Angel's Rest

chapter THREE





Nic gave her reflection in the bathroom mirror one last look and wished she’d splurged on a new shade of lipstick for her date tonight. She’d worn a bronze shade for years. This was a new life. A new man. She should have a new lipstick.

“Too late now,” she told her reflection. “He’ll be here in ten minutes.”

As Nic made her way downstairs, she admitted that referring to Bob Gerard as a “new man” was a stretch, since this was to be their first date and she’d only met Bob four days ago. He was part of the mayor’s plan D, a business consultant from Colorado Springs whom Hank Townsend had brought to town to identify any options for saving Eternity Springs they might have overlooked.

Bob had flirted with Nic from the moment they met during a “business leader” luncheon at the Bristlecone. When he called that night to chat, her first instinct had been to brush him off the same way she had every other man since Greg Sullivan broke her heart. Then she’d recalled Celeste’s speech at the high school about prisons of the past and she’d taken the leap, dusting off her own rusty flirting skills. Bob didn’t seem to mind her awkwardness. When a conversation about hunting led to his admission that he’d never tried game meats, she’d screwed up her courage and invited him to dinner for the specialty of her house—roast venison.

For this casual evening at home, she’d chosen to wear black slacks and an aquamarine V-neck cashmere sweater that Lori and Sarah claimed did wonders for her eyes. Nic just hoped she could get through dinner without spilling anything on it. She’d about ruined the oxford shirt she’d worn while preparing the meal—despite wearing an apron at the time. “I’m not nervous,” she said aloud. “I’m not.”

When the doorbell rang, she startled. No, not nervous at all.

She put a smile on her face and opened the door, saying, “You’re right on time … oh. Mr. Callahan.”

Gabe Callahan stood on her front porch, the boxer he’d rescued up on Murphy Mountain at his side. “You knew I’d bring him back?”

“No. Not you. I thought you were someone else.” She frowned down at the dog and said, “Why is the boxer with you? Is Celeste okay?”

“Who is Celeste?”

Without warning, the dog yanked the leash from Gabe’s hand and darted past Nic and into her home just as her telephone started ringing. Flustered, she said, “I’m sorry. Let me get that. Please come in.”

Her home was a standard Victorian design with two rooms on either side off a large entry hall with the staircase to the second-floor bedrooms at its center, a narrow kitchen stretching the width of the house at the back. The closest phone sat on a table at the back of the center hall, toward the kitchen. The boxer disappeared into the cozy library, where Nic spent most of her time and where she’d set a small table for two. Her unexpected guest followed the dog.

She grabbed the phone on the fourth ring without bothering to check the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Nic, hi. It’s Bob. Look, I’m not going to be able to make it tonight. I’m on my way home now. Had an emergency.”

She waited for her stomach to sink in disappointment. To her surprise, all she felt was relief. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope it’s nothing too serious.”

“My son had an accident on his four-wheeler. Broke his arm and a leg. My wife is frantic, and frankly, so am I. Do you know how long it’s gonna take me to get home? This town of yours is way too isolated.”

“Excuse me?” Nic’s heart began to pound. “Did you just say ‘my wife’?”

“Oh. Well …”

Her blood began to boil. “You weren’t wearing a wedding ring.”

“Yeah. Well …”

“You sorry, lowlife jerk. You flirted with me from hello. I can’t believe you … Listen. You can take your ‘consulting’ and shove it. We don’t want your kind in our town.” She started to slam the phone down, froze, and brought it back to her ear. “I hope your son is okay.”

After that, she did slam the receiver into its cradle. She stood staring at it, her hands on her hips, breathing hard. Anger coursed through her blood. “What is it with men? Are they totally incapable of faithfulness?”

“Depends. It’s a character issue more than a sexual one.”

Nic closed her eyes in embarrassment and swallowed a groan. She’d forgotten about her visitor. Lovely. Just lovely.

