Angel of Smoky Hollow. Barbara McMahon
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like she was?
No, he’d known those men on the porch. Known Sally Ann. So what was a guy as dynamic as he was doing in sleepy Smoky Hollow, Kentucky?
Maybe he was unemployed. Lot of that going around.
She could consider herself unemployed. Her last contract had ended and she had yet to sign the new one waiting for her at her agent’s office. She had enough in savings to live quite a while before she needed to find another position. Inevitably, she’d return to New York. What else could she do besides play the violin? She hoped by then, however, that she’d know herself better and be able to withstand the pressure placed on her by others. This was her first vacation ever. She’d gone right to the symphony from the conservatory. Toured Europe when the New York season ended.
She needed this break, and hopefully the new direction it would give her.
Today was too awesome to have to consider the future. It was enough to take delight in this moment.
After being plastered to Kirk’s solid back for the better part of thirty minutes, Angelica was reluctant to move when they reached the hospital.
He sat for a second after he stopped and then said, “It’s safe to let go now.”
Burning with embarrassment, she snatched her hands back and awkwardly got off the motorcycle unassisted, almost falling on her face. His arm caught her around the waist while she was still trying to get her legs to move. Heart aflutter, knees wobbly, she pulled back and took off the helmet. She slicked her hands over her hair; it still felt in place. Tied back as it was, it didn’t get mussed often. Though she’d never worn a helmet before.
He took both helmets and placed them on the handlebars. Then headed for the hospital entry.
“Are they safe here?” she asked, glancing back at the motorcycle in the parking lot.
“Sure.” He shrugged. “If someone needs them more than I do, let him take them. I can buy others.”
She’d never thought about that aspect of theft. “What if they just want to resell for money?”
“As I said, if they need it more than I do, okay by me.”
She followed, trying to understand his thought process. Where she lived everyone was out to get ahead, to be the brightest and best, to make more money, to protect what they’d acquired. Now this man seemed totally unconcerned about the safety of his equipment.
Entering the hospital, Kirk guided her to the elevator and they rose to the third floor. Angelica kept her face forward, denying herself the opportunity to gaze at Kirk Devon. She hoped he had no idea of how edgy she felt around him—so aware of herself as a woman and him as a man.
Maybe Webb Francis would be well soon enough to help her out. If not, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. Having made the break, she did not want to return home without having accomplished her goal. But she hadn’t a clue what she could do in Smoky Hollow waiting for him to recover.
There seemed to be a lot of bustle in the corridor leading to Webb Francis’s room, with doctors jotting notes on charts, nurses checking on patients. Kirk walked confidently along and knocked perfunctorily on the partially opened door.
Entering right behind him, Angelica saw the older man propped up in bed with an oxygen cannula in his nose. His white hair was brushed back from his face. He looked pale and wan to her eyes. He smiled when he saw Kirk, then looked pleasantly curious when he saw her.
“Brought her, I see,” Webb Francis said.
Kirk offered his hand and gripped the sick man’s briefly, then turned to look at Angelica. “Angelica Cannon, meet Webb Francis Muldoon.”
“Hello, Mr. Muldoon. I’m sorry to learn you’re ill. Professor Simmons suggested I come to see you.” She pulled out the letter the professor had written on her behalf. “This explains things, I hope.”
Webb Francis took the letter. He read it through then looked at Angelica. “Miss Cannon, I’m honored you’d come to learn from me. Seems like I could learn from you.”
“Please, call me Angelica. I’ve had a rather narrow focus lately. I want a change. My favorite class at the Conservatory was folk music. I’d love to hear it firsthand and put some effort into learning the music, maybe writing it for future generations.” The memory of her parents’ horrified rejection of her suggestion she follow up with more folk music classes back in her student days flickered. She pushed it away. She was old enough to be in charge of her own life and the direction she wanted it to go.
“Ah, a good project, though a lot of the writing down has already been done. Bet we could come up with a few songs not yet saved for posterity, eh, Kirk?”
Kirk shrugged. “If you say so. Seems like the same ones are played over and over—favorites of course. What’s the latest from your doctor?” He looked intently at Webb Francis.
While the man responded, Angelica watched the interaction. Kirk had the habit of focusing entirely on the person speaking. He didn’t let any distractions enter in. She liked that. It beat someone always looking at his watch, or scanning the surroundings to be noticed, or to scope out who else might be around.
“The man says I’m not going to be released until my blood gases are back to normal. Then I need some in-home care. Told him I’m feeling better and I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time,” Webb Francis said.
“Sure, but everyone needs a hand from time to time. That’s easily taken care of,” Kirk said. “Just let me know when to come get you.”
“Still gonna be a few days.” Webb Francis tapped the refolded letter against the sheets. He studied her for a moment, then said, “Angelica, you could stay in my house until I get back. Save B&B expenses at Sally Ann’s. I got a couple of empty bedrooms. Pick the one you like. When I’m better, we can discuss what I can or can’t do for you.”
She flicked a glance at Kirk. What would he think of his friend offering the use of his house to a virtual stranger?
From his frown, Kirk was not in favor of the idea. But he said nothing.
“When you come home, maybe I could help out a bit,” she said. She’d love to learn as much as she could from the man. Until he returned home, she’d talk to some of the residents of Smoky Hollow to find out about the old music. From what her professor had said, music was well represented in the hamlets of Kentucky.
“We’ll see.” The older man looked at Kirk then Angelica. “Show her around for me, Kirk, will you? And introduce her to Dottie and Tommy. They know lots of the old songs. Tommy plays the dulcimer, you know. And Gina. She’ll be a help.”
Kirk hesitated a moment, then shrugged and nodded.
“Did you come on Kirk’s motorcycle?” Webb Francis asked Angelica.
She nodded. “First time I’ve ever been on one,” she confided.
Kirk grinned. “Best way to see Kentucky,” he said.
It must be a private joke because Webb Francis laughed at Kirk’s comment. “You take care of my guest until I get there, you heah? Show her around. Make sure she has everything she needs.”
“I hear. I’ll make sure she gets the royal treatment.” He looked at her while he said it.
Angelica felt every cell in her body come to attention. She wasn’t sure she liked that idea. She’d rather not spend a lot of time around this disturbing man. How was she to get anything done? She’d never felt this strong attraction before. Most of her dates had been with men more interested in being seen with a rising star than in developing deep personal relationships. Not that she dated much. Schooling and then practice had taken a huge priority in her life. She wasn’t comfortable about her reaction to Kirk. Hopefully it would fade in the next ten minutes—or sooner.
The two men chatted for a few minutes. She stepped back and watched, fascinated