“Thank you, Mr. Devon. I really appreciate this.”
“We’ll see how you do. Why are you interested in this music? I thought you played in the New York symphony.”
“I do. I’m taking a break and wanted to explore some different music. When I had a class in folk music at the conservatory, I really liked it and wanted to learn more.”
“So you just up and came here. For how long?”
“Several weeks. Until after the music festival.”
“Humph. Kirk know you aren’t staying?”
“Of course. Everyone does. I didn’t move here. I’m only on vacation, a sort of working vacation as it were.”
He nodded, looked toward the back door. In another moment, Kirk entered. He kicked off his motorcycle boots and walked in the kitchen in his sock feet.
“All set. Were you able to help Angelica?” he asked, going to the sink to wash his hands.
“Told her the words and what they mean,” Hiram said.
“Once I think I’ve mastered the melody on the violin—fiddle—he’s going to sing it for me,” she said.
“Is that so?” He looked with surprise at his grandfather.
“I said I would. She can come here when she thinks she’s ready.”
Kirk pulled out the chair next to her and sat in it. “How did you pull that off?” he asked softly, looking directly at her.
“I just asked,” she said, drawing in a breath, caught by his fabulous good looks and the intense way he regarded her. She could smell the hint of hogs. She stared back, feeling the fluttering inside that had her craving more. Would he ever kiss her again?
“Had a good voice when I was younger,” Hiram said.
She started a second with the surprise of his comment. Tearing her eyes away from Kirk, she looked at the older man. “I bet you still do,” she said.
“Tell me about New York. I haven’t been there for years.”
Kirk looked at him. “When were you in New York?”
“Back after your dad took off with your mom. Went to see a play that a friend of Webb Francis wrote. Saw the Statue of Liberty and some other sights. Crowded, dirty, busy. Didn’t like it much. Was a sight to see Broadway at night, though. Gotta admit that was something.”
Angelica smiled. “It’s still something, all lighted up as bright as day. Plays and concerts, restaurants and bars. Lots of activity. If you were there thirty years or so ago, I bet it’s changed some.”
“I bet it’s still crowded, dirty and busy.”
She nodded. “But Central Park on a nice day is wonderful. I love to eat along the battery, near the water, watching people. And shopping can’t be beat.”
Kirk leaned back in his chair and watched as his grandfather and Angelica talked about New York. She kind of lit up when talking about the things she liked to do in the city. It was a good reminder she was on vacation in Smoky Hollow. A woman who had spent years in America’s most dynamic city would never settle down in rural Kentucky. Look at Alice. She’d been born and raised here and couldn’t wait to leave.
He needed to heed the signs. Any attraction could go nowhere, so squash it at the get-go. She was beautiful, more so when animated and excited about her topic. He’d be lucky to score a few kisses, maybe another couple of outings together. Webb Francis wanted him to keep an eye on her. But he couldn’t let her come to mean more than a casual visitor. He’d tried forever after and lost. Maybe one day he’d be attracted to another woman who would be content living in Smoky Hollow. But Angelica Cannon was not the one.
Suddenly he realized both of them were staring at him.
“What?”
“You in a fog, boy? I asked about Webb Francis.”
“Sorry. I didn’t hear you.” It was a pathetic excuse but better than letting either know he was steeling himself to ignore the attraction he felt around the pretty visitor. “He’s going to his sister’s to finish recuperating. She’s insisting.”
“Family rallies around when needed,” Hiram said.
When they left a short time later, Angelica had her translation in hand. “I appreciate your grandfather helping me,” she told Kirk as they drove off. She turned for one last glimpse of the house and the dog lying in the dirt looking like he’d lost his best friend.
“That surprises me. He’s usually more standoffish with strangers. He likes Smoky Hollow to be just residents, I think. Not that he goes to town that much.”
“Why not?”
“He’s feuding with half the town it seems like.”
“Apparently not Webb Francis, he asked after him.”
“They get along fine. Hope Webb Francis makes the festival. Shouldn’t be that hard to sit and enjoy the music. Betsy would have to bring him.”
“Is she the sister? It must be nice to have family around in times of need.”
He flicked her a glance. “Wouldn’t yours?”
“I’m sure they would. But sometimes too much of a good thing can be smothering.”
“Want to get a bite to eat at the diner?” he asked as they reached town.
“I’d like that.”
Seated in a red vinyl booth a few minutes later, Angelica was reading the menu when an older woman stopped by.
“Hey, Kirk. How are you?”
He half rose and nodded. “Miz Harper. I’m doing fine. Yourself?”
“Arthritis acting up, but that’s nothing new.” She looked at Angelica.
Kirk made introductions.
“Heard from Alice the other day. She and her husband were going to the Caribbean for vacation. Sure wish she’d settled here.”
“Yes, ma’am, I reckon we all do,” he said.
Angelica watched the interaction between the two struck by the tension that appeared. Was there more to that statement than appeared?
When the woman left, Angelica leaned forward so he could hear her, but so no one else in the diner could.
“Who was that?”
He looked after Mrs. Harper for a moment, then shrugged. “She’s Alice’s mother.”
