Angel's Rest

chapter TWO





Nic entered the school auditorium through a side door and looked for a place to sit. The place was packed. She’d bet that 90 percent of the residents of Eternity Springs had gathered for tonight’s meeting. A fluttering hand on the opposite end of the auditorium caught her attention. Nic waved back to Sarah Reese, whose short cap of dark hair crowned an angular face and whose long, luscious lashes set off Elizabeth Taylor violet eyes that were the envy of every woman in town. Sarah gestured toward the empty seat between her and Eternity’s newest permanent resident, Celeste Blessing, who appeared to be having an animated conversation with the man seated to her right, Reverend Hart, the pastor at Community Presbyterian.

“Thanks for saving me a spot,” Nic said to Sarah, sinking gratefully into the chair. Her feet were killing her.

“I was hoping you’d show up. I understand you had some excitement at the clinic tonight. Dish, girlfriend.”

Nic hesitated. This was more than just a man-with-a-dog story. This was a man-with-a-dog-visiting-the-house-on-Murphy-Mountain story, which made it more than idle gossip to Sarah and involved more scars than those that marred the stranger’s chest. “Not much to tell. Guy staying up at Eagle’s Way found an injured dog on the mountain.”

Sarah studied her manicure and said in a casual tone, “Lori said he knew Jack Davenport and that he looked to be our age.”

Nic gave a slow nod. “Maybe a little older. He didn’t mention Cam, Sarah.”

Her friend momentarily stiffened, then wrinkled her nose and gave her dark hair a toss. “Did I ask?”

“No.” But then, she never did. Nic was one of only three other people who knew about Sarah’s unfinished business with Cameron Murphy. “Lori said you were having dinner with Zach Turner.”

“After this meeting, if nothing comes up,” Sarah said. As Nic arched a curious brow, she added, “He’s a friend, Nicole.”

“He could be more if you’d let him.”

“We’re not like that.”

“I don’t know why not. He’s gorgeous, and he wears his … pistol … so well.”

Up on the stage, the mayor and council members huddled around the sound system while a technician tested the microphone. Nic waited until Celeste Blessing finished visiting with Reverend Hart, then said, “Celeste, I drove down Cottonwood Street today. You did it, didn’t you? That new ride in front of Cavanaugh House is yours?”

Blue eyes twinkled as she reached up to adjust the jaunty brim of her white felt hat. “You mean my Honda Gold Wing?”

Sarah leaned forward and gaped at Celeste. “You bought a motorcycle?”

“What can I say? I love to fly.”

Sarah groaned, closed her eyes, and banged her forehead against her palm. “My daughter is so not allowed to hang out with you anymore.”

Celeste laughed softly, and—as always when she heard that particular sound—Nic’s tension melted away. The woman had a gift, an air of serenity about her that was contagious. A widowed, retired schoolteacher from South Carolina, Celeste wore her silver-gray hair in a stylish bob, spoke with a delightful, soft southern accent, and demonstrated an old-money class that blended with a youthful sense of fun. Nic adored her. “Have I mentioned how glad I am that you decided to retire in Eternity Springs, Celeste?”

Pleasure warmed the older woman’s eyes. “Thank you, dear. You’re too kind.”

“Nope. Just selfish. Being around you makes me feel good.”

A loud squeal blasted through the room. Celeste winced and sighed. “That reminds me of my Fancy-cat when I was slow with breakfast.”

Nic gave her new friend’s hand a comforting squeeze. Celeste had arrived in town this past spring with a treasure trove of books and a cranky, arthritic Persian cat. When she brought her ailing Fancy to Nic’s clinic, the depth of her love for her pet had been obvious, and Nic had hated relaying a terminal diagnosis. Celeste had been working up the nerve to have Fancy put down when the cat died in her sleep just over a month ago. Though the older woman had accepted the loss of her pet with grace, Nic knew she was hurting. “You let me know when the time is right for you, and I’ll fix you up with a four-legged somebody needing a home.”

She wondered how Celeste felt about boxers.

“You have a good heart, Nicole Sullivan, and I appreciate your sensitivity. I think I’ll be ready for another pet sooner rather than later. That big old house is lonely with only my old bones rattling around in it.”