“I seem to find only the characters without character. Oh well.” She shrugged and shook off her discomfort. “Talk to me about the dog.”

Gabe glanced at the boxer, who lay curled on a rug in front of the fireplace. “He came scratching at my door a little while ago, and I’m bringing him back to you.”

“He scratched at the door of your Jeep?”

“No. He scratched at the kitchen door at Eagle’s Way.”

“How did he get up there?”

“I thought you brought him.”

“No.” Nic shook her head. “I can’t keep strays that come to me. It’s one of my few hard-and-fast rules, otherwise I’d be overrun with pets. The boxer is on a week-long get-to-know-you visit with Celeste Blessing, who I hope will agree to adopt him. She lives in the big yellow Victorian on the east bank of Angel Creek.”

“That’s a long way from Murphy Mountain.”

She nodded, then tilted her head and studied him, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Did he really show up at Eagle’s Way?”

One side of Gabe’s mouth lifted in a self-mocking smile, and he raised his hands palms out. “Hey, I have no reason to lie. I’m not married, and I’m not trying to date you.”

“Ouch,” she muttered, embarrassed at the reminder of what he’d overheard. “I need to call and check on Celeste. Would you keep an eye on Tiger for me, please? The way my luck is running, he’ll decide to sample the meat I have resting on the kitchen counter.”

“Tiger?”

She gestured vaguely toward the dog. “My name for him. It’s his brindle coat, the black stripes on brown. Makes me think of tiger stripes.”

Nic lifted the phone and dialed Celeste’s number, conscious of the quickening in her pulse as she imagined all sorts of disasters that could have happened to her elderly friend. When Celeste said “Hello” following the third ring, Nic exhaled a relieved breath. “Hi, Celeste, it’s Nic. I’m calling about the boxer.”

“Ah … I take it he’s found his way home?”

Nic gave Gabe Callahan a sidelong look and responded, “In a manner of speaking. He’s here with me now. What happened?”

“Well, we were outside enjoying the sunshine when Archibald walked over, climbed up on my lap, licked my face, then trotted off. He obviously had somewhere to go, so I wasn’t worried about him.”

“Archibald?” Nic repeated, not certain she and Celeste were on the same wavelength. “We’re talking about the boxer, right?”

“Yes, well, he needs a name, and that seemed to fit.”

In what universe, Nic couldn’t guess. “What time was this?”

“Oh, this morning sometime.”

“And you weren’t concerned when he didn’t come back?”

“No, dear. Archibald is a sweetheart of a dog, but I’m not meant to be his companion. He and I both know that. We had quite a talk about it.”

Nic decided then and there that it was time to take Celeste into Gunnison for a thorough medical checkup. She wasn’t a dotty-old-dear type at all. Concerned, Nic asked, “Are you feeling all right, Celeste? Any unusual aches or pains?”

“I’m fine, dear. In fact, I’m just about to take a quick spin on my Honda. It’s a beautiful evening, and this time of year, each one we have is a heavenly gift. You should make a point of enjoying yourself, too. I recall that this is a difficult day for you.”

“Yes, well …” Nic glanced toward Gabe and saw that he was perusing the offerings on her bookshelves. The boxer hadn’t budged from his position in front of the fire. “Maybe Archibald will help me pass the time. Drive safely, Celeste. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

She ended the call and joined her visitors in the library. Gabe arched a brow her way and repeated, “Archibald? That’s worse than Tiger.”

“What have you been calling him?”

Gabe glanced down at the dog and shook his head. “I don’t name things I don’t intend to keep.”

She spared him a scolding look before turning her attention to the dog. Since he didn’t seem interested in coming to her, she crossed the room and knelt beside him. “All right, Tiger. Let’s give you a quick once-over to see how you fared on today’s trek. Hmm … no new scratches or scrapes that I can tell. And, actually, these stitches can come out. How about it, handsome? You ready to ditch the collar?”

