The Haunting of Autumn Lake (13 page)

“Well, I can well imagine that it nearly did,” Vaden agreed. “Poor boy. I wonder what kind of story he has to tell that would put him at not having pumpkin pie for so long.”

“I don’t know,” Autumn mumbled. “But I have the sense that Gentry James—as handsome and as wonderful as he his—I don’t think he’s known a whole lot of happiness in his life.”

Leaning over the four pumpkin pies sitting on the kitchen table, Autumn inhaled deeply and sighed. “Mmmm! Oh, Mama! The first pies of the year always smell the best, don’t they?”

“Indeed they do,” Vaden agreed, following suit and inhaling the pumpkin and spice aroma that hung heavy in the kitchen. “Your daddy and Gentry should be in for lunch any time now. Won’t warm pumpkin pie be just the right thing to feed them, sweetheart?”

Autumn nodded. Oh, how she loved pumpkin pie! She hoped (actually, she prayed) that her pies had turned out as delicious as they usually did. She wanted the first pumpkin pie Gentry James was to have in five long years to be the best he’d
ever
had. Autumn also secretly hoped that, if her pumpkin pie were good enough, Gentry might see his way clear to liking her a little bit more for it. She could tell he liked her well enough—counted her as a friend, at least. Over the past couple of weeks since he’d come to work for her father, she and Gentry had had many opportunities to talk and get to know each other—to become better acquainted. And though Autumn’s heart had begun attaching itself to Gentry the moment she’d first seen him, it was fully pasted to him now!

Oh, she knew he planned to stay only until winter had passed, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to change his mind about ever leaving at all. Did it? Autumn knew chances were slim to none that a man like Gentry James—so strong and capable, so used to being independent and following his own ways—would ever truly settle down with a silly girl like she was. But the hope of winning his heart somehow just would not leave her be.

And as she heard the kitchen door open and turned to see her daddy and Gentry enter the room, ready for the midday meal, her heart leapt with fresh hope—hope that her delicious, county fair prize-winning pumpkin pie would please Gentry’s stomach and thereby his heart.

Autumn blushed and glanced to Gentry. What he must think of her parents! They were forever hanging all over each other, kissing and carrying on. Still, he was smiling as he watched them—smiling that dimpled smile Autumn loved so much.

“Let’s have us some of that pie,” Ransom said, finally releasing his wife. “And look…there’s four pies and four of us.” He chuckled. “That works out now, doesn’t it?”

“If you truly want a whole pie for your lunch, you’re welcome to it, Daddy,” Autumn said. Picking up the pie with the prettiest, most perfectly fluted crust, she held it out toward Gentry. “But this one…this one I made just for you, Mr. Gentry James…for bein’ so good to Abner for me.”

Grace was not always one of Autumn’s strongest traits, however—and as she took a step forward, intent on handing the pie to Gentry, she tripped on one of the table legs. Gasping, she felt herself beginning to fall—saw the beautiful pumpkin pie she’d worked so hard on in order to capture Gentry’s attention fly up into the air.

“Ransom! The pie!” she heard her mother cry out. But even her daddy wasn’t quick enough to catch the pie. And as Gentry reached out to catch Autumn in his arms and keep her from falling to the floor, the beautiful, warm, and spicy pumpkin pie landed facedown on top of his head.

Autumn gasped again as she watched the pie slowly slide from his head, down to his shoulder, its remains finally coming to rest in her daddy’s outstretched hands.

“You all right?” Gentry asked as he helped her to stand. Autumn felt the tears welling in her eyes. It was ruined! Her gift to Gentry—her way from his stomach to his heart! There it was, a mess all over his hair, face, chin, and shoulder.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” Autumn apologized at once. “I’m so…I can’t believe…oh! Gentry! You’re all covered in pumpkin pie!” she exclaimed as a tear escaped the corner of her eye.

But Gentry only smiled. The dimple divots in his cheeks were evidence of his amusement, and he said, “I’ve been covered in much worse, darlin’. I can assure you of that.”

