Tell Me About Orchard Hollow

by Lin Stepp

  Shortly afterwards, Jenna found herself heading back down Highway 321 toward Townsend. As the mountain ranges came into sight again, Jenna could see the sunset streaking across the mountain – slashes of pink and blue.

  “My mother used to call that a baby sunset,” Boyce commented. “A fitting sunset for a night like tonight.”

  Jenna smiled at him, glad he’d bridged the silence. “It is a pretty sunset,” she replied. “I’ll have to tell Sam about it.”

  “How is Sam?” His voice held concern.

  “Holding up as well as he can.” Her answer was honest. “I wish I could give you a better report. All of us are worried about him.”

  “Sam’s tough,” said Boyce. “He might surprise us and turn the corner again.”

  Jenna laughed softly. “If he did, I think he’d take the first plane down here. He talks about Orchard Hollow and his friends and family here all the time.”

  “It was good of you to come down. It means a lot to him.” He studied her for a minute. “You mean a lot to him, too. He talks about you to all of us. He says you’ve been like a daughter to him.”

  “It’s easy to like Sam.” Jenna dismissed the compliments.

  Darkness fell as Boyce drove into Townsend. It was hard to see the landmarks that pointed the way to Orchard Hollow. But when they swung right off the highway onto a small paved side road, Jenna found herself saying, “And turn right on Chestnut Springs Road by the McNally Farm.”

  Boyce chuckled. “You must be remembering Sam’s directions.”

  They drove up the road a few miles, and then Boyce swung right onto a narrower road in the woods.

  “Oh, look, there’s the signpost with the carved bird on the top that Sam told me about. The one with everyone’s name on it.” Jenna craned to see it in the dark.

  “Will Bratcher and I made that,” Boyce told her. “It’s nothing much. Just a signpost with boards tacked on it telling the names of the folks that live on Orchard Hollow Road – the Lansky’s, Hester’s, Oliver’s, and Hart’s.” He pointed out the window. “There’s the Lansky’s house on the right there, set back toward the creek. Sarah and Will Lansky are transplanted Yankees; they moved south and opened a little sports store in Townsend called The River Trader. Nice couple.”

  He pointed in the other direction then. “The lights you can see up on the left in the woods - that’s the Hester’s place. They’re older, Raymond and Wilma. He’s a retired ranger, really knows the Smokies, and works part-time at the visitor’s center now. Wilma is a great cook. If she feeds you one night, you’ll be lucky. She also makes candy apples and sells them down at Raynelle’s.”

  The road angled alongside the creek, climbing up through the woods now. And then it opened out into a loop turnaround as it dead-ended.

  “Oh, it’s Sam’s place!” Jenna’s excitement bubbled out spontaneously. “And it’s just like he described it.”

  A rustic, weathered log cabin stood to the right of the loop road set in a cluster of trees. A twining, split rail fence snaked around the yard, and the cabin had a slate grey roof with dormer windows peeking out of the rooftop. A long covered porch spread across the front of the house, with a welcoming barn-red door in the middle. Boyce turned into the driveway that skirted to the left of the house. A shed, with a one-car garage built into it, lay just beyond the cabin at the end of the drive.

  It had been a long day, and Jenna felt like crying as she got out of the car and helped Boyce get her luggage out of the trunk. Broad log steps rose up to the porch just like Sam had described. And there was Frances’ swing and the rockers the Bratcher boys had made. Everything felt oddly familiar.

  “Where do you want these?” Boyce gestured to her bags. “In Sam’s room downstairs or in the bedroom upstairs?”

  “I think I’ll sleep upstairs,” Jenna said, remembering Sam thought she’d like that room best – since it was filled with Frances’ needlework.

  She followed Boyce up the stairs to the bedroom on the left. It was a large, cheerful room decorated in blues and yellow, just as Sam described it. A flower garden quilt covered the high, queen bed and a big, floral rug spread over the hardwood floor. Furnishings included a small dresser with an oval mirror, a chest of drawers, and bedside tables. A stunning oil painting of a field of mountain wildflowers dominated the main wall above the bed and over the chest of drawers hung the small painting of Frances that Sam always talked about. Jenna’s eyes welled up with tears when she saw it.

