Stormy Passion

by Brenda Jernigan

  “Wasting time. That’s what you’re doing. Why would you be thinkin' of such things today?”

  Brenna shrugged. “I don't know.” She slid off the stool to freshen her coffee, feeling a little melancholy by old thoughts.

  “Well, I do.” Geraldine chuckled as she broke out in a wide grin. “Today is our anniversary.”

  Brenna turned and looked at her. “It is, isn't it? Can you believe it's been three years?” She put a spoonful of sugar in her cup and stirred the dark liquid. Maybe that's the reason for the strangeness she felt today. “There have been times when I thought we would never survive.”

  “How can ya have such little faith? When I do your cookin'.”

  Brenna smiled at the woman she loved so much. “That is a big plus.” Her friend had lifted her up many times when she had been down, especially the first year, when Brenna had desperately needed to escape her tragic past. She had fled from her hometown having been left little choice and ended up in Hollow Ridge. Thankfully time healed most wounds or at least made them bearable.

  “Why don't you go on home, and I'll pick up the groceries this afternoon,” Brenna suggested. “Since it's our anniversary, let's give everyone a free glass of wine.”

  “Ain't a bad idea. But ya go gettin' fancy, and ya won't be needin' me 'round here.”

  Brenna laid a hand on Geraldine's arm. “That will never happen. Believe me, you have a job for life.”

  Alone, Brenna shook off her gloom and started reading the River Run Gazette from back home. Funny how she still thought of the larger town as home after what had happened.

  Every year she swore she was going to stop getting the newspaper, Hollow Ridge was her home now, but she always found a reason to put off canceling her subscription.

  She scanned the Society Section first for the marriage announcements, convincing herself she was keeping up with old friends, but knowing he was the reason ... he was always the reason. At first she'd hoped Taylor would try to find her, but after the second year, Brenna had given up hope. Still, she just had to know if Taylor had found someone else.

  Oh, she knew she was being stupid. The man wouldn't be waiting for her after three years. He probably hated the ground she walked on, and she really couldn’t blame him. So many unspoken questions stood between them.

  She wanted to forget about Taylor completely. God knows she’d tried, but somehow she couldn't.

  The pain never got any easier.

  Hollow Ridge, North Carolina wasn't overflowing with men, but there were a few between twenty-five and eighty. She had dated other men; but none of them made her feel like she'd felt when Taylor had held her. They had had something very special. Now Brenna wondered if she'd ever feel that way again.

  Did people experience one great love in their life, then never again?

  Running her finger down the page, she breathed a sigh of relief. Good. No mention of Taylor's marriage. Turning the page, she stopped upon seeing in big, bold print ... TAYLOR ROTHSCHILD ELECTED TO FIRST CITY BANK'S BOARD OF DIRECTORS.

  So, Taylor was doing well. His mother must have finally turned Rothschild Savings and Loan over to her son. It was hard to believe that woman would relinquish any of her power to anyone.

  Brenna shoved her long hair over her shoulders and looked out the window, trying to picture his face. It seemed to get harder every year to remember those vivid blue eyes. She shook her head. There was too much to do today to start getting mushy, especially on a hopeless cause.

  It was over . . . it had been from the day she walked out on him and fled to the Sleepy Hollow Inn. She and Taylor had spent many a romantic weekend in the mountains because they both loved to ski, but they had never been to Hollow Ridge. Brenna had come to Hollow Ridge because of a famous hip surgeon that she was sure could help her sister walk again. Fate must have been smiling on Brenna for once in her life because the Sleepy Hollow Inn was for sale and at a price that she could afford. So they had found a home and a doctor and they began the task of putting their lives back together.

  Enough of the past, she thought as she placed her cup in the stainless-steel sink, then she opened a drawer and removed a piece of paper so she could start making a grocery list. Just as she wrote the last item down, the back door flew open.

  Her sister grabbed the handle and flung the door shut with a loud bang. “Brenna, wait till you see how they've decorated the town for the Snow Bear Festival. It's better than Christmas. We're going to have a blast.” Lisa stopped long enough to hang her coat on a peg, and then blurted out, “I can't wait!”

