‘Next time I’m gonna let Mom do her own screw turning,’ Mikey announced with the faintest hint of a smile. ‘You do what you want.’ He pushed his dirty plate away and stood up. ‘I gotta head out of here. I’m working this afternoon and Janet’s got more things on her honey-do list than I’ll get around to in a million years.’
‘I’ll clear up,’ Tom said. ‘Tell your sweet wife thanks from me.’ He stumbled over how to express his gratitude.
‘Shut it. That’s enough soppy crap. Just get your act together. Bring your little woman over to Mama’s on Sunday if you think she won’t be scared off by the gang.’
Little woman? Fee would tear Mikey limb from limb if he dared call her that to her face. Tom wasn’t sure throwing her in the deep end with his noisy family was a good idea, although she’d had no problem with a modified version of them in the cafe the other day.
‘Maybe. I’ll let you know.’
‘Fine. I’m off.’ Mikey walked back out to the other room and grabbed his overnight bag off the sofa. ‘I won’t be blabbing to Mom either. You can tell her what you want.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Hey, we’ve got to stick together. The Three Amigos, right?’ Mikey chuckled, reviving their old childhood nickname. It’d always been the three boys against the two girls who’d tagged themselves the Deadly Duo.
‘Yeah, always.’ Tom forced out a smile.
They made their way outside and the crisp morning air helped to clear his head. Tom changed the subject back to sports, their usual favourite topic. After a few minutes discussing how the UT football team might fare against the much-hated Alabama side on Saturday his brother left.
Tom didn’t rush to go inside until Mikey was out of sight and by the time he finished washing all the breakfast dishes by hand he’d talked himself in and out of asking Fee on a date at least a hundred times. Using the dishwasher wouldn’t have had the same effect. The best he could come up with was to stop by her cabin, gauge her mood and go from there. Not exactly Mr Decisive but it’d have to do.
Fee snapped out of her meditative pose as the alarm clock buzzed. The idea was to gradually come back to full awareness but she didn’t have the patience. This morning she’d cooked herself a healthy egg-white omelette for breakfast followed by a leisurely bath and her yoga practice. Unfortunately her emotions were still as jangled as they’d been when Tom left last night.
This was ridiculous. She’d change clothes and take her camera out somewhere away from Tom Chambers. Fee began to roll up her mat but a sudden series of loud knocks made her drop it back down on the floor. ‘Who is it?’
‘Tom. Are you decent?’
Fee suppressed a laugh and hurried to open the door. The sight of Tom, his gleaming auburn hair still damp, clutching at his black cowboy hat and shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other endeared her to him all over again.
‘Come on in. I won’t eat you,’ she said with what she hoped was an encouraging smile. He sidled in past her and stood by the table, not quite meeting her gaze.
‘I wondered if you’d care to go out tomorrow and see some of the fall colours? The Cumberland Gap area is about an hour drive from here and real pretty right now.’ The words tumbled out. ‘There’s an old settlement on top of Brush Mountain that was home to the Hensley family back in the first half of the twentieth century. It fell into ruins but it’s been renovated as a living history museum. There’s one tour a day going from the visitor centre in a minibus and it lasts about four hours. I could call and see if there’s room if you’re interested?’ He raced on before she could reply. ‘It only runs for another week or so before they close for the winter. We could get a bite of lunch somewhere nearby when we’re done.’ Finally he stopped and gazed hopefully at her.
‘Are you asking me on a date, Mr Chambers?’
Tom’s skin became red above his shirt collar. He straightened to his full height and fixed her with his deep, chocolate-brown eyes. ‘Yep, I do believe I am. How about it?’
Fee had thought her days of being shy around men were long behind her but she felt sixteen again. ‘Yes, please.’ The feathered smile lines around his eyes deepened and she reached out and took hold of his hands. Neither of them said a word as she ran her fingers over the marks of his outdoor life; the calluses and multitude of tiny scars hinting at his story. Fee lifted her gaze to meet his gleaming eyes and softly pressed her lips against his, aware of the faint scent of bacon and coffee overlaid by a layer of mint toothpaste.
