Now She's Back (Smoky Mountains, Tennessee 1)

by Anna Adams

  Instead of doing the work that meant a paycheck, she spent several happy hours creating something new for the library with Tony. He preferred a book theme to the mountain laurel and snow-peaked mountains she’d started with, but they had a basic plan by the time Tony had to start locking up. Tired, but pleasantly hopeful, she packed up her laptop and pens and notebook.

  “I ought to pay you something,” Tony said.

  “You already have. I probably owe you.”

  His wry smile was friendship, freely offered. “Don’t listen to people who want to believe a Candler would assault her fiancé’s father.” He looked down. “And then, there’s your mother.”

  “Yes. I hope she wasn’t the root cause of your parents’ divorce.”

  “You don’t owe anyone an apology, Emma. Let that habit go.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “And hang out with people who appreciate you.”

  “Feeling self-conscious now.”

  “Then you should go, and I’ll lock up, and we’ll pretend I didn’t just offer you personal advice.”

  “I do owe you.”

  “Maybe.” He flattened his hand on her back and gave her a tiny shove in the direction of the green double front doors. “We’ll see how that new website turns out.”

  * * *

  NOAH’S MOM GAVE him a pie for Emma when he stopped by the inn on his way back from stitching up his old neighbor’s dog. “We owe her,” Suzannah said. “The website for you, the job for Chad and Owen. It’s the least we can do.”

  “I don’t know. You could stop making up reasons for me to visit her.”

  “Hand it back, then. I’ll take it to her.”

  He’d visited Emma on Halloween with no repercussions. Might as well stop by again. “I’ll do it,” he said, pulling away.

  When he reached Emma’s house, he saw her on the flatter slopes of the mountain, picking apples from the orchard. He pulled to the side of the road and climbed out, hearing a thunk, some indelicate swearing and the skid of Emma’s feet through a sea of fall leaves.

  “Any serious injuries?” he asked, laughing as she hopped out of the way of the next falling apple.

  “I didn’t believe apple trees really attacked people when I watched The Wizard of Oz. Now I know.”

  “Mom made you a pie. You don’t have to pick apples for your own.”

  “They’re more for Owen and Chad. You ought to enter Chad in eating contests. He’d make his own way through college on the winnings.”

  “He often comes here after football practice. How’s he working out?”

  “He’s great. I like him. He told me I’m his community service.”

  Her cheeks were as red as the apple skins, and her eyes snapped with energy. She was hard to resist.

  “Sorry about that,” he said. “We’re trying to wear him out physically.”

  “Happy to do my part. You came out here to deliver a pie?”

  “I’ve been out to Waycrofts’ to stitch up Harold’s paw.”

  Emma laughed. “You’re a vet, too?”

  “When I have to be. Despite being six years old, Harold is still the puppy we found on that road out to the quarry, and I’m still convinced he jumped off a train to get to Bliss. His first death-defying exploit.”

  “What did he do this time?” Emma came closer, using the front of her shirt as a basket to carry the apples. She’d been a patient picker of burrs and blackberry brambles from Harold’s fur.

  “Mr. Waycroft was cutting holly. His wife makes wreathes to sell on market day. Harold’s fur is matted since you no longer brush him on a semi-regular basis, and he got caught on a branch. He cut himself struggling to get free.”

  “Bliss doesn’t have a vet anymore?”

  “Pet owners come to me if I’m in my office and the vet isn’t.” He gestured at his car. “Want me to drive you up?”

  “Thanks.” She hurried to meet him, reaching his car just as he moved the pie from the front seat to the back.

  “Better not sit on this.”

  “Mm-mmm. We should all have some when we get back.”

  “You love living in Nan’s house.”

  “I’m happy in it,” she said, concentrating on her seatbelt, “and I’ll take better care of it from now on.”

  “Maybe the termites were a blessing in disguise.”

  “No.” She tucked her shirt around the apples, revealing a dark blue tank beneath it. “I’m digging hard for work to pay for it all.”

  “Thanks for the webpage and the media pages. My mother and Chad are going to take turns updating.”

  “Perfect.” She wriggled in her seat, with something on her mind. Rubbing at her knee, she swiveled her head to look at him. “How long have you been working on the clinic?”

  “A little over a year.”

  “And you can’t get the council to budge?”

  “Thanks. That’s true.”

  “I don’t mean you’re not effective, but Megan mentioned the other day that you might talk to my dad. I don’t mean at meetings. Have you made an appointment to talk to him in person, privately?”

  “I don’t—” He lost the power of speech. Now that she was back, he didn’t understand Emma’s moods. “No,” he said at last.

  “I thought it mattered to you. It was personal when you spoke about it at the meeting.”

  “It is personal and it does matter, but not to you. I appreciate your help, but you’ve done enough.”

  “I can’t walk away just because you ask me to.” She shifted the apples on her lap. The car suddenly smelled like McIntosh, and he knew that when he’d left her at home, he would remember she’d been with him.

  “I don’t need you.”

  She fell silent, and he was ashamed. Never once, in all their bad times or good, had he tried to hurt her. Now was not the moment to be cruel. Here she was, funny and healthier, and Bliss felt more like home again because she’d come back.

