Angel of Smoky Hollow Read online

  “Still gonna be a few days.” Webb Francis tapped the refolded letter against the sheets. He studied her for a moment, then said, “Angelica, you could stay in my house until I get back. Save B&B expenses at Sally Ann’s. I got a couple of empty bedrooms. Pick the one you like. When I’m better, we can discuss what I can or can’t do for you.”

  She flicked a glance at Kirk. What would he think of his friend offering the use of his house to a virtual stranger?

  From his frown, Kirk was not in favor of the idea. But he said nothing.

  “When you come home, maybe I could help out a bit,” she said. She’d love to learn as much as she could from the man. Until he returned home, she’d talk to some of the residents of Smoky Hollow to find out about the old music. From what her professor had said, music was well represented in the hamlets of Kentucky.

  “We’ll see.” The older man looked at Kirk then Angelica. “Show her around for me, Kirk, will you? And introduce her to Dottie and Tommy. They know lots of the old songs. Tommy plays the dulcimer, you know. And Gina. She’ll be a help.”

  Kirk hesitated a moment, then shrugged and nodded.

  “Did you come on Kirk’s motorcycle?” Webb Francis asked Angelica.

  She nodded. “First time I’ve ever been on one,” she confided.

  Kirk grinned. “Best way to see Kentucky,” he said.

  It must be a private joke because Webb Francis laughed at Kirk’s comment. “You take care of my guest until I get there, you heah? Show her around. Make sure she has everything she needs.”

  “I hear. I’ll make sure she gets the royal treatment.” He looked at her while he said it.

  Angelica felt every cell in her body come to attention. She wasn’t sure she liked that idea. She’d rather not spend a lot of time around this disturbing man. How was she to get anything done? She’d never felt this strong attraction before. Most of her dates had been with men more interested in being seen with a rising star than in developing deep personal relationships. Not that she dated much. Schooling and then practice had taken a huge priority in her life. She wasn’t comfortable about her reaction to Kirk. Hopefully it would fade in the next ten minutes—or sooner.

  The two men chatted for a few minutes. She stepped back and watched, fascinated by the peek into their lives through their conversation about people they both knew. Most of her friends were musicians. From the comments made, Webb Francis and Kirk had a wide assortment of friends. She listened wistfully, fascinated.

  “What about the music festival?” Webb Francis asked at one point.

  “It’ll all come together,” Kirk said.

  The topic piqued Angelica’s interest. “What music festival?” she asked.

  “The last weekend of August we have a big musical festival with folks coming from all over the state. We play, sing, dance. That’s one event you don’t want to miss,” Webb Francis said. “There’ll be a couple of impromptu gatherings before then, I expect. Rehearsals, sort of. Usually happens throughout the summer. Kirk, see what you can get going. Then Angelica can play for us.”

  Kirk nodded, looking at her. “Play that fiddle you carry around, huh?”

  “It’s a violin. A very old and valuable one,” she said with some asperity. A fiddle indeed.

  “Same thing,” Webb Francis said. “I’ve got some sheet music in the little room off the living room. Find you some music so you can play at the festival,” he suggested.

  She nodded, annoyed Kirk seemed amused at her defense of her violin. Obviously once away from the music world she was used to, she shouldn’t expect the same reverence she received in New York. Well, that’s what she wanted, more anonymity and less pressure. She couldn’t have it both ways.

  In only a few moments, Kirk suggested they leave. Angelica could see Webb Francis was growing tired. Would he truly be up to returning home in a few days? She hoped so, but doubts began to grow.

  As they walked out of the hospital, several people greeted Kirk—mostly women, Angelica noticed. Not that she blamed them. He looked even better today than when she’d first met him. The jeans were newer and fit like a glove. The shirt with the sleeves rolled back wasn’t as fitted as the T-shirt had been, but still showed off the perfect physique. His dark eyes seemed to notice everything, and the smile he gave when greeting people sent her heat index spiking.

