The Wedding Arbor

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Excerpt

About the Author

Title Page

Epigraph

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Copyright

“Don’t you get lonely out here?”

Sara asked. “This is beautiful country and all, but if I were you, I’d miss people.”

Adam couldn’t help noticing everything about Sara. She was attractive. Appealing. Almost endearing. He would have turned away and fled if there was anywhere else to go. He finally found his voice. “I don’t miss people at all.”

“But you did once, didn’t you?” Sara’s words were soft, gently spoken. Without realizing it, she’d drawn on her internal resources to express the spiritual love Adam needed. The love that he’d banished from his wounded soul.

He stiffened. “My life is none of your concern, so don’t try fixing it.”

That statement acted like a bucket of ice water in Sara’s face, negating the compassion blossoming in her heart. If anybody’s life needed fixing, it was hers. Still, she sensed that Adam needed her in his life—more than he even realized…

VALERIE HANSEN

was thirty when she awoke to the presence of the Lord in her life and turned to Jesus. In the years that followed she worked with young children, both in church and secular environments. She also raised a family of her own and played foster mother to a wide assortment of furred and feathered critters.

Married to her high school sweetheart since age seventeen, she now lives in an old farmhouse she and her husband renovated with their own hands. She loves to hike the wooded hills behind the house and reflect on the marvelous turn her life has taken. Not only is she privileged to reside among the loving, accepting folks in the breathtakingly beautiful Ozark Mountains of Arkansas, she also gets to share her personal faith by telling the stories of her heart for Steeple Hill’s Love Inspired line.

Life doesn’t get much better than that!

The Wedding Arbor
Valerie Hansen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Call unto me and I will answer you and

will tell you great and hidden things

which you have not known.

—Jeremiah 33:3

To my special prayer partners, Angie, Bette,

Brenda, Chris, Karen, Wanda and the wonderful,

caring ladies of the Seekers Sunday school class.

Chapter One

“How do I get myself into these things?” Sara Stone said to herself, gripping the steering wheel of the compact car and hoping the road ahead hadn’t washed out. Not that she’d know for sure until it was too late!

Peering into the sheeting gray rain she gritted her teeth and pressed on. Red-clay-colored runoff water was cresting uneven berms on the upper side of the road, carrying with it rocks the size of tennis balls and all sorts of other rubble.

Sara’s knuckles were white on the wheel. She started to pray silently for safety, then paused, uneasy. There was a time when she had blithely sworn God answered all her prayers. Lately, however, she found herself anything but confident.

“Please, Lord?” she said cynically, only half believing she’d be heard. “I’m nowhere near ready to die. Okay?”

Suddenly the compact little hatchback began to fishtail. Losing traction it kept sliding no matter what she did. Finally it came to rest precariously on the edge of the roadway. One rear wheel hung off in space. The other was bumper-deep in the sticky clay.

“I can still get out of this.” She gunned the motor. The wheels spun. The car’s chassis shuddered and bucked as it sank even deeper into the mire.

Disgusted, Sara shut off the engine, sat back and took a deep breath. Rumbles of thunder shook the skies. Isolated and alone, she held perfectly still, waiting for whatever peril was sure to follow. Her whirling mind returned again and again to the old comedy line about being in “a fine mess.”

If only she hadn’t panicked and run away when the police refused to believe she was being stalked. Tensing, she glanced in the direction she’d come, half expecting to see the headlights of Eric’s car. That would serve her right, wouldn’t it?

Samson’s ears pricked up. He raised his broad, white head to stare at the door, then at his master, Adam Callahan.

“You should have thought of that before the rain started,” Adam warned gently. “If I let you out now you’ll have to spend the night on the porch.”

The enormous white dog looked back at him wisely.

“I mean it, boy. There’s no room in this cabin for a soggy dog the size of a Shetland pony. I don’t care how lovable you are.”

