Mountain Charm (8 page)

It was nearly dark by the time they made it back to Maple Ridge. As they pulled into the driveway, Angelina wasn’t at all surprised to find Dylan’s vehicle parked in her spot.

“You gave him a key?”

“Yes.”

Angelina shook her head, and her mom laughed.

“What’s so funny?

“You’ll see,” Celia said, smiling happily.

Angelina groaned and stepped out of the car. While she was thankful the cancer and chemo hadn’t affected her mother’s visions, it wasn’t much fun being kept in the dark.

As soon as they stepped inside the house, the undeniable aroma of garlic filled the air. A grinning Celia took her daughter by the arm and pulled her toward the kitchen, and that was where they found Dylan. He was standing next to the table, whistling and buttering garlic bread.

Angelina gasped, and his head shot up in surprise. He smiled sheepishly at the two of them before turning toward the stove. As he placed the bread inside the oven, Angelina spotted her mom’s pink apron tied around his waist.

It was the funniest thing she’d ever seen.

And quite possibly the sweetest.

“Celia didn’t eat much tonight.”

It was almost midnight, and Dylan and Angelina were sitting on the front porch. He was in one of the rocking chairs while she sat on the step with her back pressed uncomfortably against a beam. Cash’s head rested in her lap, and Angelina trailed her fingers through his fur while he snored.

“The treatments really wipe her out. I was surprised she ate anything at all.”

“What kind of cancer?”

“Breast.”

He nodded. “Did she have surgery?”

“Yeah, a single mastectomy. The oncologist ordered the chemo just as a precaution. We go back in a few weeks for more blood work.”

“What happens then?”

Bitterness stuck in her throat, making it impossible to answer him. Cash sensed her sadness and snuggled closer, and she rapidly slid her fingers through his coat.

“Angelina, I’m sorry.”

She blinked back her tears as Dylan rose from the rocker and joined her on the step. Very gently, he took her hand in his, giving it a squeeze.

“Aren’t treatments expensive?”

Angelina nodded. “Dad’s life insurance policy helps pay most of her medical expenses. We’re very lucky.”

For a few minutes, the only sounds they could hear were an owl in the distance and Cash’s soft snores. When Dylan finally spoke, his voice was just a whisper.

“I read about your ancestors and their gifts. Did you really heal that boy’s wrist? Just by touching him?”

Angelina nodded.

Dylan gazed at her hand as if it were some kind of science experiment. His face flickered with so many conflicting emotions.

Indecision. Disbelief. Wonder.

Understanding.

“Your touch heals, but it doesn’t cure,” he said softly.

Angelina nodded and closed her eyes, surrendering to the tears that were so desperate to fall.

The Maple Ridge Music Festival was in full swing. Brightly decorated booths lined each side of the street as music streamed from the stage at the far end of the road. Despite its name, the festival wasn’t just about music. It was an amazing display of local talent, offering everything from homemade crafts to beaded jewelry. The Morton sisters were selling their quilts and canned goods, while their husbands sold their leather wallets and belts in the neighboring booth. A customer could buy cotton candy at the Baptist church tent or burgers and fries from the high school band.

Because Celia’s Strings was right in the middle of town, they never bothered to set up a booth. They simply opened the doors, and tourists could come and go as they pleased. In the one hundred years since the festival’s inception, it had only been canceled once because of rain.

Dylan pointed his camera toward the street and snapped a few pictures. “This is amazing. The crowd is a little thin, though. Is that normal?”

“It’s still early,” Maddie said. The three of them were sitting on a wooden bench just outside the door. “Just wait. This place will be crawling with people this afternoon.”

“And tonight,” Angelina said with a grin.

“What’s tonight?”

Maddie bounced in her seat. “The concert! At sundown, some of our local bands take the stage. The booths close and the street becomes a giant dance floor!”

“Maddie
really
loves to dance.”

Dylan grinned. “What about you, Angelina? Do you love to dance?”

“It’s okay.”

Her best friend snorted. “She
loves
to dance. Especially slow dances.”

Subtle, Maddie.

“Is Nick coming in this weekend?” Angelina asked. Maddie and Nick Phelps had been high school sweethearts. He’d been working for his dad’s trucking company since graduation, and weeks would pass before he had the chance to come home.

“He’ll be here this afternoon, which means I am taking the early shift at the shop while you and Dylan enjoy the festival.” Maddie leapt off the bench and followed a couple of customers inside. “Make sure he tries Ms. Imogene’s blueberry dumplings!”

Angelina sighed loudly, causing Dylan to chuckle. He grinned and jumped to his feet.

“Come on, Angelina. Take me to the dumpling booth.”

“Then there was Camilla Jones—one of my distant cousins who lived in Maple Ridge way back in 1840. She was born at midnight, which according to mountain tradition means she had the ability to talk to spirits. Camilla loved talking to the ghosts of Civil War soldiers.”

