Angel of Smoky Hollow

by Barbara McMahon

  He made two more passes then was startled to see Angelica walking to him a large glass of amber liquid in hand.

  “If that’s iced tea, I’ll—” He stopped suddenly remembering what kissing her caused. He reached for the glass. Heavenly. He drank it all without stopping.

  “Hot work,” she said.

  At least that’s what he thought she said. It was harder to hear over the roar of the lawn mower.

  “Want more?” she asked.

  “Please. Appreciate it.”

  He watched her walk back to the house, speak to the children, and then go inside. Minutes later she was walking across the lawn. He’d done another half swath. She handed him the glass when he stopped.

  “I probably should be doing that, I’m staying in Webb Francis’s house,” she said, eyeing the lawn mower with some trepidation.

  “Have a shot,” he said, stepping back. He didn’t know if he wanted to drink the tea or pour it over his body. Being near her wasn’t cooling him down.

  She met his eyes and nodded. “Okay. Just push it?”

  He nodded. “Never mowed a lawn before?”

  She shook her head as she gripped the handle and pushed. For a second nothing happened, then with a bit more pressure, the lawn mower began to move, spitting out the cut grass as she tried to follow the edge of his last cut. When clumps of tall grass appeared between her path and his, he knew she found it tougher than anticipated. It would have been easier if the grass was shorter to start with. Sipping the tea, he watched her, grinning at the effort—and the missed spots.

  Angelica pushed harder. This was not as easy as Kirk made it seem. Finally reaching the edge, she struggled to turn it back. Viewing what she’d cut, she was dismayed to see spots where the machine had not gone straight. There were patches looking like a Mohawk along the edge between Kirk’s cut and her own. Determined to do better, she pushed again, getting the machine going. It wasn’t as hard to keep it going as to start. Still when she reached him, she was burning up with heat—not all attributed to the effort to push the lawn mower.

  He handed her the glass and took over without a word. Stepping to one side, she watched him. The muscles of his sixpack contracted when he pushed. Sculpted, they testified to the strength of the man. Working in construction and carving huge pieces of wood required strength. She was fascinated. Wishing she could touch him, she blinked and looked at the house. The two children were watching. She smiled and walked to the porch. He’d made it abundantly clear he wanted nothing to do with her. She needed to remember that!

  “You didn’t do so good, Miss Cannon,” Sam said. She could depend on that child for total honesty.

  “It was my first time. I think cutting grass requires practice, like playing the fiddle, don’t you?”

  “I guess.”

  “My daddy says cutting grass is man’s work. Then Mama takes him tea just like you did, Miss Cannon,” Teresa Ann said. “Only they end up kissing and all.”

  “Ew, gross,” Sam said.

  Angelica looked back at Kirk. She wouldn’t have minded a kiss for her effort. Or one to reward him for his work. But after yesterday, she was firmly squelching any thoughts in that direction. It was too bad her body didn’t listen to her mind. Her fingers tingled with the desire to touch him. Her mouth yearned for the feel of his. Her heart raced, and not from the effort to propel that machine.

  “Thank you for the milk.” Teresa Ann handed Angelica her empty glass. “Tomorrow I won’t be here for practice, we’re going to the fair. But I could come on Saturday.”

  “If you want. I’ll be here.”

  “Me, too. I want to make sure I’m ready for the festival,” Sam said.

  “Okay, then, Saturday it is.” She watched them run off, wondering how they found the energy in this heat. She took the glasses inside and put them in the sink. Giving in to temptation, she went back to the screen door to watch Kirk. She didn’t think he could see her. She hoped he couldn’t. How pathetic to be caught staring at the most virile man she knew when he’d told her to go home. He was so not feeling the same attraction she was.

  When he finally finished, she realized she’d been watching for almost a half hour. Stepping away, she went to rinse out the glasses and then go to the music room. It took two seconds to tidy it up after the children’s lesson. Picking up her violin, she began her own practice. She wanted to play this song for the festival and it was trickier than originally thought.

  She was on her second pass when she caught movement from the corner of her eye. Stopping, she looked at the doorway. Kirk stood there watching her.

  “I knocked, but you couldn’t hear me, I guess,” he said.

  “What can I do for you?” She tried to keep her eyes firmly on his and not gaze at the tantalizing expanse of tanned chest that showed off his pecs so well. He held his shirt in one hand. His jeans were riding low, which made her gulp and become desperate not to let her glance waver from his dark eyes.

  “I heard you playing, wanted to hear more. ‘Orange Blossom Special’, isn’t it?”

  She nodded.

  “Hard piece to play, so I’ve heard.”

  “You’ve heard right. I’m determined, however,” she said.

  “Sounds good. I’ll let my granddad know.”

  “Why would he care?”

  “He’s planning to come to the festival this year. First time in two decades. Wants to hear you play, said if Webb Francis thought you were good, maybe you are.”

  She laughed. “So he wants to verify that himself?”

  “I reckon he does.”

  “I still want to go back to his farm and hear him sing that song. I found the music and have been practicing that one as well.”

  “I expect he’ll be pleased to hear that.”

  The phone sounded.

