She shrugged. “Then that’s what I’ll do—turn it down and the shelter will get the money.”
He stared at her long and hard, then said, with reluctance, “She told me about your marital problems.”
Jackie stiffened. “I wish she hadn’t, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t have them anymore. I’m divorced.”
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I wasn’t supposed to let you know that I knew, but she said if you did refuse, I was to tell you that it was a chance for a new beginning for you—a new life. She wanted you to have an adventure.
“You see,” he went on to explain, “there’s a little cabin on the land, along with a few outbuildings. You could make your home there if you like. Granted, according to Libby, it’s very remote.” He grinned. “A hundred acres more or less certainly would be, so don’t plan on having pizza delivered.”
Jackie stared at him, overwhelmed. A hundred acres. A cabin. The serene beauty of the mountains. It was something she had only dreamed about—a place where she could do the things she loved as well as commune with nature. The idea suddenly seemed terribly intriguing.
She bit her lip thoughtfully. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, it sounds wonderful, and I guess I’d be a fool to turn it down.”
Blandly he pointed out, “Not really. No one could expect you to give up your job to go live in the middle of nowhere. I told Libby that, but she disagreed. She seemed to think a 180-degree turnaround in your life was exactly what you might want.”
How right she was, Jackie thought, and that was even before she knew about Kevin and his pregnant bride.
He opened a desk drawer and took out the carved rolling pin. Jackie had helped pack what few personal belongings Libby had in her room at Dove Haven, and the wooden object had been among them.
“I took the liberty of sending everything else to Good Will,” he said, handing over the rolling pin. “You can go ahead and take this. It doesn’t have any monetary value, so I don’t need it for probate. But as soon as you make up your mind about the tree farm, I’d appreciate your telling me so I can start the ball rolling in another direction should you turn it down.”
“I’m not going to.” Her tone was so forceful it surprised even her, and she saw that Mr. Burkhalter also seemed a bit taken aback.
With a deep breath of resolve she continued, “I’m going to give notice, have a giant yard sale, pack my clothes and head for the mountains. Libby was right. I am ready for a 180-degree change.”
She started to get up, but he signaled her to stay where she was.
She settled back with a tiny wave of foreboding.
“There’s something else.”
Her brow furrowed warily.
“Actually, you will only own half the farm.”
Some of her enthusiasm dimmed. “I don’t understand.”
“As she explained it to me, Roy Colton’s only sibling was a brother. The two of them were to inherit the land together when their father died. From what she told me, she hadn’t been back in nearly fifty years. Someone else ran the farm. Maybe a descendent of Roy Colton’s brother. She didn’t say. Maybe she didn’t know. Anyway, she received her share of the profits once a year and didn’t care how the place was run. I imagine you’d want to continue the same arrangement since you wouldn’t know what you were doing.
“Just sit back, collect the money, and let someone else do all the work,” he finished with a grin.
Jackie knew, even though it was all happening so fast, that she had no intention of not taking an active part in running the farm. The thought of growing Christmas trees sounded like fun. Besides, owning half a farm was better than nothing. “Do I have to decide now if I want to do that—keep the same arrangement she had, I mean?”
“No. You can take care of all that when you get there. But take some time to think it over and make sure it’s what you want.”
“I already have. How soon can I claim my share?”
He looked surprised that she had made up her mind so quickly and, after a moment’s hesitation, said, “Well, I suppose I can have the probate judge issue a contingency deed. The estate won’t be completely settled for six months, but I see no problem if you want to move in before then. Just when would you like to?”
Her enthusiasm shone in her smile. “Right after the yard sale.”
Chapter Three
Crude wooden fruit stands with tin roofs dotted the sides of the roads, flanked by baskets of red and gold apples along with stacks of bright orange pumpkins.
It was the best time of year to be moving to the mountains, and Jackie was so excited that sometimes thinking about the future make her hands shake as she clutched the steering wheel.
Or was it the car that was actually shaking? She frowned. With the odometer over the hundred-thousand mark, the old clunker had been breathing its last for quite a while. She had been planning to trade it since Kevin had paid off the credit cards, freeing up her paycheck for other expenses. Now, however, with no job, she had to be careful with what money she had. She would not receive any of Libby’s share of the profits from this year’s tree harvest until the estate was probated and that was months away. So a new car before then was out of the question.
She had not told anyone at Dove Haven where she was going. Neither had she told them about Libby leaving her the farm. Too much was already known about her private life, it seemed, so she merely turned in her notice, said she was taking a year’s sabbatical and left.
So, with each mile the past faded farther and farther in the rearview mirror of her mind, and she concentrated on looking ahead, envisioning the kind of peaceful, tranquil life she had always dreamed about.
At last she was in the heart of the Blue Ridge mountains, heading northeast toward the Tennessee state line.
The road curved north, sometimes seeming to tunnel through a veritable army of sentrylike trees. The higher she climbed, the nippier the temperature, and she finally had to stop to get a fleece jacket out of her suitcase. The car heater wasn’t working too well, and she wanted to keep the window rolled down, anyway, for a better view.
