Читать книгу Mountain Sanctuary - Lenora Worth - Страница 8

The next day, Adam stood on a ladder on the side of the house, working on putting a decrepit shutter back in place. His goal for today was to get all the shutters cleaned, repaired and lined up straight, so he could decide how to paint the old house. He’d have to take them all down to really clean and paint them, but for now just setting them straight would have to do. He’d do some scraping and cleaning, and some sandblasting before he could actually worry about a new paint job. That and the fact that Stella didn’t have a whole lot of money for paint, meant Adam might be here a little longer than he’d originally planned.

But then, he reminded himself as green paint flecks showered his head, he hadn’t really had an original plan.

He’d just wanted to keep moving, until he’d arrived here. And now, the lovely owner of this inn and her family had talked it over and had all agreed to let Adam stay here for a while. He couldn’t say no to that kind of appreciation, that kind of tight-knit acceptance.

As if reading his thoughts, Kyle appeared next to the camellia bush near the window. “I sure am glad we voted to keep you, Mr. Adam.”

Adam grinned down at the energetic little boy. “Me, too, Kyle. It’s nice to have something to occupy my time while I’m here.”

Kyle bobbed his head, ran a dirty hand across his nose. “Mama said you needed a place to sleep, and I can be your friend.”

“I did need a place to sleep, and I sure could use a friend,” Adam replied, careful to keep his tone even and unassuming. This little boy and his pretty mama were a bit too astute. Adam had come on this trek seeking seclusion and time to relax and get his head straight. If he got too involved with Kyle and Stella, he might not reach any of those goals. But his couple of days here so far had been relaxing, in spite of the work that running a bed-and-breakfast demanded. And he liked that right now. He liked staying busy in a mindless sort of way that didn’t require guns and handcuffs or criminals and lost souls. “So you think I need a friend, huh?”

“Yep. My mama said she reckoned you were hurting real bad.” He shrugged. “What’d cha do, scrape your knee or something like that?”

Adam lowered his head to stare down at the cute little boy, wishing he still had such an innocent, wise heart. “Yeah, something like that.”

Kyle jumped as the door to the back porch slammed. Stella came down the stairs, her long blue-and-white paisley skirt swirling around her legs. “Kyle Watson Forsythe, are you talking this man’s poor head off again?”

Kyle squinted, then gave Adam a hard stare. “He’s still got his head, silly.”

“I’ll silly you if you don’t get inside and eat your peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” Stella retorted, her green eyes full of mirth. “C’mon now.”

“Are we going to the festival later, like you promised?” Kyle asked, dragging his sneakered feet until she replied.

“Yes, but only if you pick up your toys and help Papa empty the trash.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Kyle started for the door, then turned, his hands on his hips. “Hey, Mr. Adam, you coming to the festival with us?”

Adam shot a glance toward Stella, to see how she might react to this gracious invitation. She looked embarrassed, confused and unsure. But she gave him a quick little smile. “You’re welcome to come.”

He doubted that, but he played along. “Are you sure?”

“We’re as sure as corn shucks,” Kyle replied, bobbing his head.

“Get inside,” Stella said, pointing a finger toward the kitchen. “Now.”

Adam shook his head, then grinned as the back door slammed. “He’s a pistol.”

“Tell me.” Stella plopped down on the steps to stare up at him. “He was born an old soul, according to my daddy. Much too wise for his young years.” She surveyed his work for a minute. “How’s it coming with the windows and shutters?”

Adam let out a mock groan. “Well, considering there are about twenty-six shutters on this house, I’d say it’s coming along very slowly. Should take a few days, at least, to do it right.”

“So you might just need a break later this afternoon?”

Adam eyed his progress so far. He’d managed to get about six shutters cleaned off, scraped and hinged back into place and the day was already half-done. “I just might at that.”

Stella got up, tossed her long ponytail over her shoulder. “Well, Rome wasn’t built in a day. You don’t have to do everything at once.”

Adam finished his work, then came down the rickety ladder to face her. “I’ve got it all worked out. Shutters and windows cleaned and fixed first. Then scraping and sanding these old boards for some primer. Then a whole new paint job—”

Stella held up a hand. “You’re talking a lot of money.”

“I know. But I can find discount paint on the Internet.”

“You can?”

