Stranger In His Arms. Charlotte Douglas

now.

      They continued in silence into Casey’s Cove, along the dimly lit Main Street, quiet and deserted on a Saturday night, then headed up the mountain road on the other side of town toward Miss Bessie’s guest house.

      Jennifer gazed at the empty street as they passed. “What do folks do around here on Saturday night?”

      “The townspeople are a pretty quiet bunch. Most of them stay at home, watch television, go to bed early for church tomorrow morning.”

      Jennifer sighed. “Isn’t there anything to do for fun?”

      Dylan glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Little Jenny Thacker had definitely come out of her shell over the last twenty years. “There’re a couple of places on the Sylva highway where you can get barbecue and dance to a jukebox. And there’s a movie theater in town.”

      “Whew,” she said with a smile, “all that excitement must be hard on the locals.”

      “We adapt.” He turned the truck into the guest-house drive, climbed out and gently removed the sleeping Sissy from her carrier. “If you’ll open the door, I’ll bring her in.”

      He followed Jennifer into the house, through the living room and into the bedroom. She turned back the bedspread and blankets, and he laid the child on the bed. Tenderly, Jennifer removed Sissy’s shoes and clothes, tugged on her nightgown, tucked her in and left a low light burning.

      Back in the living room, Jennifer turned to him. “Would you like to stay for supper?”

      “I don’t want you going to any trouble.”

      “No trouble. Just grilled cheese sandwiches and soup.”

      He started to decline, then remembered how frightened she’d seemed at times during the afternoon. Maybe in the security of her own home, she’d let down her guard and tell him what she feared.

      He decided to stay.