Angel of Smoky Hollow

“Do you work?” she asked as they turned a corner. Ten feet ahead was the start of a sidewalk. They had arrived in the town proper.

“Sure.”

“You haven’t for the last three days.”

“Neither have you,” he replied.

“Are you on vacation, too?”

“Is this your vacation?”

She bit her lip and studied the buildings and storefronts as they walked by. “Sort of.” She was not going to explain. She wasn’t sure she could. The drudgery of constant practice and rehearsals, the limited social outlets, the pressure from her parents to achieve more and more had finally reached the point where she wasn’t sure about anything any more. Music had once enchanted her. Now it was a chore. Her escape was an attempt to find the joy in music again. Try something else. Find herself. She could not envision herself playing the violin to the exclusion of everything else for the next fifty years. Should she try another instrument? Think about another career? She was too tired to do any of that.

The town consisted of two main streets, intersected by cross streets for five blocks. The predominant vehicles parked at the curb were dusty pickup trucks. Except for a couple of men talking in front of the bank, and a woman farther down the block gazing into one of the windows, the place seemed deserted. She really had arrived at another world.

“Where are all the people?” she asked.

“Mostly at work, I expect.”

She glanced at him again. “What do you do for a living?”

“Construction. A little whittling. Whatever comes along. Library’s right here.” He held open one of the double doors leading into a single story framed building. The sign hanging from the overhanging roof simply said Library.

It was blessedly cool inside. Angelica’s spirits rose.

A round woman with a merry smile looked up from the front desk. “Good morning,” she sang out.

Angelica smiled involuntarily. The woman’s happiness was almost contagious.

“Mary Margaret, I’d like you to meet Angelica Cannon. She’s staying at Webb Francis’s while he’s in hospital. She plays the fiddle and wants to study some of the music played around here.”

“Welcome to Smoky Hollow. How’s Webb Francis doing?” she asked, looking first at Angelica and then Kirk.

“Mending. Angelica is from New York. Plays some.”

“I heard you have tapes of some of the music gatherings here. I’d like to listen to them some time,” Angelica expanded.

“We’ve got a fine media room, with a DVD player and CD players. Plus a VCR for old recordings. Or you can check them out and take them home with you. I know Webb Francis has a player.”

“I’m just visiting.”

“Well, with Webb Francis and Kirk vouching for you, I reckon you can get a temporary library card. Want to look now?”

“We’ll stop back by on the way home. Pick her out a couple if you would, Mary Margaret. She wants to hear mountain music.”

Mary Margaret laughed. “Well, she came to the right place for that. Come on in any time. I’m here most days.”

Angelica agreed and turned to follow Kirk when he headed out.

“No regular hours?” she asked once the door closed behind them.

“She’s here most of the time. If she’s not, folks just go in and help themselves, leaving her a note on which books they borrowed.”

Angelica didn’t use the public library much in New York, but she couldn’t imagine it operating the same way.

Kirk turned down one of the side streets and walked swiftly.

“Are we in a hurry?” she asked, catching her breath as she tried to keep up.

He stopped and looked at her. “Want to show you around like Webb Francis asked. Then you’re on your own.”

“I can manage now. I’ll talk with the librarian and get her recommendations. You’re off the hook.”

He looked up at the canopy of trees overhead, then down the road. “Not yet. I said I’d take you around and I will.”

“I absolve you of all obligations. Face it, it’s a chore and I don’t want to be a burden.”

“I said I’d do it.”

She didn’t move when he stepped forward. Turning, he waited.

“I can start at the library. Listen to the CDs. Talk to Mary Margaret and find out more about the festival, where to find music, what to look for. I don’t need a guide. For heaven’s sake, I’ve toured Europe.”

Not that that meant much. She had visited London, Paris and Moscow and never saw much except between the hotel and concert hall. She had never visited her own nation’s capital, much less seen more of the USA.

Primitive, that’s what she thought when she thought of Appalachia. A land where people kept to old ways and poverty had a stronghold. She hadn’t realized how pretty it was. Or how much she’d like the people she’d meet. They were genuine and honest, and friendly as could be.

“Come on, I don’t have all day,” he said, reaching out to take her arm.

She felt the touch like a live wire and jerked away. Feeling stupid with her reaction, she tried to cover it.

“It’s hot just like you said. I hadn’t expected it to be this warm.” What startled her was her own reaction. Taking a deep breath she tried to quell her roiling senses. She’d been touched before. She had had her share of crushes while growing up. She was a grown woman, not to be flustered by an impersonal touch, no matter how dynamic the man was. She would not start believing he was special. He was her reluctant guide to getting acquainted with Smoky Hollow, nothing more. Yet he continued to stare at her, as if waiting for more words. Heat washed through her at the intensity. She wanted to forget about the music, sit down with him and learn all she could about Kirk Devon.

She had to stop thinking like that! It was her own convoluted thought process had her confused. She wasn’t looking for complications—but simplicity. She wanted to study a different kind of music, see if she could recover her passion for playing. Or discover something else that would bring joy to her life. Not get hot and bothered watching a sexy Kentucky man who could barely stand to be around her.

Stalemate. They stared at each other, neither moving.

She didn’t know why she found him so appealing. He wore jeans, worn and faded after years of wear. His blue chambray shirt was opened at the throat with its sleeves rolled back. He looked totally different from the successful businessmen she was used to. He probably didn’t even own a suit. He was in his element, she was the fish out of water, yet something attracted her. The awareness of him grew each time they were together. She wanted to touch that throat, feel the heat of his skin against hers. Hear him laugh, learn what he liked and disliked.

“Coming or not?” he finally asked.

“I guess. But you don’t have to go out of your way to introduce me around. I can manage.”

“Be easier in a small town to have someone vouch for you.”

“Networking.” She nodded.

He laughed. “Big city girl.” He turned and walked away. After a moment, Angelica hurried to catch up.