“Sure. And speaking of that, do you have a Web site? You need one, you know, to attract customers.”

Stella backed up, stared at him. “You sure move fast.”

Adam thought he’d been standing still long enough. Or at least it felt that way now that he had something to focus on. The house, he reminded himself, not the woman. “Just trying to get things lined up. I mean, if you still want me to stay and help you out.”

“Oh, I’d like that, but I don’t have the money for a major renovation. I’ll just be happy that all the shutters are stable and secure again.”

He nodded, then looked down at his work boots. “When I get my mind set on a thing, I can be a steamroller at times.”

She looked skeptical and full of wonder, as if she wished she could figure him out. “Really now?”

He grinned at the teasing light in her eyes. “Okay, I can be a real pain at times. But that’s just my nature. I like to stay busy and I like things in order.”

Stella put a hand in the air. “We might be in trouble then. I’m slow and steady and I used to be efficient and organized. But I’m still learning this business.” Then she looked out toward the wisteria wrapping around the garage. “Of course, that’s why you found me burning muffins the other day. I got so overwhelmed, I let things slide. Maybe I do need to be more organized, considering this place is my only livelihood now. Starting with a Web site. But one thing at a time, Callahan, okay?”

Adam took that declaration in stride. “I understand. In other words, I don’t need to be rushing you, right?”

She shrugged, glanced down at the wilted petunias by the back steps. “No, no. Somebody sure needs to set me on the right path. I know it looks bad around here, but I have every intention of getting this place back up and running. Somehow, my mother managed to make a living between the inn and her art. Of course, she did have good help.” Then she sank back down on the steps. “I’m just not quite sure how I’m gonna do that. I like all of your ideas, but I need to think them through. Make the right choices.”

“Do you have any guests booked after the festival is over?” Adam asked as he sat down beside her, then started yanking weeds away from the steps. The two loyal couples who’d stayed to endure Stella’s cooking would be checking out tomorrow.

“For the summer, you mean?”

He nodded. “That would be good, yes.”

“Nobody next week.” She looked out toward the big studio, her expression wistful. “We have a few reservations over the next few weeks. There’s always some kind of festival going on downtown.”

“Not quite as bad as I thought.”

“I told you, I’m trying.”

“I can see that. So let me help.”

“What’s in it for you?” she said, tossing her hair again, a spark of doubt flickering through her eyes. “You seem almost too good to be true. There’s got to be a catch.”

Adam let out a sigh. “No catch, and I’m not all that good. I told you, I just needed a place to—”

“To hide?” She gave him a green-eyed stare, her smile bittersweet. “You’re hiding out, right?”

Adam shook his head, deciding he’d better just level with her. “No, not exactly. Look, I worked for the New Orleans Police Department for a long time. I’ve seen things, you know. Bad things. Things that make a man question his sanity and his faith. I had to walk away.”

“Do you still have faith?”

Because the question seemed so important to her, Adam knew the answer would be, too. “I have faith, yeah. I come from a good, solid family. My daddy taught all of us to never give up on God, no matter what.”

“But your job made you doubt Him?”

“Him and everything else in life.”

She braced her elbows on her knees, put her head in her hands, then looked out toward the wisteria vines again, her smile disappearing as fast as a dandelion’s floating whiskers. “Well, take it from me, you can run but you can’t hide—from your doubts, I mean. I doubt myself and God on a daily basis. But seems to me, things just keep on coming. Right now, I’m not on very good speaking terms with the Big Man.”

“How do you keep going then?”

She smiled again, the lifting of her lips a sweet symbol of something Adam couldn’t understand. “Kyle keeps me going. I have to remember Kyle. And my daddy. I love them both so much. And they’ve both been hurt and abandoned. I have to keep the faith for their sakes, at least.” She shrugged. “In case you haven’t noticed, my son tries very hard to be the mature one around here. He needs to be a kid again, before it’s too late.”

Adam looked over at her then, taking in the deep shimmer of her hair, the defiant tilt of her chin. He wondered about her hurts, her scars and her own lost childhood. “And what about for your sake?”

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes wide with bewilderment. “I guess I’m hoping some of their luster will rub off on me. You know, faith by association. I don’t always practice what my daddy tries to preach, but it does sink in. And it sure couldn’t hurt Kyle, right?”