Dylan polished off his third bowl while Imogene Williams shared her family’s stories. Angelina had rolled her eyes throughout most of the conversation, but at least the dumplings were good.

Imogene wiped her hands on her apron and smiled at the two of them. “More? We’ve got plenty.”

Dylan and Angelina exchanged a look before shaking their heads. They thanked her and were just getting ready to leave when Imogene let out a squeal.

“Wait! I want to introduce you to my daughter!”

Angelina stifled a groan when she saw Christine Williams waving wildly in the distance. She was tall, blonde, beautiful, and the biggest flirt in Maple Ridge. As she strutted down the street, everyone noticed that her denim shorts just barely covered her bottom and her tank top left very little to the imagination. Neither wardrobe choice was unusual for Christy.

“Who’s this?” Christy smiled up at Dylan and pointedly ignored his companion. Again, that was nothing new. Christy and Angelina had spent most of their lives trying to forget the other existed, especially after Christy’s unfortunate case of pimples.

The memory never failed to make Angelina laugh.

Imogene made the introductions. “Christy is a photographer with the
Maple Ridge Gazette
. I bet the two of you have a lot in common since you’re both in the news business.”

 Christy was her usual giggly self as she asked Dylan a hundred questions about his job in Nashville. He was polite and answered them all while Angelina took a deep breath, counted to twenty, and scanned the crowd for her mom. She wasn’t hard to find, sitting under a tent and wearing her red, wide-brimmed hat. By her side was David Murray, plucking his banjo.

After five minutes of Christine’s nonstop chatter, Angelina politely excused herself and walked over to the next booth. She said hello to Mrs. Evans and reached for one of her homemade candles, lifting the top and inhaling the fruity scent. Suddenly, she felt someone’s hand brush the small of her back, and she smiled.

“That was quick. Christine boring you already?”

“Christine who?”

Her body went rigid.

Adam laughed. “Christine Williams? Hell, she bored me back in high school.”

That wasn’t how Angelina remembered it at all. Adam had always appreciated Christy’s short skirts and complete lack of morals.

“Looks like your new boyfriend is enjoying her company, though.”

Angelina tightly gripped the candle and turned toward her ex.

 “What do you want, Adam?”

His grin was just as breathtaking as ever. Too bad she knew the evil man behind the pearly smile.

“She speaks. I was beginning to wonder.”

Nervously, she glanced toward Imogene’s booth to find Dylan’s eyes fixated on the two of them. Christine was still chattering, but he wasn’t paying her a bit of attention.

This made Angelina far happier than it should.

“By the way, don’t think I didn’t notice that I paid full price for that guitar. Is that any way to treat your first great love?”

“You are
not
my first great love. You were my greatest mistake.”

Adam’s eyes flashed with anger before he chuckled darkly.

“You look gorgeous. I’m surprised the boyfriend lets you out of his sight.”

She didn’t bother correcting him. Instead, Angelina paid Mrs. Evans for the candle before heading toward the next booth.

“Don’t ignore me, Angelina,” he said menacingly, grabbing her arm. “You know how much I hate that.”

It was the same threatening tone he’d reserved for her back when they’d been dating. A sliver of fear rushed through her, leaving her breathless as she remembered his quick temper.

But she wasn’t that girl anymore.

“Get your hands off me, Adam.”

In an instant, Dylan was there, his eyes blazing.

“Is there a problem?”

Adam’s grin was cocky. “Nope, no problem at all.”

“There will be if you don’t let go of her arm.”

A few murmurs from the crowd prompted Adam to let her go. He cleared his throat, and the charming smile was back.

“You two enjoy the festival,” he said, nodding at a few of the onlookers before walking away.

Angelina breathed a sigh of relief.

“Are you okay?” Dylan asked.

She nodded numbly.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, gently prying the candle from her hand. He led her back toward the store where they sat down on the bench.

“Who is he, Angelina?”

She could hear the quiet fury in his voice, but it was different from Adam’s menacing tone. Dylan was clearly pissed, but he wasn’t mad at her.

“This is off the record?”

“Do you seriously think I give a shit about my article right now?”

Angelina shrugged and stared at her hands in her lap. “I can’t read your mind, Dylan. I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

He sighed and leaned back against the bench as he stared out at the festival. They grew quiet, and she took the opportunity to study his profile. He looked tortured and frustrated—two emotions she understood so well.

What she didn’t understand was why he felt that way.

“His name is Adam McDonald,” Angelina said. “He’s my ex-boyfriend who now lives in Asheville.”

“I assume it didn’t end well.”

“No, it didn’t. He wanted to control . . . everything. My every decision. My every thought. My every move. He was manipulative and overbearing, and when I finally stood up for myself, he hit me.”

Dylan eyes flashed with anger. “He
hit
you?”

“Just once, but yes.”

He jumped to his feet and glanced down the street, and she knew, instinctively, who he was looking for.

“Please, don’t. It was a long time ago, and I’m fine.”