Angel's Rest (4 page)

Celeste harrumphed. “People tend to place entirely too much importance on so-called prime years. Believe me, I know.”

Sarah elbowed Nic in the side. “I wouldn’t argue with the senior citizen with a new Honda Gold Wing.”

Celeste continued. “As for the rest, actually, my dears, the fact that you do cling to this lovely mountain town says everything. Eternity Springs might be financially bankrupt, but its moral coffers are full. The people here are good folk. After living here six months, I have concluded that this town is worth saving.”

“I know it’s worth saving,” Nic said.

Sarah wearily massaged her brow. “It’s a nice thought, but at this point, I doubt that particular miracle can happen.”

Celeste exasperatedly blew out a puff of air. “This only proves that you don’t have much experience with miracles. All Eternity Springs needs is an angel.”

“That’s not news,” Sarah said. “I can’t tell you how many corporations, private investors, and venture capitalists the mayor and town council members have approached. No one was interested in investing in Eternity Springs.”

“That’s why I said you need an angel,” Celeste responded as Mayor Townsend pounded his gavel in an attempt to regain control of the meeting. “Isn’t it lucky you have one?”

With talk of Cam Murphy’s misdeeds finally subsiding,
Celeste Blessing rose to her feet. “Mayor Townsend? If I might have the floor for moment? I have a plan to share. My own plan A.” With a wink toward Nic and Sarah, she added, “
A
for angel, if you will.”

“I’m happy to hear what you have to say, Mrs. Blessing.” Hank Townsend waved her forward. “You’re such a little bitty thing, why don’t you join us on the stage so you can speak into the microphone?”

Nic watched in bemusement as Celeste made her way to the podium. The auditorium grew quiet, the air expectant, as the audience focused on the newcomer in their midst. Sarah leaned toward Nic and murmured, “When I grow up, I want to be like Celeste.”

“She does have a way about her.” Hope flickered to life within Nic as Hank Townsend adjusted the microphone for Celeste. Plan A for angel? Was Celeste Blessing Eternity Springs’ angel?

“Think maybe she’s more than just a retired schoolteacher?” Sarah asked, her mind obviously taking the same path as Nic’s. “Maybe she’s an heiress. Or … what has she said about her late husband? Could he have been a corporate bigwig?”

“I don’t recall her saying much about him. Plus I wouldn’t bet against
her
having been a corporate bigwig. Who knows, maybe Celeste landed in Eternity packing a golden parachute.”

Onstage, Celeste leaned toward the mike and said, “Thank you, Mayor Townsend, council members, and fellow citizens. I appreciate the opportunity to address you. First, let me publicly thank you all for the very warm welcome you gave me as a newcomer to Eternity. I just knew that a town built along Angel Creek had to be a special place, and you’ve proved me right. You’ve been kind and friendly and my move here has been everything I hoped for. I want you all to know that I have faith in this town, faith in the people who live here.”

“Hear, hear,” called Reverend Hart.

Celeste beamed at him and continued. “Here is the message I want you all to hear. Eternity Springs didn’t need the state of Colorado to build a prison here to save the town. Eternity Springs simply needs to free itself from the prison of its past and utilize the gifts a generous and loving God has bestowed upon it. Then, and only then, will this wonderful little town heal and thrive and fulfill the promise of its name.

“Now, we face a long, difficult winter and it won’t be easy to overcome our fears, foibles, and failings. Each one of us must reach inside himself and find the will to do what must be done. But know this: spring is within sight. Thank you, and God bless.”

Celeste stepped away from the podium and exited stage left.

For a long moment, nobody spoke. Sarah and Nic shared dumbfounded looks. Then the clatter of a metal door opening and swinging shut shook them from their reverie and the audience buzzed. Dale Parker groaned and buried his head in his hands. Mayor Townsend snapped his gaping jaw shut, then turned to his city council members. “That’s plan A?”

Parker moaned through his hands. “A for angel, she said. Lady is living in la-la land.”

“
A
for Alzheimer’s, more likely,” grumbled a council member.

“That’s not funny, Ronnie,” Sarah scolded, the remark having touched a sore nerve.

