Currant Creek Valley(53)
“So what’s the completion date for the recreation center?”
“It’s a rush job. The whole thing isn’t going to be finished by the end of the summer but we’re trying to get some of the main reception areas done by early June. Something about a special memorial event on that day. You probably know more about that than I do.”
“Aah. The annual Giving Hope Day.” Her mouth tightened, a shadow of sadness drifting over her features.
“Giving Hope. That sounds ambitious.”
“It’s actually in remembrance of my niece, Layla. My sister Maura’s daughter. She was killed a couple years ago in a car accident in the canyon—not very far from where you’re building the recreation center, actually.”
“Is that the same car accident where Brodie’s daughter, Taryn, was injured?”
“Yeah. The very one. A group of teenagers sort of went on a rampage, I guess you could say, causing trouble and just being stupid. Vandalism, breaking and entering, some petty theft. They were drinking. A few of them got high. The driver had a couple drinks in his system and rolled his pickup truck on the way down the canyon, trying to flee a police chase.”
Some of his surprise must have registered on his features because she nodded.
“I know. Shocking, right here in happy little Hope’s Crossing. If you moved here because you think of small-town life as this idyllic paradise where everything is perfect, you’re going to suffer a rude wake-up call.”
“I served three tours of duty in Iraq and Afghanistan. I do believe that’s the first time anybody has ever implied I’m naive.”
“I’m sorry if I gave that impression. I just hope you understand we’re not insulated here from the problems the rest of the world has to face. Hope’s Crossing isn’t perfect. We have our share of troubles. Teen pregnancies, suicides, drugs. Just like anyplace else.”
“Understood.”
“Maybe more so because we’re a tourist destination and that brings its own challenges. I guess the difference is that those of us who have chosen to make this our year-round home work really hard to build community. People care about each other here. Have you heard about our Angel of Hope?”
“A little. Just that somebody goes around secretly doing nice things for people,” he answered. “Sounds like a fine concept to me. And nobody knows who it is?”
“Rumors are always flying but no, we haven’t figured it out. At this point, I think the Angel has taken on a life of its own. Kind of a pay-it-forward kind of thing. People do nice things for others and let the Angel take the credit for it. Whoever started the whole thing is a genius. Because of the Angel, Hope’s Crossing has come together like never before.”
Her features glowed when she talked about her town and the people she loved. She looked so lovely, he just wanted to sit here and gaze at her.
“And the Giving Hope Day?” he managed to ask, taking a sip of water.
“This is our third annual event. My friend Claire organized the first one as a way to honor Layla on what would have been her sixteenth birthday. It’s kind of grown beyond the original idea and now it’s a huge day of service where everybody comes out to do projects around town. Painting fences for senior citizens, yard cleanup for single mothers, reorganizing the shelves at the food bank. Anything we can do to make life better for someone else.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Come to think of it, you’re just the kind of man we need. A guy who has your mad skills with a hammer will definitely come in handy. I’ll have to remember to tell Claire she should put you to work.”
“Absolutely,” he answered without hesitation.
This was exactly what he wanted, for himself and for Ethan. A town with its own Angel of Hope and a day set aside to help each other. She might talk about all the problems Hope’s Crossing had, but from the perspective of an outsider, what he saw now was a place where he and his son could settle in and shove down roots to build a new life.
“Sign me up. I’m willing to do anything.”
She laughed. “You better not let Claire hear you say that or you’ll be working from before sunrise until midnight, straight through the gala auction and dance.”
“You didn’t tell me dancing was involved. That is not one of my mad skills.”
“Don’t worry. Plenty of people sit out the dancing part. I’m usually in the kitchen, for instance.”
“What a shame.”
He only meant he was sorry she had to miss the fun but somehow his words came out low, almost sensual.
For several long moments she blinked at him, her eyes wide and those soft lips slightly parted. He remembered the taste of them, sweet and lush, better than any triple-chocolate brownie.