Blue Hollow Falls

by Donna Kauffman

  “What is it you do in our nation’s capital?” he asked.

  “I’m a horticulturalist. I work for the U.S. Botanic Garden in D.C.”

  His eyes widened a bit at that and his smile spread to a grin. “Plant lady. I like it.”

  She laughed. “I . . . yep, that’s one way to put it.” She kind of liked it, too. “Llama guy.”

  He barked a laugh at that. “I knew I liked you.” He laid his palms on the roof of the car, leaned down just a bit so his gaze was more level with hers.

  His eyes were a beautiful, deep golden brown, sort of in the same family as hers, but much richer in color. Added to that they managed to twinkle when he grinned despite their deep color. She wondered if there were dimples under that beard and mustache. She’d bet yes. Probably a cleft in that chin, too.

  “Maybe they’d understand you taking a sick day, or some leave. I mean, your father did just pass away. My condolences by the way,” he added, sounding and looking sincere.

  She wondered just how much Seth knew about the situation, then realized that maybe he’d actually known her father. She wasn’t sure why that mattered, or even if it mattered. Even so, her curiosity won out. “Did you know Doyle?” she asked by way of response.

  He shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. Never met the man. I’m a new arrival. I’ve heard some stories, though.”

  “I bet,” she said, more to herself. Then, to him, she added, “I really do appreciate the kind offer, but you’ve got a llama to feed and I have a drive to make.”

  He looked disappointed, and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t feel kind of nice to have a handsome, charismatic man wishing he could spend more time with her. That he was a handsome, charismatic man she wasn’t related to was a definite bonus.

  “When will you be back?” He braced his hands on his thighs now, and she couldn’t help but note the ripple of shoulder muscles straining impressively against the seams of the zip-up fleece jacket he wore over the long-sleeved, beaten-up T-shirt he’d had on earlier. “The offer to meet Dex and take a little stroll in the woods remains open.”

  “I appreciate that,” she said with a little laugh. “Honestly, though, I don’t know what my plans are regarding Blue Hollow Falls,” she said, speaking the one truth she knew. Would she be coming back? Or would she just call Addie Pearl and relinquish her share of the mill after all? And what about Bailey? She shook her head. “Give Dex an extra carrot—or whatever llamas consider a treat—and tell him it’s from me.” She shifted so she could extend her right hand through the open window. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Seth Brogan.”

  He looked at her hand, then back to her face, his expression one of exaggerated sorrow. There might have even been a little pout, which drew her attention to his mouth. Framed by that beard, she had to admit it was more than a little sensuous.

  “Don’t go doing that now,” he teased. “Or I’ll be tempted to follow up. I’m incorrigible like that.” He grinned again. “Fair warning.”

  She jerked her gaze back to his, realizing he’d caught her staring at his mouth. Now it was her turn to bark out a short laugh. “Right. Warning taken.”

  He took her hand before she could pull it back inside the car and brushed a quick kiss over her knuckles. His lips were warm, and his beard soft, not bristly. She couldn’t say it made her feel all tingly, but it did make her pulse speed up a little. It felt . . . nice. Flattering.

  Her thoughts shifted, without permission, to Sawyer. To how he made all sorts of things speed up inside her without even trying. And while Seth was sweet and charming, Sawyer was . . . more. A whole lot more.

  Seriously with that. B-R-O-T-H-E-R. Stencil it on your forehead if you need to. Get a grip.

  Would she even be seeing him again? Which prompted Sunny to wonder if her newfound older sibling was planning on keeping in touch with her. What had Addie’s little speech make him think about, or feel?

  “I must be slipping,” Seth said, jerking her thoughts back to him, to the present.

  “Sorry,” she said, realizing her thoughts had wandered. To Sawyer. Again. “It’s been . . . a day.”

  Seth was still holding her hand, and he gave it a reassuring squeeze before letting it go. “I can imagine.” He straightened then, and reached in the back pocket of his thoroughly disreputable, ancient to the point of disintegrating Army fatigues and took out a rather nice-looking, hand-tooled leather wallet. From it, he extracted a business card, and handed it to her. She wasn’t sure which part of that surprised her more. That he had a nice wallet when he looked like he did his clothes shopping at Goodwill? Or that he had a business card.