The council member had the grace to look sheepish as the mayor spoke into the mike. “Okay, then. Well. Anyone else want the microphone?” Without allowing a response, he rushed on. “For anyone who’s interested, some of us will be congregating at the Pub to further discuss our options. Anyone who wants to put his or her
brain to planning … uh … well, our next move, is welcome to join us. This meeting is adjourned.”

He banged his gavel once again and the crowd slowly dispersed. Nic and Sarah both kept their seats, not speaking, but silently communicating in the way that old, dear friends do.

Finally Sarah spoke. “What just happened?”

Nic drummed her fingers against the armrest. “Do you feel it, too?”

“That something significant just took place?”

“And nobody noticed.”

“Yeah.” Nic drew a deep breath, and then exhaled in a rush. “No. We’re just being weird.”

“We do that often.” Sarah nibbled at her bottom lip.

“True, but not under circumstances like this. Ordinarily when we’re being weird, we have the urge to call each other at the same moment or we order the same dress from an online store and wear it to the same event.”

“Or remember that time we both got a craving for good Mexican food and drove all the way to Gunnison to get it, and you walked into the restaurant before I’d finished my chips and salsa?”

The memory still nettled, so Nic lifted her chin. “You mean the time I called you to invite you to go with me but you were already on the road … without inviting me?”

“Hey, I was supposed to be dieting.” Sarah grinned without apology. “But you’re right. This was a different kind of weird.”

As Nic tried to put her finger on tonight’s particular brand of weirdness, a familiar voice called, “Hey, you two.”

Nic glanced over her shoulder to see Sage Anderson striding down the auditorium’s side aisle, her Gypsy skirt swirling around trim ankles, her long and wavy auburn hair bouncing with her steps. Sage was one of
only a handful of permanent, year-round residents to move to Eternity Springs during the past decade. A painter, she thrived on the isolation the little town had to offer, and the work she’d produced of late was quickly making her the darling of the art world.

Sage had her secrets. She rarely talked about her life before the move to Eternity Springs. Sarah thought she was running
from
something. Nic believed she’d run
to
something in the mountains. Whichever way didn’t much matter. Sage was their friend. They liked her and respected her privacy, so they kept their curiosity to themselves—even if it was difficult sometimes.

“I didn’t see you,” Nic said as Sage plopped down in a seat in the front row and twisted around to look at them. “Where were you sitting?”

“I came in late. Stood in the back.” Her dangling purple crystal earrings sparkled as her green eyes gleamed. “Am I ever glad I did. ‘Eternity Springs simply needs to free itself from the prison of its past and utilize the gifts a generous and loving God has bestowed upon it. Then, and only then, will this wonderful little town heal and thrive and fulfill the promise of its name.’ I heard that and …” She snapped her fingers. “A visual popped into my brain. I’m gonna head home and get to work, but wanted to say hi to you two first.”

“Batten down the hatches,” Sarah said. “The creativity wind is upon us. We won’t see her again for a week.”

Nic nodded. “I’ll hang the Do Not Disturb signs around the studio on my way home tonight. I’d rather avoid being called out to treat the wounds of any poor, unsuspecting soul who might hazard a knock upon her door.”

“Oh, stop it,” Sage said with a laugh. “I’m not that bad. I never draw blood.” She beamed at Sarah and Nic, and exhaled a satisfied sigh. “Look, it very rarely happens
this way. I am so stoked. Celeste Blessing gave me a gift with that speech of hers. I think she’s wonderful. If the mayor and city council and grumpy old men like Dale Parker want to ignore her, then too bad so sad. I think she put the hope back into Eternity Springs tonight, and that’s an important start.”

Sarah gave Nic a look. “And we thought nobody noticed. Somebody did.”

“ ‘Spring is in sight,’ ” Nic quoted, giving a rueful smile. “Think we can believe it?”

“I do,” Sage declared. “I absolutely do.”

“I want to,” Sarah offered. “Although believing would be easier if this were February rather than the end of September.”

Nic stared absently at the graffiti inked on the seat back in front of her and considered what troubles loomed before her in the coming months. She had taxes due on the house and clinic. The water heater was making funny noises and the furnace had been on borrowed time for three winters now. On a personal front, she faced long winter nights rambling around in a house that should be filled with children and laughter and love, but instead echoed with loneliness and grief over a lost dream.

Was Celeste right? Was spring—the end of her personal winter—finally in sight?