  Each one of those thoughts about her shocked him, because he didn’t want to feel anything for her. She was chipping away at his control.

  “I mean for the clinic,” he said. He turned into the courtyard. “If you try to help, you’ll make problems with your father. You don’t want to do that.”

  “I’m not afraid of arguing with Dad. He’ll love me even if he’s mad at me, and he should help you. He has influence.”

  He had to stop feeling as if a car had hit him every time she uttered a thought he’d never expected to hear from her.

  “From his attitude, he’s on board with the rest of the council. They all believe Bliss is the perfect town just as it stands. Why would we dirty up its perfection with something as useful as a clinic?”

  “Did you put it to him like that? With all the sarcasm?” Emma opened the car door. “We both keep forgetting he’s changed, too, mostly because of Megan and their baby.”

  “Megan is having a perfectly healthy pregnancy. I’m not going to suggest to your father she might be in danger.”

  “What if we make it easy to talk to him? I could invite you and him and Megan to dinner. He’ll listen if you just ask him to. I hate to say this, but I don’t mind pressuring him for a good cause. He’s trying to make up for lost time with me.”

  “Lucky you.”

  She ignored his tone. “After dinner, you offer him the opportunity to invest. Make him see he’s not doing you a favor. He’s helping the people who work at all the inns and markets and shops in this town.”

  “He knows that.”

  “Point out that his daughter could break a leg getting out of her car. Again.”

  He laughed. Back then, he’d been in med school. Her splint, made out of his scarf and the sapling branches he’d found in the orchard, had been good pr
actice.

  “I never had that cobbler you promised me for doctoring you up,” he said.

  “We aren’t talking cobbler now.” She folded her hands on her knees. “We’re making a plan my father can’t resist.”

  “Let’s go in. You’re shivering.”

  “You have to hit dad where he has a conscience. Right in the family circle.”

  “I’m not harming anyone’s family circle.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  NOAH CHANGED HIS MIND a few days later when a note from the council was slipped into his mail slot. He walked around the square for an hour and then called Emma. Asking for help didn’t suit him, but he had no choice.

  “I’m ready to speak to your father,” he said when she answered. “I’m happy to ask him for an appointment, but if you think this dinner idea works better, I’ll go along with it.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “The council heard about our meeting. They’ve looked at the website. They sent me a note that says none of our efforts make the clinic meet the covenants.”

  “Maybe if we ask them to change the covenants...”

  “Don’t lie to your father. Make sure he knows this is a meeting to talk about the clinic. Before, during and after dinner if necessary. Our people need this care, and I’m determined to give it to them.”

  Emma invited her dad, and he said no. Megan changed his mind. He came to her house two nights later, angry at being manipulated, determined to stand against the clinic being forced on his town, as if it were a bad thing.

  By the time Emma offered to serve coffee in the parlor, she was exhausted.

  “More damage?” Megan asked as they passed the tarp-covered planks in the office.

  “Owen found it as he was finishing the parlor floor. I’ve only had one wall that wasn’t touched.”

  “Your coffee should have started by now,” Brett said, already waiting on one of Nan’s fluffy, chintz sofas. “I don’t hear the pot percolating.”

  “You’re trying to get rid of me?”

  “Take Megan with you.”

  “Not a chance.” Megan eased onto the love seat. “I’m stretching out here, and I’m probably not moving until the baby arrives.”

  “I told you we shouldn’t come out tonight,” Brett said. “You need more rest.”

  “I need peace of mind, which I’ll have if you’ll just listen to Noah. I’ll leave it alone if you honestly believe he’s wrong. But you have to listen without prejudice, Brett.”

  “Why are you so angry, Dad?”

  “Because he hurt you, and you left town.”

  “That’s between Emma and me,” Noah said. “You don’t have to protect her now.”

  “I didn’t protect her then. I was busy making a living and ignoring the rumors that my ex-wife cheated on me at every opportunity. Even with your father.”

  “Dad,” Emma said, “you’re happy now. Why hold a grudge?”

  “This argument seems to be between your father and me,” Noah cut in. “You won’t even be here to use the clinic.”

  “I am taking Emma to the kitchen after all,” Megan said. “What’s the chance of a scone? Or a carrot cake? Or one of those chocolate fountains, with some strawberries to dip?”

  “I’m pretty sure the chocolate fountain’s out of order.” Emma followed her, looking back.

  Her father’s voice started with a low rumble only after she pushed through the swing door to the kitchen.

  “Ignore them. Make the coffee.” Megan plugged in the kettle. “I’ll have tea.”

  “I did make a pineapple cake.”

  “That little bar thing with the cream cheese topping? I love that.”

  “How do you know about it?”

  “Brett has a copy of the recipe. Your grandmother gave it to him. We have it too often.”

  Emma crossed to the coffee maker. She’d loaded it with coffee and water, but hadn’t turned it on. She pushed the brew button and began to set a tray with cups and the sugar bowl and creamer. She added a small pot of Megan’s herbal tea, steeping.