Then, much to Autumn’s delight, he simply reached over to the nearly empty pie pan Ransom still held, picked off a piece of pie crust, used it to scoop out some of the remaining pie filling, and popped it into his mouth.

“Mmm mmm mmmm!” he moaned. “Autumn Lake…I swear I ain’t never tasted anything so good in all my life!”

Autumn smiled, reached into her apron pocket, and withdrew a spoon. “Really?” she asked, offering the spoon to him.

“Really,” he assured her, taking the spoon she offered and the half-empty pie pan Ransom still held. “I’m not lyin’,” he added, digging the spoon into the pie pan and moaning over another bite of pie. “Mmm! That is so good!”

“Why don’t you go shake off some of that mess outside, Gentry, and then come on in and sit down to one of these other pies?” Ransom said, winking at Autumn.

“Yes, sir,” Gentry said, holding the pie pan and fork toward Autumn. “Will you hang onto that for me for a minute, Autumn?” he asked.

As both her parents turned to look at her, Autumn could no longer keep the tears from escaping her eyes. “How come I’m so clumsy anymore?” she asked in a whimper. “Did you see him? All covered in pumpkin pie like that?”

Her parents both nodded at first—assuring her that they had indeed seen the condition of Gentry James after Autumn had tripped and the pie had flown into the air. And yet Autumn knew what was coming next. So, even though she was somewhat miffed at her parents for making light of what she knew was a tragedy, she wasn’t surprised when both her mother and father burst into laughter.

“I did,” Ransom said, chuckling. “I did indeed.” He reached out, gathering Autumn into his arms then. “But he didn’t give a thought to that dang flyin’ pie and where it might land. All that boy was worried about was whether or not you were gonna fall, honey. He’s a good man, and one pie over the head ain’t gonna change whether or not he likes you…or the pie, for that matter.”

“I’ve lost my appetite all the same, Daddy…and whatever is left of my pride,” Autumn pouted.

“Then why don’t you just go for an amble, darling?” Vaden said, kissing her daughter on the cheek. “That’s what I always do when I’m upset, you know. And it always, always makes things seem better.”

“Yes, honey. Why don’t you take your sketchbook and do some drawin’?” Ransom suggested. “Me and Gentry have a heap of work waitin’ for us after lunch. You take a long walk, and when you get back, all will be well.”

She couldn’t face him—not yet. Autumn just couldn’t face Gentry after such a clumsy, ridiculous performance as tossing a pumpkin pie in the air to have it land all over him. She did need an escape—some time to just sit in her daddy’s pumpkin patch and sketch Jethro for her mother. Then she’d be brave enough to face that oh-so-delicious Gentry James again. At least, that’s what she inwardly told herself.

“All right,” she mumbled. “Tell him I’m so sorry, Mama. Will you please?”

Vaden smiled, and Autumn knew her mother, of all people, understood her feelings of humiliation. “I will, sweetheart. Now you just run along and have some time to yourself. The apples and pumpkins will be gone all too soon…so you just soak them in so you can remember them until next year when the new crops come.”

“I will,” Autumn said. She paused a moment and asked, “He was smilin’ when he went out, after all…wasn’t he?”

“Yes, he was,” Ransom confirmed. “Grinnin’ like a jack of the lantern on Halloween night.”

Autumn nodded. She kissed her father’s cheek and then her mother’s and then hurried off to her bedroom to gather her sketching supplies. She did need a new sketch of Jethro—maybe a new one of Clarence and Clementine too. After all, her mother had said Clementine would need a new dress next year, and Clarence’s long johns were nearly threadbare. So Autumn figured she’d best sketch them as well—if she wanted to have the best memories of how they looked the year Gentry James had stolen her heart.

Vaden’s eyes narrowed as she studied Ransom a moment. “You know something, don’t you?” she more accused than asked.

Ransom grinned. “Maybe I do…and maybe I don’t.”