  “Stomp the snow off your feet, young lady.” Brenna watched as her ten-year-old sister obeyed. Lisa's unruly brown hair framed her chubby face, and her hazel eyes glistened with excitement. She was like any rambunctious ten-year-old and thank God she walked without limp.

  Lisa grabbed an oatmeal cookie and sat on one of the stools. “You are going to the festival, aren't you?”

  “Yes. But that's tomorrow, and I have a ton of things to do today. And so do you, I might add.”

  “Oh, Brenna,” Lisa said, making her sister's name sound like a groan.

  “I don't want to hear it.” Brenna held up her hand. “Work comes first, then playtime. I'm going to buy groceries.” She grabbed her purse. “While I'm gone, get Nell to cover the front desk and reset the dining room tables. I want you to make up the beds then dust.” Brenna slipped into her apple-red coat. “And don't forget your homework.” She smiled at the frown on her sister's face as she left out the back door.

  Finally, Taylor Rothschild was free of his past.

  His silver BMW handled like a dream, hugging the mountain roads as a child would his mother. The cellular phone rang and Taylor reached down to get the phone. Business didn't stop just because he drove his car.

  “Just open another account,” Taylor instructed the voice on the other end. “He's our largest customer, so handle him carefully.” Taylor said goodbye to his bank manager, then laid the phone back on the console.

  “I thought this was our weekend to be alone,” Carol Holland said, looking at him with accusing eyes.

  Taylor reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. “You're absolutely right. This is our weekend. No more work.” To prove his point, he switched off the phone and tossed it into the back seat.

  “Thank you.”

  Taylor propped his elbow on the Corinthian leather armrest and set the cruise control. “Look at those mountains. I had forgotten how pretty they are.” The tree-studded peaks wore a coat of bluish-white powder that clung to the bark and branches of every tree, producing a fragile beauty. It was breathtaking, clean, pure, and peaceful. Exactly what he needed.

  “I know you didn't take a vacation last year or the year before that. Just how long has it been since you've been on one?”

  He thought for a few moments before answering. “Three, maybe four years.”

  Carol stared at him with disbelief. “Why so long?”

  “I was going through some bad times, so I buried myself in work. After a while it just became routine,” Taylor's voice trailed off as he stared out the windshield, knowing he couldn't tell Carol the whole truth. He'd just gotten the black-hearted witch out of his system. A part of his heart would always be dead because of Brenna Fox. She had the face of an angel with her porcelain skin and peach-colored cheeks framed by the thickest black hair he'd ever run his hands through. He swallowed hard, seeing red instead of white. His jaw clenched at the thought of his former fiancée. Like a fool, he'd looked for Brenna, refusing to believe the story he'd been told, but the search turned up nothing. How could the woman he'd loved slip away during the night without saying anything to him?

  No letter.

  No nothing.

  He shook himself. Brenna was in his past.

  Dead.

  Buried along with the hurt. His new life sat next to him, and if she agreed ... Carol would be his future wife. Taylor knew he didn't love Carol the same way he’d loved Brenna, but he liked
her a lot and that would be a good start. Some people started with less. His father once told him that you always had one great love --maybe he had had that love, but it ended badly. So he'd given up ever finding the right love.

  He had that once.

  “What a quaint little town.” Carol opened the glove compartment and pulled out a paper towel, then began wiping the fog off her side window so she could see better. “Everything looks like it's been dusted in powdered sugar, and look at that old country store. Did you see the name?”

  “Hollow Rid-,” Taylor's voice broke off as the radio faded and the car began to lose power. “What the hell!”

  “What's wrong?”

  “If I knew, I'd fix it,” Taylor snapped while he fought the steering wheel with no power stering. Looking up, he breathed a sigh of relief. A service station lay just a few feet ahead. “This doesn't sound good.”

