Smoky Mountain Reunion

“Garrett.” He closed his eyes in shame. “That’s rude.”

Slurp.

“I try,” Mason told Nola. “But he’s a boy.”

She smiled. “A suitable explanation.” Glancing around the room, Nola shook her head. “I spent more than my share of time in here. Whenever I made trouble—and I made a lot of trouble in the first couple of years—a teacher would assign me kitchen duty. I developed into a terrific potato peeler.”

“That you were.” Mrs. Werner set a wide ceramic bowl covered with a cloth on the table. “Did you like my rolls tonight, Miss Nola?”

Before Nola could answer, the cook tugged her into a hug. Caught in the ample embrace, Nola’s slender body remained stiff. After a moment, she lifted a hand and patted the cook’s shoulder, then drew back, putting a good distance between them.

“Of course,” she said, cheeks pink, voice shaky. “Those rolls are even better than I remembered.”

“You should take a few with you.” Mrs. Werner turned to one of the cabinets. “I always have leftovers.”

“No, really…” But Nola’s voice died away as she was handed a paper package. “Thank you,” she said, blushing yet again. “I’ll enjoy them, I know.”

Mason pulled Garrett’s chair away from the table, then scooted it back in when his son stood up. “We’ll get out of your way,” he told Mrs. Werner. “’Night.”

“More rolls in the morning,” Mrs. Werner told Nola. “Come for breakfast.”

They left through the kitchen door and turned west, toward Pink’s Cottage. “I’ll need a new wardrobe when I leave here,” Nola said. “I’ll have gained fifty pounds eating these rolls.”

“You’ll get your share of exercise,” Mason said, watching Garrett sprint ahead of them. “The faculty still plays volleyball on Mondays and Wednesdays. You can join them.”

“I haven’t played in years,” she said. “I remember the student/faculty game my senior year, though. You spiked the ball practically down my throat. Scared me to death.”

Mason grinned. That had been a great hit. “The students won anyway.”

“Are you still playing?”

The answer wasn’t easy to give. “When Gail…” He cleared his throat. “There’s not as much time as there used to be. I don’t play anymore, either.”

“That’s too bad.” Her hand lifted as if to touch his arm, then fell back at her side.

They walked the rest of the way to her cottage in silence, with six feet of cool night air between them. When Mason opened the Pink’s Cottage garden gate, Nola stepped through, then turned to face him, closing the white picket panel between them.

“Thanks for the escort.”

“My pleasure.” His pleasure, indeed. The night’s shadows showed off the arches of her cheekbones, the squared curve of her chin, the provocative fullness of her lower lip. Mason made himself look away from Nola’s mouth and found himself caught in the glimmer of her pale eyes, shining almost silver in the darkness. She stood just a breath or two away, protected only by the flimsy barrier of the picket gate. A kiss would be so easy to give…to take….

“Hiiiyah!” Garrett yelled from somewhere behind him, battling imaginary aliens with his own brand of martial arts.

Nola jumped, and took a step backward. “He’s quite a handful. And a charmer to go along with it. I didn’t know children could be so easy to talk to.”

“Oh, yes.” Mason scrubbed a hand over his face, hoping to clear his brain. “Until you say no. Then he turns into the Incredible Sulking Child.”

Since sunset, the breeze had picked up, become an actual wind. Clouds veered across the sky, obscuring the stars, veiling the moon. “Here comes our rainy weather.”

Nola shivered inside her sweater. “But today was so beautiful!”

Mason rejected the urge to put himself between her and the cold. “The mountains are unpredictable. We’ve had snowstorms later in the spring than this. Hope you brought your raincoat and boots.” He glanced over his shoulder and called, “Come on, Garrett, let’s go.”

Even as he looked back toward Nola, he heard the door to Pink’s Cottage shut tight. The lock clicked into place. She’d gone inside without saying goodbye. He only wished he felt relieved.

Garrett ran up and tackled him around the waist. Apparently, all was now forgiven. “Where’s Ms. Shannon?”

“In her house, where we should be.” A Freudian slip, if ever there was one. “I mean, we should be in our house.”