“I can imagine.”

Upon moving to Eternity, Celeste had purchased the old Cavanaugh estate, the large Victorian mansion built back in the 1880s by one of the owners of the Silver Miracle mine. Cavanaugh House had been a showplace in its time and later additions contributed to its hodgepodge charm. But after tragedy struck the family in the 1970s, the house had sat empty and the years of neglect had taken a toll.

Onstage the huddle broke and the three council members took their seats at a table. Mayor Hank Townsend stepped up to the podium, banged his gavel twice, and declared, “I’m calling this special town hall meeting to order. Thank you all for coming out on such a blustery autumn evening. Looks like winter might arrive early this year. Hope everyone is ready.”

From the front row, the owner of Fill-U-Up, Eternity’s combination gas station and convenience store, called out, “Quit politicking, Hank, and tell us what the governor’s office said!”

The mayor scowled and banged his gavel again for good measure. “You’re out of order, Dale Parker.”

“Just like the diesel pump at your place,” added one of the council members, Larry Wilson, who owned Eternity’s building supply store. “I have to go beg fuel for my delivery trucks from the city pumps. When do you intend to get that thing fixed?”

“As soon as I know that my business will survive the winter,” Dale fired back. “Just spill the beans, Hank. Are we getting the prison or not?”

The mayor closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and visibly braced himself before saying in a flat, defeated tone. “No. No, we’re not.”

Nic released the breath she unconsciously had been holding as the gathering let out a collective groan. Beside her, Sarah shut her eyes and winced. This was bad news for Eternity. Nic knew it. Yet she couldn’t deny that in her heart of hearts, she was glad. No matter how she’d tried to convince herself and others, she never believed that a state prison would be the answer to Eternity’s prayers.

“That’s it, then,” Dale Parker said, his tone morose. “Eternity is done for. Three bad summer seasons in a row and no prison to halt the bleeding. We might as well roll up the sidewalks and hang a Closed sign at the city limits.”

A buzz of voices agreed with him. Hank Townsend shook his head. “Hold on now, Dale. Everybody take a deep breath and don’t be so negative. Your city council isn’t giving up. In fact, we’ve scheduled a meeting directly following this one to come up with a plan D. Everyone who—”

“That makes me feel better,” Dale interrupted. “After all, plans A, B, and C worked out so well.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” muttered Celeste. Sitting catercorner to the gas station owner, she reached out and rapped him on the head with a rolled copy of the weekly town newspaper, the Eternity Times. “Let the man speak, Mr. Parker. You might learn something.”

Parker frowned over his shoulder. “Beg pardon, Mrs. Blessing, but plan D? It’s obvious that we’re fighting a losing battle here.”

As the audience buzzed mostly with agreement, Hank Townsend shoved his fingers through his hair and grimaced. “All right, all right, all right. I’ll admit it. Eternity is looking more like Temporary every day. We have a dwindling population and zero industry. Summer tourism is sick because we’re smack dab in the middle of the most isolated county in the lower forty-eight and the price of gasoline skyrockets every summer. Winter tourism is nonexistent. We’re too far from the ski resorts, and it’s too hard to get here to enjoy what we do have to offer. Once the snows close the mountain passes, we have one way to get in and out of here, and even I don’t like facing Sinner’s Prayer Pass in wintertime.”

“Wussy,” called Alton Davis, the liquor store owner, who supplemented his income by driving a snow plow in winter—over Sinner’s Prayer Pass.

“You bet,” Hank replied.

A voice from the back of the room called out, “So is your plan D to annihilate the Davenport heirs, Hank? Gonna fix that troublesome will once and for all?”

The mayor froze, blinked, then snorted with amusement. “I have to admit, that idea has some appeal. Sure would solve a lot of problems to be able to cut a road through Waterford Valley and bring Eternity closer to civilization. Unfortunately, murder is illegal.”

“Not to mention immoral,” added Reverend Hart.

Dale Parker heaved a heavy sigh. “Nice to dream, though. Eternity Springs has been paying for that deal between Daniel Murphy and Lucien Davenport for a century and a quarter. You know darn well that if Murphys still owned the land, they’d have sold access to the mountain and to Waterford Valley at some point in the last century. Instead, ol’ Daniel cursed us forever when he sold out to a rich man whose descendants care more about ancient history than they do about progress.”

