Mountain Sanctuary (5 page)

“I understand, boss,” he said, his expression a mixture of disappointment and anticipation. “And since I like it here and I like this job so far, I agree. I wouldn’t want to get fired for being too forward with my employer.”

“Good, then we understand each other.”

“Completely.”

She didn’t see that understanding in his eyes, however, and she regretted that she had to be so firm with him. But the man was just as tempting as those wonderful cookies. And she was way too needy right now to think clearly. Best to avoid any kind of tangled, sticky situations. Best to put her loneliness and her fears out of her mind and concentrate on getting this place back up to the standards her mother had once held for the inn. Standards her daughter had obviously never met.

Adam shifted around toward the front of the house. “Guess I’ll just go to my room, like a good little boy.”

That made her snicker. “That’s right. Take a long time-out.”

He shook his head, then smiled over his shoulder. “You are one tough taskmaster.”

“I know,” she said, “but, Adam…?”

He turned, his eyes rich and dark with questions. “Yes, ma’am?”

“I do appreciate all you’ve done. I think you’re going to be a big help to me in saving this place.”

“And that’s important to you, right?”

She nodded, her gaze touching on the old, eccentric decor and the faded cabbage rose wallpaper. “Yes, it is, for some strange reason.”

Lowering his head, he gave her another one of those level, dark-eyed stares. “Then I’m your man.”

Before she could form the words to reply to that particular choice of words, he was gone, the echo of his boots hitting against the hardwood floor of the parlor before she heard the sound of a door shutting toward the front of the house.

“You can’t be my man,” she whispered. “And I need to remember that.”

And because that realization made her sad and left her wanting, she grabbed another cookie and headed to her own room. At least she could enjoy his cooking, if nothing else.

“I
need a favor.”

Adam turned, holding on to the ladder, to find Stella standing on the ground below. “What kind of favor?”

She tossed her long ponytail over her shoulder, then crossed her arms. “I’ve got to take Papa to see the heart doctor this afternoon. It was the only appointment we could get.” She let out a long sigh. “He has a bad heart and bad knees. He was in construction for years on end—worked too hard most of the time and now he’s paying for it. Do you mind helping out?”

“No, I can watch the inn.”

“I need you to watch Kyle, too. Do you mind?”

Adam came down the ladder, then wiped his brow with the sleeve of his T-shirt. “No, I don’t mind. Not at all. Me and the boy’ll be just fine.”

“He’s a handful and he’ll try to get out of doing his lessons,” Stella said, shading her eyes from the bright sun. “He rides home with a friend of mine who lives around the corner. She has a son a couple of years older than Kyle. He’ll want a snack, then he knows to do his homework.”

“They have homework at his age?”

She laughed. “Just word pictures and learning how to write correctly. And maybe some light reading.”

Adam let out a sigh. “Guess I don’t know much about kids.”

She grinned. “Didn’t you say you came from a big family?”

“Yep. Two sisters and a baby brother.” He didn’t want to go into detail, though.

Stella’s laughter rang out over the still backyard. “Two sisters? No wonder you know how to handle women.”

He watched as realization caused her freckled skin to turn a pale pink. And he couldn’t help but add to her discomfort. “So you think I know how to handle women, huh?”

She looked everywhere but at him. “I didn’t mean it exactly in that way, Callahan.” She shrugged. “It’s just that…well, you’ve seen me at my very worst—having a hissy fit in the middle of the kitchen—”

“You were having a bad day.”

She laughed. “You could say that. But that’s the thing. I don’t like having bad days. I’m not one for a lot of feminine theatrics. That was more my mother’s way of handling things. You know, high drama on a daily basis.”

“I’ve seen lots of feminine theatrics in my day, that’s for sure, so, yeah, I get it. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t entitled every now and then. And I’m sure not gonna hold it against you.”

“That’s what I mean. You handled the situation with tact and understanding. I’m not used to tact and understanding.”

She looked so uncomfortable, he regretted teasing her. “Hey, it’s okay. We all have meltdowns now and then.”

“Not me,” she said, shaking her head. “I was always the one who had to keep things together, at least when my mother was still around. Then after she left, I had to grow up really fast just to help my daddy. I don’t have meltdowns.”

He leaned against the ladder, hoping to hear more of the story. “So you took care of things, right?”

She nodded. “Can you see a pattern here? I took care of things whenever my parents would fight. I’d cook and clean, hoping to impress my mother. But she never noticed. Then after she left, I took care of things, trying to help my daddy. He was too brokenhearted to notice.” Pushing at her bangs, she looked down at the flower bed. “Then I married Lawrence. He was too good to be true—literally. So I had to learn how to take care of him, in order to keep him, or so I thought. That is, until I wised up on that account. After I had Kyle, I only wanted to take care of my son and protect him. And now, things are coming full circle. Kyle’s daddy left me brokenhearted and with a pile of bills, so Kyle, bless his heart, thinks he has to take care of me. I aim to break that particular pattern.” She shrugged. “I just want my son to be a little boy for a while longer.”

