Chapter Seven #3
She reluctantly gave them the phone number.
She didn’t want them calling her every day trying to talk her into returning to New York.
But she could understand they wanted to be in touch.
Sorry to say, she hadn’t missed their presence in her life at all since she’d been in Smoky Hollow.
She had a freedom she’d never known before and she relished every moment.
Still, this was the longest she’d been out of touch with her parents. Gazing out the window she wondered why it had taken her so long to break free. She didn’t need nor want her parents dictating her every move. She was totally capable. From now on, she’d dictate her own destiny.
Angelica knew they only wanted what was best for her. Older when she’d been born, they had given up on having any children. So it was a double whammy—doting older parents and gifted child.
Restless, she changed her mind about going up to bed and went to practice the song she was planning to play in the festival.
It was complex enough to keep her fully engaged while playing, forcing out all worries and thoughts of the future.
There was only the bow, the strings and the fast pace to the music.
After an hour, she put down the violin. She was getting better all the time, but would anyone really care?
She walked over to the window to look at Kirk’s house, remembering his kiss at the end of their date.
She’d had such fun that day. The Ferris wheel had given them an aerial view of the fairgrounds.
The different music had enforced her decision to get more variety into her musical repertoire.
And she couldn’t wait to have cotton candy again.
Yet who knew the touch of two lips could set off a firestorm? And she hadn’t a clue what to do about it. On the one hand, she wanted more. To see if every time he kissed her she about melted in desire. Or would she grow used to them? Would they lose their magical touch?
No lights showed at his house. He must have gone to bed. Which she should do. Then she saw the lights on in the building behind his house. Giving in to impulse, she went to see what he was doing.
The door to the building stood open, spilling light in a wide path.
Angelica stopped in the opening and stared at the workshop.
It was definitely not a garage. There were wooden statues and figurines against one wall.
Piled up in front of another wall were chunks of wood in various sizes.
In the center Kirk was chiseling from a huge block of raw wood.
She glanced at what he was doing but her attention was immediately drawn to the glowing statue of a mother and children toward the back.
Slowly she walked in and over to the wooden piece.
“This is amazing,” she said reaching out to gently touched the wood.
He swung around.
“What are you doing here?”
“This is your whittling? What an understatement. It’s amazing.” She marveled at the satin finish so smooth beneath her fingertips.
She knew he watched her. When she looked up, she met his gaze.
“These are beautiful.”
“Thanks.”
She walked along the finished pieces, reaching out to touch, unable to help herself.
The rich colors in the wood, the tones and shadows and highlights were startling in their clarity and highlighted the skill of the carver for each piece.
Time and again she was drawn back to the mother-and-children piece.
“Will this be sold in an art gallery?” she asked.
“Hope so. I have contacts to several across the South.”
“This is how you make your living, not construction or whittling. These are amazing.”
She walked over to the piece he was working on.
“What’s this going to be?”
“Woman on the precipice,” he said.
She could see the vague shape already chiseled from the wood. A bluff, a bank of trees growing back from the edge and on the edge the figure that was rough cut at best.
“Can I watch you work?” she asked, fascinated by the amazing talent he had. She’d never suspected.
“Pretty boring. I shave small bits off, see how it looks, do more,” he said, looking back at the work in progress.
“How long will this take to finish?”
She walked around it looking at it from all angles.
She wouldn’t have the first clue on how to do something like this.
She looked at Kirk. He looked back, the same man who had teased her at the fair, had shared corn dogs and held her on the Ferris wheel when he’d rocked the car causing her to squeal in mock alarm.
Her heart caught in her throat. The same man who had confused her more than anyone with their goodbye kiss earlier.
“Several weeks,” he said.
Angelica looked around and spotted a stool. She brought it closer and sat on it.
“Ignore me.”
She kept her eyes on the wood, hoping he’d let her stay. She was fascinated this virile man did such delicate work. Glancing at the mother again she noted the serene look about the face, even without minute details. It could be any mother. Perhaps that added to the appeal.
She couldn’t wait to see how he finished this piece.
Once he started it was obvious he could ignore her and focus on the work.
She watched him, fascinated as his large hands did such precision work.
The tools looked tiny, the gouging and chiseling precise and controlled.
His hands were scarred. She thought from construction.
Now she knew it was more likely from slips from the chisel or other tools.
The patience and care he took removing bits of wood seemed ageless.
If she were doing it, she’d rush through to completion.
But it wouldn’t be as amazing as Kirk’s art pieces were.
The only sound was the soft tap of the hammer against the chisel.
He changed to a gouge, worked some with that.
Then took a piece of sandpaper and rubbed lightly, studying the area from several different angles.
She could almost see the tree take shape, the detail on the leaves and branches startling.
If he did that with each tree blocked out, no wonder it took weeks to complete. But it’d be exquisite when finished.
“Where did you get the idea?” she asked.
