Mountain Sanctuary (7 page)

“No, I’m not paying you enough for that, Adam. Just consider it part of your salary. A perk.” She grinned at that. “Along with all the other perks—such as babysitting, cooking, taking long walks at night.”

He laughed, coming close to stare down at her. “I know one perk I really like.”

“Oh, and what’s that?”

“My boss,” he replied. Then he touched his lips to her forehead in a quick brush. “Thanks, Stella.”

Too late, he realized what he’d done. Her startled expression went from confused to vexed in about two seconds flat. “I’m going to…I’m going inside. You can go up and look at the apartment if you want. There are boxes in the back, to pack up any of my mother’s things—”

Then she was gone, her skirt swishing through the night as she strutted purposely back toward the big house.

And left Adam purposely wishing he could have kissed her on the lips instead of her cute little forehead.

W
hat had she been thinking that night?

A week later, Stella stood in the kitchen watching the coffee brew, her gaze hovering on the carriage-house apartment. Adam would soon be coming down the outside steps, all full of energy and smiles. How could one man be so happy early in the morning, anyway? And why, oh, why had she offered him the apartment in the first place?

At least he’s out of the house, she reminded herself, her hand brushing across her forehead, her memories brushing across that feather of a kiss he’d planted on her that night. Stella closed her eyes, the sound of the coffee gurgling receding into the distance as she remembered his touch, so sweet, so swift. Remembered that and the cloying scent of honeysuckle.

Opening her eyes, she thought about the doves, as she often did these days. She’d see them out in the garden around dusk each night, moving as a pair, strolling together to find worms or seeds. The babies were big now and almost ready to leave the nest. But the doves, they moved together as if they knew eternity would be this peaceful, this content. Why couldn’t she have such faith?

This Sunday morning, she knew Adam would walk the short block to the church just up the street. He might even look back toward the house one last time, wondering if she’d ever go on that particular walk with him. And he’d be disappointed to find that Stella wasn’t on the path. No, sir. She wasn’t ready to take that walk toward getting over her quarrel with God. Not just yet.

And maybe she was fidgety and nervous this morning because her daddy and Kyle had readily agreed to go to church with Adam. Traitors! Then she pushed that thought right out of her head. They weren’t turning on her. More like they were turning toward something positive and good. And her son surely deserved to know the word of the Lord. Even if she couldn’t quite bring herself to teach it to him.

The coffee belched one last time, causing her to pivot and stare at the offending machine. But the brew smelled good and she had guests waiting in the dining room.

Hurrying around to gather the strawberries and blueberries that would go along with the waffles Adam had promised their current boarders, Stella made sure everything was in order. She’d put freshly cut day lilies on each of the four tables in the big dining room and she’d even brought out some of her own hand-painted china to serve the breakfast of waffles, eggs and bacon. And Adam would help her serve.

By the time she had the coffee poured into the gleaming silver pot, Adam came in the back door, whistling. “Good morning,” he said, automatically taking the serving tray. “Ready to get going on breakfast?”

“I was just about to take some of it in,” Stella replied, her smile strained. “You can start the waffles.”

Since the night she’d offered him the apartment—the same night he’d landed that kiss across her forehead—he’d been as jovial and polite as a politician, all smiles and hard work. Almost too happy. But she’d catch him looking at her at the oddest of times. Sometimes, he’d be perched on a ladder, a paintbrush in his hand, staring down at her as she worked in the garden. Other times, he’d be serving a guest and she’d enter the room, only to have him stop in mid-sentence and give her that long, drawn-out look of his. It was enough to drive a woman into a tizzy.

Pushing such thoughts out of her mind, Stella concentrated on getting her guests served. “Here,” she said, pointing to the food tray after he’d finished a batch of golden waffles.

“I got it, boss,” he said, a smile in his words.

Adam gathered the long tray that held the eggs and bacon then pushed open the swinging door from the kitchen. Stella listened as he greeted the guests with the same pleasant gusto that he used to greet just about everyone. How could the man stay so positive, when he’d obviously seen the worst life had to offer? Or was that just some kind of front, something he forced on himself to get him over the bad memories? Maybe there was something to be said for being positive. He sure had brightened up this place, in more ways than just painting shutters and clipping hedges.

Maybe he’s positive because he also sees the blessings life has to offer.