As she unfastened the Elizabethan collar’s plastic tabs, she glanced up at Gabe. “I have a yellow canvas bag hanging on a chair in the kitchen. Would you grab it for me, please? It’s the room at the far end of the entry hall.”

“Sure.” When he handed the bag over a few moments later, he said, “I see why you wanted to keep the dog out of the kitchen. Something smells awfully tempting.”

“It’s my specialty. Pistachio-and-pine-nut-crusted rack of venison with wild mushrooms.” As she removed the stitches from the boxer’s leg, she said, “Why don’t you stay and share my supper, Mr. Callahan? I have plenty, and everything is ready.”

He glanced toward the table set for two. “Oh … uh … thanks, but I don’t think so.”

“Why not? You have to eat, and it’s not like I’m trying to date you, either.”

His stare shifted toward the kitchen, and she thought she saw a flash of regret in his eyes before he shook his head. “I thought I’d drop by the Bristlecone Café. I’ve heard the food is excellent.”

“It’s wonderful and you definitely need to try it, but it won’t be tonight. It’s Tuesday. The Bristlecone is closed on Tuesdays.”

“Oh, well …”

His obvious reluctance began to annoy her. “Are you a vegetarian? Don’t care for game? If that’s it, you really should try my venison. I promise you’ll change your mind.”

“Dr. Sullivan—”

“Nic.”

“I’m Gabe. I appreciate the invitation. Your venison sounds and smells delicious, but I’m not much company.”

“All right. What’s a little more humiliation?” She folded her arms and sighed. “Here’s the deal, Gabe. I know I’m being pushy. It’s an unfortunate tendency of mine. But the fact is that I really, really don’t want to be alone tonight. See, today is … was … my wedding anniversary. Would have been six years today if the man I married wasn’t a lying, cheating snake. Last year on this date I swore I wouldn’t spend this year wallowing in another self-indulgent pity party. If you leave me now, I’m liable to do just that. Besides, the way I figure it, you owe me. I saved your life, remember? You said yourself that I was a lifesaver. All I’m asking for in return is for you to sit down and make small talk with me while we share a gourmet meal and a really fine bottle of wine.”

Amusement lit his eyes and she could see the subtle lessening of tension in his stance. “Small talk, huh? You don’t know how much I hate small talk.”

“Deal with it, Callahan. The meat needs to sit another …” She checked the mantel clock. “Five minutes. The powder room is beneath the stairs if you want to wash up, and if you’d like a drink before dinner, the piece of furniture against the wall behind you is a bar. I filled the ice bucket earlier, so you’re good to go.”

In the kitchen, Nic gave her hips a happy little wiggle as she stirred the sauce. Okay, so this wasn’t a date. No doubt about that. Nevertheless, she’d managed to upgrade her dinner companion for tonight in a substantial way, and for that she was grateful. Excited, even. She couldn’t have asked for a better distraction on this unhappy anniversary. Gabe Callahan was downright hot. The scruffy, need-a-haircut-and-a-shave look suited him, and a girl could get drunk on those warm whiskey eyes of his.

Distracted by her thoughts and the man in her library, Nic neglected to use her hot pads as she went to pick up her roasting pan. “Yee-ouch!” she cried as the pan clattered back onto the stovetop.

She was shaking her left hand and staring at the venison, grateful she hadn’t dropped their dinner on the floor, when Callahan appeared in the doorway to her kitchen. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m an idiot. I almost dropped the roast.”

“You burned yourself,” he surmised as his gaze shifted from her to the pot on the stove. Crossing to the kitchen sink, he twisted the cold water faucet. “C’mere.”

When she moved close, he took her arm by the wrist and studied her hand as he guided it beneath the running water. “You grabbed your pan without a pad? You don’t strike me as the careless sort.”

“I have my moments of ditziness,” she replied.

Ditziness fast becoming dizziness. He’d yet to release her hand, so he stood close enough for her to smell the sandalwood fragrance of his soap. It was all she could do not to sway against him.