As she had the day before when she started out, she found herself pausing at every opportunity to marvel at the surrounding splendor. From roadside overlooks she could gaze at a panorama of burnished hues as autumn painted its way down the slopes and valleys.
Careful to follow the map Mr. Burkhalter gave her, about ten miles from the town she’d stayed in overnight, she turned onto a gravel road with a sign that read Colton Farms. Beside it was a shield-shaped plaque proudly declaring that a Colton tree had been chosen for the White House a few years back.
She was impressed, not only to know the Coltons produced quality trees, but by the house that suddenly came into view. A white two-story frame with a porch sweeping across the front, it was set back from the road on a commanding hillock. Only a small green square directly in front offered a lawn. Everywhere else, as far as the eye could see, there were rows of trees in different heights and stages of growth.
Jackie thought back to the conversation she’d had with the owner of the motel she stayed in last night. “Ma’am, the Colton family has owned that land as long as I can remember,” he’d said. Maybe the family had never let it be known that Roy Colton had left his share to the woman he loved. If so, it made no difference to .Jackie. She was the owner now.
No one was in sight, so she continued on to find the pig trail the man at the motel had penciled on the map. It was not too overgrown with weeds, so he was probably right in saying tractors rolled over it every so often. But, unlike the road to the Colton house, the trail had no gravel. There were ruts and holes, and the old car creaked and groaned as she eased her way along.
She figured she had gone perhaps a half mile when the trail crossed a short, rickety-looking plank bridge built over a little rushing stream. The boards bumped in warning as she eased across, and she found herself wondering what would happen after a heavy rain. She might not be able to cr
oss. She could be cut off from the world, and—
Adventure, her mind screamed. It’s an adventure, that’s all, and adventures never ran smooth. If they did, then they couldn’t be called that, could they?
She smiled.
It was going to be all right.
So what if she couldn’t cross the bridge for a few days, once in a while. She would make sure to have plenty of supplies, and she’d probably be so busy learning about trees and doing her pottery and writing poetry that she wouldn’t even care. Besides, she could always call if she needed anything.
Couldn’t she?
She slowed to a bare crawl and stuck her head out the window. Looking around, she didn’t see any overhead lines.
Neither were there utility poles.
With a groan she murmured, “Oh, this is just great. No phone. No electricity. And when it rains, I’m stuck.”
And you can forget about ordering out for pizza, a little voice inside goaded.
“I didn’t come out here to order pizza,” she said irritably as she gripped the steering wheel tighter and pressed down on the gas pedal to get the car going again. “I came here for peace and tranquility, and that’s what I’m going to have, by God. People that come to the mountains to live have to realize there are certain conveniences they’re going to have to give up, and if they can’t accept that, then they’ve no business being here.”
The voice needled again. But do they also start talking to themselves?
She gave herself a mental shake. She was being silly. Getting back to nature was what she wanted.
The voice chuckled. Getting back? You’ve never been there, girlfriend. She was a city girl, born and bred.
She clutched the wheel tighter as a tire hit a hole that sent her bouncing up in her seat. Without a belt, she would have hit her head on the roof, and she vowed never to forget to fasten it again. And certainly not on this pig trail of a road.
And then she saw it.
Like a scene from a folksy Norman Rockwell painting, the little log cabin with its quaint porch and rusting tin roof was framed by bright marigolds and leafy hydrangea bushes, thick with pink and blue blossoms. Alongside, curling in and out among the jutting rocks, a tiny stream gurgled its way through ferns and overhanging willow branches. And beyond, an apple orchard, the fruit-laden branches bending precariously toward the ground.
She drew a sharp breath of awe to see a deer nibbling at the apples that had fallen, but then it saw her and, after a mournful stare, turned and bolted back into the forest.
Without realizing it, she had come to a dead stop and was envisioning herself as part of the idyllic setting—sitting on a rock, bare feet dipping into the water, note-pad balanced on her knee, she nibbled an apple as she sketched a doe and fawn, and...
Her mouth formed a wide grin and she told herself to get back to reality, for the time being, anyway. There would be time later—and lots of it—for dreaming her life away.
The car coughed its way up the rutted path, and then she was out and running for the cabin Mr. Burkhalter said would be her home now.
She marveled at how well it had been kept up. The logs looked in good condition and appeared to have been recently rechinked. There were a few suspicious planks in the porch floor but nothing in need of immediate attention.
It was small, with only one window on each side of the door. The shutters were closed. She could not see inside.
Taking a deep breath, thrilled to the core to know she was about to enter her new home, she grasped the doorknob and hoped it wasn’t locked, because heaven only knew who she would have to see to get a key.
It swung open, and her heart skipped a beat as she took her first step across the threshold.
The furnishings were sparse—a wood table that looked homemade, with benches along two sides, a sofa and chair that had seen better days, but they were positioned before, thank God, a real stone fireplace. That would be her heat, and she could learn to chop wood, by golly, because right then she was so excited she felt as if she could do anything.