  “Who would that be?” she asked, putting down the violin and heading toward the kitchen. Kirk moved out of her way, then followed.

  “Mother!” Angelica was startled to hear her mother on the other end of the line. She had hoped to have more time before having to talk to her.

  “What in the world are you doing in the backwoods of Appalachia, Angelica?” her mother demanded. “I can’t believe you just took off and never said a word. What were you thinking?”

  “I’m taking a vacation,” she said. Guilt infiltrated. She tried to rationalize she had the right, but old habits were hard to break.

  Kirk stepped closer and watched her. He couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but she knew he could hear her.

  “And you just take off without a word to your father and me? I can’t believe you left so abruptly and did not contact us!”

  She was staring at Kirk’s bare chest, bronzed by the sun, defined by muscles from his work. None of the men she knew looked so good.

  “Angelica!”

  “What do you want me to say? I wanted to take a vacation, so I did. I’m entitled.” She turned halfway away from Kirk to better focus on her mother’s tirade.

  “Well, of course you can take a vacation. You should have told us, we would have rented a cottage at the Cape.”

  “I didn’t want to go to Cape Cod this year. I wanted a total break and a chance to explore different music. I decided to come here.”

  “Now is the time to be scheduling future concerts, renewing your contract with the philharmonic, not hiding away in the woods. Good grief, what were you thinking? You have to keep constantly in the public’s eye to build a following. Which is the reason I’m calling. Your agent has a marvelous opportunity for you in Europe. For two months, you’d tour some of the capitals, Paris, Rome, Madrid, Berlin. It’s an fantastic chance to build recognition abroad as well as enhance your CV here in the states.”

  “As a soloist?” Angelica asked, feeling things closing in on her. She didn’t want to have to do a tour in Europe. She wanted to stay right here. The thought startled her and she looked at Kirk. He was watching her with the intensity she’d grown used to.
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  “Yes. Call him today. He’s been calling us for days, frantic to get in touch with you.”

  “I’ll call later.”

  “Now, Angelica!”

  Angelica gripped the phone. She had left New York to escape the pressure of her life. Her mother was jumping in with both feet, and she resented it. This was her life, not her mother’s.

  “You’re needed back in New York.”

  “I’ll call later,” she said, infusing her voice with determination. This was her first vacation ever. She discounted family outings. She was not going to cut it short.

  “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You have had the best musical education money can buy. And you choose to go to some backwoods area in Kentucky for your vacation? And now you’re delaying calling your agent. What has come over you?”

  “This is what I want for this summer,” she tried to explain. Already she was feeling the pressure to conform to their plan for her future. They couldn’t understand her desire to break away and learn more than just the classics and modern music. She wanted—

  “There was a great program at the Cape this summer. You should have gone there. At least you’d have been closer to home,” her mother said. “And more available when your agent called. I can’t believe you aren’t jumping at the chance for this tour. It’s amazing, and to be offered to one so young is simply miraculous. You need to grasp the chance, these don’t come along all the time.”

  Angelica glanced at Kirk. He was staring intently at her and she wondered how much he could hear. He looked at her quizzically.

  Frustration rose. “Mom, I’ll take care of it.” She knew her voice was rising, but she was angry her mother kept harping on this when Angelica had been enjoying her break from routine. She was not a child!

  Kirk placed his hand over hers holding the phone and pulled it away. “What?” he asked softly.

  “She won’t listen.”

  “Then hang up,” he said.

  She stared at him. Then put the phone back to her ear. Her mother was talking, but she’d missed most of what she’d said. “I have to go now, Mom. Goodbye.” Then she hung up the phone. Staring at it in amazement, she couldn’t believe she just hung up on her mother!

  “Angelica,” he said.

  She looked up.

  “You’ve done nothing wrong. You’re a capable adult, fully able to make your own decisions. Why get upset over a conversation on the phone?”

  “They act like I can’t think for myself. Like I have to fulfil some great scheme to be the best violinist ever in the world. And before this summer, I’ve always let them tell me what to do. I’m not sure I can stand up to them.”

  “Just say no,” he said.

  She repeated the phrase and nodded. “Here’s hoping.”

  The phone rang again. Angelica looked at it and then shrugged. “Let it ring. Thanks for cutting the grass. It smells so fresh. And the roses show better without the scraggly grass. Want more tea?”

  The phone continued to ring.

  “Let’s move to the porch,” she suggested. She’d never deliberately ignored her parents in her life. It felt oddly liberating. She was an adult. She could make her own choices!

  After Kirk had left, however, Angelica began to feel a twinge of guilt. She should at least see what her agent had to say. She could always just say no.

  Calling him, she was surprised how anxious he was to speak to her.

  “Never leave town without leaving a forwarding phone number,” he said.

  “I’m on vacation,” she said, not at all pressured by Henry, not like with her parents. “My mother said you have a gig?”

  “I cringe at your slang. This is a marvelous opportunity to showcase your best work in a tour of five capitals in Europe, several concerts in each venue. It’s in conjunction with the Musique Francais production. How can you refuse?”

  “When and where?” she asked. The Musique Francais was very prestigious. Her mother was right, this would be the opportunity of a lifetime—especially for one as young as she was.