  “Need anything here before we return to Smoky Hollow?” he asked when they approached the motorcycle.

  “How would I carry it if I did?” she asked.

  “We’d manage.” He was looking at her with the same intensity. Those dark eyes seem to see right down into her soul.

  She felt light-headed. Looking at the motorcycle, she drew in a breath.

  “I’ll wait until I get to Smoky Hollow. If I’m really going to stay in Webb Francis’s house, I’ll need some food and things. The store there sells everything I’d need, right?”

  “Pretty much. We’ll stop for lunch before heading home. All right with you?”

  She nodded, interested in what she would see of Bryceville. Much more developed than Smoky Hollow and a larger town to boot, it was nothing like New York, but few places were. She was curious to see more.

  By the time they reached Smoky Hollow in the midafternoon, Angelica’s head was swimming with new impressions and ideas. She had not, however, learned much about her guide. He’d driven through Bryceville pointing out landmarks. They’d eaten at a little café on a side street where everyone seemed to know Kirk and were friendly and welcoming when introduced to her. The ride back had been hot, the heat couldn’t be outrun and she was feeling limp when they stopped in front of the store.

  “Stock up on what you need. I’ll be back and we’ll get your things from Sally Ann’s, then I’ll take you to Webb Francis’s place,” he said when she got off the bike.

  Handing him her helmet, she eyed the bike. “On that?”

  “I have a truck.”

  She wondered why they hadn’t taken the truck into Bryceville. But she merely nodded. “Thank you, I appreciate that. This is such a small town, once I’m settled, I’m sure I can walk everywhere.”

  “Pretty much.” He pushed back, then took off.

  The two permanent fixtures on the porch asked her how she’d liked Bryceville.

  “Very nice,” she replied as she passed to enter the store. She’d heard people in small towns knew everybody’s business. What a novelty that was. She didn’t know all the neighbors in her apartment floor and she’d lived there three years.

  Stepping inside, Angelica was immediately fascinated by the old building. The wooden floors beneath her feet were worn, as if from a hundred years of shoppers. The shelves were not as tall as in most supermarkets, but from the assortment of merchandise, she realized the store carried all she’d need—just not in the vast quantities of larger establishments.

  Bella Smith was the shopkeeper and as friendly as Angelica was coming to expect. The woman had her confiding her plans to move to Webb Francis’s home and the fact Kirk was helping before the shopping cart was half filled.

  “He helps everyone. Such a contrast to his grandfather,” the woman said, watching as Angelica added pasta to her shopping cart.

  “His grandfather lives around here?” Angelica asked, curious about her reluctant guide. Could she get the shopkeeper to tell if Kirk was married or not?

  “Sure does. Lives down on Doe Lane. Mean old man. He raised Kirk. Amazing to me the boy turned out as well as he did.”

  Angelica blinked at the older woman’s choice of words. Boy? The man was all man and then some.

  When she had enough food to last a few days, she went to the checkout counter.

  “How’s Webb Francis doing?” Bella asked as she rang up the purchases.

  “Seemed very weak and tired to me. But he’s hoping to come back home before long.”

  “Good thing Kirk checks in on him. He could have been worse if Kirk hadn’t found him when he did and taken him to hospital. There, I
think that’s all you wanted. You let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Thank you.” Angelica looked at the four bags of groceries, wondering how she was going to get them to Webb Francis’s home. She had stocked up so she didn’t need to shop again soon, but now she wondered if she would have been better off with just a few things to tide her over until morning.

  “Ready?” Kirk walked in the store. His timing was perfect.

  She nodded, careful to take a deep breath in case she didn’t get to breathe again until she got used to him being around. Was there something in the air that was making her crazy around this man? She wasn’t even sure she liked him. He didn’t seem to like her that much either.

  “Got your truck?” Bella asked.

  “Sure, lots to carry,” he said, taking two of the bags as if they weighed nothing. Angelica picked up the third and Bella the last one. When she stepped out on the porch, Angelica saw a big pickup truck parked nose in. Kirk placed the bags in the area behind the passenger seat of the extended cab. He quickly took hers and Bella’s and stowed them as well.

