Chapter Ten
When Angelica left a short time later, Kirk leaned against the table, feeling as if he’d run a marathon.
The effort to keep from touching her had been tremendous.
But he couldn’t get more involved. He remembered how he’d felt when Alice returned his ring.
The message had been clear—there was more she wanted from life than him.
If he’d gone after her, would that have changed any thing?
But he hadn’t.
He hadn’t known Angelica nearly as long as he’d known Alice. This burning in his blood for her could be extinguished in a short order. It only felt deeper and stronger than what he’d felt for Alice because it was fresh and immediate.
Once she left—he didn’t want to think about that day.
Get through this one. Focus on his work.
Ignore the clamoring of his senses to spend more time with her.
Dinner together would be nice. Maybe some dancing so he could hold her close, breathe in the sweet scent of her, memorize the feel of her body against his.
He knew she wasn’t very worldly in her personal life.
Could he be the one to show her how passion could spark and flare between them?
He didn’t need dancing, he felt as if every inch of her had been imprinted on him when they’d kissed.
He picked up the sandpaper, not trusting himself just yet with a sharp tool that could gouge as wrongly as certainly as it could the way he wanted. Slowly he let the rhythm of sanding soothe his blood. He could do this. She’d be gone soon.
The days might be tough to get through initially, but before Christmas, she’d only be a vague memory. Okay, maybe by next summer.
He threw down the paper in disgust. He was never ever going to forget Angelica Cannon. Closing the studio, he headed out. Maybe his granddad would welcome some company for supper.
When he called him, Hiram answered right away.
“Sure, come on over. Bring that New York gal with you. I’ve found some more music for her. Songs my mother sang when I was a boy. Seeing them again reminded me of her voice, like an angel.”
Kirk almost groaned in defeat. Even his grandfather was working against him.
He couldn’t very well explain why he didn’t want to be around Angelica.
That’d give rise to speculation he could do without.
No sympathy this time around when nursing a broken heart.
He’d had more than enough of that with Alice’s defection.
“I’ll ask her, she may have other plans.”
“What could she be doing in Smoky Hollow that you wouldn’t already know?” his grandfather asked.
“I don’t keep track of her every moment,” Kirk responded—though he’d like to.
“I heard the festival participants had a rehearsal today,” Hiram said.
Kirk never ceased to be amazed at how much his grandfather knew without ever stepping foot in town.
“She loved it,” he said.
“Figured she would. She can tell me over dinner. I’ll put on the barbecue, you can cook.”
Kirk gave in with as much grace as he could muster. “Okay. We’ll be over around six.”
Angelica had been delighted to accept the invitation when Kirk called her. He rolled out his motorcycle and went to pick her up shortly before six.
She was still excited about her afternoon.
“I can tell your grandfather all about it. I still want him to sing at the festival. Do you think he will?” she asked as she put on the helmet.
“No, but you can ask.”
As if they’d been riding partners for years, she easily slid into the space behind him and wrapped her arms around him. He could have taken the truck. She never would have been this close in the truck.
Her arms were warm, her hands clenched across his belly. He wanted to impress the feeling of her breasts pressing against his back. Turn and pull her into his arms and kiss her until they both forgot the day.
Instead he tried to concentrate on driving and ignore the heated blood that shot through his veins.
Hiram was watching for them and came out as soon as they drove into the yard. His dog barked a welcome and danced around them, stirring dust in the air.
“Hey, missy, tell me how things went at the rehearsal,” he greeted her as soon as Kirk stopped.
For the next few minutes Kirk sat on the bike, watching as Angelica charmed his grandfather with her enthusiasm and honest assessment of everything she’d seen. She was high on praise and brought in slyly that another singer was needed in her opinion to balance things out.
“I could put in a good word for you with Gina,” she ended, grinning at Hiram.
Kirk watched as his grandfather seemed to consider the suggestion. Could he really think about singing in the festival again?
The three of them prepared dinner. Angelica insisting on helping. When they sat around the old farm table, Kirk tried to remember the last time a woman had been there for dinner.
Hiram was as animated as Kirk had ever seen. Her visit was good for the old man. He hoped she’d remember them once in a while in the years ahead and maybe drop a note.
“So you see, you’re needed,” she concluded when she finished another plea for his singing. “I think you should sing that song you told me the words to. Could I learn the music in time do you think? I hunted around and actually found the sheet music in Webb Francis’s stack. I could accompany you.”