He laughed. “Right. Couldn’t hurt.” Then he turned serious. “If you feel uncomfortable about me being here—”

“It’s not that. It’s just…I’ve never known a man other than my daddy who was as good as his word. Certainly not my dearly departed husband. And certainly not any of the many men my mother knew—according to rumors I’d hear from her staff now and then, at least. I guess it’s not easy for me to take you at your word. And I can’t take God at His word, either. I have to see something to believe it.”

Adam could understand that notion. But he wanted her to understand him, to understand that he didn’t know how to operate, except by the principles and standards he’d learned as a child. “My word is all I’ve got right now. And you have to believe me when I say that being here right now is the best thing for me. It’s like therapy, only way less expensive.”

“After New Orleans?”

“Yes, after New Orleans.”

She gave him one of those long, big-eyed stares again, but didn’t press him for the details. “We do tend to take things in stride here. We’re a lot more relaxed than the big city. We’re as laid back as New Orleans, but in a different way.”

“I like that.” And he liked the way her vanilla-scented shampoo smelled, too, he reasoned even as he tried to resist it.

“So you won’t push too hard on getting things in order around here? You’ll let me settle into this arrangement?”

“Yes, ma’am. But only if you’re willing to let me help you get things up to speed—whatever that speed might be.”

She got up, brushed off the back of her skirt. “Okay then. Since I’m the boss, I say it’s lunchtime. C’mon in and let me feed you for your troubles.”

“That sounds good, except…who cooked lunch?”

She slapped him on the shoulder. “It’s just sandwiches and chips. Even I can’t mess that up.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Now about dinner—”

“Maybe we can grab a bite down at the festival.”

“Good idea, since I don’t have to provide dinner for our guests.” She turned at the door, smiling down at him. “Hurry up. Your sandwich might get stale.”

Adam started gathering his tools. “I reckon I am hungry, at that.” Putting everything in a neat pile by the back door, he said, “Hey, tomorrow I thought I could cook a roast for Sunday dinner. You know, after church.”

Stella whirled just inside the open kitchen door. “Who said anything about church?”

Holding a hammer in his hand, Adam replied, “Well, I just thought…I mean…I plan on finding a church nearby.”

“Good for you.”

“You won’t come with me, and bring the boy?”

She looked down at her turquoise sandals. “I told you, I only get sprinklings of faith from my daddy, and right now that has to be enough. I don’t have time for church.”

“Oh, I see. Then can Kyle come with me?”

She shook her head. “You’re rushing things again, Adam. I don’t want him expecting too much, too soon, from someone who’s just here for a little while.”

With that, she was gone, leaving the scent of something sultry and sweet in her wake. And leaving very little doubt in Adam’s mind that he didn’t want to get on Stella’s bad side. But he sure wouldn’t mind getting on her good side. And soon. And it might help both of them if they learned to lean on their own faith, instead of grasping at grains of it from other people.

“I wish Papa had come with us,” Kyle said later that afternoon as they strolled down the hill toward the festival on Central Avenue. The Hill Wheatley Park and Plaza was filled with people enjoying the nice spring weather and the rows and rows of all types of arts and crafts. From somewhere inside the park, a jazz ensemble’s lively music wafted out over the trees.

Stella glanced down at her son. “Papa’s knees are bad, honey. It’s hard for him to walk very far.”

“He needs new knees,” Kyle said, looking up at Adam.

“Yes, he sure does,” Stella agreed. “But Papa is fine back at the house. He’s taking a nice long nap, and later he’s going to set out the cookies and muffins Adam baked yesterday for our guests to snack on when they get ready for bed. So we’ll bring him back a grilled chicken sandwich for dinner.”

“Okay.” Kyle skipped ahead. “Can I have some cotton candy?”

“Maybe after dinner, if you’re not too full. And don’t run too far ahead. It’s crowded.”

Stella watched her son, then stole a look over at Adam. He had showered and now wore a fresh black T-shirt and faded jeans, his dark hair spiky and crisp against his olive skin. Stella could smell the clean evergreen from the soap he’d used. Adam cut a striking figure and turned a few female heads, Stella noticed. He turned her head just a tad, too. After all, she was only human. And female. Not dead.

At least, she felt little sparks of life shooting through her with tiny jolts each time she glanced at him. Or each time he looked at her. Telling herself to just ignore all that, Stella tried to focus on some of the paintings displayed along the busy sidewalks.

