Chapter Five #2
Angelica refused to let her smile wobble, but the comment hurt. She’d thought he’d done more than stand in for the older man.
Rising, she avoided Kirk’s eyes and headed for the table.
“It looks like a feast,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.
She needed to remember why she was here. It wasn’t to flirt with Kirk Devon.
He stood behind her in line.
“Meet everybody?” he asked as she added some salad to her plate.
“Yes, thank you.”
She moved on to one of the casseroles.
“You going to play in the festival?”
“Probably not.”
She moved on, wishing someone would engage Kirk in conversation. She didn’t want him to feel he had to stick with her.
“Why not?”
“My type of music isn’t really what people down here want to hear.”
“Music’s music,” he murmured.
She glanced at his plate. It looked as if it held enough food to feed a family of four.
“Are you going to eat all that?” she asked, startled.
Compared to his plate, hers looked like it belonged to an anorexic.
“You going to eat only that?” he countered. “You’re going to hurt some feelings if you don’t have a helping of most everything.”
She blinked, then began taking a spoonful from each dish. “Better?”
“Only if you eat it as well,” he said, pushing against her a little.
The touch zinged through her like lightning. She felt her knees grow weak.
“Don’t push,” she whispered.
“Say again?” he said, leaning closer to hear her.
She stared into his dark brown eyes, awareness spiking to an all-time high. She wanted to drop her plate, put her arms around him and kiss him until she forgot her name.
Sanity returned. She stepped along, stopping to get a glass of the ubiquitous iced tea and then looking for a place to sit.
“Gina saved us places,” Kirk said by her right ear.
She spotted her new friend waving and headed in that direction. “You don’t have to babysit me all day,” she said to Kirk.
“No hardship on my part,” he replied easily.
Then he greeted others at the long picnic table.
Gina made introductions to the people Angelica hadn’t met.
When the conversation turned to music, Angelica took notice.
It sounded like the festival would be exactly what she was looking for.
And she could easily stay until the end of August, the money she’d brought would stretch that far—especially as she was living for free right now in Webb Francis’s house.
After lunch, the men resumed their work on the structure.
The roof was on, siding going up, and inside she could hear hammering and sawing.
Once the food had been put away, or carried off by those having to leave early, Angelica walked over to the barn, peering inside to see what was going on there.
It wasn’t as bright as in the sunshine, so it took her a few minutes to get used to the dimness. Spotting Kirk using a table saw, she carefully walked over.
He cut board after board while one of the men stacked the pieces until he had several, then carried them over to where she could see they were separating space with stalls.
Kirk looked over and saw her.
“I came to see what you were doing,” she said.
He tilted his head slightly.
“This wood is for the stalls, isn’t it?” she asked.
“We’ll do as much as we can today. I think we’ll finish if everyone working stays until it’s done.”
“Carrie said you’re donating your time and expertise,” she said watching as different men did different tasks. It looked like a choreographed production.
“All of us are donating time for this. Traditions like that go back to the founding of the country. Ben bought the material, we’re just putting it together.”
She nodded, trying to find a similar situation in her own life where people gave freely of time and ability and got nothing in return except the satisfaction of helping a neighbor. Granted, her parents donated to charities, but never put themselves out beyond that to help.
Neither had she, she realized with some shame. There must have been some time she had, but nothing came to mind.
Except—maybe the children who had come to her at Webb Francis’s house.
She hadn’t wanted to give them lessons, but Kirk had seen it as something to do.
She didn’t have to accept money from Teresa Ann’s mother.
She could teach her and Sam for nothing.
She thought about it for a minute. She wasn’t a teacher, yet she could share some of what she knew.
How hard would it be to give a little of her knowledge to two children so thirsty to learn?
She couldn’t build a barn, but she could help two children who would otherwise not have lessons until Webb Francis was back.
“Excuse me, miss,” one man said, reaching around her to take the freshly sawed board.
“I think I’m in the way,” she said.
“Stand over there if you want to watch for a while. You and Gina talked out?”
She nodded.
“She had to leave. I know more about the festival now. And how I can help Sam better. He wants to play in it.”