Nic had always been a sucker for ruggedly handsome men with well-defined abs, but with the wounded-soul thing he had going on … whoa. My oh my, he trips my trigger.

“It doesn’t appear to be too bad a burn,” he observed.

You’d be surprised. With a husky note to her voice, she murmured, “It’s fine.”

Gabe glanced up and caught her staring at the strong line of his jaw. His gaze locked onto hers, and for a long, smoldering moment time hung suspended. Nic thought he might lower his head and kiss her.

Instead he abruptly released her wrist as if it were the hot roasting-pan handle and quickly backed away.

In that moment he reminded her of a cornered animal desperately searching for escape, and the healer in her responded. This man was hurt, damaged in some fundamental way. She saw it not in those scars upon his body but in the haunted expression in his eyes.

She wanted to make him well again. If he had four legs instead of two, she’d know exactly what to do, but humans weren’t her specialty, and despite his appeal, she felt out of her league where Gabe Callahan was concerned.

Gruffly he asked, “Can I, um, carry something to the table?”

“Sure. Thank you. The breadbasket is there by the coffee maker. I’ll join you in just a few minutes.”

He grabbed the basket in full retreat and kept his distance until Nic invited him to pour the wine as she served the meal. Once they were both seated, she attempted to dispel the lingering tension by lifting her glass in a toast. “To scintillating small talk, Mr. Callahan.”

After a brief pause, Gabe gave a half smile, touched his glass to hers, and said in a droll tone of voice, “Lovely weather we’re having, Dr. Sullivan.”

The exchange set the tone for the meal. His interest in her library led to a discussion about reading preferences and she learned they shared an affinity for popular fiction. They both enjoyed thrillers, though he expressed disdain for spy novels and she didn’t care for graphic violence. They debated favorite authors for a time, then conversation moved to the meal. He paid flattering homage to her cooking skills, both verbally and by taking second helpings. She considered it a minor victory when he asked her a question that she felt went beyond “small talk.”

Nic lifted her wineglass and swirled the ruby liquid as she contemplated her answer. “I chose to return to Eternity Springs because I have a thing for ruby slippers.”

He made the Wizard of Oz connection easily. “There’s no place like home, Dorothy?”

“Exactly. I can live other places, be happy other places. I certainly would be better off financially if I worked somewhere else. But I don’t think I’d thrive anywhere but here. It sounds corny, I know, but I believe that this is where I am meant to be.” She sipped her wine and took a risk. “How about you, Gabe Callahan? Where is home for you?”

Slowly, he set down his fork. He lifted his napkin from his lap and wiped his mouth. “The meal was excellent, Nic. I’ve never tasted venison as delicious as this.”

Okay. Great big No Trespassing sign in that window. She considered calling him on it but decided she didn’t want to spoil what had ended up being a lovely evening. “Thank you. Would you care for dessert?”

He glanced at the mantel clock and set his napkin on the table. “I should be heading back.”

“I have a plate of the Bristlecone Café’s famous brownies.”

He returned his napkin to his lap. “I guess there’s no need to hurry.”

Nic grinned as she rose to clear the dinner plates, but the smile died when she glanced out the window and spied an unusual light. “Wait. Look, Gabe. What is that?”

He responded at the moment a bell began to clang. “Fire. I think it’s across the creek.”

Nic stared, realized what she was looking at, then gasped. “That’s Cavanaugh House.”

Celeste Blessing’s home was on fire.


Gabe started his Jeep and cursed the dog. If not for that dopey, crooked-tailed mange magnet, he’d be holed up on the mountain safely by himself.

He didn’t belong down here in the valley having dinner with an attractive woman. He had no business rushing off to the rescue of little old ladies. Interacting with others. Joining in their efforts. He had no business doing any of this. That wasn’t why he’d come to Eternity Springs.

It was all that stupid dog’s fault.

