Currant Creek Valley(41)
He could picture watching sunsets over those mountains from the porch on summer evenings, raking leaves with Ethan on crisp autumn afternoons with the smell of wood smoke in the air, the whole neighborhood lit up with twinkly lights at Christmastime.
Apparently Jill could see his mind was set. She shifted from pointing out the pitfalls to some of the positives.
“Well, it is quite historic, built during the mining boom in the latter part of the nineteenth century. It’s one of the original houses in this neighborhood. Really, most of the other houses grew up around it. The yard is nicely landscaped, with all those beautiful mature trees and even some cherry and apple trees in the back. It’s been neglected the last few years because of the owner’s health issues but should only need a little elbow grease to bring it back.”
He didn’t mind hard work, though he knew little about gardening. He would just have Ethan read some books on the subject. The kid could be a walking encyclopedia when you gave him a research topic.
“The seller is actually the grandson of the original owner,” the real estate agent went on. “He was pastor here in Hope’s Crossing for many years. He and his wife raised all their children here. Hank had a heart attack a few years ago and hasn’t been able to keep up the house as he’d like. From what I understand, they’re moving to Arizona to be closer to grandchildren.”
He had sensed the house had known families, children, love.
“Let’s not keep them waiting then. Make the offer, see if they bite.”
Her carefully coiffed hair didn’t move when she shook her head, he noticed. “I hope you’re not rushing into things, but let me go make a call.”
She walked into the kitchen, leaving him and Ethan alone. After she left, he felt a moment’s misgivings. Buying a house was a huge decision. Buying a house in a completely new community felt monumental.
No, he wouldn’t second-guess. Moving to Hope’s Crossing was the right decision, for him and for his son.
“What did you think about that creek we saw on the way in? What are the chances we can hook some trout in it?”
Ethan appeared to give the matter serious thought. “There are too many variables for me to be able to answer that. We don’t even know if there are trout in it, for one thing.”
He laughed. “It was a figure of speech, son. That’s all. What do you say we go take a look at it, see if we can find any.”
“Sure.”
They headed into the April sunshine and Ethan slipped a hand in his, his fingers small and vulnerable.
“Does it snow a lot here?” Ethan asked as they headed across the street to an area where the creek ran close to the road before curving through the trees.
“More than in Denver, that’s for sure. You think you’ll be okay with that? You’re going to have to learn to ski or snowboard. I think it’s the law.”
Ethan frowned. “I don’t think that’s possible. It wouldn’t be constitutional, would it?”
He laughed and rubbed Mr. Literal’s head. “Maybe not the law. Maybe it’s just a strongly worded suggestion. Don’t worry, I think you’ll like it.”
Before Ethan could answer, a very familiar dog came bounding across a nearby yard toward them with single-minded intent. Ethan gasped and edged behind him. For all his talk about wanting a pet, he wasn’t a fan of big, strange dogs.
“You don’t have to worry about this dog. He’s friendly.”
“How do you know?”
“We’ve met before.”
“Is he a stray?”
“The answer to that particular question is a little complicated. Leo, what are you doing up here?” he asked. “Did you run away again? Don’t you know you had a good thing going?”
The dog looked at him for a moment out of those beautiful hazel eyes then barked happily and turned back around the way he had come, heading up the street in the slanting afternoon sunlight.
Sam muttered an oath but cut it off when he caught Ethan watching him carefully. He wasn’t at all in the mood to chase down a dog, but he also knew he couldn’t let Leonidas wander aimlessly.
“Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“To catch that rascal of a dog,” he answered.
“Really?” Ethan’s eyes were huge. “Are we going to keep it?”
When they were a little more settled, maybe they could consider getting a dog, but that seemed months away.
“Right now the dog belongs to someone else. Come on, let’s see if we can grab him before he gets too far.”
They hurried down the street, Ethan’s hand still in his, past a couple houses that showed clear signs of children living there, with bikes parked beside the garage, and a trampoline in one backyard. Finally the dog paused at a particularly charming small log home, almost hidden from the street by trees.