Kirk nodded.
“We’ll see,” he said. He didn’t like the way the conversation was going so he changed the topic to farm matters. Easier to deal with his grandfather on routine matters. Just before he was set to leave, Hiram looked at him. “You hear from Webb Francis?”
“Yeah, the other day. He’s doing better. Plans to be at the festival. Front row seat, he says.”
“He going to play?”
“Not this year, but he’s anticipating hearing Angelica. He wondered if she’d do a classical piece as well. That’s what she plays in New York.”
“I asked her. She is,” Hiram said.
“Be something to hear, I expect.” He just hoped he could.
Kirk went to the library after leaving the farm, to use the Internet. He searched on Angelica’s name and was surprised to find how many references he found. Reading through the first dozen or so, he realized how valuable a member she was of the philharmonic—a true rising star. The accolades were heartfelt. The fame of his young neighbor apparently was well established in the music community of New York and parts of Europe.
The last bit of wishful hope that she’d consider staying in Smoky Hollow died.
And he’d be doing her and the music world a disservice to even ask her to stay. She had a bright future. This was a short piece out of time.
He should make the most of it instead of ignoring what was right in front of him. There were two weeks left before the festival. Once that was past, she’d be gone. Could he deal with fourteen days of Angelica and then let her go?
Could he regret not spending those days with her for the rest of his life?
Angelica heard the knock on the door as she was finishing making her sandwich. She went to the front door. Kirk stood there.
“Busy?” he asked.
She hadn’t seen him for a week and now he shows up as if yesterday was the last time he’d seen her.
“I’m fixing lunch.”
He stayed silent, looking at her intensely like he did. Her attraction for him had not diminished one iota during the absence. Her body seemed to sing now that he was here. His wide shoulders had her longing to reach out and drag him in. His slow smile had her insides doing flip-flops.
“Want to eat with me?” she said finally when he hadn’t broken the silence.
“Sure.”
He opened the screen door and stepped into the room. He seemed to crowd her even with a couple of feet of space between them. Angelica spun around and hurried to the kitchen, glad for the task of making another sandwich to give her something to do.
“I’m surprised to see you,” she said as she placed the sandwiches on plates and put them on the table.
He sat and watched her.
“I’ve been working on a renovation the other side of town. And working on the carving.”
“How is that now?”
“Coming along. Want to come over and see it after lunch?”
“I could,” she said cautiously.
Once they began eating, she couldn’t let her curiosity stay quiet.
“Why are you here?”
“To see you.”
“Thought you told me to go home.”
He shrugged. “You will after the festival. Until then, why not spend time together?”
She could think of a dozen reasons, the primary one being how she was falling in love with the man. She had learned a lot these few weeks. She liked the people she met. She liked dealing with children. There were different ways to live than the way she had. Whether she’d want a permanent change was still up in the air. She didn’t dislike every part of her life in New York. Would she completely be accepted in Smoky Hollow, or was she here on sufferance because of Webb Francis and Kirk?
And in the greater scheme, hadn’t she come here to find out what a different way of life was like? How could she know if she didn’t take every opportunity offered?
Who knew? Maybe a miracle would happen and he’d fall in love with her and they’d share their lives together.
“Doing what?” she asked.
“I thought we could go into Bryceville later, have dinner at a great barbecue place I know and then see if there’s a movie in town we’d want to see.”
There was no skating around that—it was a date.
She nodded.
“So tell me, how are the kids doing with their lessons?” he asked.
They talked about Sam and Teresa Ann, moving on to the topic of Hiram’s big comeback, as Angelica called it.
“He blows me away with his voice. Age has not diminished it at all. He’ll wow the crowd.”
“Webb Francis seems to think you will.”
She shrugged. “I’ve been practicing.”
“Pops said you’re doing a solo from one of your concerts,” he said slowly.
“And?” She seemed defensive.
“I think we’ll be fortunate to hear you.”
She thought it over. “Sam’s mom said the same thing.”
They’d enjoy anything she played, he thought. He would, even if he couldn’t hear it all. Watching her would be enough.
Angelica dressed with care for her date. She didn’t have much variety, but so far neither had anyone else in town shown a huge wardrobe. The pink of her cotton top enhanced the color she’d picked up from the sun, making her blue eyes look brighter. Or was it the anticipation in seeing Kirk again?
She waited on the front porch and heard the muffled roar of the motorcycle when he started it. Smiling she waited. The things she did here would have astonished her six months ago, six weeks ago. Now she agreed with what Kirk and Webb Francis had said that first morning—the back of a motorcycle was the best way to see things.
The ride into Bryceville was fun. She held on, savoring every movement of his body as he smoothly leaned into curves. They couldn’t talk, but she didn’t need conversation. Being with him was enough. She was so glad he’d stopped by at lunch. Her time was winding down and decisions had to be made soon. But for today, she’d go with the flow and savor every second.
The barbecue was delicious and messy. They used a dozen napkins and she still had to stop and wash her hands before they headed for the movie theater. The feature movie was a comedy. As they waited in line to buy their tickets, a very short line compared to the lines she’d seen in New York, she asked if he could hear film soundtracks.
