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Adam opened the garage’s big doors and went into his office.
It surprised him how much he’d liked sitting with Janelle on the deck having breakfast together. Even with her hair wet from a shower and her face scrubbed clean, she radiated beauty and poise. And a warmth that made him want to reach out to touch her cheek, caress her soft skin.
An urge he intended to resist.
He laughed a bitter sound. What irony that he’d be attracted to a woman with a degree in anthropology when he’d barely made it through high school with straight D’s.
Vern, his mechanic and tow-truck driver, ambled into the garage. His hands stuffed in the pockets of his overalls, he glanced at Janelle’s car, which was still parked where he’d left it yesterday.
“Hey, boss. That lady and her little girl find someplace to stay last night? Didn’t figure there’d be any rooms left in town, what with the festival ’n’ all.”
“They stayed in Grandma’s cottage out back.”
“You don’t say.” His pale blue eyes twinkling, he lifted his grimy baseball cap, scratched his head and resettled his cap. “Didn’t know you was in the hotel business.”
Adam shoved away from his desk and stood. “I couldn’t very well tell them to sleep in the car.”
“No, sir. That’s a fact, all right. You gotta take good care of your customers. Particularly them that are real good-lookin’ ladies.” Vern’s amused grin grated on Adam.
Scowling, Adam gestured to the Buick sitting on the lift. “Why don’t you get back to work on Hardison’s transmission? I promised he could pick it up by noon today.”
“Sure thing, boss. If you want to keep that pretty little lady a secret, no problem. My lips are sealed. Yes, sirree.” He made a zipping motion across his grinning mouth.
A muscle twitched in Adam’s jaw. “Get busy, old man, or I’ll tell Mama Machak at the diner that you’ve been bad-mouthing her chicken and dumplings all around town.”
Laughing, Vern threw up his hands in surrender. “Don’t do that, son. Without her weekly special of chicken and dumplings, and them pies she makes, I’d starve to death.”
With a shake of his head and a grin stuck on his face, he sauntered over to the Buick.
Adam wished he could wipe that grin off, but that would be dumb. Vern was too perceptive by far, recognizing Adam enjoyed Janelle’s company more than a little.
An anthropology major? Some chance he’d have with her.
* * *
At the Arthur Cummings Municipal Park near the public docks, Adam went off to find his fellow musicians while Janelle and the girls strolled through the milling crowd. They browsed booths exhibiting handmade crafts—blown glass, ceramics, quilts and jewelry. A display of exquisite handmade dolls tempted Janelle, but they were more for show than for play so she passed them by. Raeanne wasn’t old enough yet to appreciate the fine craftsmanship.
Meanwhile, Adam’s band wasn’t on stage yet. Instead, a bluegrass band played in the gazebo, their audience seated on folding chairs in the shade of a canopy or scattered around the open grassy area on blankets. Each family group boasted a colorful picnic basket. Toddlers and young children swayed to the rhythm of the music.
The lake provided a backdrop for the event. Near the far shore, sailboats cut through the blue water, leaving a narrow wake behind them. Closer at hand, water-
skiers whizzed by pulled by high-powered motorboats that carefully remained outside the roped-off swimming area.
Smoke from a barbecue floated on the breeze blowing in from the lake.
“Do you girls want to eat your lunch now?” Janelle asked. “Or do you want to wait until Hailey’s dad is done playing?”
“Let’s eat now,” Hailey said. “Dad’s friend Charlie always has them playing a long set. We’d get too hungry waiting for him to finish.”
When Raeanne caught the scent of hot dogs, she tugged Janelle in the direction of the hot-dog stand sponsored by Bear Lake Community Church. A half-dozen teenagers were staffing the operation, supervised by an older woman wearing a colorful butcher apron.
Janelle ordered three hot dogs, three lemonades and bags of chips, then carried them all to a shady spot under a big oak tree where they sat down not far from the
gazebo.
“Be careful, now. Don’t spill on your clean blouse,” she admonished Raeanne. She’d only packed enough clothes for a couple of weeks. Once she was settled somewhere, a friend would ship her the rest of their personal belongings. Until then, clothing choices were limited and access to a washer and dryer increasingly urgent.
Sitting with her legs bent beside her, Janelle took a bite of her hot dog. The bluegrass musicians, who looked to be all in their eighties or older, ended their performance to appreciative applause. As they packed up their instruments, she spotted Adam and his friends taking their place on the stand.
“Has your dad always played guitar?” Janelle asked.
“I guess so. He and his buddies play for church services sometimes.”