She didn’t like that nagging voice inside her head, but there it was again. Almost as if the Lord Himself were talking directly to her.

Stella offered up plates of food to her visitors, a serene smile on her face, memories of Adam’s kiss centered in her mind like the flowers centered on the old, gleaming tables.

“This is mighty good,” a tall Texan said, grinning up at her. “I might have to veer off and pass through Hot Springs on my next trip.”

“We’d appreciate that,” Stella said, meaning it. She was beginning to actually enjoy this. Meeting new people, talking with them about their lives—it wasn’t half bad if you had the right attitude.

Adam had the right attitude. He nodded and conversed, oozing charm like syrup dripping from the crystal containers he offered each guest. “Let me know if you want extra blueberries,” he told a matronly woman who was wearing a bright pink flower-encrusted hat.

The woman batted her eyelashes. “You are so kind, Adam. And did you say that church is right up the street?”

“Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Creamer. You and Mr. Creamer can walk with me, if you want.”

Stella didn’t miss his glance toward her, or the wish in his eyes.

“That’s a thought,” Mr. Creamer said. “At our age, we need an escort.”

That brought laughter from the other two couples eating their breakfast.

And so it went. Whenever Adam was in the room, the laughter and conversation just naturally stayed pleasant and happy. So happy.

Aren’t you happy? the voice asked.

Stella went back into the kitchen. Was she happy? Would she ever be truly happy? She’d tried with Lawrence, but maybe she hadn’t tried hard enough. Lawrence had been sweet and endearing at times, always bringing her back with a smile or a wink and some pretty words and flowers. But mostly, she’d resented his inclination to turn the tables on her and make her feel as if everything bad between them had been her fault. Had it?

Maybe if I’d gone to church back then?

She spooned up strawberries and blueberries, shaking her head. No, not even church would have saved Lawrence from his laziness and irresponsibility. And he surely would have made fun of her if she’d even suggested such a notion.

But Adam thinks going to church might help, she reminded herself. Or rather, that nagging voice reminded her, Adam thinks I need spiritual guidance. Putting both her doubts and the voice in her head out of her mind, Stella rushed back toward the swinging doors.

And right into Adam’s arms.

“Sorry.” Adam held Stella in his arms, the scent of berries wafting all around them. “I was just—”

“I cut up some more fruit,” she said, extracting herself from him, a pretty pink blush covering her freckles. “How’s…how are things in the dining room?”

“Everybody’s smiling,” he said, sensing she needed the space she’d put between them today and over the last few days as much as he did. That kiss hadn’t helped things between them, not one little bit. And why was it that he wanted to kiss her on the cheek this time?

“Uh, I came in to get some cream.” He held up the tiny silver cream pot. “Mrs. Creamer likes her cream.”

Stella started giggling, her hand going to her mouth.

“What?” he said on a whisper, the sound of her laughter intoxicating him. She really should laugh more often. It made her beautiful.

“Mrs. Creamer, cream. Get it. Mrs. Creamer likes her cream.”

Adam chuckled, then put a finger to his lips. “She has excellent hearing.” He pointed. “Big ears.”

“And a big hat.”

They both started giggling again, so hard that Adam had to grab hold of Stella to steady her.

Then they stopped giggling. Only to take rushed breaths and stare each other down. Boy, he sure did enjoy looking at Stella. Nice picture, all the way around.

“The cream,” he whispered, trying to get back on track.

“The fruit,” she answered, looking pretty and flustered.

Adam went one way and she moved at the same time, headed in the opposite direction. They ran right back together trying to get out of each other’s way.

Then Stella glanced around to find her studious son staring at them from the doorway across the room.

“Whatcha doing, Mom? Playing tag?”

Adam saw the guilty flush come over her skin as she stammered to answer her son. “Oh, nothing, honey. Just trying to feed everyone. Do you want a waffle?”

“Did Mr. Adam make ’em?”

Stella smiled. “He sure did.”

“Yessum, I’ll take one. Maybe two. But I have to hurry. Remember I’m going to church with Papa and Mr. Adam.”

“I remember,” Stella said. She didn’t seem as worried about letting the boy go to church as she had yesterday when Adam has first invited Kyle. “You look all cleaned up and ready.”

“Papa helped me with my tie.”

“That was awfully nice of Papa. Is he dressed?”

