Blue Hollow Falls

by Donna Kauffman

  She had no words. His confession was as heartfelt a testimony as she was ever likely to get.

  “So, just . . . think about it, Sunny, okay? Party invite remains open.” The teasing humor came back as he added, “Costume optional.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Absolutely not.” Sawyer handed the red cape and blue tights back to Addie.

  “Who better to be Superman than you?”

  “I agreed to wear a costume. I’ll take care of it.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Did you get Wonder Woman for yourself?”

  She guffawed and swatted him on his behind as he stepped around her and walked over to the fridge. “I’m just glad to see you getting into the spirit.”

  He took a beer out of the fridge and popped the cap off the bottle. “I’m not a big fan of the dressing-up part, but the party is a great idea and definitely well earned. I’m glad Seth thought of it. I’d been thinking about a holiday party at Christmastime, but this makes more sense. The temperatures are more moderate and everyone’s kids will have just as much fun.”

  “Nothing says we can’t have a holiday party, too.”

  He took a swig, enjoyed the cold rush of barley and hops, looking forward to working on his own brews again. He nodded after he’d swallowed. “True.” He pointed the bottle toward her. “No candy, though.”

  Addie’s shoulders slumped. “What kind of Halloween party doesn’t include candy? The kids will be disappointed.”

  Sawyer didn’t think it was the kids Addie was worried about. He happened to know that Addie didn’t just have a sweet tooth, she had a mouth full of them. “We’ll have mulled apple cider for everyone, and hard cider for the grown-ups, courtesy of Clyde Peterson’s cidery. His wife said she’d do a caramel apple stand so the kids can dip their own apples. Seth said he’ll do a bonfire out back so folks can make those marshmallow-chocolate-graham-cracker things. Trust me, there will be plenty of sugar.”

  Addie didn’t look entirely appeased by that, but her excitement about the party won out. “Debbie Tibbett is doing a pumpkin carving table with the kids. Her pumpkins are a work of art every year, so that should be a treat.”

  “Given her wood carving skills, I can well imagine. We might want to make sure the kids have parental supervision working with the sharp tools, though.”

  Addie waved a hand. “Covered. Are you doing an IPA for the party?”

  He shook his head. “Not enough time to brew any for this shindig. I haven’t had any of my equipment hooked up since we started the renovation, so nothing is fermenting. And I don’t have any stored. I will for the Christmas party.”

  “You should have said something. I’d have been happy to let you set up shop here. I could have made room downstairs in my studio.”

  “Thanks, that’s generous of you, but I wasn’t planning on starting up anything quite yet. In order to have some batches done for a holiday party, I’ll need to get organized in the next few weeks, but by then we should have the electricity on at the mill and I can just set up there. I figure I might as well begin as I mean to go on.”

  Addie nodded. “Makes sense. I’m still waiting to hear back from Todd and Emily with their approval of how we’ve divided up the mill space. Todd is up in Canada somewhere taking pictures for his next series of prints. North American ducks, I think he said. Knowing him, he’s well out of range of any communication. And Emily is at her folks’ farm in Iowa helping out with her sister’s kids now that the new one has arrived. They’ve got spotty cell service there at best and I don’t have her sister’s number. But I’m pretty sure they’ll both be pleased with the setup. So if you want to go ahead and move your equipment in as soon as your section is done, I don’t see why that would be a problem.”

  “That puts us at eight crafters on premises, including you and me. And what, six more off-site?”

  Addie nodded. “Don’t suppose Will has reconsidered joining us?”

  Sawyer shook his head. “No. He said he’s been focusing on work and helping Jake with school.”

  Addie sighed, but didn’t seem surprised. “Personally, I say he’s just dug himself into a hole since his wife passed on and doesn’t know how to get himself out of it. I think if he could get that part of himself back, it would show him the way. Making music, either by playing it, or creating the vessel for playing it, soothes the soul.”

  Sawyer tended to agree with Addie, but he suspected Will’s reluctance to resurrect that part of his life had to do with more than losing his wife. “There’s only so much steering you can do, Addie. When he’s ready, he’ll find his way. I’d say he’s taking care of the most important parts at the moment.”