Yet the moment Nic slipped into the passenger seat beside him, a medical bag in hand, he shifted into gear and headed for the fire.

She tossed a pair of work gloves into his lap. “We’re a volunteer fire department here. They’ll have some extra gear on the truck, but it never hurts to have your own.”

He muttered a few more curses beneath his breath. He had much more experience with firefights than he did with fighting fires.

When they arrived at the scene, it quickly became obvious to Gabe that the first responders knew what they were doing. They worked efficiently and effectively beneath the direction of the man he recognized as the owner of the local lumber yard.

“There’s Celeste. Thank God.” Nic grabbed her medical bag and hopped out of the Jeep before Gabe switched off the ignition. As she rushed toward the elderly woman seated on the tailgate of a pickup truck, Gabe braced himself, then went to offer his assistance to the lumberyard owner, who was barking orders into a radio. “What can I do to help?”

“You ever done this before?”

“No.”

“Then stay back. Help move the hose.” He pointed to a man who had the fire hose slung over his shoulder and who moved in coordination with the two men in front at the nozzle. Over the roar and crackle of the fire, the leader shouted, “Cyrus, go spell Frank for a bit. This fella will take your place.”

Heat hit Gabe like a body blow as he moved closer to the fire. From the top floor of the grand old mansion, fingers of flame stabbed into the night sky. Gingerbread decorating the eaves flamed, blackened, and disappeared. An attic window popped and men scurried backward as glass rained down onto the yard.

Once the glass settled, firefighters moved forward with their hoses again, water roaring from the nozzles. Gabe hauled and hoisted and hefted. Sweat cascaded down his face and reminded him of a hot Texas summers of his youth. He turned his face away as a cloud of smoke rolled over him and stole his breath. He started to cough, so hard that he bent over double.

It was as he straightened that he recognized the potential for disaster. With the wind blowing the heat and flames away from them, a pair of knuckleheaded boys had kept inching forward, and they now stood too close to the burning house for Gabe’s peace of mind. He yelled to catch their attention and tell them to move back, but between his smoke-filled lungs and the chaos of the moment, no one paid him any attention. Who are the idiots who allow their kids to run loose this way?

He heaved a grim sigh and set down the hose, indicating his intentions by gesture to the man in front of him. He hurried toward the boys, and he’d just captured the boys’ notice when the boom of an explosion ripped through the night. Burning debris launched like missiles into the air above the boys’ heads, and Gabe launched himself at the pair.

The boys cried out as they all went down in a heap. Flaming rubble rained down around them. Something hard and hot struck Gabe’s back just as a scream alerted him to the fact that one boy’s fleece jacket had caught fire. Gabe frantically went to work smothering the flames, and soon other arms reached out to help. As panicked voices rose all around him, he climbed slowly to his feet, breathing heavily.

Someone shuffled the kids off for Nic to check over, but Gabe ignored the instruction that he should do the same. Instead he went back to the fire hose, back to work. The minor burns on his hands didn’t rate a break, and he could tell that they were gaining ground on the fire.

All in all, the incident with the boys didn’t last a minute. The fire itself hadn’t burned for more than twenty. The volunteer fire department had it whipped in half an hour. When the lumberyard owner ordered the hoses shut off, a huge cheer went up from the crowd. Everyone in town must be here.

Gabe stepped away from the fire hose. The townspeople surged forward to inspect damage to a home now lit only by moonlight. Gabe remained stationary, and as a result, he soon stood at the periphery of the crowd. Scraps of conversation drifted over him.

“How did it start?”

“Who was the fella who knocked the boys to safety?”

“She bought the place lock, stock, and barrel. I heard it’s still packed full of Cavanaugh stuff. Hope it wasn’t all destroyed.”

“Well, Celeste can’t stay here. Wonder who will take her home?”

“Looks like the damage is confined to the north addition. Lucky break there.”

“Who’s that man who came with Dr. Nic? I’ve never seen him before.”

