Mountain Sanctuary. Lenora Worth
This little boy and his pretty mama were a bit too astute. Adam had come on this trek seeking seclusion and time to relax and get his head straight. If he got too involved with Kyle and Stella, he might not reach any of those goals. But his couple of days here so far had been relaxing, in spite of the work that running a bed-and-breakfast demanded. And he liked that right now. He liked staying busy in a mindless sort of way that didn’t require guns and handcuffs or criminals and lost souls. “So you think I need a friend, huh?”
“Yep. My mama said she reckoned you were hurting real bad.” He shrugged. “What’d cha do, scrape your knee or something like that?”
Adam lowered his head to stare down at the cute little boy, wishing he still had such an innocent, wise heart. “Yeah, something like that.”
Kyle jumped as the door to the back porch slammed. Stella came down the stairs, her long blue-and-white paisley skirt swirling around her legs. “Kyle Watson Forsythe, are you talking this man’s poor head off again?”
Kyle squinted, then gave Adam a hard stare. “He’s still got his head, silly.”
“I’ll silly you if you don’t get inside and eat your peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” Stella retorted, her green eyes full of mirth. “C’mon now.”
“Are we going to the festival later, like you promised?” Kyle asked, dragging his sneakered feet until she replied.
“Yes, but only if you pick up your toys and help Papa empty the trash.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kyle started for the door, then turned, his hands on his hips. “Hey, Mr. Adam, you coming to the festival with us?”
Adam shot a glance toward Stella, to see how she might react to this gracious invitation. She looked embarrassed, confused and unsure. But she gave him a quick little smile. “You’re welcome to come.”
He doubted that, but he played along. “Are you sure?”
“We’re as sure as corn shucks,” Kyle replied, bobbing his head.
“Get inside,” Stella said, pointing a finger toward the kitchen. “Now.”
Adam shook his head, then grinned as the back door slammed. “He’s a pistol.”
“Tell me.” Stella plopped down on the steps to stare up at him. “He was born an old soul, according to my daddy. Much too wise for his young years.” She surveyed his work for a minute. “How’s it coming with the windows and shutters?”
Adam let out a mock groan. “Well, considering there are about twenty-six shutters on this house, I’d say it’s coming along very slowly. Should take a few days, at least, to do it right.”
“So you might just need a break later this afternoon?”
Adam eyed his progress so far. He’d managed to get about six shutters cleaned off, scraped and hinged back into place and the day was already half-done. “I just might at that.”
Stella got up, tossed her long ponytail over her shoulder. “Well, Rome wasn’t built in a day. You don’t have to do everything at once.”
Adam finished his work, then came down the rickety ladder to face her. “I’ve got it all worked out. Shutters and windows cleaned and fixed first. Then scraping and sanding these old boards for some primer. Then a whole new paint job—”
Stella held up a hand. “You’re talking a lot of money.”
“I know. But I can find discount paint on the Internet.”
“You can?”
“Sure. And speaking of that, do you have a Web site? You need one, you know, to attract customers.”
Stella backed up, stared at him. “You sure move fast.”
Adam thought he’d been standing still long enough. Or at least it felt that way now that he had something to focus on. The house, he reminded himself, not the woman. “Just trying to get things lined up. I mean, if you still want me to stay and help you out.”
“Oh, I’d like that, but I don’t have the money for a major renovation. I’ll just be happy that all the shutters are stable and secure again.”
He nodded, then looked down at his work boots. “When I get my mind set on a thing, I can be a steamroller at times.”
She looked skeptical and full of wonder, as if she wished she could figure him out. “Really now?”
He grinned at the teasing light in her eyes. “Okay, I can be a real pain at times. But that’s just my nature. I like to stay busy and I like things in order.”
Stella put a hand in the air. “We might be in trouble then. I’m slow and steady and I used to be efficient and organized. But I’m still learning this business.” Then she looked out toward the wisteria wrapping around the garage. “Of course, that’s why you found me burning muffins the other day. I got so overwhelmed, I let things slide. Maybe I do need to be more organized, considering this place is my only livelihood now. Starting with a Web site. But one thing at a time, Callahan, okay?”
Adam took that declaration in stride. “I understand. In other words, I don’t need to be rushing you, right?”
She shrugged, glanced down at the wilted petunias by the back steps. “No, no. Somebody sure needs to set me on the right path. I know it looks bad around here, but I have every intention of getting this place back up and running. Somehow, my mother managed to make a living between the inn and her art. Of course, she did have good help.” Then she sank back down on the steps. “I’m just not quite sure how I’m gonna do that. I like all of your ideas, but I need to think them through. Make the right choices.”
“Do you have any guests booked after the festival is over?” Adam asked as he sat down beside her, then started yanking weeds away from the steps. The two loyal couples who’d stayed to endure Stella’s cooking would be checking out tomorrow.
“For the summer, you mean?”
He nodded. “That would be good, yes.”
“Nobody next week.” She looked out toward the big studio, her expression wistful. “We have a few reservations over the next few weeks. There’s always some kind of festival going on downtown.”
“Not quite as bad as I thought.”
“I told you, I’m trying.”
“I can see that. So let me help.”
“What’s in it for you?” she said, tossing her hair again, a spark of doubt flickering through her eyes. “You seem almost too good to be true. There’s got to be a catch.”
Adam let out a sigh. “No catch, and I’m not all that good. I told you, I just needed a place to—”
“To hide?” She gave him a green-eyed stare, her smile bittersweet. “You’re hiding out, right?”
Adam shook his head, deciding he’d better just level with her. “No, not exactly. Look, I worked for the New Orleans Police Department for a long time. I’ve seen things, you know. Bad things. Things that make a man question his sanity and his faith. I had to walk away.”
“Do you still have faith?”
Because the question seemed so important to her, Adam knew the answer would be, too. “I have faith, yeah. I come from a good, solid family. My daddy taught all of us to never give up on God, no matter what.”
“But your job made you doubt Him?”
“Him and everything else in life.”
She braced her elbows on her knees, put her head in her hands, then looked out toward the wisteria vines again, her smile disappearing as fast as a dandelion’s floating whiskers. “Well, take it from me, you can run but you can’t hide—from your doubts, I mean. I doubt myself and God on a daily basis. But seems to me, things