  Boyce brushed past her in the door, and said, “I’ll just go down and get the rest of your stuff and bring it in. You can put a few things away before you come down if you want. I’ll go start a fire for you before I leave.”

  He left before she could say thanks. Jenna was glad because it gave her a chance to wipe away the tears welling in her eyes before she needed to go down to face him again.

  She hung up her clothing bags in the closet and unpacked a few essentials before looking for the upstairs bathroom. It was decorated to have a country look, full of blue and yellow towels and patterned with a floral wallpaper on the inside walls. Jenna washed her face and touched up her makeup before finding her way back down the stairs.

  She found Boyce lounged on one of the sofas before the fire, his long legs propped up on a sturdy, wood table between the sofas. He looked up, saw her, and flashed a wide, mischievous grin.

  “Son-of-a-Gun, what a day.” He shook his head for emphasis. “If I was a woman, I’d just have myself a good cry about right now.”

  Jenna stopped in her tracks at the bottom of the stairs, upset at first with his implication that she’d been crying. She pulled into herself automatically, readying herself for criticism, trying to arrange her face to be expressionless. But then she saw Boyce still relaxed and sprawled over the couch, continuing to grin at her, and realized he must be teasing her and not criticizing her at all. She relaxed a little then. Perhaps she’d misread the situation.

  Chapter 4

  Boyce watched all the expressions flow over Jenna Howell’s face and wondered what sort of life she’d known to be so quick to expect attack. He’d seen her expression go from surprise, to pain, to wariness, and relief - and watched her face change from a wistful, soft expression to a carefully steeled, cool, and collected one.

  “The fire looks nice.” Jenna attempted a smile and walked over to warm her hands by its warmth. The cabin had been cold and chilly when they arrived, but now the fire was heating up the room quickly.

  “I took some liberties,” Boyce said. “I brought in some wood and turned up the electric heat for the night. I checked some things around the house, too. You know, made sure the refrigerator was working and stuff like that. I even put the chicken casserole Zita Walker left in the oven.”

  He sent a big grin her way. “I’m really gonna die if you don’t ask me to stay and eat a bite with you. I haven’t had anything to eat since early today, and with all that baby delivery business, there wasn’t time to think about it before now. I’m about to starve, and Zita Walker makes one fine chicken casserole.”

  A faint smile played at the edges of her mouth. “Well, of course, you can eat some before you go home,” she assured him. “You’re as entitled to it as I, since you know all these people here. I can’t believe they went to so much trouble over me.”

  He got up to throw another log on the fire. “It’s our way here in the mountains. It’s called hospitality. Don’t you have that in New York City?”

  Boyce watched her prickle up again. Lordy, she was an uptight woman.

  He propped his long legs on the battered coffee table in front of the sofa. “Listen, why don’t you go do something womanly and see what else is in the kitchen to go with that casserole,” he suggested. “Zita and Raynelle left all sorts of containers in there. It’ll be good for you to poke around the kitchen and get used to the place. I’m just going to chill out here.” He closed his eyes, crossed his arms, and laid his head back on the sofa, sighing audibly.


  Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Jenna make her way into the kitchen to see what she could find for dinner.

  Boyce grinned to himself, wondering what a city girl like Jenna thought of Sam’s old country kitchen. He was sure it wasn’t like any Jenna had ever seen - no shiny walls, modern cabinetry, granite countertops, and chrome appliances here. The walls and ceilings were sun-bleached boards with grey chinking showing between them, the kitchen floors wide-plank wood. Dishes, glassware, and cooking supplies sat, in no particular order, on wood shelves above the countertops, and utensils and silverware stood helter-skelter in tall baskets or crockery pots. The only colorful touches appeared in the curtains, towels and potholders, and in a faded, rag rug on the floor.