“Plan A for angel,” she murmured as, unbidden, the image of a rescued boxer and a haunted-eyed stranger with scars on his chest and wounds on his soul flashed in her mind.
You’re a lifesaver
.

“You know what?” Nic said, glancing from one friend to the other. “I believe it. It is weird, but we do weird here in Eternity Springs. I trust in Celeste’s insight. I think she gave us all a gift. We just have to be smart enough to recognize it and act on it.”

“Works for me,” Sarah said.

“Me too,” Sage agreed. “That’s why I’m headed home to work. See you two … well … probably in a week or so.”

Nic left the school auditorium with a lighter heart and a more positive outlook than she’d had in months. Maybe she was fooling herself. Maybe this was no more than relief over dodging the prison-comes-to-town bullet. Maybe Celeste had some strange hope-creating disease, and by sitting next to her, Nic had caught it.

Whatever it was, she liked the feeling and she refused to second-guess it. Today, for the first time in a very long time, Nicole Sullivan was looking forward to winter.

Gabe held a steaming cup of coffee in his hand as he stepped out onto the deck bathed in morning sunshine and took a moment to appreciate the exquisite view from the northern exposure of Eagle’s Way. Above a sea of evergreens, a trio of snowy peaks kissed a robin’s-egg sky. Patches of snow clung to the ground in shady spots and decorated the hills like icing. At the base of the mountain, waterfowl floated on the surface of a sapphire lake. The scene was beautiful, peaceful, and serene.

He inhaled a deep breath of crisp, pine-scented air and took stock of his situation.

Today might be a decent day.

Though he took care to keep his emotions locked away, he couldn’t deny that something inside him had changed since the day the stray dog knocked his Glock into the snow. He didn’t sleep half the day away anymore; he had energy again. For the past week he’d spent much of his time involved in heavy labor.

His breath fogged on the air and he checked the outdoor thermometer. Twenty-two degrees now, but he’d bet that would double by noon. It’d be a beautiful day to sweat.

He’d noted that a section of retaining wall beside the garage needed repair, and once he’d analyzed the situation and double-checked the house plans in Davenport’s study, he’d realized that the builder had screwed up. They’d built the retaining wall five feet off the line, and as a result, vehicles entering and exiting the garage had to make a sharp left turn. Judging by the scrapes of paint on the support posts, the error needed to be corrected.

With no more snow in the immediate forecast and plagued by an unusual restless energy, Gabe had called his host and pitched his idea to tear down the wall and rebuild it according to the original design. Davenport had given him the go-ahead without hesitation. Not because he worried about a few paint scrapes, he’d allowed—he himself never messed up that turn, thank you very much—but because he knew from experience that strenuous physical work helped ward off the demons of depression.

Gabe didn’t disagree. An hour of hard, physical outdoor labor beat an hour on a shrink’s couch any day of the week.

On this particular day, he finished the north stretch of the new wall by late afternoon and decided he’d worked enough for the day. His muscles were sore, his body weary. Best of all, he’d rebuilt mental defenses right along with the retaining wall, and for the past six nights he’d slept nightmare-free. With any luck, tonight would make it seven.

As he tugged off his work gloves, he realized he was hungry. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he craved a real meal. Maybe he’d clean up, go into town, and try out that restaurant Jack had bragged about—the Bristlecone Café. Wouldn’t hurt to pick up a few supplies, either.

Twenty minutes later, showered and dressed in clean jeans and a blue flannel shirt, he opened the pantry door
to check the cereal supply and heard a scratching sound at the kitchen door. He glanced back over his shoulder and froze. “What the …?”

Having a raccoon show up at the back door wouldn’t have surprised him. Or a deer. An elk. A mountain lion. Actually, having a bear come pawing at the door wouldn’t have shocked him. But a boxer?
The
boxer?

He wore one of those white plastic cone collars that prevented dogs from chewing at their stitches, and he looked ridiculous. Healthy, but ridiculous. Crooked tail wagging, ears perked, pink tongue extended, panting.

“It’s been two weeks,” Gabe muttered, thinking aloud. Was that long enough for the dog to be released from quarantine? Maybe. Had the vet brought the dog back to him to keep? Why? He’d told her the dog wasn’t his.