  She was carrying the tray to the parlor when the doorbell wheezed and coughed and clanged like a comedy prop. She’d have to put that on Owen’s list of things to fix.

  “Just a minute,” she called, hoping her voice carried through the new caulking around the windows beside the door.

  She hurried the tray into the parlor. “Someone at the door,” she said, when Noah and her father both stopped in midargument. Emma rushed to the door and yanked it open.

  She barely recognized the rumpled young woman, trying to smooth her mist-curled hair, on the threshold.

  “Celia?” Emma asked. The icy Gage eyes tried to freeze her at first, but Celia gave up, clearly too upset to work on showing resentment.

  “Is my brother here?” she asked. “Not that I know why he’d forgive you enough to visit your home.”

  “Oh.” It wasn’t much as a defense.

  “I’m right here, and don’t talk to Emma like that.”

  Noah must have followed her into the hall, but she hadn’t heard him or felt his presence behind her. She glanced back at him.

  “What do you need, Celia?” For once, he looked irritated with a sibling.

  “Come in.” Emma stood back, making room for his damp younger sister. “You can talk in the kitchen. You’ll have privacy.”

  “Thank you.” Noah stepped close to Emma and said softly, “Do you ever think this house is cursed?”

  “Only when your family drops by.”

  His grin startled her with warmth as he took his sister’s arm and walked her toward the kitchen. Emma eased the door shut and then went back to the parlor. Megan had joined Emma’s father. They stopped talking with the self-conscious looks of two people caught speaking about the person who’d walked in on them.

  Emma gave them a pass. Plenty of room for gossip at her house tonight. “I’ll just be a minute. Noah’s sister came to talk to him, and they’re in the kitchen, but she needs a towel.”

  She ran up the stairs to the linen cupboard, hidden by the house’s original architect in a stretch of lathe and plaster along the hallway that had once led to servants’ quarters. Snatching a thick towel, she went back down, clattering into the kitchen with enough noise to announce a buffalo herd.

  Noah looked surprised. Celia, her face red, her expression hostile, asked, “What are you doing?”

  Emma held out the towel. “You looked cold,” she said.

  Celia’s face crumpled unexpectedly into tears. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry, I—”

  “No.” Emma pushed the towel into her hands and backed toward the hall. “It’s none of my business. Noah, there’s more coffee in the carafe, and cream and sugar—well, you know where all that is.”

  And, back to the parlor again. Her father and Megan waited, curious, already sipping.

  “What’s going on?” Brett asked.

  “I don’t have a clue. Except Celia seriously dislikes me.”

  “That can’t be,” Megan said with touching loyalty.

  “I’m not sure I deserve your friendship,” Emma said.

  “We’re family. You’re stuck with it.” Megan glanced her husband’s way as his hand squeezed her arm.

  To Emma’s shock, the front door opened and closed. She waited a second, unable to believe Noah would leave with his sister without saying goodbye.

  Footsteps came down the hall to the parlor. Noah was carrying a cup of coffee, but he looked for once as if he were a Gage in need of something stronger.

  “Where were we?” he asked.

  “Where’s Celia?”

  “I sent her home. She can come to my office tomorrow and explain her problems there.”

  “I’m
exhausted,” Brett said, “and so is my wife. Why don’t we call it a night?”

  “I just need a minute, if that’s all right, Megan?”

  “I’d love you to take a minute and make my husband understand he’s not doing his job on the council if he doesn’t do what the town needs him to.”

  “Mr. Candler, it’s simple,” Noah said. “This town is made up of haves, with helicopters, and have-nots, with cars that sometimes won’t cross the mountains. We need better care for everyone in Bliss, and I want to give that care. All you and the council have to do is provide money and oversight. I’ll do the work.”

  “Why? We’ve never had a clinic. We haven’t suffered for it.”

  “You haven’t,” Noah said. “I’ll tell you what I said in the meeting Emma attended. I have been one of the forgotten citizens here. I was a child in a violent house. No one knew. No one cared to look into why my siblings and I were covered with bruises, black eyes, sometimes cracked ribs. I don’t want anyone else to be forgotten. I had nowhere to go, but your children and my children, someday, can have a better chance and still live in a beautiful town that provides a simple life we all want to protect.” He set his coffee cup on the tray.

  Megan stood up and hugged him. “I would have looked into those bruises.”

  “That’s in the past,” Noah said, “but Mr. Candler wants to know why it matters. There were times when my brothers and sister and mother and I needed more help than Dr. Bragg provided, and not one of us could drive to that help. It is personal to me.”

  * * *

  “I’M SORRY, NOAH.” Celia sat across from his desk, twisting her sweater in her fingers. “I couldn’t find you anywhere, and I kept pretending everything was all right, but I’m terrified I’m about to lose my scholarship.”

  It wasn’t a shock. Noah poured two cups of coffee that wasn’t nearly as tasty as Emma’s. He set one mug in front of Celia and kept the other.

  “I was hoping since I hadn’t heard from you that you’d sorted out your calculus grade.”

  “I’m barely passing it. French, too. And I don’t know what’s going to happen with the Romantic Poets.”