  Yet, surprisingly, it didn’t take long for Jenna to find the things she needed to pull a quick meal together. Boyce lazily watched her taking out dishes of green beans and corn and finding plates to put out on the big, plank dining room table. He let his eyes drift lazily shut, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the sounds of Jenna puttering in the kitchen.

  A short time later he heard her walk over toward where he lay on the couch with his head back and his eyes closed. He could sense her leaning over him on the couch, trying to see if he was asleep. Playfully, he reached up and grabbed her arms.

  “Boo!” he shouted, laughing. “Is dinner ready?”

  Jenna was so startled that she burst into tears and literally started to shake.

  “Well, double death,” he remarked in surprise, getting up to come around the couch toward her. He took one look at her face and simply wrapped her up in his arms. She looked as white as a sheet, and she was trembling all over. He felt like a real oaf.

  “I’m sorry, Jenna,” he apologized. “I was just fooling around. I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I’m really so sorry.” He rubbed on her back while he soothed her. She stayed tense at first, and then she leaned into him and finally began to relax.

  Lord, she felt wonderful, Boyce thought. Her soft curves fitted up against him in all the right ways, and her head tucked right into his shoulder perfectly. Her hair smelled fresh and lemony and her cologne had a touch of sweet, honeysuckle tones to it. She smelled good enough to eat.

  And she’s married, he reminded himself.

  Boyce pulled her gently away to look at her. “Are you all right now?”

  She blushed prettily, and Boyce watched her drop her eyes in confusion. If he didn’t know she was a married woman, he’d have thought she was a girl that had never been around men much. She didn’t seem to even recognize the reason for the tension in the air between them. And, mercy, there was good tension.

  The dark circles he saw under her eyes, and what he knew of her from Sam, caused him to pull away and make a joke to cover the moment.

  “Sorry about that, Jenna.” He shrugged and grinned at her. “I grew up in a big family and we all teased one another all the time and constantly played jokes on each other. I guess fooling around just comes naturally to me. I didn’t mean to scare the dickens out of you.”

  He cocked his head teasingly to one side. “Are you still going to feed me now or just throw me out?”

  She was still shaky, but Boyce watched her struggle to recover herself, to adjust her expression, and then, finally, to lift her eyes to his momentarily.

  “No, come eat while the food’s still hot.” She turned toward the kitchen. “I’m sure I’m overly jumpy in a new and unfamiliar place.”

  Good recovery, thought Boyce. The lady knew how to be smooth.

  They sat down to eat and soon realized how hungry they were. For a little while they both attacked the food and said little.

  “You were right about the casserole,” said Jenna at last. “It’s wonderful. I want to get the recipe for it from Zita.”

  Boyce noticed with relief that she seemed much calmer now.

  “That will make Zita Walker feel proud as a peacock for you to ask her.” He forked the last bite of casserole off his plate. “And you might as well get ready for a lot of dinner invitations as a newcomer. Especially because you’re thought of as Sam’s girl.”

  She looked up and smiled at that. Gracious, she was so beautiful, Boyce thought. Golden, glowing skin like a gypsy girl, deep brown expressive eyes, and that dark, sleek, black hair swinging down over her shoulders. She was tall and slim, but full and curvy under her clothes. He’d felt those curves when he held her. Right now, he found it hard to keep his eyes off her lips as she licked some bits of casserole off the end of her fork.

  And she’s married, he reminded himself firmly once again.

  “You seem to have your mind far away,” Jenna prompted, breaking his thoughts. “Sam calls it wool-gathering.”

  “Yeah, you caught me lost in a moment,” Boyce answered. He was trying to think about what to say to get himself out of this moment when a deep barking erupted from the porch.

  Jenna overreacted again - dropped her fork with a clatter and put her hand to her throat in surprise.

  Boyce laughed. “Gee whiz, you are jumpy, Jenna. That’s just Patrick, my dog. He’s picked up on my scent over here and knows I’m home now. I’m going to have to let him in or he’ll keep up that barking and drive us both crazy.” He went to the door and let in the big red setter, who immediately wove all around Boyce’s legs in friendly doggy greeting while Boyce patted him warmly in return.