  “Thanks,” she said automatically, then glanced down at it. In a casual script, the card was printed with the name of his business, Bluestone & Vine, followed by his name, a post office box address, his phone number, e-mail, and Web site address. She giggled as she read the caption at the bottom of the card. “Home of the Llamarama Label.” On the right side of the card, there was a pen and ink sketch of the head of a llama reaching up, as if leaning into the frame of the card, and nibbling on a grape bunch dangling from a vine that wove around the top corner, then through the name of the winery. The card was cream colored, and the paper was textured. The vine and grapes appeared as if they’d been painted with watercolors over the pen and ink. It was both beautiful and whimsical. Kind of like its owner, she thought. Or what she knew of him, anyway. She recalled Sawyer telling him to go play in the vines. Now she knew what that meant. “You’re a vintner.” She looked back up at him. “Family trade?”

  He lifted his hands away from his narrow hips, making his fleece jacket drape flat against what appeared to be a hard set of abs. “What, I don’t look like a winemaker?”

  His dark blond, sun-streaked hair had partially escaped his man bun, and he was deeply tanned, dusty, and scruffy—kind of a lot in his own way. “I have no idea what a winemaker is supposed to look like,” she said.

  “Safe answer.”

  She nodded, her expression sage, despite the smile fighting its way to the corners of her mouth. “So sayeth the plant lady.”

  He chuckled, then clasped one hand to his heart. “A botanist and a winemaker. We could make beautiful music together, Sunny Goodwin.”

  She could have corrected him on the job classification, but it wasn’t important. “Yes, but then our plants would die of neglect.”

  He choked on a laugh, clearly caught off guard by her suggestive rejoinder, but delighted by it all the same. “Well, well.” He braced his hands on the roof of her car and leaned down once again. “Now you have to call me.”

  She tucked his card under the strap on her sun visor and started the engine. She looked back at him, but said nothing. He winked, then straightened and propped his hands on his lean hips. He might be fun, her little voice prompted. And you sure could use a little of that. Maybe more than a little.

  “We’ll see,” was all she said. Unfortunately, whatever fun she might have with Seth Brogan would be all tangled up with the newest complication in her life. Fun yes, but worth it? She wasn’t so sure. “Thank you,” she told him, quite sincerely.

  “For?” he asked, still smiling despite her unwillingness to accept his offer.

  “For making the day better.”

  He nodded. “Any time. If you want to talk, about the mill, about Blue Hollow Falls, your new family, about growing plants . . .” That twinkle shifted to a sexy gleam. “Or neglecting them? Give me a shout.”

  Sex appeal notwithstanding, Seth struck her as the kind of guy who’d be a good friend. Except for that part where he’d be trying to get her into bed the whole time. And maybe the part where she’d be tempted to let him. Still, true friends were few, and she’d learned that recognizing them when they showed up was important. Key, even. And, despite the way they ribbed each other, or maybe because of it, it appeared Sawyer thought a great deal of him, too. “I will,” she told him.

  He patted the roof of her car, then stepped b
ack. “Safe travels, plant lady.”

  She grinned and put her car into gear. “Vine on, llama guy.”

  He grinned, lifted a hand in a short wave, then shifted it to his ear and made the universal “call me” sign again.

  She laughed, thinking if things were different, she might have done just that. She could use a little walk on the wild side. Or any side, she thought. She backed out of her spot and did a tricky little three-point turn in the narrow dirt lot, then, not entirely certain she’d ever be coming back out here again, gave the rearview mirror a quick glance. That was when she saw Bailey, standing in the open sliding door to the mill. She wasn’t smiling, but she didn’t look upset, either.

  Without thinking about it, Sunny lowered her car window and stuck her arm out. Lifting her hand as high as she could, she waved as she turned toward the country road that would take her back down the mountain, back to civilization, back to the life she knew. The only one she’d ever known.

  Bailey simply stared, so, feeling a little awkward, Sunny pulled her arm back in, rolled up the window, and turned onto the road. It wasn’t until she glanced back, one last time, when Bailey probably thought she wasn’t looking any longer, that the young girl lifted her hand from her side, just a smidge . . . and waved back.