Adam lifted off the ladder. He wanted to touch her, to push her long bangs away from her face. But he held back. “So what you’re telling me is that you’re a very good person, but you’re tired of being the ‘go-to’ girl?”

That made her smile, but it looked forced and unsure. “You might say that. Right now, I’m torn in three directions with taking care of my daddy, my son and this place.” She held up a hand. “And normally, I’m not one to complain—”

“You need a spiritual advisor,” Adam said, trying to help.

“Excuse me?” She looked as if she’d seen something disturbing, the way her eyes went wide with fear.

“Church,” Adam replied. “I meant to explain that to you a little better the other day. I’ll always be in church on Sunday, after breakfast. I just need that hour or so to regroup. Hope you don’t mind.”

Stella shifted on her espadrilles, her wide-legged capri pants falling around her calves. “It’s not like I’m going to dock your pay, or something. To each his own.”

“You don’t do church at all?”

She shook her head. “Church hasn’t done very much for me. I’ve learned I can only count on myself.”

Surprised at the determination in her eyes, he asked, “So you don’t believe in God?”

“Oh, I believe in Him, but I’m not so sure He believes in me. No one else except my daddy ever has.”

Adam’s heart hurt for the pain he saw in her eyes. This pain went deeper than any hissy fit or meltdown. This seemed to stem from a lifelong acceptance and understanding of hard luck and bad things happening. No wonder her mood changed so quickly from minute to minute. She wasn’t centered in Christ.

Adam felt his faith returning twofold as he stood there, wanting Stella to feel the same way. How could he have ever doubted that God had a plan for him, after all?

“Have you ever stopped to think that God does believe in you, Stella? I mean, you have to see the blessings in life to understand that it’s not all bad.”

She glanced around. “I don’t see any blessing here, sorry.”

Adam couldn’t let that slide. He grabbed her hand. “C’mon.”

She balked and pulled away. “I’ve got laundry to fold. We’ve got a couple from Dallas checking in today. They want the Morning Glory room and you know that one requires special treatment.”

The Morning Glory room was pretty and apparently very special. It was the large turret room at the back of the house on the second floor, complete with a big brass bed and morning-glory-sprinkled wallpaper and white lacy curtains. Stella liked to put fresh flowers in the room to greet the guests, chocolate candy on the pillows and fresh soap and good-smelling linens in the bath, just as they did with every room. But she was especially picky about that room for some strange reason. She fussed with fluffing the pillows and polishing the gleaming oak furniture. And, he remembered, one of her mother’s paintings hung over the fireplace in that room. This one was of a surprised morning glory looking down on a white picket fence as if it wanted to escape its boundaries. Adam sure knew that feeling.

“I’ll help you get the room ready,” he said. “Right now, you need a break.”

She gave him a curious, cautious look. “What are you going to show me, Adam?”

“The things you can’t see,” he replied. He took her hand again, glad she didn’t pull away this time.

Stella couldn’t imagine what Adam had in mind, but then she was fast learning that this quiet, unassuming man wasn’t all macho flash. He might have been a tough-guy cop back in New Orleans, but she could see that Adam Callahan had a gentle streak a mile long. Hadn’t she witnessed that gentleness firsthand with the way he treated her son and her daddy? And
her,
she reminded herself, the warmth of his fingers wrapped against hers as solid as the sun shining down on them. He had always been very gentle with her. Which made him a paradox in Stella’s eyes. And made her wonder what it would be like to spend time with such a man.

Bad idea, she reminded herself. Very bad idea. She didn’t have time for daydreams or gentleness. She had to keep working, keep going.

And besides, she could see that he was all gung ho about religion. Just another surprising twist to the man who’d showed up at her door looking for a room.

He brought her to a halt in front of the white wooden fence at the back of the property. “Can you see it?” he asked, excitement coloring his eyes.

Stella let out a tolerant sigh. “I see a fence with cracking, peeling paint. I see honeysuckle vines that are probably teeming with spiders and snakes. We probably need to clear out some of those weeds. I see—” She stopped. “What was that noise?”

Adam held a finger to his lips. “Listen,” he whispered.

Stella heard it again. A series of tiny chirping sounds. “Are those birds?”

Adam nodded, then pointed to one of the ancient honeysuckle vines. “Look right inside that big branch there.”

Stella leaned forward, then put a hand to her mouth. “Baby doves?”