  She nodded. “Jake is a good kid, and Will has definitely been an all-around godsend where the mill is concerned, I’ll give you that. But doing well isn’t the same as being well.”

  “Agreed. I’m keeping an eye out.”

  She patted his shoulder. “I knew you would.” She took his empty beer bottle from his hand and put it in the recycling bin. “Don’t suppose you’ve heard from our Sunny,” she asked, casually enough, as she started pulling out the ingredients to make dinner.

  Sawyer didn’t come up to her cabin all that often these days, but Sunday supper had become something of a ritual, and one he happened to like. Having Bailey there now made it even better. Broadened the scope of the family, as well as the topics of conversation. Not that Bailey was particularly chatty, but she did offer the occasional keen observation, and had been known to ask the kind of questions that proved she was paying attention. She wasn’t much for wanting the discussion to focus on her, but she seemed sincerely interested in the goings on in the Hollow.

  “No, I haven’t,” he said in response to Addie’s query. “Should I have?” He knew he was being obtuse on purpose. Addie was up to something, and Sunny factored in somehow, he’d bet on it. He just wasn’t sure what that “something” was. Yet.

  “No, just wondering. I chat with her every few days. We FaceTalk.”

  “FaceTime,” Sawyer corrected automatically. “Chat about what?”

  Addie glanced over her shoulder. “What do you mean, ‘about what’? All the things folks regularly talk about.” She went back to chopping up green peppers and carrots. “She’s been asked to do a special presentation at the conservatory on some of those rare orchids she works with. It’s kind of a big deal, apparently. They want her to write a paper on her research. She said if it gets published, that would go a long way to helping her if she decides to go for her doctorate. The presentation is supposed to happen in November, right after Bailey visits with her. I told her I wanted to come up for it, but turns out that’s the week I’m going down to that folk school in North Carolina to teach weaving classes. I’d get out of it, but they’ve already booked up all the slots. Wouldn’t be right to reschedule at this late date.” She glanced at him. “I meant to ask if you’d mind staying up here that week with Bailey, while I’m gone.”

  Sawyer nodded. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Addie beamed. “Good. Sunny did say she’d take Bailey in to the conservatory and show her what they’re planning to do for the presentation, if she wanted. I told her I couldn’t imagine Bailey wouldn’t want to see that and asked her to send me some pictures.” She handed Sawyer a basket filled with ears of corn. “Shuck these, will you? Last batch of the season, I’m afraid.”

  Sawyer dutifully took the basket and headed over to the trash can, but didn’t otherwise interrupt. He knew he didn’t have to contribute much to the conversation. When Addie was on a roll, he’d long since learned it was best to simply nod and make the occasional grunt in agreement when necessary. He was admittedly surprised to hear that she and Sunny were in regular contact. He’d done a lot of thinking since Seth’s little speech the previous week, but he’d yet to make any kind of decision on what, if any, action he might take. Hearing that Sunny was getting new opportunities at work and was probably seriously thinking about that Ph.D . . . we
ll, he was happy for her, sincerely so. But that didn’t exactly encourage any action on his part. And given the silence from her direction, he could only assume she hadn’t changed her mind, either.

  “I’ve tried to get the two to talk directly,” Addie went on, scraping the peppers and carrots into the stew pot, then starting in on the potatoes. “Bailey and Sunny, I mean. And maybe they are and I just don’t know about it. I’ve been a little distracted, what with the mill finally getting to the point where we can really start planning and trying to organize everyone. And now Seth’s little shindig has got folks all excited.” She paused for a moment, smiling as she took in a deep breath, then slowly letting it out again, her expression one of absolute joy. “I can’t believe it’s all coming together. Think of where we were just eight months back. And now Bailey is here. And we’ve got Sunny, too.” She slid the potato chunks into the pot, then took the plate of corn from Sawyer. She was beaming with pleasure and pride.

