked instantly. They both loved music, though different forms. Angelica knew she could learn a lot from her. When Gina discovered she was giving lessons to two children, she eagerly asked if Angelica would consider giving more. Was the fiddle the only thing she could teach? What was she charging?

Before she could answer, Kirk walked up.

“You two eating?” he asked. He'd put on his shirt and taken off his cap.

Angelica looked around. Everyone had a plate, either eating or still in line along the trestle table, piling food on.

“Hey, Kirk. You're looking good,” Gina said, giving him a hug.

He grinned at Gina. “Don't let your husband hear you flirting with me, I don't want to have to fend him off.”

She laughed. “It'll be our secret. I'm so happy to meet Angelica. She said you're helping her get acquainted around town.”

“Standing in for Webb Francis. He'll take over once he's back.”

Angelica refused to let her smile wobble, but the comment hurt. She had thought he'd done more than stand in for the
older man. Rising, she avoided Kirk's eyes and headed for the table. “It looks like a feast,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. She needed to remember why she was here. It wasn't to flirt with Kirk Devon.

He stood behind her in line. “Meet everybody?” he asked as she added some salad to her plate.

“Yes, thank you.” She moved on to one of the casseroles.

“You going to play in the festival?”

“Probably not.” She moved on, wishing someone would engage Kirk in conversation. She didn't want him to feel he had to stick with her.

“Why not?”

“My type of music isn't really what people down here want to hear.”

“Music's music,” he murmured.

She glanced at his plate. It looked as if it held enough food to feed a family of four. “Are you going to eat all that?” she asked, startled. Compared to his plate, hers looked like it belonged to an anorexic.

“You going to eat only that?” he countered. “You're going to hurt some feelings if you don't have a helping of most everything.”

She blinked, then began taking a spoonful from each dish. “Better?”

“Only if you eat it as well,” he said, pushing against her a little.

The touch zinged through her like lightning. She felt her knees grow weak. “Don't push,” she whispered.

“Say again?” he said, leaning closer to hear her.

She stared into his dark brown eyes, awareness spiking to an all-time high. She wanted to drop her plate, put her arms around him and kiss him until she forgot her name.

Sanity returned. She stepped along, stopping to get a glass of the ubiquitous iced tea and then looking for a place to sit.

“Gina saved us places,” Kirk said by her right ear.

She spotted her new friend waving and headed in that direction. “You don't have to babysit me all day,” she said to Kirk.

“No hardship on my part,” he replied easily. Then he greeted others at the long picnic table.

Gina made introductions to the people Angelica hadn't met. When the conversation turned to music, Angelica took notice. It sounded like the festival would be just what she was looking for. And she could easily stay until the end of August, the money she'd brought would stretch that far—especially as she was living for free right now in Webb Francis's house.

After lunch, the men resumed their work on the structure. The roof was on, siding going up, and inside she could hear hammering and sawing. Once the food had been put away, or carried off by those having to leave early, Angelica walked over to the barn, peering inside to see what was going on there.

It wasn't as bright as in the sunshine, so it took her a few minutes to get used to the dimness. Spotting Kirk using a table saw, she carefully walked over.

He cut board after board while one of the men stacked the pieces until he had several, then carried them over to where she could see they were separating space with stalls.

Kirk looked over and saw her.

“I came to see what you were doing,” she said.

He tilted his head slightly.

“This wood is for the stalls, isn't it?” she asked.

“We'll do as much as we can today. I think we'll finish if everyone working stays until it's done.”

“Carrie said you're donating your time and expertise,” she said watching as different men did different tasks. It looked like a choreographed production.

“All of us are donating time for this. Traditions like that go back to the founding of the country. Ben bought the material, we're just putting it together.”

She nodded, trying to find a similar situation in her own life where people gave freely of time and ability and got nothing in return except the satisfaction of helping a neighbor. Granted, her parents donated to charities, but never put themselves out beyond that to help.