  “Rome, Berlin, Madrid, Paris and London. Starting the second week in September. I’ve already stalled longer than I should have, trying to reach you. You’d have to fly to London to begin rehearsals and practice next week. There is no time to waste. How soon can you be back in New York?”

  “That’s a problem,” Angelica said. “I’m teaching two students and can’t leave before the music festival.”

  “What? You’re teaching!” Henry sounded astonished. “That’s preposterous. Unless—are they gifted—would I need to hear them?”

  “They’re learning folk songs from this area, so I don’t think they are your average client, Henry. Actually it’s turning out to be quite fun. I love the excitement they have for learning. And I’m learning as much helping them. I did promise I’d do what I could to get Sam ready for the festival. He’s worked so hard. They plan to come practice even on a Saturday. How’s that for dedication?”

  “Whatever are you thinking?” he asked. “You aren’t a teacher—you’re a gifted musician.”

  Angelica explained, ending with, “So, you see, I have to meet this commitment.”

  “I see nothing of the sort. The child is eight. He can practice on his own. Let the locals teach him. Let him wing it. You’re needed here and then in Europe.”

  “There’s no teacher until Webb Francis gets well. And I made a commitment.”

  “Break it. This is far more important. Do you know how rare it is to get this kind of chance?”

  She bit her lip with indecision. She did know how rare it was. And what a boost to her career it would be to have this to include in her CV. Then Sam’s face danced before her. He was counting on her.

  “I’ll have to let you know.”

  “Angelica.”

  “I’ll think about it and call you back in a day or so. Goodbye.”

  She was getting good at ending conversations when she was finished being harangued by the other party. At least he didn’t have her phone number to keep calling like her mother did.

  She went to sit on the porch, gazing at the newly mowed lawn, feeling the heat seep into her. For an instant she felt like a reprimanded schoolgirl. Taking a breath, she hoped she could focus on the decision needed and not her frustration with the way others treated her. She appreciated the work Henry did for her. But ultimately, it was her decision in which way to take her career.

  The thought of playing in some of the capitals of Europe was very tempting. A few weeks ago she would have jumped at the chance. Now, she wanted to take a little time and consider all the ramifications. Maybe a walk would clear her head. She headed toward town, and the familiar sights there.

  Melvin and Paul were on the porch and she waved, but didn’t stop. Only when she was getting uncomfortably hot did she retrace her steps.

  Mentally listing all the positive aspects of her vacation, she wanted to be able to articulate all her reasons if she decided against this tour. She did not touch on the one where she felt smothered and confined with the direction her parents so supported. Somehow she had to come up with a logical reason not to take the tour, or accept and give up the vacation she was enjoying.

  KIRK KNOCKED on her door just before six. He’d showered and changed and looked amazing in a cotton shirt and khaki pants. She let him in and stepped back lest she give in to the overwhelming temptation to throw herself into his arms.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  “Thought you might like to get away for a while. We could eat at the diner.”

  She studied him for a moment, then smiled and nodded. “I’d love it. I’ve been with too many spinning thoughts this afternoon.”

  “How old did you say you were?”

  “I know, my parents can be bit overbearing. This is the first time I’ve challenged them with anything and I think they don’t know how to handle it. I’m their only child, I’ve been so dutiful all along, this is a major change. My mother wanted me to spe
nd the summer at Cape Cod. My father usually goes along with what my mother wants.”

  “Most kids rebel sometime in their teens. This is hardly rebellion in a major sense, but maybe you are overdue. And I can’t see how what you do impacts their lives now that you’re grown and on your own. You live in Manhattan, not Boston.”

  Ruefully she shrugged. “I’m sure it’s better to say my daughter is touring Europe than she’s in the boonies of Kentucky.”

  “They’re snobs,” he said easily.

  Angelica wanted to refute that. She even opened her mouth, then shut it. Thinking about it, were her parents snobs? “You could be right. I never thought about it before.”

  He tapped his finger against her chin. “You’re a bit of a snob yourself.”

  “I am not.”

  “Not so much now, but I remember your look of horror when you stepped off the bus.”

  “It wasn’t snobbery, it was astonishment that I was still in America and stepped off into such a different world.” She didn’t know whether to be insulted or not. She didn’t want to be thought of as a snob.

  “Ready to go? I thought we could take the bike.”

  She grinned. “Snobs do not ride motorcycles.”

  “So maybe you’re broadening your horizons,” he said.

  He got on the bike and waited. Angelica put her helmet on, wishing she and Kirk could just drive away and keep going until they ran out of gas. Evade making any decisions, just go where the mood strikes. She wanted to defend her choices, share with her parents her delight in the friendly people in Smoky Hollow who had gone out of their way to make her welcome. Convey all the new experiences that flooded her every day. The fun she was having.

  When they sat in the booth at the diner Angelica realized how out of place her parents would be in a setting like this. Their sophisticated clothing would shout to the world they were not from Smoky Hollow. She knew her mother would look with disdain at Angelica’s appearance. She had worn nice slacks and a cotton top—perfectly suited to the community. She liked the feeling of fitting in. She wondered when she’d felt that way before—if ever.