“You know, Hank, we dodged a disaster by the skin of our teeth. We have to get the pump truck fixed. Got it running tonight on a lick and a prayer. Hell, the fire could have jumped the creek and burned down the whole damn town!”

Gabe took another step back. Then another. When he saw a trio of matrons eyeing him with questions in their eyes, he pivoted on his heel and headed for the Jeep. Halfway there he stopped abruptly. He’d brought Nic here. He couldn’t up and leave without her. His mother—God rest her soul—had branded that into his bones.

Reluctantly he went to find her. A triage of sorts had been set up along the bank of Angel Creek with lanterns and flashlights and car headlights illuminating the space. Nic and a handful of other women were there tending to a variety of minor injuries.

As he approached, an older woman eyed him with interest. “You must be Gabe Callahan,” she said. “I’m Celeste Blessing. Nicole tells me that Archibald has decided you are his owner.”

Who? Oh. The dog. Oh, no. No. No. No. “I’m just visiting the area, Ms. Blessing. I’m a guest in someone else’s home. I can’t have a dog.”

“Hmm …” She offered him a beatific smile before turning to Nic. “Now that things have calmed down a bit, I need to tell you why the accident happened. I’m afraid I knocked over the candle because I was trying to run after the puppy that a fox chased into my root cellar. He was hurt, Nic, and I’m sure he’s still down there. We need to go get him.”

A pretty brunette about Nic’s age shook her head. “You can’t go down there tonight.”

“It’s a puppy,” Celeste repeated. “I hope he doesn’t die.”

The brunette hit her forehead with her palm and groaned. “Now you’ve done it. Nic won’t hesitate to risk life and limb for a puppy.”

Celeste added, “They told me the basement wasn’t affected by the fire, so the root cellar should be fine, too.”

Nic stared toward the house. “I can make a quick—”

“I’ll do it,” Gabe announced. “Somebody give me a flashlight.”

“Thanks, Gabe.” She darted a smile. “Two sets of hands are better than one when working with wild animals, and I suspect she saw a coyote rather than a puppy. Let me grab my bag.”

He nodded, accepted the offered flashlight, and headed for the root cellar entrance he’d noticed while fighting the fire. She caught up with him halfway to the house. “I’ll go in first. If the animal needs sedation, you’ll need to stay out of my way.”

Gabe respected her professional abilities, but no way he’d let a woman take point position. At the root cellar door he met her gaze and said, “Dr. Sullivan? Sit. Stay.”

She narrowed her eyes and said, “Careful, Callahan. I bite.”

He switched on the flashlight and stepped down into the inky blackness. The air smelled musty and smoky. He stood still for a moment as he listened for puppy sounds. Nothing.

“Quiet as a tomb,” he muttered, playing the light across the floor from left to right. He saw burlap bags and wooden shelves, two wooden barrels, and … a caved-in section of a brick wall.

He muttered a curse.

“What is it?” Nic called, descending the stairs. “What’s wrong?”

The beam from Gabe’s flashlight held steady on the skull revealed by the crumbling brick.

Behind him, Nic gasped. “Gabe? Tell me that’s fake. It’s a Halloween prop, isn’t it?”

Nope. Sure wasn’t. “Go back outside, Nicole.”

“It was in the wall? Bricked up?” Instead of exiting the root cellar, Nic Sullivan moved forward. “This is so Edgar Allan Poe.”

“Careful,” Gabe warned as she approached the crumbled wall, pulling a flashlight of her own from her medical bag. She reached out and dragged another row of loose bricks away, then another. Realizing she wasn’t about to quit, Gabe stepped up to help her.

They tore the wall halfway to the floor and stepped back. Nic let out a long, shaky sigh. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever seen, Gabe.”

The skeleton lay stretched out on a wooden table, what appeared to be the tattered remains of a wedding dress draped atop it.

Gabe peered behind the remnants of the wall and added, “Interesting, too. There are stacks of silver bars at her feet.”