“Oh, please,” said Emma Hall, owner, publisher, and sole employee of the Eternity Times. “This is a waste of time. The Davenports aren’t going to change their position. Even if they did, don’t forget who else would have to sign off on any deal involving Murphy Mountain. That would be Cameron Murphy. The same Cam Murphy you all routed out of town when he was little more than a boy. Somehow I doubt he’d be all that anxious to play Eternity’s savior.”

A drawn-out discussion of Cam Murphy’s youthful misadventures followed, during which Sarah steadily slumped in her seat. For about the millionth time, Nic cursed the string of events that had done so much damage to both her childhood friends.

Celeste’s keen, blue-eyed gaze shifted between Sarah and Nic. She pursed her lips and thumped them thoughtfully with an index finger, then said, “You know, girls, Eternity Springs doesn’t need a savior.”

Nic answered with a wry smile. “No. We need a town psychologist. After all, it doesn’t say much about the collective mental state of Eternity’s citizens that we’re clinging so hard to an isolated, financially bankrupt, long-past-its-prime mountain town.”

Celeste harrumphed. “People tend to place entirely too much importance on so-called prime years. Believe me, I know.”

Sarah elbowed Nic in the side. “I wouldn’t argue with the senior citizen with a new Honda Gold Wing.”

Celeste continued. “As for the rest, actually, my dears, the fact that you do cling to this lovely mountain town says everything. Eternity Springs might be financially bankrupt, but its moral coffers are full. The people here are good folk. After living here six months, I have concluded that this town is worth saving.”

“I know it’s worth saving,” Nic said.

Sarah wearily massaged her brow. “It’s a nice thought, but at this point, I doubt that particular miracle can happen.”

Celeste exasperatedly blew out a puff of air. “This only proves that you don’t have much experience with miracles. All Eternity Springs needs is an angel.”

“That’s not news,” Sarah said. “I can’t tell you how many corporations, private investors, and venture capitalists the mayor and town council members have approached. No one was interested in investing in Eternity Springs.”

“That’s why I said you need an angel,” Celeste responded as Mayor Townsend pounded his gavel in an attempt to regain control of the meeting. “Isn’t it lucky you have one?”

With talk of Cam Murphy’s misdeeds finally subsiding, Celeste Blessing rose to her feet. “Mayor Townsend? If I might have the floor for moment? I have a plan to share. My own plan A.” With a wink toward Nic and Sarah, she added, “A for angel, if you will.”

“I’m happy to hear what you have to say, Mrs. Blessing.” Hank Townsend waved her forward. “You’re such a little bitty thing, why don’t you join us on the stage so you can speak into the microphone?”

Nic watched in bemusement as Celeste made her way to the podium. The auditorium grew quiet, the air expectant, as the audience focused on the newcomer in their midst. Sarah leaned toward Nic and murmured, “When I grow up, I want to be like Celeste.”

“She does have a way about her.” Hope flickered to life within Nic as Hank Townsend adjusted the microphone for Celeste. Plan A for angel? Was Celeste Blessing Eternity Springs’ angel?

“Think maybe she’s more than just a retired schoolteacher?” Sarah asked, her mind obviously taking the same path as Nic’s. “Maybe she’s an heiress. Or … what has she said about her late husband? Could he have been a corporate bigwig?”

“I don’t recall her saying much about him. Plus I wouldn’t bet against her having been a corporate bigwig. Who knows, maybe Celeste landed in Eternity packing a golden parachute.”

Onstage, Celeste leaned toward the mike and said, “Thank you, Mayor Townsend, council members, and fellow citizens. I appreciate the opportunity to address you. First, let me publicly thank you all for the very warm welcome you gave me as a newcomer to Eternity. I just knew that a town built along Angel Creek had to be a special place, and you’ve proved me right. You’ve been kind and friendly and my move here has been everything I hoped for. I want you all to know that I have faith in this town, faith in the people who live here.”

“Hear, hear,” called Reverend Hart.