“And Alice is?”
“Was—my fiancée.”
Angelica blinked. “What happened?”
He closed his menu, laid it near the edge of the table. “She didn’t want to live in Smoky Hollow. Moved to Atlanta, found another man and got married.”
Angelica couldn’t believe another man could compete with Kirk.
“And you didn’t want to live in Atlanta?”
He shook his head. “My granddad is here. My family’s been here for generations. I like it here, why would I want to live in a city when the forest and hills offer so much?”
“Did you love her?”
“What kind of question is that? Of course I did. I wouldn’t ask a woman to marry me that I didn’t love. Marriage is hard enough. Especially in my family.”
“Why especially in your family?”
“My granddad’s wife left when my dad was a kid. My own mother left when I was still a baby. And then Alice left. Not good odds, do you think?”
“All left because they didn’t want to live in Smoky Hollow?” she asked in disbelief.
He shook his head. The waitress came over to take their orders. When she’d left, Angelica leaned forward again. “So why did they leave?”
“I don’t know the full story of my grandmother, but my granddad isn’t the easiest man in the world to get along with. She ran off to be an actress in Hollywood. Had a few two-bit parts that I know about and then nothing. No one knows what happened to her. She could still be living there or could have died years ago.”
“And your mother?”
“She decided she didn’t want to raise a child. She went to New Orleans where last I heard she’s part owner of a small restaurant near the Quarter.”
“You never see her?”
He shook his head. “I looked her up a few years ago when I was traveling. But there was no instant bonding or strong family ties. She was a stranger and viewed me as one as well. She ca
n cook, though. I had the best meal in a long time at that restaurant where she’s head chef as well as the part owner.”
“Your dad and grandfather never found other women to marry?”
“Once bitten, twice shy.”
“And you?”
“Oh, I expect I’ll find someone one day. I would like to have a kid or two. But I want a woman who loves living here. Who wants the same things I do, who will be content here in Smoky Hollow. Someone who puts family above all else. Not looking for fame or a fast lifestyle.”
“Nice, if you can get it,” she said.
“And if I don’t, I’m content with the way things are going now.”
“Except no kids.”
“There is that.”
She was silent for a moment. Trying to see into her own future. She had never met a man she wanted to spend her life with. Most of the men she dated were older, more patrons of the arts than looking for a wife.
In one case, she might have had a chance as a second wife. But Marshall had not made her heart flutter and after only a few dates they stopped seeing each other. She was young yet, she didn’t feel any urgency to get married. Now she wanted to explore more of the world before getting tied down to one man.
Looking away, she tried not to compare Kirk to those other men she’d dated. Or figure out how he could become the one. He and she would never make a couple. He lived here. Her life was in New York. And from the way he spoke of Alice, the thought of living in a big city never crossed his mind. He seemed to let her go easily enough. Had he really loved her? Had he been devastated when she left?
She had never fantasized about getting married. Did she even want children? She’d never been much around them. But she enjoyed the encounters with Sam and Teresa Ann. And she liked looking at babies. How would it be to have a child, raise it up, teach it her values, teach it to appreciate music?
One thing for sure, she would never pressure a child as she had been.
“You’re not married, anyone on the horizon?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I haven’t dated much, except for musicians or men who love the symphony. That’s going to have to change. I don’t want nothing else in my life. I want variety and change and something different.” Looking around at the diner, she smiled. “This is different.”
“Not trendy like New York.”
“Maybe not, but still very nice. Everyone seems to know everyone. That’s definitely different from New York. I like it.”
When the waitress brought their burgers and fries and soda, Angelica ate with relish. She didn’t have to rush through meals in order to make an appointment or a rehearsal. She could eat what she wanted, enjoy every mouthful. Then take her time deciding what to do next.
“These are great,” she said a few minutes later.
“Different. Variety,” he said.
She grinned. “Right you are.”
After lunch they drove to the store so she could pick up a few items. The two old men sat in the rockers.
“Afternoon, Miss Cannon,” one said. Was it Paul?
“Good afternoon. What’s happened around here today?” she asked, pausing on the porch.
The men gave her an update of who had been shopping that morning, who was at the library and the rumors that were going around about her playing at the festival.
“I might just do that,” she said. “I’ve been practicing,” she confided, leaning closer as if conveying a secret.
“Do tell, what will you play?”
“The fiddle, of course.”
“What song?”
“Ah, you’ll have to come to the festival to see,” she said, enjoying the exchange. These men were delightful.
“Where is the festival held?” she asked Kirk when they entered the store. Bella greeted them. Angelica waved and took a cart for her groceries.
“On the county fairgrounds. It’s scheduled after the county fair which kicked off yesterday. There’s a kind of amphitheater where the acoustics are good. Those who don’t get there early enough, or have small kids, usually sit on the lawn around the stage.”
“Show me sometime.”
“Sure.” He studied her for a moment. “We can go to the fair tomorrow if you want, see it with all that’s going on there. It’s not far. Between here and Bryceville.”
She nodded. “I’ve never been to a county fair.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. We’ll leave around ten, have lunch there, wander around and see everything.”
