Mountain Sanctuary by Lenora Worth Page B

that night?
    A week later, Stella stood in the kitchen watching the coffee brew, her gaze hovering on the carriage-house apartment. Adam would soon be coming down the outside steps, all full of energy and smiles. How could one man be so happy early in the morning, anyway? And why, oh, why had she offered him the apartment in the first place?
    At least he’s out of the house, she reminded herself, her hand brushing across her forehead, her memories brushing across that feather of a kiss he’d planted on her that night. Stella closed her eyes, the sound of the coffee gurgling receding into the distance as she remembered his touch, so sweet, so swift. Remembered that and the cloying scent of honeysuckle.
    Opening her eyes, she thought about the doves, as she often did these days. She’d see them out in the garden around dusk each night, moving as a pair, strolling together to find worms or seeds. The babies were big now and almost ready to leave the nest. But the doves, they moved together as if they knew eternity would be this peaceful, this content. Why couldn’t she have such faith?
    This Sunday morning, she knew Adam would walk the short block to the church just up the street. He might even look back toward the house one last time, wondering if she’d ever go on that particular walk with him. And he’d be disappointed to find that Stella wasn’t on the path. No, sir. She wasn’t ready to take that walk toward getting over her quarrel with God. Not just yet.
    And maybe she was fidgety and nervous this morning because her daddy and Kyle had readily agreed to go to church with Adam. Traitors! Then she pushed that thought right out of her head. They weren’t turning on her. More like they were turning toward something positive and good. And her son surely deserved to know the word of the Lord. Even if she couldn’t quite bring herself to teach it to him.
    The coffee belched one last time, causing her to pivot and stare at the offending machine. But the brew smelled good and she had guests waiting in the dining room.
    Hurrying around to gather the strawberries and blueberries that would go along with the waffles Adam had promised their current boarders, Stella made sure everything was in order. She’d put freshly cut day lilies on each of the four tables in the big dining room and she’d even brought out some of her own hand-painted china to serve the breakfast of waffles, eggs and bacon. And Adam would help her serve.
    By the time she had the coffee poured into the gleaming silver pot, Adam came in the back door, whistling. “Good morning,” he said, automatically taking the serving tray. “Ready to get going on breakfast?”
    “I was just about to take some of it in,” Stella replied, her smile strained. “You can start the waffles.”
    Since the night she’d offered him the apartment—the same night he’d landed that kiss across her forehead—he’d been as jovial and polite as a politician, all smiles and hard work. Almost too happy. But she’d catch him looking at her at the oddest of times. Sometimes, he’d be perched on a ladder, a paintbrush in his hand, staring down at her as she worked in the garden. Other times, he’d be serving a guest and she’d enter the room, only to have him stop in mid-sentence and give her that long, drawn-out look of his. It was enough to drive a woman into a tizzy.
    Pushing such thoughts out of her mind, Stella concentrated on getting her guests served. “Here,” she said, pointing to the food tray after he’d finished a batch of golden waffles.
    “I got it, boss,” he said, a smile in his words.
    Adam gathered the long tray that held the eggs and bacon then pushed open the swinging door from the kitchen. Stella listened as he greeted the guests with the same pleasant gusto that he used to greet just about everyone. How could the man stay so positive, when he’d obviously seen the worst life had to offer? Or was that just some kind of front, something he forced