Celeste beamed at him and continued. “Here is the message I want you all to hear. Eternity Springs didn’t need the state of Colorado to build a prison here to save the town. Eternity Springs simply needs to free itself from the prison of its past and utilize the gifts a generous and loving God has bestowed upon it. Then, and only then, will this wonderful little town heal and thrive and fulfill the promise of its name.

“Now, we face a long, difficult winter and it won’t be easy to overcome our fears, foibles, and failings. Each one of us must reach inside himself and find the will to do what must be done. But know this: spring is within sight. Thank you, and God bless.”

Celeste stepped away from the podium and exited stage left.

For a long moment, nobody spoke. Sarah and Nic shared dumbfounded looks. Then the clatter of a metal door opening and swinging shut shook them from their reverie and the audience buzzed. Dale Parker groaned and buried his head in his hands. Mayor Townsend snapped his gaping jaw shut, then turned to his city council members. “That’s plan A?”

Parker moaned through his hands. “A for angel, she said. Lady is living in la-la land.”

“A for Alzheimer’s, more likely,” grumbled a council member.

“That’s not funny, Ronnie,” Sarah scolded, the remark having touched a sore nerve.

The council member had the grace to look sheepish as the mayor spoke into the mike. “Okay, then. Well. Anyone else want the microphone?” Without allowing a response, he rushed on. “For anyone who’s interested, some of us will be congregating at the Pub to further discuss our options. Anyone who wants to put his or her brain to planning … uh … well, our next move, is welcome to join us. This meeting is adjourned.”

He banged his gavel once again and the crowd slowly dispersed. Nic and Sarah both kept their seats, not speaking, but silently communicating in the way that old, dear friends do.

Finally Sarah spoke. “What just happened?”

Nic drummed her fingers against the armrest. “Do you feel it, too?”

“That something significant just took place?”

“And nobody noticed.”

“Yeah.” Nic drew a deep breath, and then exhaled in a rush. “No. We’re just being weird.”

“We do that often.” Sarah nibbled at her bottom lip.

“True, but not under circumstances like this. Ordinarily when we’re being weird, we have the urge to call each other at the same moment or we order the same dress from an online store and wear it to the same event.”

“Or remember that time we both got a craving for good Mexican food and drove all the way to Gunnison to get it, and you walked into the restaurant before I’d finished my chips and salsa?”

The memory still nettled, so Nic lifted her chin. “You mean the time I called you to invite you to go with me but you were already on the road … without inviting me?”

“Hey, I was supposed to be dieting.” Sarah grinned without apology. “But you’re right. This was a different kind of weird.”

As Nic tried to put her finger on tonight’s particular brand of weirdness, a familiar voice called, “Hey, you two.”

Nic glanced over her shoulder to see Sage Anderson striding down the auditorium’s side aisle, her Gypsy skirt swirling around trim ankles, her long and wavy auburn hair bouncing with her steps. Sage was one of only a handful of permanent, year-round residents to move to Eternity Springs during the past decade. A painter, she thrived on the isolation the little town had to offer, and the work she’d produced of late was quickly making her the darling of the art world.

Sage had her secrets. She rarely talked about her life before the move to Eternity Springs. Sarah thought she was running from something. Nic believed she’d run to something in the mountains. Whichever way didn’t much matter. Sage was their friend. They liked her and respected her privacy, so they kept their curiosity to themselves—even if it was difficult sometimes.

“I didn’t see you,” Nic said as Sage plopped down in a seat in the front row and twisted around to look at them. “Where were you sitting?”

“I came in late. Stood in the back.” Her dangling purple crystal earrings sparkled as her green eyes gleamed. “Am I ever glad I did. ‘Eternity Springs simply needs to free itself from the prison of its past and utilize the gifts a generous and loving God has bestowed upon it. Then, and only then, will this wonderful little town heal and thrive and fulfill the promise of its name.’ I heard that and …” She snapped her fingers. “A visual popped into my brain. I’m gonna head home and get to work, but wanted to say hi to you two first.”

“Batten down the hatches,” Sarah said. “The creativity wind is upon us. We won’t see her again for a week.”

Nic nodded. “I’ll hang the Do Not Disturb signs around the studio on my way home tonight. I’d rather avoid being called out to treat the wounds of any poor, unsuspecting soul who might hazard a knock upon her door.”