‘Honey, I won’t get out the door if you keep doin’ that.’ His raspy voice sent a shiver of desire trickling down her spine.
‘Of course you will although maybe not quite as soon as you intended.’ Fee murmured, unable to resist wrapping her arms around his neck. ‘You wouldn’t deny a lady a kiss to greet the day would you?’
Tom sighed. ‘Not sure I can deny you anything and believe me I’ve tried.’
‘Me too. It works both ways.’
‘Good.’ He circled her slim waist with his broad hands and pressed her against him. Fee loved the fact there was nothing weak and insubstantial about this man. Tom lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her with no hint of the diffidence he’d shown a few minutes earlier. ‘You’re this way all over aren’t you? Sweet and so soft,’ he murmured. He stopped kissing her and frowned. ‘Does it frighten you too?’
Tom’s honesty rendered her speechless. ‘Yes,’ she whispered and a relieved smile crept over his rugged face.
‘Good. Do you want to take a chance on gettin’ frightened together?’ Tom asked.
Fee kept her reply to a simple nod. Sometimes less was more.
Chapter Fifteen
Tom watched indulgently as Fee took yet another photo of the weathered, old barn. They’d been lucky to get the last two seats available for today’s tour. His intrepid companion grasped his hand more than once on the hour long drive most of which was along a steep, winding one-track road. The park ranger escorting them was a descendent of the original owners of the land who had sold it to the Hensley family and everyone was enjoying his interesting stories.
‘How many people lived here?’ Fee asked their guide.
‘About 150 at its height and nearly all of them were related to the Hensley family by either blood or marriage. They never had electricity or indoor plumbing and were pretty much self-sufficient.’ The man grinned. ‘It’s been said there was more than a little moonshine made here but you didn’t hear that from me. I’d take a guess they needed something to barter with the folks down the mountain for the things they couldn’t make themselves.’
As the rest of the group walked on to see inside the next restored cabin Fee lingered by the long split-rail fence built to keep out deer and bears. She framed a shot out over the rolling fields.
‘The fog’s lifting. Look how the colours are starting to glow.’ She tossed him a satisfied smile. Fee’s enthusiasm was infectious and he loved seeing the familiar place through her fresh, observant eyes. ‘Next time I’ll bring a decent camera. This thing frustrates me.’ Fee glared at the offending object but carried on taking more pictures.
‘I’m surprised you didn’t bring your regular one along with you.’ Her smile disappeared and Tom wished he could rip out his tongue, unsure what he’d said to upset her. ‘Forget it. None of my business.’
She lowered the camera and touched his arm. ‘It’s okay. My therapist persuaded me not to bring a camera on this trip. He says I’ve been hiding behind a lens for too long and need to face people and life without it.’ Her monotone voice made it clear she didn’t agree.
‘Sounds crazy to me. It’s what you do.’
‘I almost asked him how he’d like having his medical license taken away, but I didn’t.’ A hint of a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. ‘I disobeyed and bought this a few days after I arrived. I’m going to buy a better camera tomorrow before this one makes me scream.’
‘Good idea.’ Tom noticed the guide waving at them. He was bec
koning for them to come and rejoin the group. ‘Let’s go.’
They finished the tour by seeing the tiny one-room schoolhouse with its plain wood and cast iron desks and wood-burning stove and ended at the family cemetery with its poignant, worn headstones. The last person buried here was Sherman Hensley, the original founder, who’d been forced off the mountain in 1951 because none of his family wanted to stay there and he couldn’t manage on his own. Tom admired the fact he’d stubbornly insisted on being brought back up the mountain to be buried by his late wife in 1979 and chosen his own epitaph “When we all get to Heaven”. He was pretty sure Sherman had cordoned off a separate corner for his family.
‘Time to stop dreaming. Are you ready for another hair-raising drive?’ Fee spoke nearby and Tom was startled back to awareness.
‘I should be asking you that question,’ he said with a laugh. ‘I didn’t grip onto you as if my life depended on it.’