“That’s nice.” Janelle had drifted away from attending church during her marriage. Raymond hadn’t been interested in religion. Now that she was on her own, finding a church was high on her to-do list. Maybe she’d join the choir, too, if she could find a sitter for Raeanne during evening practices.
But that would wait until much later, when Raeanne had regained her self-confidence and happy spirit.
The five men in Adam’s group wore Western-cut shirts and jeans and had matching red bandannas tied around their necks. Stetsons completed their outfits.
Adam’s black hat tipped rakishly on the back of his head, giving him the look of a swaggering, country bad boy. She smiled at the image, so in contrast to his actual personality.
One of the other men cracked a few corny jokes then introduced the group: Sons of Bear Lake. The locals seemed to recognize them and sent up a cheer.
The banjo player started off with some fancy plucking, and then the violin dueled with the banjo, the two of them bowing and plucking so fast both instruments were nearly set on fire. After a long run of manic scales, they finished to the hoots, hollers and whoops of the crowd. Both men were sweating profusely.
“My goodness.” Janelle laughed and put her arm around Raeanne. “I’ve never heard anything like that before.”
“That’s Charlie Brooks on the banjo and Tiny Tim playing violin,” Hailey said.
“They’re great. Both of them.”
Slowing the pace, the group played “Come, Come, Come to Me,” a hymn familiar to Janelle. She sang along with the chorus and so did Hailey. Raeanne smiled and rocked to the beat but didn’t utter a sound.
A lump the size of a boulder closed Janelle’s throat, and the burn of tears stung her eyes. She’d willingly give every dime she owned if someone could erase the memory that had stolen her beautiful baby girl’s voice, locking her in her silent world.
* * *
The Sons of Bear Lake performed for nearly an hour. When they’d packed up their instruments, Adam joined Janelle and the girls.
“So what did you think?” He sat on the grass and placed his guitar case next to him.
“You were all great,” Janelle said. “We sang along with the songs we knew.”
“Raeanne didn’t,” Hailey said. “She can’t sing.”
Adam feigned shock. “You can’t sing?”
Solemn-faced, Rae shook her head.
“Well, now, that’s a real shame.” He opened his case and lifted his guitar, strumming a few chords. “Say, I bet I know a song you could help me sing.”
Looking unconvinced, Rae eyed his guitar.
Janelle held her breath. She didn’t want Raeanne to feel pressured into talking. The therapist had told her to let speech return naturally.
“Okay, here we go.” He strummed another chord and sang, “‘There’s a bee, a bumbly bee. He goes buzz, buzz, buzz.’”
He nodded at Rae. “Come on, I need help with the buzzing bee. ‘There’s a bee,’” he sang, “‘a flying bumbly bee. He goes...’”
The faintest sound escaped from Raeanne’s mouth. “‘Buzz, buzz, buzz.’”
Paralyzed, speechless, tears sprang to Janelle’s eyes. She covered her mouth so her sob wouldn’t escape. Those were the first words Raeanne had spoken in seven months. For any other mother of a five-year-old, the words would mean little.
To Janelle they were an answer to a prayer.
“Atta girl!” Grinning, Adam ruffled her hair. “‘There’s a bee. A flying, stinging bumbly bee. He goes...’”
“‘Buzz, buzz, buzz,’” Raeanne whispered.
“Okay, one more time. ‘There’s a bee. A flying, stinging, angry bumbly bee. I’m going to—’”
“‘Buzz, buzz, buzz,’” she said, her voice stronger now.
“‘Buzz, buzz, buzz away,’” Adam finished with a flourish, shifting his gaze from Raeanne to Janelle.
Hailey grabbed Raeanne and hugged her. “You did it! You sang the song.”
To Janelle, those whispered words were a gift from the Lord. A much-prayed-for beginning.
Thank you, she mouthed to Adam.
She wanted to throw her arms around him but didn’t dare, afraid to make a big fuss for fear Rae would retreat into silence.
What a special man Adam was. She couldn’t help but wonder if God had put that deer in her path. A path that led to Adam Hunter’s door?
Chapter Four
It seemed perfectly natural for Janelle and Rae to go to church Sunday morning with Adam and his daughter. Check-in time at the motel where Janelle had made a reservation for the night wasn’t until 3:00 p.m. She’d have plenty of time to pack after lunch. She’d unpacked only a few items of clothing anyway.
Bear Lake Community Church was about a half mile west of town. Built on a cleared acre of land, the one-story, whitewashed building boasted a steeple topped by a wooden cross. Dozens of vehicles, mostly SUVs and pickups, filled the gravel parking lot.
