Mountain Sanctuary

He laughed. “Right. Couldn’t hurt.” Then he turned serious. “If you feel uncomfortable about me being here—”

“It’s not that. It’s just…I’ve never known a man other than my daddy who was as good as his word. Certainly not my dearly departed husband. And certainly not any of the many men my mother knew—according to rumors I’d hear from her staff now and then, at least. I guess it’s not easy for me to take you at your word. And I can’t take God at His word, either. I have to see something to believe it.”

Adam could understand that notion. But he wanted her to understand him, to understand that he didn’t know how to operate, except by the principles and standards he’d learned as a child. “My word is all I’ve got right now. And you have to believe me when I say that being here right now is the best thing for me. It’s like therapy, only way less expensive.”

“After New Orleans?”

“Yes, after New Orleans.”

She gave him one of those long, big-eyed stares again, but didn’t press him for the details. “We do tend to take things in stride here. We’re a lot more relaxed than the big city. We’re as laid back as New Orleans, but in a different way.”

“I like that.” And he liked the way her vanilla-scented shampoo smelled, too, he reasoned even as he tried to resist it.

“So you won’t push too hard on getting things in order around here? You’ll let me settle into this arrangement?”

“Yes, ma’am. But only if you’re willing to let me help you get things up to speed—whatever that speed might be.”

She got up, brushed off the back of her skirt. “Okay then. Since I’m the boss, I say it’s lunchtime. C’mon in and let me feed you for your troubles.”

“That sounds good, except…who cooked lunch?”

She slapped him on the shoulder. “It’s just sandwiches and chips. Even I can’t mess that up.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Now about dinner—”

“Maybe we can grab a bite down at the festival.”

“Good idea, since I don’t have to provide dinner for our guests.” She turned at the door, smiling down at him. “Hurry up. Your sandwich might get stale.”

Adam started gathering his tools. “I reckon I am hungry, at that.” Putting everything in a neat pile by the back door, he said, “Hey, tomorrow I thought I could cook a roast for Sunday dinner. You know, after church.”

Stella whirled just inside the open kitchen door. “Who said anything about church?”

Holding a hammer in his hand, Adam replied, “Well, I just thought…I mean…I plan on finding a church nearby.”

“Good for you.”

“You won’t come with me, and bring the boy?”

She looked down at her turquoise sandals. “I told you, I only get sprinklings of faith from my daddy, and right now that has to be enough. I don’t have time for church.”

“Oh, I see. Then can Kyle come with me?”

She shook her head. “You’re rushing things again, Adam. I don’t want him expecting too much, too soon, from someone who’s just here for a little while.”

With that, she was gone, leaving the scent of something sultry and sweet in her wake. And leaving very little doubt in Adam’s mind that he didn’t want to get on Stella’s bad side. But he sure wouldn’t mind getting on her good side. And soon. And it might help both of them if they learned to lean on their own faith, instead of grasping at grains of it from other people.

“I wish Papa had come with us,” Kyle said later that afternoon as they strolled down the hill toward the festival on Central Avenue. The Hill Wheatley Park and Plaza was filled with people enjoying the nice spring weather and the rows and rows of all types of arts and crafts. From somewhere inside the park, a jazz ensemble’s lively music wafted out over the trees.

Stella glanced down at her son. “Papa’s knees are bad, honey. It’s hard for him to walk very far.”

“He needs new knees,” Kyle said, looking up at Adam.

“Yes, he sure does,” Stella agreed. “But Papa is fine back at the house. He’s taking a nice long nap, and later he’s going to set out the cookies and muffins Adam baked yesterday for our guests to snack on when they get ready for bed. So we’ll bring him back a grilled chicken sandwich for dinner.”

“Okay.” Kyle skipped ahead. “Can I have some cotton candy?”

“Maybe after dinner, if you’re not too full. And don’t run too far ahead. It’s crowded.”

Stella watched her son, then stole a look over at Adam. He had showered and now wore a fresh black T-shirt and faded jeans, his dark hair spiky and crisp against his olive skin. Stella could smell the clean evergreen from the soap he’d used. Adam cut a striking figure and turned a few female heads, Stella noticed. He turned her head just a tad, too. After all, she was only human. And female. Not dead.

At least, she felt little sparks of life shooting through her with tiny jolts each time she glanced at him. Or each time he looked at her. Telling herself to just ignore all that, Stella tried to focus on some of the paintings displayed along the busy sidewalks.

“Thanks for coming,” she told him. “It’s hard enough to keep up with Kyle when it’s not wall-to-wall people. I appreciate the extra set of eyes.”

Adam scanned the crowd, his gaze set and determined, and reminding Stella that he had been a big-city cop. She could almost see that in the way he went on full alert now, scoping the plaza and streets with a keen, but subtle appraisal.

“You don’t have to worry much about crime here,” she said, hoping he would relax. The man was as intense as a drill sergeant.

“Old habits die hard,” he said, shrugging. “A lot can happen in the blink of an eye.”

