“Amazing, huh?” Scott asked in a tone laced with the same respect she’d felt for the hawk. “I’ve always wondered what they see from up there.”
“Us?”
“Yeah, but what does he think of us?” When she gave him a blank look, he went on. “I mean, does he think we’re interesting, like we do with him? Or does he think we’re nuts, racing around all the time and not accomplishing much of anything?”
“So you’re the philosophical type,” she teased. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“I don’t know. Is there?” Raising an eyebrow, he gave her a mischievous grin that made her laugh.
“Don’t you be trying that on me, Barrett. I’ve met all your brothers, and I’ve seen enough of that troublemaker smile to know better.”
“Busted.” Still grinning, he said, “But to answer your question, I guess I was always the thinker in the family. Greg and Connor are the responsible ones, Paul’s the jock, Jason’s the clown and I’m the serious one.”
If that was the case, how on earth had he landed in such a bad situation in Texas? she wondered. She’d never ask him that, of course, but she couldn’t help wondering, just the same.
“Her name was Kelly,” he said, completely out of the blue. “And yes, I was in love with her, and yes, she used that against me. She asked me to pick her and her brothers up at the bank.” Pausing, he grimaced and shook his head. “Unfortunately, she neglected to tell me they’d be coming out carrying a bunch of cash that didn’t belong to them. By the time I knew what was happening, we were on the run from the cops.”
“With you as the innocent getaway driver.” Jenna filled in the blank tersely. “Nice girl.”
“Well, not so innocent,” he corrected her in a tone devoid of emotion. “I could’ve climbed outta the car and left them to the cops, but I didn’t. I tried to talk them into surrendering, but that went about how you’d expect. By the time the police caught up to us, I was pretty much as guilty as they were. I told the detective I had no idea what they had planned for that bank, but Kelly and her brothers claimed otherwise. It ended up being their word against mine, and there were three of them.”
When he stopped talking, Jenna tried to come up with some encouraging words. He’d been through a lot, and she didn’t want to make him feel any worse than he already did by saying the wrong thing. “Well, now you’re here, at home with your family. You can put all those bad times behind you.”
He didn’t respond to that, but from his sigh, she knew he wasn’t buying her upbeat assessment of his situation. For some reason she didn’t begin to understand, she really wanted to prove it to him. The question was, how?
As they crested the hill, that dilemma was blown from her mind as she took in the view down in the shallow valley. She knew she was standing there like some kind of moronic statue, but all she could think of to say was “Wow.”
Although his trek down memory lane hadn’t been all that pleasant, Scott was amused by Jenna’s awestruck reaction to where he was living. Built in 1866 when the old sawmill was put into service, the original Barrett farmhouse wasn’t much to look at these days, with its sagging roof and sad excuse for a front porch. But the timbers holding it all up were solid Virginia oak, and they’d still be standing for many generations to come.
Nearby, in a partially overgrown clearing, a tiny chapel with half a roof was losing its battle against the encroaching trees. He’d hacked some of the worst offenders down, but he had a lot of work ahead of him yet. And that didn’t count shoring up the building itself. To most folks, he was certain the place would’ve looked like a lost cause right out of the gate, but it suited Scott perfectly. It gave him plenty to do, tucked away in the woods with only the wildlife for company. Considering people’s varying responses to him since his return, he actually preferred hanging out with the animals.
Angling a look up at him, his pretty guest said, “I wish I’d known about this spot sooner. With all the different colors and shafts of light coming down through the branches, it would make a great painting.”
“Most folks’ve forgotten all about it,” he acknowledged.
“How did you end up here, though? You’ve got family in town and over in Cambridge. Why aren’t you staying with one of them?”
Her forthright manner caught him off guard. He’d grown accustomed to people who kept their mouths shut and their heads down. The few old acquaintances he’d seen since coming back to Barrett’s Mill were polite but understandably reserved with him. This slender woman looked him straight in the eye and spoke openly to him. He wasn’t sure if that appealed to him or not, but it made her different, that was for sure.
“I like it out here,” he replied finally. “It’s quiet.”
She laughed at that. “This whole town is quiet, but I guess I understand you wanting your privacy. I’m the same way.”
He wouldn’t have put it quite that way, but since she seemed to accept his explanation, he decided to go along. And since she’d offered something personal about herself, he felt it was only fair to do the same. “Actually, Granddad left me this place in his will. There’s three acres here that connect to the back of the sawmill property. There’s the house and chapel, with a small trust fund to restore them, and I get to live here as long as I want. It’s not a fortune, but I don’t need much.”
“That sounds like Will,” she commented with a fond smile. “Taking care of someone but making sure they have to work for it. He gave you a lifeline but arranged things so you’re able to keep your dignity.”
What was left of it, anyway, Scott added silently. He wasn’t comfortable voicing that thought, so he settled for something a little safer. “Yeah.”
She gave him a long, curious look, and he braced himself for what might come out of her mouth next.
“You said something about sweet tea?” she asked as she began walking again.
“Yes, ma’am. Not that way, though,” he cautioned before she reached the front porch steps. “All those boards are rotten, and you’ll go straight through. I already rebuilt the ones out back, so they’re much safer.”
“How come you did them first?”
He didn’t answer, and when she rounded the corner of the house, she paused with a sigh. “Oh, I see why.”
Behind the cottage, Sterling Creek wound its way through centuries-old trees on its way to wherever it was going. Sunlight dappled the water, giving the stream a sparkle to go with its cheerful sound. He wasn’t normally big on landscaping and such, but sitting on the rough-hewn stairs and listening to the water brought him the kind of peace that had eluded him for more years than he cared to count. It hadn’t escaped him that he’d finally found that calm here in the woods surrounding the hometown he couldn’t wait to escape from when he was younger.
“This section of the creek was pretty much clogged up when I got here,” Scott explained as he went ahead to open the door he’d cobbled together from scrap wood. It didn’t have much style, but it was a big improvement over the old one that had been rotting on the hinges. At least it kept out the bold raccoons that had been trotting in and out as if they owned the place. “I spent a few days clearing it out so the creek would run like it used to when I was a kid.”
He cringed at the nostalgic twinge in his voice, but Jenna eased his concern with a smile. “That’s really sweet. It sounds like you have great memories of this place.”
“Some