When they arrived several parishioners milled around the entrance, talking in small groups. Men greeted Adam warmly with a handshake and a friendly slap on the back. Hailey hung close to her dad, giving everyone a friendly greeting, as well.
A woman Janelle recognized from the hot-dog stand at the festival approached her.
“Hello there,” she said, with a quick glance in Adam’s direction. “I saw you and your daughter at the festival. I didn’t realize you’re a friend of Adam’s.”
“I’m not exactly,” Janelle admitted. “I had an accident and my car was towed to his garage. Since there weren’t any rooms available in town, he was kind enough to let us stay in his cottage for a couple of nights.”
“Well, I’m so glad you’ve come to church. We’re a small but friendly group. I’m Adrienne Walker, the pastor’s wife.”
Janelle introduced herself and Raeanne.
“Pleased to meet you. And you, young lady.” She smiled at Raeanne, who was holding Janelle’s hand so hard it almost hurt. “Raeanne, would you like to go into our Sunday school class with the other children?”
Rae shook her head and hid her face in the folds of Janelle’s skirt.
“Rae will be fine with me,” Janelle said. “Perhaps another time.”
“Of course, dear. Do go on in. The service is about to begin and I must join our choir.” Leaving her with a friendly smile, Adrienne hurried off.
A moment later, Janelle felt the press of Adam’s hand on the small of her back, warmly possessive, as he ushered them into the sanctuary. Her breath caught, startled by how natural his gesture felt and how much she enjoyed the touch of his hand.
Like most of the men, he wore fresh jeans and a sport shirt. Hailey decided to forego Sunday school to sit with Raeanne. They found a pew near the front. Janelle entered first, followed by the girls and Adam on the aisle, the seating arrangement much like that of other families in the congregation. Except, she reminded herself, they were not one family but two small, unrelated families. Their acquaintance had been so brief, she couldn’t even think of them as friends yet. Although she thought they could be, particularly since Raeanne enjoyed Hailey’s company so much. Despite the five-year age difference, they got along quite well. Hailey apparently had a strong nurturing instinct.
The pastor stepped out onto the stage, and the congregation stood for the opening hymn. Like his wife, Pastor Robert Walker was in his fifties and a bit stout. Fluffy white sideburns contrasted with his shiny bald head. If he’d had a beard and red cap, he could have passed for Santa Claus’s twin, his deep voice and jovial manner a match for the fictional character, as well.
Settling back in the pew, Janelle admired the stained-glass window behind the altar where the small choir sat. The scene depicted Jesus kneeling in prayer in Gethsemane.
Knowing Raeanne might get restless, she’d brought along an activity book to keep her occupied. Before long, Rae and Hailey were playing silent games of tic-tac-toe and “find the object.”
By the time the service ended, Janelle felt refreshed by her communion with the Lord. This was the first church service she’d attended since Raymond’s funeral, and it felt good to be back in the fold.
As they left the sanctuary and stepped out into the warm summer day, Adrienne Walker stopped her.
“I do believe that was you I heard singing, my dear. You have such a lovely soprano voice.”
Janelle flushed. “Thank you.”
“If you decide to stay in Bear Lake long, I do hope you’ll consider joining our choir. So many of our members are getting older now and their voices are deepening. We’re out of balance with too many altos and basses.”
Janelle had noticed the soprano section was particularly thin. “It’s kind of you to invite me. I enjoy singing but I don’t have a trained voice, and I haven’t sung in a choir since high school.” Although she had had the lead in the student musical her senior year. “If I do stay in Bear Lake, I’ll certainly consider it. Of course, I’d need a babysitter for Raeanne.”
“I’m sure something could be worked out. We rehearse on Thursday evenings.”
“I really don’t know yet what my plans will be.” Nor did she know when she’d feel comfortable again leaving Rae with a sitter.
“Keep us in mind, dear, if things work out.” With that, Adrienne scooted off to speak with another member of the congregation.
“Come on, Rae,” Hailey said. “I’ll race you to the truck.” The two of them dashed off as though they’d just escaped from solitary confinement.
“Watch out for cars!” Janelle called after them, but they were already on their way, galloping across the parking lot.
“They’ll be fine.” With his hand at her back, Adam nudged her toward his truck. “I’d say the pastor’s wife intends to hog-tie you and drag you into the choir whether you want to go or not.”
“I think a pastor’s wife must be required to take a class in recruiting volunteers for church functions.”
“In that case, I’d guess she got an A plus.”