  “Let’s go,” he said, pushing back the passenger seat so Angelica could climb in.

  “If you have this, why did we take the motorcycle this morning?” she asked when he climbed in behind the wheel and started the engine. Refreshing cool air blew from the vents. She relished the coolness, moving one vent so the air blew directly on her face.

  “This is practical. The bike is fun.”

  Angelica thought about that. When was the last time she’d done something for pure fun? She needed to get a life. She loved music, but felt very one-dimensional with all the focus on the classical and modern compositions and the endless hours of practice.

  So now she was expanding music to include other aspects. What else could she expand in her life?

  She glanced at Kirk, considering. She did not have a steady man in her life. And up until now, that hadn’t bothered her. She still didn’t know if he was married, but there was no ring on his left hand.

  They made quick work of getting her few possessions from Sally Ann’s and then headed back past the store and on down a quiet street heading east.

  “How far from town is Webb Francis’s house?” she asked when they were underway.

  Kirk didn’t answer. She glanced at him. He was watching the road. Catching a glimpse of her movement, he flicked a look her way.

  “How far is it from town?” she repeated, louder. The motor wasn’t that loud. Was he preoccupied?

  “How far? How about here?” He pulled into a graveled driveway. Twenty feet in front of her sat a charming little cottage. White with bright blue trim, it looked like a doll’s house. The front yard consisted of a lawn in need of mowing, one rosebush bent over with blossoms and lots of shade trees. It was a spacious lot. The only neighbor she could see was the log cabin to the right.

  “Easy walk to town,” she said.

  “Get settled in and I’ll take you around and introduce you. Then you’re on your own.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said stiffly. It sounded like he wanted no more to do with her than she wanted with him. But as a favor to his friend he would follow through. She could relieve him of that obligation. She’d do fine on her own.

  “Webb Francis asked me to.” He got out and slung her backpack over one shoulder. She jumped out and retrieved her violin case before he could reach it. Taking one of the bags of groceries, she stepped to the front door and waited. Kirk came a minute later carrying two more bags.

  “Open it, it’s not locked.”

  Angelica blinked. She tried the door. It wasn’t locked. “Amazing.” She stepped into a comfortable living room. Through the opening in the back wall she glimpsed the kitchen.

  “Come on, through here,” he said, passing her and heading straight to the kitchen.

  She liked the spaciousness of what she saw. From the outside the cottage looked tiny. But it was easily three times the size of her apartment. She put her bag of groceries on the old farmhouse-style table and looked around. Kirk headed back to the truck for the last of the groceries. The appliances weren’t new, but looked well kept. The window in the back gave a view of more woods, the thick green foliage shading the backyard. She pushed it open and let the warm air in. The house smelled a bit musty. She didn’t mind the heat, savoring the different scents that were so unfamiliar.

  He dropped the bag on the table. “Guest bedrooms are off the hall to the right when you entered. Bath farther along. Might need sheets which are probably in the hall linen closet. Webb Francis’s room is in the back. Need anything else?”

  “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

  “Want to go to town today or wait until the morning?” he asked, his dark eyes gazing into hers. His entire body seemed focused on her.

  “Tomorrow’s fine. I’ll settle in this afternoon.” She wanted to look away, but those dark eyes held. What was Kirk thinking as he gazed at her? She never could figure out how other people thought. She held her breath until he nodded and turned.

  He glanced around. “If you need anything, holler. I’m next door.”

  “Next door?” she repeated. He had the log house she’d seen when they arrived.

  “Problem with that?” He looked back.

  She shook her head quickly. The last thing she wanted was for Kirk Devon to have a clue how badly he affected her equilibrium. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Tomorrow at ten then.”