His son didn’t notice the mistake. “I was gonna ask her to come over tomorrow to see the pond and the animals.”

Close call. Mason sighed. “Right now, you need to go to bed, get ready for your soccer game tomorrow.”

“Aw, Dad, do I hafta play?” Garret dropped his arms and trudged on alone, his head hanging low. “I don’t like the guys on the team. And the coach is mean. Can’t I stay home?”

Back to the old routine, Mason thought, blanking out the memory of Nola’s mysterious gaze in the moonlight. Thank God.

Chapter Four

Mason’s weather prediction proved drearily accurate. A sharp rain fell all day Saturday, and the outside temperature barely reached fifty degrees. With a well-stocked kitchen and a cord of wood for the fireplace right outside the back door, Nola felt no desire to stir from her cozy cottage. She got down to work, instead, using the lesson plans and notes from the teacher she’d replaced to prepare herself for her Monday-morning classes. Mathematics always filled her mind to the exclusion of everything else, so she didn’t think about Mason more than once…an hour.

The rain continued through the night and into Sunday morning. When she looked up from her papers around three in the afternoon, however, she saw sunshine glittering in the drops of water on the new leaves outside her window. Sticking her head out the door, she found the air brisk but not unbearable, especially since she’d just lived through one of the coldest winters on record for Boston.

So she pulled on the boots she had, in fact, brought with her, buttoned her raincoat over her sweater and set off for a walk in the wake of the storm.

She paused at the garden gate, remembering Friday night. For a moment, she’d thought Mason was going to kiss her. And for that moment, she’d certainly wanted him to. He’d kissed her on the cheek earlier that afternoon, and she’d loved the smoothness of his lips against her skin. How would it feel to have his mouth on hers?

But then he’d turned away to call Garrett and she’d taken the chance to escape before she did something stupid, like throwing herself into his arms. The man was dangerous. He should be avoided at all costs.

As Mason and his son had walked away, though, she’d watched through her cottage window. Wherever they lived, they’d continued in a westerly direction, past her cottage and on toward the woods.

For her Sunday walk, Nola headed due east.

Girls were emerging from the dormitory, most of them in groups, chattering with the energy of those who’d been confined inside too long. Several girls wore breeches and carried helmets, clearly planning a ride at the stables. As Nola passed the athletic fields, on the north side of the Manor, volleyballs were being batted around and tennis balls smacked against a backboard at one end of the courts. Runners jogged past her, giving a nod or a slight wave when she smiled. Hawkridge had always encouraged exercise as a way of releasing tension and lifting a bad mood. Nola supposed that was why she was out walking, herself.

She reached the head of Hawk’s Ridge Trail about half an hour after she left her cottage. By taking this path, she left the civilized portion of the school behind and stepped into wilderness—an old-growth forest full of trees whose lives spanned centuries. High above her head, spring leaves had just emerged. Nola wondered if anyone had been this way since last summer, since the fallen leaves from autumn still lay flat and wet on the trail.

She set as her goal the farthest point on Hawkridge property from the Manor, a walled overlook on the edge of the mountain. The path ran downhill to that point and then circled back. She could return the way she’d come or continue by the longer route, but either way would be a steady uphill climb. She’d see how she felt when she got there before deciding which way to go.

Nola slowed her steps and finally halted to gaze across the clearing at the wall on the side of the mountain—the wall where she embraced Mason in her dream.

But she’d never been in this place with Mason. That embrace had never happened, no matter how many nights she had lain in her lonely dormitory bed wishing it would. As for the dream, Nola considered it a reminder that she really needed to put the infatuation with Mason behind her, so she could move into the future with Ted.

Crossing to the wall, she looked over the valley below, seeing spring greens of every description in the treetops, a church spire here and there, the flash of water in the French Broad River. Bright sunlight streamed from a cloudless sky and a fresh breeze carried the scents of pine and earth.

And cigarette smoke.

Nola turned just as a girl came down the path, cigarette dangling from one hand. She had to be from Hawkridge, but smoking by students was strictly forbidden. Teachers were expected to enforce the rule and encouraged to abstain, themselves.