  Sunny almost braked the car right there to turn around, but then Sawyer came out of the mill and stood beside Bailey. He motioned behind the mill toward the woods, and the two of them started off in that direction. Sawyer didn’t look her way, and Bailey never looked back. They’d moved on.

  Good, she told herself. That’s good. Sawyer will be there for her.

  Sunny didn’t glance over to where Seth had been standing. Whatever little buzz his attentions had given her was gone now. Instead, she headed back down the mountain, then away from the Blue Ridge, until she couldn’t see any hint of the mountains in her rearview mirror. She looked forward to getting back to the city, back to the world she knew. Her world.

  She didn’t let herself think about the little pang she’d felt, seeing Sawyer and Bailey stroll off together. Without her.

  Chapter Four

  “She’s where?”

  “Hold on,” Will called down.

  More than a little stewed over this latest development, Sawyer nevertheless waited patiently while Wilson McCall climbed down the scaffolding that braced the interior wall of the mill. He covered the distance from top to bottom as easily as a squirrel running down the side of a tree. Will was tall, with a lean, ropy build that belied his surprising natural strength. He tossed impressive pieces of blue stone around like another person tossed dice. Young Jake took after his father. Both were soft-spoken by nature with a strong work ethic.

  A stonemason by trade, Will had initially come in to help assess the condition of the stonework that made up the foundation of the four exterior walls, as well as the boundary walls around the property immediately surrounding the mill. Sawyer had hired the man full-time when it became clear that Will McCall gave new meaning to the term jack-of-all-trades. And any fear he’d had that they’d essentially be providing day care by hiring on Will’s young son as a laborer and odd jobs guy had been allayed on day one. Jake more than earned his keep, putting in time after school almost every day, or whenever Sawyer had work appropriate to his abilities. Since neither father nor son said much, Sawyer couldn’t say he felt he knew them all that well, despite having worked beside them on an almost daily basis since late spring, just before school had let out. What he did know, however, was he liked and admired both McCall men.

  If that hadn’t been good enough for him, Addie Pearl knew a whole different side of the McCall family. Wilson apparently was quite the fiddle player, and an even more skilled fiddle maker. Sawyer had to take Addie’s word on that, as he hadn’t been lucky enough to hear the man play, nor had he seen proof of Will’s instrument-making skills. Will had quietly declined Addie’s persistent urging to bring in one or two of his handcrafted fiddles and mandolins, until Sawyer finally had to tell her to leave the poor man alone.

  There was one other piece of Sawyer’s connection to Wilson, but the two men had never spoken of it. Sawyer had done three tours in Iraq, and another two in Afghanistan. He’d seen things, and done things, that most men would find hard to reconcile within themselves. Sawyer had managed to find his way through, and gave thanks and praise every single day for feeling solid, and centered, for being productive and forward thinking. He knew, firsthand, that so very many hadn’t been as lucky. He credited having the great good fortune to have served under a commander who had watched, looked, and listened to the men he supervised, stepping in when he saw any sign of the early stages of personal crisis.

  Sawyer also credited having a small, but loyal-to-the-core unit of buddies he’d have given his life for, as some of them had, indeed, done for him. Seth Brogan was one of those men. He’d also spent some solid time after his return in the care of several extremely competent therapists, without whose guidance he’d have been lost for sure.

  In Wilson, he saw the signs, saw the shadows. He had no idea where Wilson had served, or when, for how long, or even in what branch of the military. But there was no doubt in Sawyer’s mind that Wilson had also seen things, and perhaps had been ordered to do things, that no man should ever be asked to bear witness to or carry out. Maybe at some point, the moment would come when they’d speak of it. But until then, Sawyer gave Wilson what he could. Support, friendship, steady work to focus on, and an outlet. Hard physical labor was one way to work through mental distress. Not enough to fix anything long term, not by itself, or so Sawyer had come to realize, but a hell of a lot better than no outlet.