  Sawyer had taken note of the extra twinkle in her lavender eyes and the extra skip in her spry step over the past month. Addie Pearl was a nurturer at heart, so seeing her respective flocks come together, both at home and through the guild, had put her smack-dab in her happy place. And though the nurturing went hand in hand with the meddling and the poking, and prodding, no one deserved happiness more.

  “Where’s Bailey?” he asked, glancing up at the loft. “Is she out with the chickens?” Addie told him Bailey had simply taken on the care, feeding, and egg retrieval from the chicken coop. She was a natural with animals, to hear Addie tell it. Three out of Bailey’s five foster homes had been on farms, so he supposed it was the one constant she’d had in her young life.

  “No, she went with Seth after church.”

  His brows went up in honest surprise. “Seth? Why? Where?”

  “Up to his farm, I guess. I didn’t ask. They have some project or something they’re working on. Thicker than thieves those two, lately.”

  “Since when?” He ignored the little prickle of jealousy. Hadn’t he told Seth to talk to Bailey and see if he could get her to open up more? He just hadn’t known Seth had taken him up on his request.

  “Over this past week. Something to do with the party, I’m guessing, but I don’t know for sure. I was just happy to see her getting involved, broadening her horizons. He’ll have her up here by supper.”

  Addie was right—it was good that Bailey was making friends. He’d hoped she’d be doing that with kids her own age, but the fact was that her schoolmates all lived a fair piece apart. Beyond walking or even biking distance in most cases. That she was reaching out at all was a good sign. And he couldn’t fault her instincts. Seth was a great ally and an even better friend. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” he said with a smile. “What woman doesn’t fall for Brogan’s charms?”

  Addie snapped a towel at him but she was grinning. “Look who’s talkin’.”

  He snagged the towel from her, then draped it over her shoulder and dropped a fast kiss on her leathery cheek. “You might be a little biased.”

  “Maybe,” she agreed, twinkle in full force, then smacked his hand when he reached for an apple from the bowl on the counter. “Don’t ruin your dinner.”

  “Have you met me?” he asked, grinning around a big crunching bite.

  “Just to make sure, there’s a woodpile out back that needs splitting,” she said with an arch look as he polished off the apple. She took the core from him when he was done and tossed it in the little plastic bucket she kept on her counter for compost material. “I’m not doing all this cooking only to hear you’ve no place to put it.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a chuckle, and headed to the back door.

  * * *

  Sunny felt totally ridiculous. “It seemed like such a cute idea when I was standing in the costume shop.” It wasn’t quite dusk yet when she pulled in at the mill. Addie had been sending her pictures of the improvements, which were happening rapidly now that the roof was done and the interior had been fully framed out. At the moment, it looked wonderfully festive, with the strings of orange lights framing the roof, the big sliding door, and even the waterwheel. On closer inspection it appeared there were also tissue paper goblins and linen napkin ghosts haunting the pine trees closest to the mill, with wispy cobwebs strewn around the boughs. She could see pumpkins lining the walls, all carved and lit with candles. The carvings in the pumpkins were unbelievably complex and stunning. Little pieces of art, each one. There were also straw scarecrows and a big black iron kettle with something boiling inside it, sending steam wafting up into the gradually deepening night air. It was all rather charming and lifted her self-consciousness considerably.

  What would help even more is seeing someone else in costume. Anyone else. Soon.

  She opened her car door and wrestled her crinoline skirts out of the door, then stood and shook them out and back into shape. She pulled her white fleece shorty jacket closed in the front and zipped it up over her pale blue turtleneck. She would have checked her ankle-length pantaloons but she couldn’t see them beneath the full skirt puffing out from her waist down. “We’ll just have to hope they’re hanging right,” she muttered as she clicked her fob to unlock the Mini’s hatch. She popped it open, slid out her little white bonnet, and tied it on. She’d put her hair in braided pigtails, and had to maneuver them so they worked with the blue gingham ribbons that tied the bonnet under her chin. Then she slid out the shepherd’s hook, tied with a matching gingham bow, and propped it against the car.