Vaden smiled, slipped her arms around her husband’s waist, and planted a kiss on his square chin. “Have you been having visions again, Mr. Handsome Ransom?”

But Ransom chuckled. “Oh, baby…the only sure and for certain visions I’ve been havin’ in my mind of late…is of you standin’ in the kitchen wearin’ nothin’ but your underwear and an apron.”

“I cannot believe you said that, Ransom Lake!” Vaden scolded, playfully slapping her husband’s broad, muscular chest.

“Yes, you can, darlin’,” Ransom mumbled as his mouth captured Vaden’s in a moist, impassioned kiss.

Gentry James shook his head as he paused before entering the Lake’s kitchen. He had never seen the likes of Ransom and Vaden Lake before. Never in all his years nor in all his travels had he seen a man and woman so in love. It was a rare blessing, and he knew it.

He chuckled as the memory of the expression on Autumn’s face when she’d tripped and flung the pumpkin pie into the air flashed in his mind. She was so funny sometimes—and so, so, so very desirable. He could see a man loving Autumn Lake the way Ransom loved his wife. She deserved it too.

As he entered the kitchen ready to sink his teeth into another serving of Autumn’s ambrosial pumpkin pie, he found himself wishing he could be the one to love Autumn Lake that way. Oh, how he could love her! But she deserved better than an orphaned cowboy. So he sat down at the table when Vaden asked him to—concerned when Ransom explained that Autumn had gone off somewhere to sketch.

Gentry hoped the flying pie incident hadn’t upset her too much. It was downright hysterical, after all—not to mention delicious.

Chapter Eight

“The clouds are lookin’ a bit threatenin’,” Ransom mumbled as he studied the gray sky overhead.

Gentry looked up as well. Raking a hand back through his hair, he nodded in agreement. “Looks like them clouds will let go any time now,” he said.

Ransom’s eyes narrowed as he studied the young man at his side. After Gentry had cleaned up from the pumpkin pie mess, the two had gotten to work repairing a stretch of fence that needed replacing. Gentry was a hard-working man—a man of integrity. Ransom could see it as clearly as his soul could sense it. Oh, he figured there was a lot more to Gentry James’s past than the man cared to talk about, but it couldn’t be too bad. It couldn’t be anything like what Ransom’s past was even. Yep—he knew Gentry James was the kind of man a father wouldn’t mind his daughter ending up with.

“You know, I don’t think Autumn even took a shawl or anything else about her when she went out for a walk,” Ransom began. “I don’t suppose you’d be willin’ to run out and fetch her home from the pumpkin patch, would ya, son?”

Is it that obvious?
Gentry wondered. Was his attraction to Ransom’s daughter that easy for anybody to see? All at once he was overly anxious—worried that Ransom might think he was a scoundrel.

“I don’t want you thinkin’ I have my sights set on your daughter,” he explained. “I know she’s deservin’ of a real good man…a man a whole lot more worthy than some cowboy who’s just waitin’ out the winter.”

Ransom inhaled a deep breath and exhaled it as a thoughtful sigh. His eyes narrowed once more as he studied Gentry. He liked the humility the boy owned, but he wasn’t too approving of the lack of self-worth. Still, if anybody knew the power a good, loving woman had to heal a man, it was Ransom Lake.

“Son,” he began, “do you really think I’d be sendin’ you off to fetch Autumn home if I didn’t have a high regard for just the kind of man I know you to be?”

Gentry frowned, astonished by what Ransom had said to him. Was Ransom Lake saying that he thought Gentry was a good man? Gentry did try to be a good man—the best kind of man he could be. He had good manners most times and respect for others. In fact, it had been Gentry himself who’d suggested more than a week before that perhaps it was time he took up sleeping in the bunkhouse. He didn’t want anyone in town having any reason to accuse the Lakes of any kind of improper housing where their daughter and a stranger were concerned. He worked hard, did what he was asked and beyond—truly earned whatever wage was paid him by whoever paid it. But still, he couldn’t quite swallow the idea that a man like Ransom Lake would hold him in high regard at all.