Hiram looked at Kirk.
“What do you think?”
“About her learning the music, from what I know she can practically hear a song once and play it. Do you want to sing?”
Hiram looked back and forth between them.
“Maybe I do.”
“Wonderful. Let’s call Gina right now. Do you have her number?” she asked, looking at Kirk.
“It’s in the book. Really, Granddad?”
“Don’t you think I can?” he asked testily.
“I think it would be a miracle and a wonderful one at that,” Kirk said.
“Call her. See what she says,” Hiram instructed Angelica.
Ten minutes later a smiling Angelica hung up the phone.
“She’s thrilled. Says that’ll get even more people there.”
“Coming to see if I still have the voice, I expect,” Hiram said wryly.
She laughed.
“You’ll show them. Shall I practice to accompany you?”
“Sure, who else would I want?”
“Let’s see what we have, so I can start in the morning,” she said.
“I’ll clean up,” Kirk offered as they both rose to go to the front of the house to discuss the music.
He did the dishes, walked outside to check on things around the farm. The fence had been reinforced. The hogs seemed happy enough in their large pens. He rested a foot on a lower bar and leaned against it, looking at the darkening sky.
He mentally counted the days until the festival. Could he last that long? Maybe he’d take a quick trip to Atlanta and visit the gallery there that carried his work. See what the feedback was from patrons and get some ideas for another sculpture.
Or he could stay at home, work on the woman on the precipice carving and deal with having Angelica close for another couple of weeks and practice saying goodbye so when the time came, he wouldn’t blow it.
The next morning Kirk had hardly finished his coffee when the phone rang. It was his grandfather.
“I’m coming in to see Angelica, we’re going to practice in Webb Francis’s music room. She has students coming this afternoon, so we’re going to claim mornings for our practice.”
“Good.”
“Let’s have lunch. She said you have an amazing sculpture you’re working on. Can an old man see it?”
“Anytime, you know that. If I’m in the studio, come on in. I might need to be interrupted to remember it’s lunchtime.”
His grandfather would spend hours with Angelica over the next weeks. If he could hear, if he could sing, he could have been the one volunteering for the festival, just to spend time with her. He envied his grandfather.
How pathetic was that.
The next week passed quickly. Kirk grew used to his grandfather coming to visit Angelica every morning. In the afternoon she had Teresa Ann and Sam over to practice. Kirk rarely saw her. Which, he tried to convince himself, was exactly what he wanted.
He took on another job helping a renovation with a family on the far side of town. It was exasperating work, with the other workers constantly trying his patience. Evenings he worked on his sculpture. In between, he stayed as far from home as he could.
Not seeing her every day didn’t diminish the yearning to be with her, however. Much as he hoped out of sight, out of mind would be the norm, it didn’t work that way.
Ten days after his grandfather began practicing with Angelica, Kirk rode over to the farm early to share breakfast with him.
“You’ve been busy,” Hiram said when they sat down to eat.
Kirk nodded.
“Angelica said she hadn’t seen you. She’s busy, too, of course, getting ready for the festival,” Hiram continued.
Kirk watched him a moment.
“Are you still singing?”
Hiram nodded.
“We’ve got it all squared away. You coming?”
Kirk nodded.
“Said I would. I’d like to hear you sing again. Those are good memories I had from when I was a kid.”
When he never thought of the future, never considered life wouldn’t go along as good as he’d had back then. For a moment he wished he could turn back the clock.
Yet, would he really do anything differently? He’d still serve his country in the military, still be partially deaf. Maybe he’d have let Angelica get off the bus and find her way.
No, that would never have happened. No use wishing for the past. It wouldn’t change a thing.
“Hope you can hear me well enough,” the old man said.
They rarely talked about Kirk’s lack of hearing, but his comment warmed Kirk. He hoped he could hear both Hiram and Angelica—enough to appreciate their skills. He knew he’d hear the applause when they finished.
“Jody Miller called a couple of days ago, asking me if you were off your feed or something.”
“Why would he call you? I’ve been working on a renovation project at his place.”
“I know, and he said you’re acting like a bear with a sore paw. Something eating at you?”
Kirk shrugged.
“A pretty gal from New York, maybe?” his grandfather guessed.