“Most of it. The theater cranks up the sound pretty loud. Sometimes I miss parts. I don’t come often,” he said.
He touched her back as they moved forward, sending spiraling shivers down her spine. They found seats near the center. The theater was not crowded, though the air-conditioning felt so good, Angelica thought everyone around should come for the relief from the heat.
Kirk held the popcorn in his lap, near her so she could easily reach for some. The lights dimmed and the coming attractions began. Halfway through the box of popcorn, she reached in and tangled her fingers with his. Startled, she looked at him. He looked back and smiled, withdrawing his hand.
Disappointed, she took another few kernels and then whispered, “I’m finished. I can’t believe I ate anything after dinner.”
He set the box on the floor by his feet and reached for her hand as casually and confidently as if they’d held hands forever.
Angelica drew in a sharp breath, feeling every cell in her body focus on Kirk. She couldn’t get back into the story unfolding on the screen, she could only feel the hardness of his palm, the callouses on his fingers as they gently cradled hers. He rested their linked hands on his thigh. A surreptitious glance showed he was watching the movie. Did he not feel the charge?
Gradually her heart rate settled down and she picked up the threads of the movie, but she never grew complacent about their linked hands.
It was dark on the ride home. The air was cooler, scented with night smells. What mysteries lurked in the darkened woods that lined the road? Who else was out, enjoying the brilliance of the stars, the lessening of the
day’s heat? She felt magical gliding through the night with skin brushed by the air, her head dancing with fantasies.
When they reached the cottage, she climbed off the motorcycle reluctantly. She could have ridden to California and back and still not had enough.
“That was fun,” she said, walking to the door.
“You didn’t leave a light on,” he said.
“I didn’t think about it when it was still light. I know right where the switch is,” she replied, unwilling to end the evening. “Want to come in for coffee?”
“Another time. I have another work day tomorrow on the Millers’ place.”
He drew her slowly into his arms and kissed her. Angelica closed her eyes and let the magic of the moment sweep her away. Kirk made her feel like the most precious thing on earth.
Angelica didn’t know what changed Kirk’s mind, but the next few days were more fun than she’d ever had in her life. They went back to the waterfall and pool. She still didn’t have a bathing suit, but it didn’t matter. They enjoyed another picnic and splashed each other until they were sopping wet.
They walked to the general store one afternoon and got ice cream cones, trying to lick the ice cream before it could melt in the heat and run down their arms.
Kirk took her on several hikes through the forests. She relished the bird songs, the soft rustle of the leaves and the dappled shade. Appreciating them even more knowing he didn’t hear them. She couldn’t imagine not hearing. How would she live without music or the other sounds that were in her life?
Another thunderstorm had them cooking on an open fire, kissing, talking about anything that came up, and kissing. She was beginning to wish there’d be more storms—as long as she lived next door to Kirk. He never pushed her, never took her for granted. She fell more and more in love which made the decisions that much harder.
Time was running out. Her agent had called twice more, pressuring her to get back to New York and begin rehearsals. She had never formally accepted the tour, holding off just in case there was another major change in her life—like Kirk falling in love with her. But much as she enjoyed being with him, she saw nothing in him that gave her hope.
Still, she spent as much time as she could when he asked her out. They had to work around practice with the children and with Hiram. Plus her own practice. But they had plenty of quiet time together.
She loved to wander to the studio and watch him work. The sculpture was amazing. The individual trees now showed definite detail. The figure on the brink was still untouched. He said he was keeping that fine detail work until last. He would not be finished before she left. Would he send her a picture when it was complete? She asked, he said yes, but the answer was vague and didn’t satisfy her. Maybe she’d get his grandfather to promise.
Every day he touched her, held hands, kissed her, and sometimes she didn’t think he’d let her go. She was so deep in love by the day before the music festival she couldn’t think straight. She wanted Kirk to be proud of her at the festival. But how much could he really hear? Would he enjoy it as much as she hoped all the others would?
She was also nervous for Sam. The hours he’d put into practice really paid off. He was as ready as could be, but the last couple of days he’d seemed reluctant. He wasn’t getting stage fright, was he?
At least she didn’t have to worry about Hiram getting stage fright. He talked about showing off to Marlene Parker every day. If nothing else, he’d do it to prove to that woman that the feud from years gone by was over—and he came out on top. Angelica wondered what caused the feud, but he never told her, just kept saying—wait until Marlene saw him singing again.
The afternoon before the festival it rained. Sam came dragging in trailing his umbrella. He was soaked.
“You need to dry off before you can use the fiddle,” she said, surprised at how wet he was.
“I might get a cold and be sick tomorrow,” he said, eyeing the violin with some trepidation.
“Even with a cold, you can play. Unless you break all your fingers and your jaw, you can play,” she said leaning over to look him right in the eye. “It’s what we do as musicians. We play when we said we would. People are coming from all over to hear you. How would you feel if you went someplace expecting something and it wasn’t there?”