“Like what?”
“Future Farmers of America displays, livestock, quilts, jam and pie displays, you name it. They have music going all day in different venues around the fairgrounds, and a small carnival with rides and games. Lots to eat, too.”
“Okay. I’ll let my students know I won’t be here tomorrow. Thanks, Kirk.”
She knew he was only squiring her around as a favor to Webb Francis who was doing a favor for Professor Simmons. Still—she felt anticipation rise at the thought of the outing. Once again she felt she was in an alien world. One she loved exploring.
Angelica was home before the two children arrived. They ran partway and were out of breath when they clattered up to her door. She set them both to work playing scales and showing Teresa Ann more techniques when Sam practiced his festival song. He was really showing signs of improvement and Angelica was proud of the child.
Teresa Ann liked to talk, but she applied herself to the tasks at hand and was already showing she had a talent for the instrument.
Angelica didn’t have them play the songs she’d grown up with, but tried to incorporate the songs she was learning from the CDs and the music Webb Francis had around.
After their practice, she provided cookies and milk. She loved listening to the chatter of the two, talking about people she didn’t know. When she asked what they did the rest of the summer days, she got a glimpse of their lives in Smoky Hollow—chores, playing with friends, helping at the church, exploring the creeks and woods. A slower pace of life and one that sounded idyllic. When she explained why she wouldn’t be home the next afternoon, she was surprised at the disappointment of the children.
“I love you teaching me,” Teresa Ann said, giving her an unexpected hug.
“I’m enjoying teaching you, honey,” Angelica said with a smile. “It’s only one day. I’ve never been to a fair before.”
Both children were astonished. They’d been going every year as long as they could remember.
“I like the rides best,” Sam said. “Especially the one where we go upside down.”
Teresa Ann added she liked looking at all the animals best. Both families were going on Friday and the children were looking forward to the day at the fair.
“You’ll love it,” Teresa Ann said. “Can I go with you, too? Then I’d have two days to go.”
“Better not this time. Kirk Devon asked me so I can’t invite anyone else.”
“It’s a date,” Sam said wisely. “Kids don’t go on dates!”
CHAPTER SEVEN
ANGELICA WAS GETTING USED TO the casual attire she wore all the time in Smoky Hollow. She selected cotton slacks, a cotton T-shirt and comfortable walking shoes. She heard the motorcycle right at ten and went through the back door to the side of the house just as Kirk pulled up. She kept thinking of Sam’s comment—it’s a date. It was, no matter what kind of spin Kirk or she put on it. She almost danced out of the house. She was going on a date with Kirk Devon.
He greeted her, handed her the helmet then waited for her to climb on. She felt self-conscious putting her arms around him and snuggling up against his back. She knew the kiss at the pond had meant nothing to him, but the memory made her awareness spike to an all-time high. She tried desperately to get control of her emotions. They had the entire day ahead of them. She couldn’t act like a silly schoolgirl with a crush. Taking a deep breath to calm her jangled nerves, she took in the scent of the man instead, kicking awareness up another notch. He smelled of soap a
nd aftershave and the combination did odd things to her thought processes—or lack thereof.
While she was fighting her attraction, he turned the motorcycle around and roared out into the street heading for Bryceville and the county fairgrounds.
Arriving, Angelica was glad for the end of the ride. She felt tingly and self-conscious and wanted to gain some equilibrium. Avidly looking everywhere she was immediately enchanted by what she saw. The air was filled with animal smells. The bright sunshine was already heating everything. They parked on a dirt parking lot among pickup trucks and older model cars. Between the parking lot and the gate she saw rows of horse trailers parked every which way. She’d never seen such a sight before.
They walked to the gate where a lanky teenager stamped the back of everyone’s hands once they’d paid admission.
“So we can come and go if we wish,” Kirk explained. “One fee lets us into everything, including all the rides.”
Angelica nodded, still trying to take in everything. Did any county in New York have fairs like this? She’d never heard of one, but then, would she, living in New York City?
Once through the gate, Angelica saw the stables. Horses hung their heads over the stall doors and watched as people passed by. Several children went to the horses to pet them. A few owners sat on benches, working with bridles and talking with friends.
Beyond were dozens of pens covered from the hot sun by high metal roofs. Sheep were in one section, hogs in another, cattle in a third. The smell was a mix of hot dirt and the excrement of the assorted animals. Pungent and sometimes overwhelming, its earthiness had Angelica taking shallow breaths. She wrinkled her nose, but smiled. How amazing.
Kirk led the way down one aisle with sheep in small pens on either side. Some were all curly wool and a dirty white. Others had black faces and legs with snowy fleece everywhere else. Some were covered with canvas coats. “To keep them clean for the judging,” he explained when she asked why they wore covers on such a hot day.
When a group of teenagers laughingly headed their way, Kirk pulled Angelica closer, out of their path. One hand around her shoulders, he drew her against his chest. Her pulse raced. Swallowing, Angelica couldn’t speak. She didn’t move away once the kids had passed, content to be snuggled up against Kirk, smelling his scent mingled with that of the ambient air surrounding them. She could stay here forever.
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