Covered Bridge Charm (30 page)

Miranda came and, giving Carly a knowing glance, guided the General back into his apartment. Carly helped Hall Patroller restore her calm and went back to check on Martha, who stood in her doorway shaking her head. “What’s this world coming to? Since when are we allowing birds in here?”

The comment stopped Carly in her tracks, and she softly explained, “Why, it’s Dot’s canary.”

Martha shook her head and crooked her finger for Carly to come closer. She whispered, “Everybody knows Dot doesn’t have the ability to take care of a bird. What next?” And she went into her room, leaving Carly standing in the hall with disappointment crashing over her.

Later that evening Carly snuggled on the sofa with Cocoa, who was doing his tooth-clicking purr. She felt convicted over the way she’d treated Adam. She’d never seen him as angry as he was on Sunday. She popped some popcorn and tried to read, but nothing would ease her restless spirit. Finally she picked up her phone and pressed his name.

“Hey.” His voice sounded suspicious—or was it disappointment?

“Hi.” She tried to sound upbeat, but there was silence on the line. He was definitely still angry. “I’m calling to apologize.”

“Mm-hm. So you need my help.” He sarcastically added, “What is it this time?”

“I was wrong. I should have let you in on our bridge expedition.”

“As in telling me you were going or as in including me?”

He was still mad. “Both. I’m sorry.” The silence on the other end cut her deeply. She’d never known him to be cold toward her. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, it made her ashamed of how she’d been treating him. No matter what happened between them, she’d try to at least be civil in the future. “And I treated you unfairly.”

Finally, he asked, “Is that all?” She hesitated. He might warm up to her in a few days. Unless he was going to go to Indiana. Then he might never make amends. Maybe she’d pushed him over the edge.

His voice slightly softened, carrying a tone of dread. “Are you crying?”

She gave a strangled laugh. “No. You were right. I need your help.”

“Humph.”

“I’ll understand if you don’t want to come.” She rubbed Cocoa’s ear so hard he bit her. The rabbit hopped to the far end of the couch. “Sorry. Cocoa just bit me, and I dropped the phone.” Hearing a bit of a chuckle, she got the nerve to continue, “Larwood bridge is under construction. We saw a pile of old boards on the other side of the river. I wanted to rummage through them, but the security guard chased us away. I’m going to go back there and see what I can find.” She grinned, though he couldn’t see her, and added, “So can I borrow a flashlight? Or a boat?”

“I’ll be right over.”

“No! Adam, wait!”

“What?”

“Not tonight.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

F
eeling nervous, Carly glanced at Adam, who’d been glum and brooding ever since she got in his truck. “Would it be easier to find the road that leads to the other side of the bridge?”

He cast her a disparaging look. “We’re here now.”

The parking lot was empty. As far as she could tell, there was no sign of any security guards anywhere near the bridge. Adam turned off his lights, and the night became pitch black around them. She flinched when he touched her hand.

“You know what happens to trespassers?”

“No. What?”

“I don’t know. Thought maybe you did. But in case they take us away and we get separated, I want you to know, I always loved you.”

Her eyes now adjusting to the moonlight, she could see his teasing grin. She jerked her hand away. “Stop it.”

“Okay, then let’s go.”

The slam of their doors magnified under the circumstances, causing Carly to scan the area again for self reassurance. They still appeared to be alone. Adam took her hand to cross the footbridge over Roaring Creek. The sounds of its rapids intensified at night, leaving no question of how Crabtree’s sister creek got its name.

Following the combined light of moon and flashlight, they passed a large picnic table and bore left, away from the rocky beach of the gentler Crabtree Creek. In the summertime, this side of the bridge was full of activity, including children swimming, dogs chasing Frisbees, and families picnicking. Tonight it was eerily vacant except for the sound of creaking trees and moving water.

With her right hand, Carly tugged her scarf tight against the bitter cold. Moving uphill toward the barricaded area of Larwood Covered Bridge, her blood warmed enough to forget any physical discomfort. They paused outside the orange-and-white barricades and stood beside a large sign: R
OAD
C
LOSED
. Adam dropped her hand and moved his flashlight, scanning the off-limits area.

To the left was private property, some deep ravines, and the perfect area for fishing. “The old boards are on the other side of the bridge,” she whispered.

His masculine rumble reminded, “You don’t need to whisper.”

She shivered. “Jah, I suppose.”

“Let me go first. Stay right behind me and watch for missing floorboards. Test the existing ones. They might be unstable, too, because of the construction.” He pushed one of the barricades to the side so they could squeeze through.

Nodding, she followed him, and they reached an area where the road had been demolished. The ground was covered with small bits of debris.

“Careful,” he admonished. “Don’t want to tear your stockings.”

She snapped his ear.

“Ouch!”

“Shh!”

They stepped over some yellow caution ribbon and around scaffolding. Then they hugged the left wall of the bridge. Only the girding remained, but they were able to use it to get hand holds as they stepped from board to board over gaping dark holes where complete sections of floor were missing. It would be a drop of twenty or thirty feet down to Crabtree Creek.

Carly’s heart beat wild within her chest as they stealthily made their way across the bridge. When they reached the other side and hit the security of dirt rubble, Adam turned and pulled her into his arms. “Is your heart beating as crazy as mine?”

She slipped her arms around his waist, elated from the adventure and thrill of his arms. “We did it.”

He bent and kissed her cheek. “The night’s only begun.”