  A plaintive little bleat came from the large animal crate that she’d barely managed to wedge in the back, even with the back seat panels down and the front seats pulled forward as far as possible.

  “I know, I feel the same way,” she said, opening the door of the crate and attaching the leash to the tiny pink harness she’d wrangled the baby into earlier. “But trust me when I say you look about a million times cuter than I do, so buck up, little sweetie.” Her heart melted all over again when the wooly black lamb looked up at her and bleated again, quite pitifully. “I know, I know,” she murmured as she carefully urged the animal up and forward, then gathered her close so she could lift her from the crate and set her wobbly, impossibly long legs on the ground. “Let’s take care of a little business first, shall we? Then I have one final indignity.” She lifted out the big pink gingham bow she’d made to tie on the back of the harness.

  The lamb just looked up at her, and bleated again. She laughed and rubbed its head. “I know,” she crooned. “The things we do for family.”

  Once business was done and bow attached, her little lamb got decidedly friskier. Sunny walked over to the grass, away from the mill and the creek, and let the lamb race around a bit, while still tethered to the leash. “And to think I almost got two of you.”

  “My, my, if it isn’t Little Miss Bo Peep,” came a deep male voice behind her. “How fetching.”

  “Why, hello, Mr. Bro—” Sunny broke off halfway through her hello to Seth when she turned and actually saw him. “Oh . . . my.”

  He held out his arms and did a slow turn. He wore a metal panel skirt that came to midthigh, a breastplate, sturdy leather boots that came up past his calves. His hair was down, the first time she’d ever seen it that way. It was mostly a sun-bleached blond with a hint of auburn closer to the roots and far longer than she’d realized, hanging well past his shoulders. There were two thin, leather-thong tied braids hanging on either side of his temples. And his beard had also been woven into two pointed plaits. Added to all this was a Viking helmet, a shield strapped to a brawny forearm, and what looked like a giant hammer in his right hand. He grinned. “Too much?”

  She realized her mouth was still hanging open and snapped it shut. It took her a moment longer to find words. She recalled thinking him some kind of Norse god when she’d first seen him. This was so . . . so much more than her paltry imagination could have ever conjured up. “Uh, Thor, I presume?”

  “God of T
hunder, at your service, Peep,” he said, then swept into a metal jangling bow that she was desperately afraid might bind something it shouldn’t, or worse, cut it off. She urged him to straighten with a quick wave of her hand.

  “Impressive,” she told him, noticing the face paint for the first time.

  “Well, this is a party for a group of artists and craftsmen. You can’t really half ass it, you know?” He motioned to her outfit. “Also impressive.” Then he noticed the leash . . . and followed it to what was at the other end and made another bowing motion. “Not worthy,” he said, chuckling, then crouched down to call the lamb over to him, causing Sunny to quickly avert her eyes before she found out what Thor wore under his metal skirt. Or what he didn’t.

  “What’s your name, little fella?” Seth asked, giving the little lamb a scratch under the chin.

  “No name,” Sunny managed, keeping her gaze averted until Seth was upright once again. “It’s—she’s—a surprise.”

  Seth wiggled his eyebrows. “Kinky. I like it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Seriously? Actually, I wanted to talk to you about it.”

  He kept the exaggerated leering grin. “I was so hoping you’d say that.”

  “Careful,” she warned him. “I walk softly, but I carry a big hook.”

  He chuckled at that, and brandished his war hammer. “Well, in case you were worried, I’m not compensating.”

  She couldn’t help it, she laughed. “Men,” she said, shaking her head. “But I did want to talk to you about—”

  She wasn’t given a chance to finish, as Addie Pearl and Bailey had crossed the little dirt and gravel lot. Their costumes had Sunny grinning ear to ear. Addie was in a floor-length, flannel nightgown, with a silly gray wig on her head and a floppy, old-fashioned nightcap tied on with a big bow under her chin. Bailey had on her standard jeans and flannel shirt, but she had knee-high black boots on over her jeans, and sported a red, hooded cape. She had a basket on one arm, filled with some unseen goodies, covered with red-checkered linen.