He glanced at her.
“From you.”
“Me?” Angelica frowned. “I’ve never stood on the edge of a cliff.”
“You’re on one right now, if you think about it. Behind you is the forest of your past. Ahead, nothing familiar, nothing normal. You’re poised on the brink. Will you take a step out in faith and change your life? Or will you hesitate, then turn and reenter the forest of familiar?”
She stared at it a long moment.
“What do you think?” she asked.
Could she step out and find new fulfillment in life? Or was she destined to stay on the path her parents had laid out?
“You have accomplished great things for a woman your age. I think you’ll go back to the familiar.”
She wasn’t sure if she liked that idea or not.
On the other hand, this was a graphic example of what could happen if she went forward—there would be a drop and splat and she’d be done.
Kirk wondered what she’d say to his assessment.
Came from years of experience. There were only a few hearty souls who found the happiness in life in this small town.
Those who farmed the land and passed it down from generation to generation, like Ben and Carrie.
Or those who had seen what the rest of the world had to offer and selected this town, like he had and Webb Francis.
He didn’t judge her. He wanted her to be happy and suspected the familiar route was the best way for her to go. This visit was merely a slight detour in her life’s road. One she might remember for years, but wouldn’t significantly alter anything.
“Were you ever on a precipice?” she asked.
“Sure, everyone goes through that stage, don’t you think?”
He picked up a wide flat blade and worked some on the cliff. It could be chunky to offer a way down and onward. It should be smooth in some areas to show the unknown, the possible danger of a sheer fall.
“And what did you choose?” she asked.
“Not the familiar or I’d be a farmer like my granddad. But enough of the familiar to settle in the town I grew up in. To build a community. To know my neighbors and friends.”
“Yet you touch the outside world with your art,” she said.
“I’m not a hermit. I travel sometimes. But I’m always glad to return home.
I’ve seen things I wished I hadn’t when I was in the army.
Been places no one else in town has been after that.
And seen sights like no others where it grabs you by the throat and make you thank God for the opportunity to see one of His wonders. ”
“Yet you come back here.”
“Time and again,” he said, nodding.
“Alice wanted more. Does that mean you want less?” she asked.
He stopped working, putting down his tools.
“How is it wanting less to be happy here?”
“I don’t know. All my life I’ve heard go to New York, make it big.”
“And are you happy?”
She thought a moment, then slowly shook her head.
“You know that. It’s why I’m here, trying to learn something new, see what else is out there.”
He reached for her and drew her to her feet, folding her into his arms.
“Do you have a special male friend, Angel?”
She shook her head, her eyes unable to look away. Her heart raced. Her fingers grabbed hold of his shirt, feeling the warmth from his chest, the heat from his eyes.
“People who are happy here have someone special in their lives. They are building family. Connecting with neighbors and finding satisfaction in the work they do and the leisure activities they choose.”
She swallowed, feeling inept and unsure.
“Have you ever had a special male friend?” he asked softly, resting his forehead on hers.
All she could see was Kirk’s dark eyes, gazing deeply into hers.
Slowly she shook her head, moving both of them.
She felt surrounded by heat, rising desire, wishing he’d stop talking and kiss her.
It was scary and thrilling. For this moment, she did feel on the edge of a precipice.
Would his kiss send her soaring or have her fall flat on her face?
So slowly she thought she’d never stand it, he lifted his face then leaned closer, giving her time to pull away if that was what she wanted. Then he closed his eyes and kissed her.
Angelica closed her eyes and savored every aspect of the kiss, from the warm lips moving against hers, to the hard body cradling her, to the sensations that blotted out everything else but the two of them.
The sensations were pure delight. She felt she was soaring.
His lips moved again, teasing responses she didn’t know she could give.
When he deepened the kiss, she clung, excitement swirling through her.
She’d never felt this mixture of exquisite delight and yearning desire for more.
She pressed closer, wishing she could become part of Kirk, meld the two of them until they were one.
Reveling in the kiss, hoping it’d never end, she gave herself up to the moment.
When his mouth left hers to trail kisses across her cheeks, her arms moved to encircle his neck.
She could feel the hard muscles of his chest against her breasts.
She could feel the long length of him bent to accommodate her shorter stature.
Mostly she felt the trailing fire and ice his hands brought, pressing her closer, closer.
He kissed her mouth again and again, kisses that inflamed her. The temperature rose several degrees as the heat they generated could have warmed a winter’s day.
A moment later he rested his forehead against hers again. Slowly she opened her eyes, almost drowning in the deep chocolate brown of his. Her heart raced, her skin tingled, her soul soared.
“You’re one dangerous woman,” he said softly.
Her knees were weak, her body lethargic. All she wanted to do was kiss him again and again. See where that might lead—as if she didn’t know.
“Go home, Angel. Go to Webb Francis’s house tonight and back to New York tomorrow. This isn’t your place.”