Stella kept her eyes on Kyle, then called to him. “Honey, stay close, okay?”

Kyle came running back. “I’m hungry.”

“We’ll eat soon enough,” Stella replied as they strolled by the Buckstaff Bathhouse. Pointing toward Bathhouse Row, she told Adam, “I could sure use a good hot mineral bath and a massage. One day.”

“That sounds nice,” Adam said, agreeing. “I’ve never been one for that kind of luxury, though.”

“Oh, me, either. But a lot of people come here to be pampered. And they say the natural hot springwater is good for the soul.”

“All the more reason to give them a good place to stay.”

“You don’t let up, do you?”

“Not much.”

His look told her he wasn’t just talking about remodeling her house. Telling herself to keep her eyes in her head, Stella went over the list of reasons she shouldn’t be attracted to this man. He was a stranger; a wanderer fresh off some sort of meltdown, she imagined. He might be in crisis mode. And she’d had enough of crisis mode with her mother and her husband. Now she only wanted a nice quiet life, full of steady, solid work and raising her son. She wanted to take care of her daddy and Kyle. That’s all she asked.

And that meant she didn’t need to fill her head with images of a dark-haired, hardworking man whose gray eyes spoke of misery and torment. But you can at least be nice to him. The man is trying to help you. And he can cook, remember? Even if you’re not sure you can trust his motives.

Stella shifted her gaze back toward Adam. He kept glancing around, taking it all in. The art was colorful, the crafts interesting and eclectic, the music going from jazz to gospel to high-school bands doing their routines. But Adam seemed as tense as ever, almost as if being in this crowd was making him more uptight than relaxed.

“You okay?” she asked, worrying when she had no business worrying.

Adam nodded, kept looking around.

“Nice,” he finally said as they came upon some still-life pictures depicting Hot Springs Mountain, while the real thing stood sentinel just behind the park. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any hills.”

The park was part of the Ouachita Mountain range on the eastern side of the state. Stella looked up at the trees and rocks. “I guess I just take it for granted. But you’re right. It is nice, especially with spring bursting out everywhere.”

“We can climb to the top if you wanna,” Kyle suggested, eager to take off.

“Hold on,” Stella said, grabbing her son by the arm. “It’ll be dusk soon. No mountain climbing tonight.”

“Oh, all right.” Kyle twisted. “Then what can we do?”

Adam leaned down. “How ’bout we go in that shop over there and look at the toys. Maybe we can find you a coloring book or a miniature race car for your collection.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Why, sure.” Then Adam looked at Stella. “I mean, if it’s okay by your mom.”

Stella bristled at Adam’s ready generosity, but told herself to cut the man some slack. He seemed to need to be generous. He actually seemed to care. Which was refreshing if not disturbing. “I guess one racer wouldn’t hurt. Just one more for me to step on, but who’s counting?”

“I only need three more,” Kyle said, holding up three fingers. “Then I’ll have the whole co-wet-sion.”

“It’s collection,” Stella corrected, grinning.

“Well, then, we’d better get started,” Adam said, his stern expression breaking into a smile.

Stella had no choice but to hurry and follow her son and the new man in her life across the street.

The new handyman, she revised. He’s not in my life, he’s just here. He just appeared here. Out of the blue, she reminded herself. Like a gift from heaven. Either a gift or a very big mistake. Stella wasn’t sure which just yet. But she was sure of one thing. Adam Callahan looked dangerous, and not just because he carried the baggage of a burned-out cop. More like, because he was so good-looking and so intense. Just like her dead husband had once been. Good-looking and intense made for a whole slew of heartaches. And Stella would not make that mistake again, no matter how impressed she was with Adam Callahan’s muffins.

Chapter Four

Adam couldn’t believe how much fun he was having. He actually couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed and smiled so many times in one day. Stella’s smile could do that to a man. She wasn’t pretty in the cover-girl kind of way. She was exotic and whimsical in her long flowing skirt and pretty lace blouse, with her red-blond hair cascading around her shoulders and down her back like a golden waterfall. That made her much more interesting than any cover model. And she was sure different from all the brash, fast-paced women he’d tried to date back in New Orleans. But this woman’s attitude was as fickle as a prevailing wind. Stella fit the stereotype of a provincial country woman, but at times she broke the mold and shattered all his preconceived notions. Which made her so interesting, Adam couldn’t resist just being around her.

They’d walked along the streets of the historic district located on Central Avenue. Adam appreciated the towering live oaks and the turn-of-the-century homes and buildings. “This place is pretty,” he said as they strolled on past Bathhouse Row. “Even though it’s old and historic, there seems to be a good energy going on.”

“Hot Springs is a very eclectic place, that’s for sure. A mixture of laid-back artists and hardworking everyday people.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes. Kyle held his mother’s hand and pointed to things that interested him. Finally, they went into a popular diner to order burgers and fries. Adam had a piece of pie, too.

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