“He’s working on it,” Kyle said as he skipped toward the tiny table where they shared meals. “He said to tell you he’s moving kinda slow.”

Stella’s eyebrows went up. “Is he all right?”

“I’m fine,” Wally said as he came into the kitchen. “Just ready for a cup of coffee.”

“Don’t drink too much,” Stella warned. “The doctor said—”

“I know what the doctor said,” Wally replied on a grunt. “Now, where’s my cup?”

Stella shot Adam a look. “We’d better get back to our guests.” Then she glanced toward her father. “It’s in the cabinet, Daddy.”

Wally held up a hand in thanks, then noisily opened the cabinet.

“Like father, like daughter,” Adam whispered before they went marching through the swinging door. “Neither of you is a morning person.”

“Nope. We don’t talk much in the morning. But I’m learning that I might need to do more of that. The guests seem to enjoy chatting during breakfast.”

Adam finishing pouring cream. “Yeah, people like it here for that very reason. It’s nice to have people around for the first meal of the day. They don’t have to wake up and eat all alone.”

Much later, after she’d watch Kyle and her Daddy head off to church with Adam and the Creamers, Stella thought about that. Maybe she and Wally were grumpy in the mornings because both she and her father were always alone first thing in the morning.

But not today, she told herself. Not for the summer at least. This summer she would be able to stand at the kitchen window each morning and wait for Adam to come charging down the apartment stairs and right through the back door, a smile on his face and a song in his heart, bringing sunshine and hope with him. For a little while at least. Adam had brought new life to this old house.

And, she admitted, he was giving
her
a touch of hope. But she wasn’t going to get overly confident in that hope. Stella had been disappointed too many times to think things could actually be changing for the better in her life. So she grasped at that hope with a tentative hand, keeping it just out of reach. But she did want to find some sense of purpose again.

With that thought in mind, Stella went out to the garage studio, hoping to dabble in her china painting now that all the guests had left for the day. She needed some time to herself, to think about these new feelings. And with Adam’s gentle encouragement, she was eager to get back into her art again. She could do this; she could balance work and play and art and business. She had to do this, for Kyle’s sake. True, they didn’t have much in the way of money, but if things kept improving around the inn, they just might see a bit of a profit this year.

Maybe it
is
all about attitude, she thought as she strolled out toward the workshop. The house was looking better, but then, so was her attitude. Was that the secret to running a good business? Was that the secret to just getting through life?

She opened the double doors of the old studio, leaving them open to let the spring air and sunshine flow throughout the long room. The smell of Confederate jasmine drifted in from the bush running along the back fence. The bright yellow-and-white star-shaped blossoms fluttered in the breeze. Deciding she’d try to capture that image in some of her designs, Stella stood just inside the doors, sketching on a small pad. She’d pick a piece of white china, then using a drawing pencil and some graph paper, she’d carefully trace the motif on a plate or a cup, maybe. Then she’d mix the powdered paint on a tile with a palette knife, careful to make sure the paste was smooth and thick. Once she had the colors just right, she’d be ready to paint over the stencil on her porcelain. Stella loved the step-by-step process of readying her supplies for the task. Being alone in the quiet morning, trying to capture the essence of the pretty flowers, did make her feel closer to the Lord.

She heard the doves cooing and wondered why they always sounded so lost and forlorn. But the sound also brought her comfort. It reminded her of Adam.

“Bad idea,” she said out loud. She couldn’t stand around daydreaming about a man who’d drifted in on the wind. He’d be up and gone soon, and where would that leave her?

“Better, for having known him,” she said, a smile tugging at her mouth. With a little gasp, Stella suddenly saw this sweet Sunday morning in a very different light.

“I counted a blessing, Lord,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, little doves, did you hear that? Stella Forsythe just counted a blessing in her life? How about that?”

Adam Callahan was a walking, talking testament to blessings, that was for sure. But one blessing at a time, Stella told herself. One day at a time.

She still wasn’t ready to take that short walk to the church up the street. But she was willing to concede that today, she’d managed to see the world in a very different way. A very positive, contented way.

“Thank you,” she said to the heavens.

And then, she heard the doves cooing in unison, as if they, too, were giving their own brand of thanks. That was followed by the chorus of voices down the street at the church, lifting out in a sweet song of praise.