  On the positive side, Jake, despite his natural shyness, looked like a happy, healthy, and well-loved young man. Sawyer didn’t know the whole story about Jake’s mother, other than she’d passed away when he’d been a little tyke. Wilson’s mother, Katie McCall, had come to the Hollow after Sawyer had enlisted, so he hadn’t met or known the woman, but Addie Pearl had very kind things to say about her. From Addie he knew that she had played some role in the boy’s life, helping to raise him, and when she’d passed on, Wilson had inherited her property. Will had moved himself and his young son there full-time shortly afterward. Sawyer had still been overseas at the time.

  It seemed like a lot to know about a person, and yet, to Sawyer, who had a knack for getting folks to talk about themselves without seeming to realize how much they were revealing, it seemed he’d barely skimmed the surface. There were deep waters there. But they had time, he thought. And wasn’t that a good bit of knowledge to wake up to every morning? He was thankful every day for that truth.

  So he waited patiently for Wilson to cross the packed dirt floor. The man wasn’t yet forty, maybe four or five years older than Sawyer at most, and he wasn’t one for shouting.

  “Addie’s up in D.C. Thought you knew,” Will said, taking a rag from the back pocket of his heavy canvas work pants and wiping the dust and dirt from his face. “She and Bailey headed out around . . . I guess it must have been before nine. I got here at quarter past eight, after dropping Jake off at school. Wasn’t much after that.”

  “What, exactly, did she say?”

  “Just that she was taking Bailey on a field trip to our nation’s capital. Her words.” He lifted a densely muscled shoulder. “I thought maybe she was homeschooling her or something.”

  Or something, all right, Sawyer thought. Addie Pearl was up to one of her tricks, and Sawyer would bet the mill he knew exactly what—or who—that or something was going to involve. Sunny Goodwin worked in D.C., or so Addie had told him, despite the fact that he hadn’t asked. His personal jury was still out on the woman who was, by law anyway, his stepsister. He’d liked her well enough. She was sharp, smart, and had her wits about her. A good sense of humor lurked there, too, which was a big point in her favor. Helped to balance out that almost too-serious, take-charge side of her.

  Although, to be fair, she had been thrown as bi
g a loop as he’d been thrown that day, just from a different angle. She’d asked a few pertinent questions, and had seemed to feel protective of her newly discovered stepsister. He wasn’t sure who had been more surprised when she’d asked what would happen if she held on to her share of the mill: Sawyer, Addie, or Sunny herself. Up until that point, every one of his battle-tested instincts told him she was out the moment she could get out.

  And he didn’t hold that against her, either. She hadn’t had a clue about her father, much less that he’d leave her some random property out in the mountains. Along with that avalanche of information had come the fun news that she also happened to have stepsiblings. Oh, joy, right? Bailey hadn’t really had a say in how things were going to go, although he was sure if she’d asked to stay with her foster family, Addie would have at least considered it. But Bailey hadn’t said a word about wanting to stay where she’d been.

  In Sunny’s case, however, the reality was that her life was elsewhere. A good life, according to Addie, who’d apparently asked a lot more questions of the young woman than Sawyer had thought to ask. Addie had also found out during the court proceedings that Sunny had recently lost her mother.

  So, no, he didn’t hold it against her that she’d seemed to flip-flop on what she wanted, nor that she’d headed out shortly after making her surprise announcement. It had to have been a lot to process in one day.

  That day had been two weeks ago, however. And he, for one, would like to know what her decision was going to be. She was right in thinking they needed to dot the i’s and cross the t’s before he went much further with the renovation. What she decided to do with her share was just business to him. The family part? Well, Addie’s little speech that day notwithstanding, they weren’t family, not really. So, he didn’t much care what Sunny wanted to do about that part.

  As for Bailey? He liked the kid. And he loved Addie even more for wanting to do the right thing by her. He suspected in time Bailey would come to mean a lot more to him, since they’d be living in the same town and the same woman who’d helped to raise him would now be raising her. Bailey didn’t know it yet, but her life had just taken a very, very, lucky turn. He had no idea where his would have ended up had it not been for Addison Pearl Whitaker stepping in and doing the same for him. But that also meant her share of the mill wasn’t in limbo.