“Thanks for coming,” she told him. “It’s hard enough to keep up with Kyle when it’s not wall-to-wall people. I appreciate the extra set of eyes.”

Adam scanned the crowd, his gaze set and determined, and reminding Stella that he had been a big-city cop. She could almost see that in the way he went on full alert now, scoping the plaza and streets with a keen, but subtle appraisal.

“You don’t have to worry much about crime here,” she said, hoping he would relax. The man was as intense as a drill sergeant.

“Old habits die hard,” he said, shrugging. “A lot can happen in the blink of an eye.”

Stella kept her eyes on Kyle, then called to him. “Honey, stay close, okay?”

Kyle came running back. “I’m hungry.”

“We’ll eat soon enough,” Stella replied as they strolled by the Buckstaff Bathhouse. Pointing toward Bathhouse Row, she told Adam, “I could sure use a good hot mineral bath and a massage. One day.”

“That sounds nice,” Adam said, agreeing. “I’ve never been one for that kind of luxury, though.”

“Oh, me, either. But a lot of people come here to be pampered. And they say the natural hot springwater is good for the soul.”

“All the more reason to give them a good place to stay.”

“You don’t let up, do you?”

“Not much.”

His look told her he wasn’t just talking about remodeling her house. Telling herself to keep her eyes in her head, Stella went over the list of reasons she shouldn’t be attracted to this man. He was a stranger; a wanderer fresh off some sort of meltdown, she imagined. He might be in crisis mode. And she’d had enough of crisis mode with her mother and her husband. Now she only wanted a nice quiet life, full of steady, solid work and raising her son. She wanted to take care of her daddy and Kyle. That’s all she asked.

And that meant she didn’t need to fill her head with images of a dark-haired, hardworking man whose gray eyes spoke of misery and torment. But you can at least be nice to him. The man is trying to help you. And he can cook, remember? Even if you’re not sure you can trust his motives.

Stella shifted her gaze back toward Adam. He kept glancing around, taking it all in. The art was colorful, the crafts interesting and eclectic, the music going from jazz to gospel to high-school bands doing their routines. But Adam seemed as tense as ever, almost as if being in this crowd was making him more uptight than relaxed.

“You okay?” she asked, worrying when she had no business worrying.

Adam nodded, kept looking around.

“Nice,” he finally said as they came upon some still-life pictures depicting Hot Springs Mountain, while the real thing stood sentinel just behind the park. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any hills.”

The park was part of the Ouachita Mountain range on the eastern side of the state. Stella looked up at the trees and rocks. “I guess I just take it for granted. But you’re right. It is nice, especially with spring bursting out everywhere.”

“We can climb to the top if you wanna,” Kyle suggested, eager to take off.

“Hold on,” Stella said, grabbing her son by the arm. “It’ll be dusk soon. No mountain climbing tonight.”

“Oh, all right.” Kyle twisted. “Then what can we do?”

Adam leaned down. “How ’bout we go in that shop over there and look at the toys. Maybe we can find you a coloring book or a miniature race car for your collection.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Why, sure.” Then Adam looked at Stella. “I mean, if it’s okay by your mom.”

Stella bristled at Adam’s ready generosity, but told herself to cut the man some slack. He seemed to need to be generous. He actually seemed to care. Which was refreshing if not disturbing. “I guess one racer wouldn’t hurt. Just one more for me to step on, but who’s counting?”

“I only need three more,” Kyle said, holding up three fingers. “Then I’ll have the whole co-wet-sion.”

“It’s collection,” Stella corrected, grinning.

“Well, then, we’d better get started,” Adam said, his stern expression breaking into a smile.

Stella had no choice but to hurry and follow her son and the new man in her life across the street.

The new handyman, she revised. He’s not in my life, he’s just here. He just appeared here. Out of the blue, she reminded herself. Like a gift from heaven. Either a gift or a very big mistake. Stella wasn’t sure which just yet. But she was sure of one thing. Adam Callahan looked dangerous, and not just because he carried the baggage of a burned-out cop. More like, because he was so good-looking and so intense. Just like her dead husband had once been. Good-looking and intense made for a whole slew of heartaches. And Stella would not make that mistake again, no matter how impressed she was with Adam Callahan’s muffins.