She went to the tiny corner kitchen, relieved to see an electric stove. That meant the power lines were underground, so there would be no worry about them falling under ice during the winter.
At the opposite end of the room, she was delighted to find a bedroom, small, but adequate. The double bed with its rusting headboard dominated the room with barely enough room for the old chest of drawers.
And finally, in an alcove, she found the bathroom, with its toilet, a sink with a cracked mirror above and a shower stall.
After inspecting every nook and cranny of the cabin, she ran out to the front porch, and, hugging herself, began turning around and around in her joy till she was so dizzy she practically fell into a cane-backed rocking chair.
Then, eyes misting with tears, she tremulously whispered, “Oh, Libby, if you were here to share it all with me, then it really would be perfect.”
She sat there for a long time, rocking back and forth and humming to herself as she gazed at the beauty and serenity all around.
Finally, well aware there was much to be done, she began unloading the car, grateful that bringing the TV and stereo equipment had not been in vain.
The cabin was fairly clean, but she rolled up her sleeves, got a bucket of soapy water and a rag and gave everything a good scrubbing, anyway.
By the time she finished, the sun was low in the sky. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, and that was when she realized that in her excitement and haste, she had not thought about buying groceries. Oh, she had the staples—coffee, sugar, soap and toilet paper. Some bottled water. But she needed food to cook for several days ahead, maybe even weeks.
She had planned to stop by the Colton house and introduce herself, but since she did not know when the grocery stores closed, there might not be time. She could do it on the way back...or the next day.
She would also need to take care of having the electricity changed to her name as soon as she could arrange it. Obviously someone else was paying the bill. Then she began to wonder about that. Just who had been using the cabin? If Libby had known, she probably hadn’t cared. But Jackie was curious. She also found herself hoping that whoever it was would not show up in the middle of the night, then decided that was not likely. Though it was being kept up by somebody, it did not appear they had been around lately. The refrigerator had been empty, the temperature on the lowest setting. There were no sheets on the bed, no linens of any kind.
Worrying that the stores would close, she had no time to freshen up. She fluffed her hair again, smoothed her T-shirt, grabbed up her shoulder bag and hurried out to the car in the gathering dusk.
Backing the car out, she caught a glimpse of the peach and watermelon sky over the tops of the pines to the west. She wished she had thought of groceries earlier, so she would not have to make the late trip into town. It would have been so nice to sit on the porch and sip a glass of wine while watching her first sunset in her new home. But she had not eaten since breakfast and was starting to feel a bit weak and nauseous.
By the time Jackie got to the Piggly-Wiggly on the outskirts she’d had to turn on her headlights. And when she came out a short while later, carrying two plastic bags, it was totally dark.
She breezed through the night, loving the feel of freedom and space and humming to herself all the while. It was going to take some getting used to, being on her own and far removed from the hustle and bustle of life. But she planned to keep busy—very busy. After all, there was much to learn about growing Christmas trees, and—
She had just turned off the main road onto her little dirt pig trail when suddenly one of the tires hit a big rock. The car lurched sharply and came to a jolting stop.
“That’s what I get for driving at night,” she grumbled as she opened the door and got out to see how much trouble she was really in. She didn’t know the road well enough, didn’t know all the pitfalls and dangers. But be that as it may, as soon as she could afford it, she plann
ed to have the road properly graded, gravel put down so there wouldn’t be so many potholes, and—
Slapping a hand against her forehead she groaned out loud.
From the glow of the taillight she could see that she was stuck in a rut up to her hubcap, and it was going to be extremely hard to pull out of it.
She got back behind the steering wheel, pressed the accelerator, then realized the tire was spinning and she was only getting in deeper.
Adding to her woes was the knowledge she hadn’t thought to bring a flashlight. It was probably a mile or more to the cabin, but if she managed to keep on the road she could make it in the dark. The thing to do, however, was hurry before it got any later. Then the critters would be roaming about, and she didn’t want to encounter any bears.
Gathering up the two plastic bags, she realized how heavy they were. If she left the canned goods behind, she could easily carry the perishables.
She began unpacking the sacks, sorting by the feel of things what to take with her.
Leaning inside, her head between the seats, she did not see or hear the truck until it stopped directly behind her. Whirling about, she found herself blinded by the lights and quickly dropped the bags and dove into the front seat. Maybe it was a neighbor offering help, but she was taking no chances and rolled up the windows and locked the doors.
Clutching the steering wheel, she sank down in the seat as far as she could, willing herself invisible as she heard the truck’s engine turn off, a door open and close and then the solemn crunch of footsteps coming toward her. The beam of a flashlight shone directly in her face as a masculine voice boomed in the stillness, “Are you all right in there?”
She nodded, eyes squeezed shut against the glare. Lifting one hand from the steering wheel she waved in protest. “Please. I can’t see.”
He dropped the beam from her face to shine it around inside. “There’s no need for you to be afraid, miss. I see you’re stuck, and I’ll help you get out, but would you mind telling me what you’re doing out here this time of night?”
My Child, Our Child (Silhouette Special Edition) Page 3