She wanted to share her newly made decision about teaching the boy, but now was not the time.
Instead, she watched as Kirk swiftly measured lengths of lumber, drew a straight line cross the grain and then sawed through in a second.
As fast as he cut, others would take up the board and place it between stalls and hammer them in.
The men moved smoothly as if they’d worked together before and knew each others’ routine.
“They make it look easy,” she said.
“It is, once you know what you’re doing,” he said, then the saw screamed again as it bit through the wood.
“You’ve done this before, then,” she said at another quiet moment.
He nodded, without stopping.
“I saw America working my way through building projects.”
Another cut, another board. When Angelica looked at the stall, it was almost complete. Framing was going up for another. As Kirk had said, the barn would be completed today, she suspected. The men of Smoky Hollow had done an amazing amount of work in one day.
“I think I’ll catch a ride back to the library,” she said a minute later.
With her new decision, she wanted to see if there were any books that might give her a hint of how to teach children music.
“Take my truck.”
He paused long enough to fish the keys out of his pocket and tossed them to her. They were still warm from his body. She clenched them tightly in her hand, wondering if she could drive that truck. It looked larger than the car she drove when in Boston.
“Turn right out of the driveway and keep on until you reach the library. You know the way home from there,” he said, selecting another board.
“How will you get back?”
“I’ll hitch a ride.” He looked at her. “Or you can come back in a couple of hours and pick me up.”
“I can come back after four. Sam’s coming over today to practice. And maybe Teresa Ann.”
“Your class is growing.”
She shrugged. It wasn’t really a class, just a couple of kids who wanted to learn—as she had back when she’d been their age.
“I’ll be back after four.”
“I’ll be here.”
Angelica stopped at the yard to tell Carrie goodbye and let her know she’d be back for Kirk.
“One day we’ll have to have lunch and you can tell me all about New York. I’ve never been, seems a long ways from here. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know everything.”
Others called out to her as she was leaving, smiling and waving. She felt a curious connection after only one day with the people she’d met.
It was closer to five than four when Angelica turned back into the driveway.
The barn looked complete. She wasn’t sure how the inside fared, but the only thing left on the outside was to paint it.
There were men sprawled everywhere in the yard, obviously tired and relaxing after a full day of work.
She spotted Kirk instantly. He sat on the ground, one leg bent, his arm resting on his knee.
He was talking with two other men, each with a beer in hand.
He must have heard the truck because he turned.
Angelica was caught by his smile when he saw her.
She pulled to a stop short of the group and opened the door.
Almost before she was on the ground, he was there.
He looked hot. She swallowed as her senses revved up around him, wishing she had the right to reach out and touch, hold on to him, feel his arms around her in a hug.
Blinking, she slid along the side of the truck, hoping she wasn’t giving away the fascination she had.
“Nary a scratch or dent,” she said, pushing against her inclination to step closer, and continuing to move toward the back.
“I didn’t expect one,” he said easily.
“Ready to leave?” she asked.
“I am. I’m beat. But we’re finished. A couple of guys are coming on Saturday to paint. Jason has a sprayer, should be able to complete it in a day. But that’s not my thing.”
He stepped closer.
She stepped back.
“I’ll get in the truck, then.”
And she almost ran around to the passenger door.
Kirk watched her, then with a wave and a shout goodbye, he climbed into the truck. The ride home was in silence.
Angelica clasped her hands tightly, as if holding on to her roiling emotions. She needed to get a grip. She was here to temporarily escape a life becoming too stressful and frenetic. She’d be leaving at the end of summer.
After talking with Gina, she was determined to stay for the music festival. It sounded like an event not to be missed to hear more of the folk music of Appalachia.
“How is Sam doing?” Kirk asked when he almost reached her driveway.
“He’s doing very well. I think he’ll be ready for the festival. And Teresa Ann loves playing. Even chords. I can see the delight shining in her eyes.”
“I know they appreciate your helping out.”
“Does Webb Francis give lessons?” she asked.
“When kids ask. He mostly plays for himself these days. He taught at the university for a while. But he’s retired now.”
He pulled into her driveway and stopped and looked at her.
“Are you going to play in the festival?” he asked.