  “Oh, he’s a beautiful dog,” said Jenna.

  Hearing her voice, Patrick pricked up his ears and walked over to sit at Jenna’s chair to raise a gentlemanly paw. Jenna shook the proffered paw and stroked the setter’s head.

  “You know, he looks like Sam’s old dog, Dan.” She looked up at Boyce with a million dollar smile.

  “Patrick is Dan’s son.” Boyce smiled back at her. “Sam mated his dog Dan to a female Irish setter that a friend of his had in Maryville. The friend gave him pick of the litter, and Sam let me have the pup. He’s a lot like Dan in temperament.”

  Jenna shook her head sadly. “It almost broke Sam’s heart when Dan died this year. He loved that dog so much.”

  “Well, Dan was like Sam and Frances’ child. When Dan died, a lot of precious memories went, too.” Boyce paused. “Pets are just like people. Some are even better than people.” He laughed. “It’s hard when they go. Leaves a big void.”

  Jenna looked thoughtful. “I hope Sam doesn’t lose Maizie, too.”

  “That big yellow cat?” asked Boyce, laughing. “Man, that was one fine cat. Lazy, but fine. And she loved table food, if I remember.”

  Jenna laughed. “Yes, you know Maizie all right.”

  “Do you have pets, too?” asked Boyce.

  “No,” she said, regret in her voice. “Elliott is allergic to them, and he doesn’t like animals in the house. My parents didn’t care for pets, either, so I’ve never had any of my own.”

  Boyce watched Jenna’s face totally alter when she mentioned her husband’s name. Her smile left her face and she tensed all over. She actually straightened her posture and arranged her face carefully into a calm and poised expression – as if following some set of internal expectations. When she mentioned her parents she stiffened even more. She reined in and locked up all the life in her to some holding place. It was tragic to watch.

  “It’s late.” She sighed and stood up politely to indicate that Boyce should leave. “I think I need to get some rest.”

  “I’ll help you clean up.” Boyce offered this congenially.

  “No, I’ll do it.” She shook her head. “You take Patrick on home. It’s been a long day for all of us.”

  Taking the hint, Boyce started toward the front door.

  She walked into the kitchen, and then turned back to smile at him as she saw him pause at the door to let Patrick through first.

  “And, thanks, Boyce, for helping me get settled here. I really appreciate it.” Her smile then was more genuine and a little more relaxed.

  “Don’t thank me too quickly,” he said, stopping
with a foot holding the door. “Raynelle is letting me have you at the gallery two days a week instead of you helping her out at the Apple Barn. She knows I’m short-handed, and Charlotte can’t come back to work even part-time for a few weeks, what with the new baby and getting recovered and all. Una Deets works for me Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, but she goes to college on Tuesdays and Thursdays when Charlotte works. We thought we had Leeta, one of Charlotte’s cousins, lined up to take Charlotte’s place for these weeks. But she ran off last week with a truck driver from Texas. The whole family’s upset over it, but it doesn’t help me any at the moment.”

  He spread his hands. “Anyway, I hope you won’t mind. Sam said you work volunteer at the gallery in New York, so it will be easy for you to be in a little gallery like mine. You’ll have tomorrow to settle in here, but I’ll need you at the shop on Thursday. I’ll come by tomorrow and talk to you about it more.”

  At that, Boyce let himself out and shut the door behind him before she could give a response.

  Chapter 5

  Surprisingly, Jenna slept soundly through her first night at Sam’s. She thought it was due to the stress of her long road trip and the added adventure of going to the hospital. She imagined she’d be frightened, being alone in the mountains. But, it seemed less frightening to be in the cabin than in New York. And the quiet was amazing.

  Usually the cacophony of sounds always played in New York. Here, it was still and soft and quiet. The only noises Jenna heard this morning as she padded around the rustic kitchen, making breakfast, were the songs of birds outside the window. She looked out often to see if she could catch a glimpse of them. Several feeders hung from the trees outside, and Jenna decided she would get some birdseed when she went to the grocery. How wonderful to see and hear birds right outside one’s window!