Valerie Hansen - The Wedding Arbor

His approachable countenance faded. His eyes darkened to the color of the foreboding sky. “I wish I could agree with you.”

Sara wasn’t sure exactly what kind of home she had expected Adam’s to be. Certainly not anything as tiny as the cabin to which he led her.

The house sat at the edge of an apparently large clearing. The farthest perimeters were obscured by continuing rain. Square and made of stacked logs, his home looked like something straight out of a history book. Except for electric lighting and, she fervently hoped, indoor plumbing.

Adam led the way onto the porch, shook himself free of his slicker and stamped the loose mud off his boots. He turned to look down at Sara as if just now realizing who and what he had dragged home.

“Looks cozy.” She managed a fairly convincing smile even though her teeth were chattering.

“It is—for one person.” He paused at the door.

Sara understood his reluctance to invite her in, given her disgusting, filthy condition. “Is there any way I can get the mud washed off my back before we go inside? I don’t want to dirty your nice cabin.”

Adam’s expression was cynical. “I’m a bachelor. What makes you think the house is any cleaner than you are?”

“Well, I…” She knew she was blushing but there was no way to stop. In spite of the man’s contentious attitudes and mercurial moods she kind of liked him. Which meant that his teasing affected her more than it normally would have.

He took her by the shoulders and turned her around, checking the parts of her clothing she could only assume were as ghastly as they felt.

“You’ll do,” Adam said. “Rain washed the worst of it off. By the time we both get clean and dry the place will be a mess, anyway. Come on.” He opened the door and ushered her inside, giving her a cautious but firm shove between the shoulder blades.

Sara felt Samson try to scoot through the door beside her. Only Adam’s presence of mind and stem command kept the sopping-wet dog from joining them. “No. Out!”

“Can’t he come in, too?”

“You and I will dry him off later. After we get ourselves taken care of.” Adam paused and frowned. “That is, providing I can come up with enough towels.”

Hugging her pack to her chest, Sara scanned the narrow, rectangular room. The place looked more like a hunting or fishing lodge than it did a house. There was a half-full dog dish the size of grandma’s Dutch oven tucked beside a long-legged, antique gas stove in the kitchen area. Next to the food sat a water bowl nearly as big.

The remainder of the room seemed to be centered around a coal-black, wood-burning behemoth. It sat on abbreviated legs, silently radiating heat and looking just like a pudgy oil drum with cast-ron decorations.

Sara hesitated. The place smelled very masculine. Oh, not like old socks or anything. Just different. As if a man, this man, had made it his private den. Clearly, the cabin was his special sanctuary. And she was an intruder.

“Really, I…” Embarrassed, Sara hung back close to the door. She didn’t want to impose any more than she already had. Yet what choice was there? All her camping gear and clothing, except what she carried in the one small pack, was back at the car, inaccessible. If she were in her companion’s shoes she would gladly offer shelter and assistance, so why did it bother her so much to accept the same from him?

Adam had removed his boots and was stoking the wood stove, oblivious to her uneasiness. “Slip off your shoes and leave them on the rug there by the door.” He flipped open the cast iron door with a noisy clank and poked the dying embers with a stick. “I’ll take care of them later.”

Sara suddenly felt his gaze settle on her, warming her far more than the stove. She tensed. “What? What is it? Did I do something wrong?”

Grumbling, Adam looked away. “No. Just hurry up, will you? I’d like to get out of my wet clothes.”

Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“There’s only one bathroom. I don’t intend for us to share it, okay?” He gestured with a tilt of his head. “Over there. Through that door. And don’t use up all the hot water.”

Sara giggled softly. “The bathroom is inside, isn’t it? I mean, you’re not going to tell me I have to walk across the yard and back?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course it’s inside.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a lopsided smile, then quickly resumed its usual moody position. “I have a generator for the electricity to pump the water, too, so you won’t have to go fetch it from the well in a bucket.”

“Oh, good.”

“I thought you’d appreciate that.” The wry smile threatened to reappear. “There are towels in the cabinet under the sink, I think. If not, that means I didn’t remember to do the laundry and we’re both up the creek.”

“Please,” Sara said, “don’t mention creeks or rivers or anything else pertaining to water. I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet.”

“Stick around these hills long enough and you’ll get used to it,” he told her. “Locals say, if you don’t like the weather, just wait a few minutes and it’ll change. It’s kind of a standing joke.”

“I can believe that.” She was eyeing the bathroom door. “Um, I do have one other request, if you don’t mind.”

“What is that?”

“Well, there’s a sweatshirt and some personal things in my pack but I don’t have any other dry clothes with me at the moment. Do you suppose you could loan me something to wear? Just till my skirt dries.”

“Yeah, sure. I think I can find something that will fit you.”

To Sara’s surprise he went to the bed instead of the dresser and dragged a low, flat, storage box from beneath it. Straightening, he tossed a pair of jeans her way as if they were of no consequence, but she could tell by the expression on his face that he cared very much about whoever the clothing belonged to. Or had belonged to.

Was he was hiding out up here in the wilderness to lick his wounds? Recovering from a disappointing love affair? Well, why not? She was.

“Thanks,” Sara called back, as she headed for the bathroom and ducked inside. The room was spartan but definitely adequate. Turning on the shower she quickly shed her ruined clothes and stepped into the spray. Oh, it felt good to be clean!

Reveling in the warmth she let her mind wander where it wanted. Life was so confusing. Sometimes, it seemed as if she were stumbling along without purpose or guidance. At other times, like now, it was as if God had taken an interest in her future, after all.

She sighed. If that were so, there would be no real accidents in her life, would there? Not even slippery roads and unbelievable thunder storms.

Not even meeting Adam Callahan.

Adam sat on an upended log beside the wood stove and stared at the bathroom door. How long had it been since anyone else had been in his house? It seemed like forever.

He vividly recalled Gene’s last visit. They’d had a great time getting reacquainted. Older by ten years, Adam had always felt responsible for his brother’s welfare, even after they’d both grown up and gone separate ways.

Adam had even offered to quit the force so they could go into business together. Gene had insisted he had his own plans. Plans that didn’t include settling down to a regular nine-to-five job. He wanted to have fun. Explore the wild side of life. If he hadn’t had a cop for a brother, he might have succeeded.

Blinking away the final scene in his brother’s short life, Adam got to his feet. It should have been him who died, not Gene. Adam was the unlucky one. The jinx. It wasn’t safe to be around him. Which was one of the reasons he always gave for his life of isolation.