  The car lost power just as they reached the station. He glanced over at Carol, who sat staring straight ahead and pouting because he'd been so abrupt. “I'm sorry I snapped at you, but car trouble is the last thing we need.” He reached over and kissed her, tenderly tracing a finger across her jaw. “I’m still a little uptight. I should have taken the car in for service before we left but somehow it got shoved aside, so I guess this is my fault and I was taking it out on you. I’ll try and do better. Stay here and I’ll talk to the mechanic.”

  Carol smiled. “Don’t worry they will have it fixed in no time and we’ll forget all about it.”

  A half-hour later, the mechanic ambled into the little office where Carol and Taylor sat drinking coffee out of styrofoam cups. “Afraid I got bad news, folks.” He wiped the grease from his hands with a red rag. “I can't get the part ya need 'till next Tuesday.”

  “Surely someone has a part.” Taylor stood.

  “Nope.” The mechanic shook his head. “The closest place I could find an alternator was in Atlanta.”

  Taylor pulled out his American Express card. “Look, Mac, money is no object. Just have it flown up here.”

  “Yer from the city, ain't ya?”

  Taylor folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the gray metal desk. He was used to dealing with problems--he did so every day. This man should be a cinch. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “In the city ya ken flash them fangdangled things--” The mechanic nodded toward Taylor's platinum card. “--and get something done, but yer in Hollow Ridge, son. There ain't nobody here owns one of these here foreign cars. And if ya didn't notice, the nearest airport is seventy-five miles away in Asheville.” He stuffed the greasy, red rag in his back pocket then walked around to his chair and sat down. Looking up at Taylor, he gave him an I-don't-believe-you're-asking look. “It's the weekend, and there ain't any parts to be had.”

  “But we have reservations in Asheville,” Carol protested. “We were going to the Big Sky Ski Festival.”

  “I'm sorry, miss.” He tipped his red ball cap. “But unless ya got a team of dogs and a sled, I'm afraid you're stuck right here in town.”

  “I'll pay you double labor and parts,” Taylor tried again.

  “Ya deaf, boy?”

  “All right, Mac.” Taylor threw both hands up. “You've made your point.” Taylor knew when he'd been bested. “Is there somewhere we can stay until you fix the car?”

  “The name ain't, Mac. It's Joe.” He grinned, then spit tobacco juice in a cup and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “We have a jim-dandy bed and breakfast just two blocks that way.” Joe pointed. “It's called The Sleepy Hollow Inn. Why don't ya folks go ahead and check in just to make sure ya have someplace to sleep. I'll have yer bags brought over later.”

  “Are you sure you're not in cahoots with the owner of this place?” Taylor asked jokingly. Surprisingly, he found he liked the old-timer's straight-spoken ways. It was refreshing after dealing with so many business professionals who said one thing but meant another.

  Joe laughed, then slapped Taylor on the back as he helped Carol on with her coat. “Friend, you've been in the city too long. Folks don't do things like that 'round here.”

  Taylor and Carol walked the two blocks, listening to the sound of the ice crunching under their feet and the children laughing and playing in the snow. It almost felt as though they stepped back into time to a quaint little village forgotten by the rest of the world.

  “Have you ever been here before?” Carol asked.

  “No. As a matter of fact, I have always taken Hwy 40 to Black Mountain and stayed at a Bed and Breakfast Inn there, but I decided to try some different scenery through the back roads. You know, get out of the proverbial rut,” Taylor said. But what he didn’t tell Carol was he didn’t want to be reminded of his past. Of all the hopes and dreams he’d planned with Brenna.

  “Well I’m not going to complain. The ride has indeed been beautiful.”

  In the distance, they could see the Sleepy Hollow Inn. The proud Victorian house stood regal, complete with a wraparound porch. Snow clung to the steeple-like roof, giving it the appearance of a picture-perfect postcard.

  Taylor took a deep breath. Even the air seemed fresher up here. Maybe this whole weekend wouldn't turn out as bad as he'd first thought. He definitely needed a break because his temper had grown much too short lately.

  Just as they reached the picket fence's front gate, Taylor's cell phone rang. He pulled the cell phone out of his coat pocket as he and Carol turned up the front walkway of the inn.