She pulled away. “Lead on.”

They quickly found the demo piles. “Put on your gloves. I’ll move the boards around, and you can examine them. Watch for nails. On the ground, too.”

“All right.”

They’d worked in sync for a long while when Carly asked, “What time is it?”

He checked his phone. “Two o’clock.”

“What? It seems like we’ve only been here an hour or so.”

“Need a break? I’ve got coffee in the truck.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m not climbing over that bridge again until we’re finished.”

“I’ll go.”

“No,” she maintained, mostly not wanting to be left alone. “Let’s keep working. But what if their initials aren’t here?”

“We’re only halfway through. We need to finish tonight though, because if they see the lumber’s been moved, they’ll post a guard from here on out. I’d be happy to take you back to the truck so you can sleep while I finish.”

“I’m not quitting.”

“Let me know if you change your mind.”

After that, Carly fought fatigue and was wondering how long she’d be able to continue, when Adam let out a whoop.

“What?”

“Here it is. Come see.”

She scrambled around the lumber pile and felt her dress catch. Giving it a hearty tug, she didn’t care that she heard tearing. She knelt beside him and ran her fingers over the aged carving. It couldn’t be plainer. James + Martha and beneath it J. I. + M. S. “Wow.” In reverence, she sank to her haunches and marveled. “I can’t believe he carved out their entire names.”

Adam searched her eyes. “They must’ve been in love.”

“It’s a shame to leave it here,” she whispered.

“Then let’s take it.”

“That long piece of timber? Anyway, it would be stealing.”

Adam frowned. “I should have brought a saw.”

“It’s enough to know the story’s true,” she said wistfully.

“Then let’s get you home. We both have work tomorrow.”

She nodded. The trek back across the partly demolished bridge wasn’t as stirring as it had been earlier, but she carried with her a quiet satisfaction of confirming Martha’s story. As the moonlight shone on them through the open roof, she willed a happy conclusion for James Irish.

Once they’d made their way safely around the barricade and started downhill, Adam drew her to himself. “What have we here?” His low rumble led her to believe that the security guard had appeared. Frantically her eyes searched the area and returned to his gaze. “It appears to be a kissing tree,” he purred.

Her hand fluttered at her coat’s lapel. “You scared me.”

“Did I? You haven’t seen anything yet.” Then he drew her to a huge, barren-leafed tree with rough mossy bark and a twisted trunk.

As his arms slipped around her waist, she looked into his eyes. “I thought you learned your lesson last time.”

“Didn’t you know? Ants sleep at night.”

Laughing she fell against him and accepted his kiss. Though her mind remained cautious, her heart couldn’t push him away. He deepened the kiss so that she didn’t remember they were standing in the bitter cold of night, nor care that her dress was torn and her stockings ruined. Again. All she knew was that she was in the arms of the man who owned her heart. She had no control over what he did—if he went to Nappanee or not—but tonight she didn’t care.

When at last they drew apart, he whispered. “I think we found our kissing tree. This one’s a keeper. So are you.”

Adam was exhausted the next day but sporting a smile. Sweat rolled down his face as he worked the saw to fulfill a big commercial order. Dad was pleased. They were days ahead of schedule. The helicopter would pick up the trees at the end of the week. And the entire Portland order was due to Adam securing the account and handling all the details. Regardless of how the cut-your-own-tree lot fared this year, they’d be in the green.

And Carly had forgiven him. His prayers were answered. The previous night seemed surreal, like a wild adventure. That’s exactly what Carly was—a wild adventure. Being an easy-going guy, he understood how he needed her to shake things up for him now and again. To keep life from getting dull.

Turning thirty had been devastating. Someday he hoped to view it as a year of transitions. His mind dwelled on Carly and their kissing tree. She was the godsend, a gift he would learn to cherish and protect. Would Christmas be too early to propose?

January would bring a year of new beginnings. Dad was taking him into the partnership. He’d be able to afford marriage. And they weren’t getting any younger. He’d never even discussed children with her.

Dad’s grunt reminded him he was getting ahead of himself. Dad was still an obstacle. He could invite Carly to spend Thanksgiving with the family. It would be an ordeal. One step at a time. And hopefully in time for Christmas…

“You’ve been whistling all day. Happy to get this order filled?”

“Jah, you’re right about that. Maybe we can take an extra day off at Thanksgiving.”

Dad eyed him dubiously. “The farm’s open to customers.”

“Then I’ll rephrase that. Maybe I’ll take the day off.”

“Maybe. We’ll see.” Dad’s gruff voice carried admiration, spurring Adam to take advantage of the mood.

“Think I’ll ask Mom if she can handle three more for Thanksgiving Dinner.”

“Oh? Who do you have in mind?” he asked gruffly.

“Jimmy.” He hesitated, then added, “His family.”

Dad lay down his saw and crossed his arms. “You’re the most stubborn Lapp of the lot.”

Adam grinned. “Which is great as long as I channel it in the right direction. Right? So I have your blessing?”

Dad’s face turned red. “You do not. And it’s not a joking matter. My feelings on the matter have not changed and never will.” Then he picked up his saw and swore under his breath.

Dropping the matter, they worked in silence until dark. By then Adam’s muscles and body sagged with fatigue and lack of sleep. He dragged himself home, showered, warmed up some of Ann’s savory-smelling stew, and was ready to fall into bed when his phone rang.