“Everybody plays better.”
“Not true. Most people in the audience couldn’t play a single note. They love to listen to music, but they can’t make it. There are some there better than you, some worse. Some have studied longer, but you have talent and the desire to succeed.” She brushed his damp hair off his forehead.
“You know I’m leaving in a couple of days,” she said.
“I don’t want you to go,” he said looking so woebegone she almost smiled.
She wished Kirk had said those words. “I know, but my life is back in New York. I’ve had a wonderful time here. And I’ll always remember our practicing together. So you have to do one more thing for me and play your very best tomorrow.”
He nodded, scuffing his wet sneakers. “I wish you’d stay here. What if Webb Francis doesn’t want to teach me? What if he won’t teach Teresa Ann?”
She hugged the child, wondering the same thing. “He will.” She hoped she was right.
“Ick, you’re all wet,” she said, stepping back.
He giggled.
“Come on back and you can have some milk and cookies and I’ll dry your shirt in the dryer.”
It was bittersweet watching him practice for the last time. She had never thought she’d enjoy teaching so much. She was as proud of him as she would have been of her own mastering of a difficult piece.
Teresa Ann showed up and the two children squabbled and practiced and both asked her to stay and never go away. Angelica hugged them both when they left, promising to meet them at the festival. She and Teresa Ann were going to be backstage when Sam played.
Kirk came over after the children left. She was going to miss him even more than the children. She didn’t want to think about that. Despite her earlier assertion, she’d fallen big time for this man. And he’d never even hinted she should stay.
“Want to go for a ride?” he asked.
“Sure.” The last few days were hard to live through. She was saving up memories like mad. She didn’t want to forget a single moment of her wonderful summer.
A short time later they were flying along the quiet country road, wind seeping beneath the helmet, warm and humid. Clouds built in the west. Another storm? Or would it blow north of them? The green trees sped by, and the air was fragrant, rich and moist.
Angelica hugged Kirk, relishing the feel of him against her, wishing they could ride like this forever.
She’d never forget her summer in Smoky Hollow. Would she come back?
It might be too hard to see Kirk again once she was used to not being with him. Better for her state of mind to focus on where to go next and not yearn for the impossible. She had the tour in Europe, another season with the symphony. Other concerts. Somehow the future didn’t look as exciting as it once had.
It was dusk by the time they returned. Rumblings in the distance signaled the storm was heading their way. Would they lose power like the last time?
He drove up to his house and stopped.
“Come in and eat with me,” he invited. “Or we could go to the diner.”
“Don’t you think it’s going to rain soon? Probably safer to stay here.”
They prepared the meal together, she making the salad and setting the table, Kirk grilling two steaks and corn on the cob. From time to time, Angelica stopped working to look at him. Once he turned his head and caught her gaze.
He cocked an eyebrow in silent question, but she merely shook her head and resumed her task, not wanting him to know she was memorizing every move he made to remember forever.
“Nervous about tomorrow?” he asked when they were eating.
“Not so much. I’ve done this a lot. Not this song or to this audienc
e. I’m more concerned about Sam. He’s practiced so hard. I want him to do well.”
“He’ll do fine. No one will expect virtuoso level from him. This is his first time and he’s only eight.”
But they would expect that of her. She sometimes wished she played for fun and not as a career. Could she enjoy it more, be more forgiving of mistakes?
“When are you leaving?” Kirk asked, studying the iced tea in his glass.
She waited until he raised his gaze to hers.
“The day after tomorrow. I have responsibilities that I can’t get out of. I wish I could blow them off, but I’m not made that way.”
“We knew you would be leaving,” he said, his dark eyes fascinating her. She wished he’d ask her to stay, or at least say he didn’t want her to leave like Sam had.
“Do you ever go to New York?” she asked, desperately longing for something to hold on to.
He hesitated a moment as if in thought, then slowly shook his head. “This is my place,” he said.
She knew that. Here he was needed. Here he could do what he did best, helping his neighbors, making amazing wood sculptures. This was his place. But it wasn’t hers.
“Webb Francis called today, his sister is bringing him early to the festival. He’s determined to get a front row seat,” she said, deliberately changing the subject before she burst into tears.
“I heard from him, too. We’ll probably sit together. I’ll be bringing my grandfather. Do you need a ride?”
She shook her head. “I’m going with Sam and his parents. And Teresa Ann.”
When the dishes were done the rain began.
“I’m going to dash home now before it gets worse,” she said, watching the first of the drops splash against the kitchen window. The breeze blew it almost sideways.
“You’ll get soaked.”
“No telling how long it’ll last. I can dry off before bed this way.”
He walked her to her door, despite her protest he’d get twice as wet. The porch was sheltered from the rain, the sound loud against its roof.
Kirk cradled her head in his hands, his thumbs rubbing lightly against her cheeks as he stared down into her eyes. She could hardly see him in the darkness, only the light from the back of the cottage shone through the windows giving faint illumination.
Angel of Smoky Hollow Page 15