‘I wasn’t that bad,’ she protested. ‘Anyway it’s better than going by horse or walking. No wonder the women rarely left the mountain.’
‘It’ll be getting cold soon.’ Tom slipped his arm around her shoulder. ‘You goin’ to do a Nancy Gibbons and knit some thick wool socks to see me through the winter?’ He’d seen her horrified face when their guide told them about the poor woman who knitted two pairs for everyone in her immediate family each winter. A total of fifty-six socks.
‘Knit your own or go to Wal-Mart.’ Her pithy remark, accompanied by a sharp poke to the ribs made Tom chuckle.
‘Yes, ma’am.’ He sneaked a quick kiss. ‘Come on. Get on the bus and think about the good lunch I’ll reward you with when we survive the journey.’
‘I’m sure you’ve planned out where we’re going. Food is usually a priority with you.’
‘I might’ve done,’ Tom admitted. ‘If you don’t mind us driving about twenty minutes or so we can refuel at Boone’s Country Store. They’ve got good Southern cooking and free Wi-Fi. I could do with checking my emails because I’ll miss goin’ into town today.’
‘Of course. I probably ought to catch up too.’
‘No problem.’ He nodded. ‘They won’t be overrun because it’ll be well past most people’s lunchtime by the time we get there.’ Tom helped Fee onto the bus and they settled into their same seats at the back of the bus. They chatted to the other tourists and the drive down seemed to go quickly.
As soon as they parked in front of the restaurant Fee pulled her camera out. ‘It’s gorgeous. Is the building original?’
‘Yeah, mostly. It was used as a store when the pioneers were going through this area heading west. For a long time it fell out of use and then was rebuilt using as much of the original materials as possible. The wood is mainly eastern hemlock.’
She gave him a shrewd look. ‘That means a lot to you doesn’t it?’
Tom tried to explain the lure of preserving the past in a good way and the strong links he felt with his own courageous ancestors who’d made their way over the Appalachian Mountains from North Carolina in the early nineteenth century. ‘The more I discover about them I find out an equal amount about myself.’ She didn’t look convinced. ‘I’m guessin’ you don’t feel the same way?’
Fee shrugged. ‘Not really. Partly because I don’t have anywhere I really “come from” plus I’ve seen people the world over fighting and losing their lives over small areas of land. I can never quite understand why. If I’m not content in one place I move somewhere else.’
For a few seconds he wasn’t sure how to reply. Tom hesitated to put into words his theory that part of Fee’s problems stemmed from not belonging anywhere and having no family to keep her solid and grounded. ‘We’re all different I guess.’ Tom left it at that although it felt dishonest. ‘You ready to go in for lunch?’
‘I certainly am. Lead on.’ It was clear she knew what he was doing but wasn’t ready to have the conversation either.
They were fortunate enough to get a table by the window looking out over the beautiful countryside saturated in the vibrant colours of fall. Tom always thought it was a toss-up between this and spring for his favourite seasons. If pushed he’d have to plump for fall because there was something brave about the defiant splash of colour before the onset of winter.
Tom read the menu and was immediately a happy man. ‘Today’s special is fried pork chops, mashed potatoes, creamed corn and turnip greens. Don’t tell Aunt Ina but the chops are better than hers,’ he confided.
‘Do they have anything else, only…’
‘Only what?’
‘I’m not supposed to eat a lot of fatty foods,’ she apologised. ‘Over the last few years I developed a stomach ulcer mainly down to stress and need to be sensible about my diet.’
‘Is it painful?’
‘It can be if I ignore it.’
‘So pepperoni pizza with extra cheese is out then?’ Tom teased.
‘Unless I want to wind up at the nearest hospital I’d have to go with a yes.’
He glanced back at the menu. ‘They’ve got a hearty vegetable soup or a choice of sandwiches.’
‘The soup will be perfect and maybe a wholegrain roll. You order what you want, it doesn’t bother me.’
Tom didn’t argue. The pull of excellent pork chops was too strong. ‘Okay.’
Half an hour later Tom pushed his chair back so he could stretch out his over-stuffed body. He’d succumbed to the lure of the cook’s famous apple cake with homemade vanilla ice cream for dessert and was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to move for a week.