“Sure is,” he said, grinning. “I’ve been watching the mama for days now. She comes and goes. The daddy, too, I think. They’ve been watching over their little ones. If you listen real early in the morning, you can hear them cooing to each other, calling out.”

Stella couldn’t stop the tears forming in her eyes. “That’s so sweet.”

“And that’s why I haven’t cleared this part of the yard yet,” he explained. “I’m giving them time to find their wings.”

Stella sniffed, then inhaled a breath of sweet honeysuckle. “That is very considerate of you, but what’s this got to do with religion?”

He tugged her away from the bushes. “This isn’t about religion, Stella. This is about God. This is about life. You want to protect your little one, same as the doves. God is trying to do the same thing for you.”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, turning to stomp back toward the house, afraid she’d burst into tears if she actually bought into his way of thinking. “And right now,
I’ve
got things to take care of. But thanks for the Bible lesson, Callahan.”

He caught up with her in the middle of the yard, spinning her around, a look of frustration in his silvery-blue eyes. “You are sure one stubborn woman, do you know that?”

Because she was confused, she mimicked him. “This has nothing to do with stubborn, Adam. This is about having to be responsible, having to keep going. This is about knowing you can only depend on yourself.”

His hands on her arms, he asked, “What got you so all-fired cynical and bitter?”

Stella looked up at him, wishing she had his faith and his courage. But she was too tired to even try and find any strength. “Look around,” she said. “My father is old and ill. My son is confused and way to smart for his age. He’s seen too much in his short life, too much pain and chaos. And me, I’ve seen the way human beings can hurt each other. I don’t see God in that picture. I’m sorry, Adam, but I don’t.”

“Then you’re looking in all the wrong places,” he retorted. “You saw that little nest. Those birds don’t think about things. They just trust in God. He has His eyes on the sparrow.”

“Yeah, well, what if a big old hungry cat comes along and eats their babies?” It was mean, she knew, but it was also realistic.

“They’ll still have each other,” he said, his hand stroking her bare arm. “And they’ll still have God.”

“And that’s supposed to bring them comfort? That’s supposed to bring me comfort, Adam? I don’t think so.”

She watched as he hesitated for a few pulse beats, then pulled her close, so that she was forced to look into his eyes. “Listen to me, Stella. I think God puts us in certain places for a reason. And maybe…maybe he put me here in this place to help you.”

Confusion and a solid fear rattled her system. “So you rode in on your white horse to rescue the damsel in distress? And throw in a Bible lesson, too? You really are too good to be true, you know that?”

He shook his head, but held her steady. “No, I’m not as good as you seem to think. I walked up, tired and beaten, looking for a room in the inn. And I found you. I’m saying maybe we can help each other. Comfort each other.”

Stella saw a raw hope, coupled with a deep need, in his beautiful eyes. But she wasn’t ready to fall for a pretty man with pretty words again just yet. “You
are
helping me, Adam. You
work
for me. And we’re burning daylight, standing here having a heavy discussion about the true meaning of life. I get it—I need to look at the bright side. Except so far, I haven’t seen one.”

He pushed away, throwing her a defiant look. “Okay, then. Just be that way. Be all negative and gloomy. But just remember, while you’re wallowing in all that self-pity, the world is still spinning away and you just might be missing out on some of the best things in your life.”

Stella knew he was right, but she couldn’t bring herself to give him the satisfaction of figuring her out in such a short time. “Yeah, well, while you’re out there smelling the roses and seeing the beauty of things, stop and remember that life isn’t always beautiful, Adam. You of all people should know that. I’m sure you saw some ugly stuff being a cop in a big city.”

He came stalking back then, and Stella had to swallow. The man sure looked intimidating when he frowned.

Getting too close, he pointed a finger in her face. “I saw the worst of life down there, especially after the hurricanes. You get it? I saw things no man should ever have to see, but I still believe in the hope of life.” Then he pointed toward the back fence. “I believe just as those birds believe. I
know
He has His eye on the sparrow.” Then he stood back, letting out a shaking breath. “How else could I survive, Stella? How could any of us survive without the hope of Christ to sustain us? Think about it. You need some hope in your life. That’s all I’m saying.”

Stella watched, her eyes burning, as he stomped up the porch steps then slammed the back door behind him. She watched and she listened, her mind brimming with a need to call out to him to help her see things his way.

Oh, how she longed for a bit of hope. How she craved a place to just cradle her head, a strong, dependable shoulder to cry on. But she’d been taking care of business for so long now, she didn’t know how to let go and rely on anyone else. Especially God. Especially an interesting, enticing man who seemed to be the exact opposite of everything she’d always known. Where was her hope? How had she lost her joy?