“Oh, stop it,” Sage said with a laugh. “I’m not that bad. I never draw blood.” She beamed at Sarah and Nic, and exhaled a satisfied sigh. “Look, it very rarely happens this way. I am so stoked. Celeste Blessing gave me a gift with that speech of hers. I think she’s wonderful. If the mayor and city council and grumpy old men like Dale Parker want to ignore her, then too bad so sad. I think she put the hope back into Eternity Springs tonight, and that’s an important start.”

Sarah gave Nic a look. “And we thought nobody noticed. Somebody did.”

“ ‘Spring is in sight,’ ” Nic quoted, giving a rueful smile. “Think we can believe it?”

“I do,” Sage declared. “I absolutely do.”

“I want to,” Sarah offered. “Although believing would be easier if this were February rather than the end of September.”

Nic stared absently at the graffiti inked on the seat back in front of her and considered what troubles loomed before her in the coming months. She had taxes due on the house and clinic. The water heater was making funny noises and the furnace had been on borrowed time for three winters now. On a personal front, she faced long winter nights rambling around in a house that should be filled with children and laughter and love, but instead echoed with loneliness and grief over a lost dream.

Was Celeste right? Was spring—the end of her personal winter—finally in sight?

“Plan A for angel,” she murmured as, unbidden, the image of a rescued boxer and a haunted-eyed stranger with scars on his chest and wounds on his soul flashed in her mind. You’re a lifesaver.

“You know what?” Nic said, glancing from one friend to the other. “I believe it. It is weird, but we do weird here in Eternity Springs. I trust in Celeste’s insight. I think she gave us all a gift. We just have to be smart enough to recognize it and act on it.”

“Works for me,” Sarah said.

“Me too,” Sage agreed. “That’s why I’m headed home to work. See you two … well … probably in a week or so.”

Nic left the school auditorium with a lighter heart and a more positive outlook than she’d had in months. Maybe she was fooling herself. Maybe this was no more than relief over dodging the prison-comes-to-town bullet. Maybe Celeste had some strange hope-creating disease, and by sitting next to her, Nic had caught it.

Whatever it was, she liked the feeling and she refused to second-guess it. Today, for the first time in a very long time, Nicole Sullivan was looking forward to winter.


Gabe held a steaming cup of coffee in his hand as he stepped out onto the deck bathed in morning sunshine and took a moment to appreciate the exquisite view from the northern exposure of Eagle’s Way. Above a sea of evergreens, a trio of snowy peaks kissed a robin’s-egg sky. Patches of snow clung to the ground in shady spots and decorated the hills like icing. At the base of the mountain, waterfowl floated on the surface of a sapphire lake. The scene was beautiful, peaceful, and serene.

He inhaled a deep breath of crisp, pine-scented air and took stock of his situation.

Today might be a decent day.

Though he took care to keep his emotions locked away, he couldn’t deny that something inside him had changed since the day the stray dog knocked his Glock into the snow. He didn’t sleep half the day away anymore; he had energy again. For the past week he’d spent much of his time involved in heavy labor.

His breath fogged on the air and he checked the outdoor thermometer. Twenty-two degrees now, but he’d bet that would double by noon. It’d be a beautiful day to sweat.

He’d noted that a section of retaining wall beside the garage needed repair, and once he’d analyzed the situation and double-checked the house plans in Davenport’s study, he’d realized that the builder had screwed up. They’d built the retaining wall five feet off the line, and as a result, vehicles entering and exiting the garage had to make a sharp left turn. Judging by the scrapes of paint on the support posts, the error needed to be corrected.

With no more snow in the immediate forecast and plagued by an unusual restless energy, Gabe had called his host and pitched his idea to tear down the wall and rebuild it according to the original design. Davenport had given him the go-ahead without hesitation. Not because he worried about a few paint scrapes, he’d allowed—he himself never messed up that turn, thank you very much—but because he knew from experience that strenuous physical work helped ward off the demons of depression.

Gabe didn’t disagree. An hour of hard, physical outdoor labor beat an hour on a shrink’s couch any day of the week.