‘Will that keep starvation at bay for a few hours?’ Fee teased.
‘Maybe.’ He poured a generous measure of cream into his coffee before pulling out his phone. ‘You sure you don’t mind?’
‘I told you it was fine. I’m going to do the same.’ Fee assured him and retrieved hers from the battered tan leather tote she told him had done more miles than most airplanes. He took her at her word and started to check through his accumulated messages.
She deleted the mountains of spam and narrowed the rest down to half a dozen she might actually want to read. Fee sighed as one name leapt out.
‘Is something wrong?’
She glanced up to meet Tom’s worried eyes. ‘Not really but I’ve got a message from my mother.’ Was Maddy really not going to abandon the idea of playing happy families with Allain Dupre after all these years?
‘Do you want me to read it for you?’ he asked.
‘I’m not helpless.’ Tom flinched and she regretted her sharp reply. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s alright.’
Fee glanced down at her phone.
‘Just because it’s called a smartphone I don’t think it’ll read itself, sweetheart. Can you imagine what the folks at the Hensley settlement would’ve thought of all this modern technology? Sometimes I wonder who’s better off.’
‘You are. Trust me.’ Her vehemence poured out. ‘I’ve seen enough people living in primitive conditions, women dying in childbirth, kids not making it past their first birthdays and people scrubbing their clothes in a dirty river to know it sucks. Don’t let anyone tell you they’re happy and content with their lot in life because it’s rubbish. If you offered them a washing machine, decent health care and electricity they wouldn’t give a crap about sticking with the traditional ways.’ Fee’s frustration demolished the filter she usually kept firmly in place. She became aware of the other diners openly staring at her.
‘I know, honey. I didn’t mean it literally.’
‘Sorry. I’ve forgotten how to behave.’
‘You’ve got nothing to apologise for.’ Tom squeezed her hands. ‘You still feel deeply for people and after all you’ve been through I’d say that’s huge.’
Tears blurred her vision and Tom passed over a fresh white linen handkerchief. He didn’t say a word while she removed her glasses and wiped her eyes.
‘Do you want to get out of here? We could sit on the porch.’
She nodded
and Tom caught the waitress’s eye to get the bill. After he paid they gathered their things and went to sit together on an old wood swing. For several minutes they swung idly without talking and the gentle silence finally loosened her tongue.
‘I felt so deeply for the people I photographed it was slowly killing me and Pierre’s death was the final straw. I still feel guilty for giving up but I wasn’t doing any good.’
‘Sometimes we have to know when to quit,’ Tom said firmly. ‘You’ll find another way to be useful. I couldn’t be a cop any more after Gina died because I felt the system let me down.’
‘How did we get to this from me checking my phone?’
‘Hey, don’t fret. I appreciate your honesty. I’ve never been one to pussyfoot around.’
She planted a kiss on his generous mouth and Tom’s face lit up. She’d never met such an easy-going man before with no agenda or expectations. Fee warned herself not to be reckless. She mustn’t dive in headfirst again no matter how tempted she was.
‘Phone.’ Tom reminded her and she remembered why they’d come out here in the first place. Fee opened her mother’s email.
Call me, Freebird. I need to talk to you.
She couldn’t hide all this from Tom. ‘There’s another reason I came to America.’ Before she lost her nerve Fee told him about her mother’s recent phone call. ‘Apparently she had a brief thing with this Allain Dupre in London while he was on holiday from his American university. After he left she discovered she was pregnant but didn’t tell him.’ Fee shrugged. ‘He returned to London again later that year to find she was pregnant and wanted to marry her.’
‘Why didn’t she?’
‘She claims she lied to him about her due date and insisted it wasn’t his baby.’
Tom frowned. ‘Why? I don’t get it.’
‘According to her, Allain was engaged to a girl called Ellen when they first met and my mum didn’t want to spoil his life.’ So she spoiled mine instead. ‘She convinced Allain that Will Sawyer was my father.’
Christmas at Black Cherry Retreat Page 9