  Carol frowned. “I thought you turned that off.”

  He shrugged and flipped the phone open. “What is it?” Taylor asked in a frosty voice. He thought he was getting away from work.

  “Mr. Matheson came in to sign the papers you left,” his secretary explained.

  “So?”

  “He said he needs some additional money.”

  “How much does he want to borrow?” Taylor attempted to be patient.

  Carol stared at him and he shrugged. “This isn't a good time. Carol and I have had a change in plans. I'll call you in fifteen minutes.” He'd taken the phone away from his ear when he heard his secretary's voice. “What? Tell my mother I'll call her later.”

  “Remember the break from work? No more phones,” Carol said as they climbed the stairs.

  Placing the phone back in his pocket, he draped his arm around her shoulder. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'll tell them to quit calling after we get checked in.”

  “Good. Just turn off the phone and don't give out the inn's number.”

  Upon entering a set of double oak doors, they were greeted by the sight of a winding staircase and antique furniture that smelled of fresh lemon oil. To the left, there was a dining room and another room on the right, and straight ahead a large hallway full of green plants ran through the center of the house. As they took off their coats, a young woman with bright red hair stepped out from behind the stairs. “May I help you?”

  “We would like a room until Tuesday.”

  “You're in luck, there's only one left.” She smiled. “It's called the Granny Room. If you will follow me, I'll have you register.” The woman moved to a desk behind the stairs and pointed to the book where Taylor had to sign in. “I'm sorry the owner can't be here to greet you, but she had a few errands to run. So I'm kinda filling in.”

  Taylor's pen stopped in mid-stroke as he prepared to sign his and Bren--. What was wrong with him? It was Carol. That’s where his future lay. He glanced down and saw how tightly he clutched the pen. Would that name always affect him this way? Shaking his head and attributing his tension to being overworked, he finished writing his name and address.

  “This place is beautiful.” Carol grabbed Taylor's arm in her excitement as they climbed the stairs. “Maybe this will turn out better than we expected, and we will be thanking that faulty alternator. You have to admit it is beautiful here.”

  “I doubt that,” Taylor said. “I had big plans for us in Ashville, so maybe if we’re lucky old Joe will get
the lead out and we can still make Ashville.” He took her arm as they were escorted to the Granny Room. Turning to the hostess, he asked, “What's your name?”

  “Nell.”

  “It's nice to meet you, Nell. Can you suggest any good places to eat?”

  “We have the best cook in town right here,” she boasted.

  “Good. How about making a reservation for two at 7:30.”

  Brenna had been gone much longer than she'd expected. She sighed as she put a bag of groceries on the counter. She'd had better days.

  “What happened to the car?” Lisa demanded as she shut the back door with her foot, because her arms were full of groceries.

  “Some city fool slid into my Jeep!” Brenna waved the tea box she'd been about to put on the shelf, in the air. “I couldn't believe it. I had come to a full stop, and the idiot still hit me. I don't know when people will learn if there's lots of snow you need chains or snow tires!” She slammed the tea box on the counter and then folded the grocery bag. “Thank God, the damage was only a bent fender. The idiot was driving uninsured. And I don't have the money for any major car repairs,” Brenna complained. She released a big sigh; she felt much better now that she'd vented her frustrations.

  “Won't the other man pay for it?”

  “Let's just say, I'll believe it when I see the check. You know how my luck runs.” Brenna opened the cabinet and pulled out a roasting pan. “Turn the oven on to bake and set it for three hundred twenty-five degrees,” she instructed her ten-year-old sister.

  “Boy, that roast looks good.” Lisa licked her lips.

  “I hope it is.” Brenna placed the huge roast in the pan and sprinkled spices on the meat. “I'm going to get this started, and Geraldine can finish when she gets here. Did we fill the rest of the vacancies?”

  “Nell said she booked the last one an hour ago.”

  “Great.” Brenna nodded, then picked up the roasting pan and slid it into the oven before straightening. “There's a big snow storm coming in tomorrow night. I imagine some of the roads will be blocked, so it's good we've got all of our guests now.”