On this particular day, he finished the north stretch of the new wall by late afternoon and decided he’d worked enough for the day. His muscles were sore, his body weary. Best of all, he’d rebuilt mental defenses right along with the retaining wall, and for the past six nights he’d slept nightmare-free. With any luck, tonight would make it seven.

As he tugged off his work gloves, he realized he was hungry. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he craved a real meal. Maybe he’d clean up, go into town, and try out that restaurant Jack had bragged about—the Bristlecone Café. Wouldn’t hurt to pick up a few supplies, either.

Twenty minutes later, showered and dressed in clean jeans and a blue flannel shirt, he opened the pantry door to check the cereal supply and heard a scratching sound at the kitchen door. He glanced back over his shoulder and froze. “What the …?”

Having a raccoon show up at the back door wouldn’t have surprised him. Or a deer. An elk. A mountain lion. Actually, having a bear come pawing at the door wouldn’t have shocked him. But a boxer? The boxer?

He wore one of those white plastic cone collars that prevented dogs from chewing at their stitches, and he looked ridiculous. Healthy, but ridiculous. Crooked tail wagging, ears perked, pink tongue extended, panting.

“It’s been two weeks,” Gabe muttered, thinking aloud. Was that long enough for the dog to be released from quarantine? Maybe. Had the vet brought the dog back to him to keep? Why? He’d told her the dog wasn’t his.

Gabe frowned at the dog, then stepped outside, careful to block the boxer from scooting past him until the door was safely shut. “What’s the deal, dog? Did you slip your leash and run away?”

He didn’t see the vet or anyone else. Ordinarily Eagle’s Way’s serious security safeguards would prevent drop-in visitors, but for the past eight years Gabe preferred to leave gates and locks open whenever possible, no matter where he was. Memories of the six months he’d spent as a … guest … in an Eastern European prison were hard to shake, so he initiated Eagle’s Way’s security system at night but left the place accessible during the day. The vet could have driven right up to the house if she’d wanted, but the drive was empty. She must have parked in the circular drive in front. She’d probably ring the bell any moment now.

Gabe turned to reenter the house. This time the boxer was ready. A brindle blur all but knocked Gabe down as he dashed inside, through the kitchen, and into the hallway, headed for the great room. Gabe muttered a curse and took a quick mental inventory to determine what might be at risk of destruction as he trailed after the dog, wincing at the thought of the crystal collection on the coffee table—exactly at crooked-tail height.

“Hey!” he called as he hurried after the dog. “Stop. Stay. Sit.”

He might as well have said “Sing ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’ ” for all the good that did. Luckily, the dog made it across the room without destroying anything, and after a quick sniff he curled up on the rug in front of the fireplace.

“Well, make yourself at home, why don’t you?” Gabe muttered as he crossed to the front door. He stared out at the circular drive where he expected to see a car—but didn’t. There wasn’t a car or truck or any vehicle of any type in sight.

Gabe’s frown deepened as he stepped out onto the front porch. No car by the garage, either. “Hello?” he called. “Dr. Sullivan?”

Nothing. Nada. No one.

Reentering the house, he braced his hands on his hips and stared at the boxer. “You did not come all the way up here by yourself.”

The dog exhaled a loud, snorty sigh. His tail thumped twice against the rug, and a stray thought sneaked past Gabe’s barriers. Matty would have loved him.

Daddy, can I have a dog? Please? Pretty please?

Gabe gave himself a shake, then grimly said, “Well, it doesn’t matter how you got up here. You are not staying here.”

The tail thumped three times. Otherwise the dog didn’t move so much as a whisker. In fact, he looked as if he’d be content to lie by the fire all winter. “Not hardly,” Gabe muttered.

Well, he was headed to town anyway. A quick stop by the vet’s to dump the dog wouldn’t be a big deal.

Gabe grabbed his car keys from a nearby table and jangled them. “You want to go for a ride?”

One floppy brown ear perked up inside the silly white cone.

Gabe jangled the keys again. Both ears perked. Gabe tried to recall if he’d seen a dog leash anywhere in Eagle’s Way. Maybe in the mud room?

When he returned to the great room with a leash in hand, the boxer leapt to his feet. After fastening the leash to the leather collar and adjusting the white plastic cone, Gabe led him to the garage and helped him climb up into the Jeep. He and the boxer headed into town.

Again.