  Angelica followed him to the door and watched as he backed the truck out of the driveway and in only seconds pulled into the one by the log house she could see through the trees. He parked the car on the far side. Behind was another building. Was that his garage? It was hard to see through the thick growth of trees and shrubs. There was so much green!

  Sighing softly, she returned to the kitchen to put the food away. Then she wandered around the cottage, checking each room. She ended up in the small room Webb Francis had told her about. It was lined with shelves that seemed to hold an inordinate amount of sheet music. There were harmonicas in cases on one shelf, two violins, a banjo and a mountain dulcimer. Two music stands stood in the corner, two folding chairs leaned against one wall. She ran her fingertips over the strings of the dulcimer. She’d only heard one played once.

  She leafed through some of the sheet music. She recognized a couple of songs from the class at the conservatory. For the first time in a long while she felt some excitement about playing.

  It was growing dark when Angelica put her violin down. She hadn’t practiced like that in a long time. Feeling lighter and happy for the first time in months, she went to prepare her dinner. It was after nine. She’d eat, go to bed and be up in the morning in time to go with Kirk to meet people Webb Francis thought could help her.

  Getting ready for bed a little later, she glanced out the bedroom window toward Kirk’s house. It was dark. But the building behind was lighted. What was he doing in the garage this late at night? Tinkering with his car? She stared at the building for a long time, lost in thought about her reluctant neighbor and the wild fantasies she was weaving in her imagination. He’d probably laugh himself silly if he knew. She sighed softly and turned away. She was here to get rejuvenated, not fall for some man who lived hundreds of miles from New York City.

  CHAPTER THREE

  IT WAS EARLY when Kirk kick-started his bike and headed for his grandfather’s place. He checked on the old man two or three times a week. Pops rarely came to town any more—preferring his own company on the farm to mingling with others. No one cared. He had the disposition of a surly bear.

  But he was the one who raised Kirk and he had a deep abiding affection for the old man.

  When he pulled into the yard a short time later, the old hound barked and ran to greet him. Soon Pops came out of the back.

  “You here for breakfast?” he asked gruffly.

  “If there’s any going, I am,” Kirk said. He took off his helmet and propped up the motorcyc
le. Glancing around he saw a farm still going strong. He hoped he had the energy and determination when he was in his seventies that his grandfather did.

  “How’re you doing for eggs?” Kirk asked as he drew closer. There were no hugs. They didn’t even shake hands. But Kirk felt the love for the old man as an integral part of himself.

  “Sent some over to Bella yesterday. Plenty laying now. Come on in. Coffee’s on and you can cook the biscuits.”

  The two prepared their breakfast as they had many mornings when Kirk was growing up. His mother had abandoned them when he’d been about two. He really had no memory of her. His grandmother had long ago left the grouchy old man. After his father’s death, it had been Kirk and Pops.

  “Saw Webb Francis yesterday,” Kirk said after he put the biscuits in the oven to cook. “Getting better?”

  “Appears to be, though he looks like hell. Says he’ll be home soon, but I don’t think so.”

  “You keeping an eye on his place?”

  His grandfather might not be the most personable of men, but he had a strong sense of duty he’d instilled in Kirk.

  “I am. He’s got someone staying there a few days. Woman from New York.”

  “What’s she doing here?”

  “Came to jot down some of our songs—for posterity.”

  “Only posterity folks need to know are the kin of those here today. And they’ll pass them along.” He looked at his grandson sharply. “Pretty, that woman?”

  “Too thin. Has tired eyes. Seems to switch from being all haughty to scared of her own shadow and back again.”

  “Won’t stay long.”

  “They never do, do they?” Kirk said, thinking about his family’s history with women.

  “Best thing I can say of my marriage was your father. His best was you.”

  Kirk nodded. He didn’t have a marriage to boast of. Would he ever find someone to make a family with? He’d once thought he and Alice would marry. But she upped and went off to Atlanta and found a rich attorney. Once he’d had his fill of seeing the world, he’d wanted to settle in Smoky Hollow. How different life would have been with a few changes along the way.