Samson rose. Walking slowly to the door he appeared to listen for a moment before returning to stand beside Adam’s chair. His chin rested on the man’s knees, his chocolate-brown eyes pledged sincerity. When Adam made no move, the dog nudged him gently.

“Okay, but you won’t like it out there. You’re going to get soaked.”

Already waiting at the door, Samson was not wagging his tail, an unusual reaction Adam found rather disquieting. “Don’t go far.” He flicked on the porch light and eased open the door.

The dog burst out into the night. Adam’s jaw dropped. “Hey, you, come back here!”

Adam pulled on a yellow slicker with a hood, and heavy, black rubber boots. Quickly snapping them he stepped out onto the porch to peer into the storm. Samson’s distant baying was the only clue to where he’d headed.

Adam left the cabin at a trot. The next time that mangy ball of fur wanted to go out in the rain he was going to tie a long rope to his collar and stand on the porch holding the opposite end.

“My next house is going to have a spare room to keep wet dogs in,” he murmured, starting into the forest. “And my next dog is going to be a miniature dachshund, or some other little breed, instead of a Great Pyrenees. It’ll have short hair and stubby legs. Then let’s see it get away from me in the middle of an Arkansas monsoon!”

Sara hadn’t moved from the driver’s seat since she’d lost control of the car. She had no idea whether it was safe to climb out.

Making a droll face she remembered praying for patience and wondered what kind of sense of humor God must have. If there was a God, after all.

She recalled her recent disillusionment with Eric Rydell. He’d been hired to teach sixth grade in the school where she taught kindergarten and first. She had trusted him implicitly and introduced him to all her friends. She’d even taken him to church with her until she’d discovered what an accomplished liar he was. His pious, conventional facade was so convincing that most of her acquaintances still refused to believe how unstable he was. They were trying to talk her into getting back together with him! What she really needed was their moral support.

In truth, it was the man’s unnatural possessiveness that most frightened her. None of her fervent prayers for deliverance from it had been answered. She swore he had even begun watching her house. That was when she’d taken matters into her own hands, rented a different car in which to make her escape, and headed for the Ozarks. Maybe, by the time school started again in the fall, he’d have gotten over his ridiculous obsession with her.

And maybe not. Her heart sped, her palms sweating. Had she imagined getting a glimpse of his car in her rearview mirror back on the highway? Were his threats genuine? And if so, had he noticed when she’d turned off the paved road? Or was she simply conjuring up demons where there were none?

The storm raged on. A bolt of lightning struck. Sara flinched and felt the car shift slightly. Tiny hairs prickled at the back of her neck and her forearms. The car offered more protection than she’d find outside in the wilds but there was something immensely disquieting about teetering on the edge of goodness-knows-what while she waited to slide into oblivion!

Sara jerked open the driver’s side door before she could change her mind. She felt the car’s precarious balance change. The roar of a rain-swollen river echoed from somewhere behind. It sounded so close. That ended her choices. No way was she going to take the chance of sliding into the water, car and all!

“Okay, okay,” she told herself. “Take it easy. The main thing is, to not panic.”

She eased her left leg out and placed one foot on the ground. Reaching for the waterproof backpack containing personal items and her precious laptop computer, she eased it past her chest and out into the rain as she stood up.

“Oh, yuck!” Mud squashed beneath and all around her sandals. It oozed between her toes. Wind-driven rain plastered her clothing to her body like panty hose sticking to bare legs on a humid, southern summer day.

“There are no bears, there are no bears,” Sara chanted. “There are no…aaah!”

She clutched the pack to her chest like a shield. The fingers of one hand covered her lips to stifle a squeal. A dingy-white specter rushed out of the underbrush and headed straight for her.

Sara tried to half fend it off, half catch it. She screamed, her high pitch carrying well above the din of the storm.

The animal’s greater weight and momentum propelled them both backward into the mud. She was quite relieved to realize it was a dog and not a deer or a mountain lion. It stood above her and slobbered friendly greetings all over her face and neck. Sara tried in vain to sit up.

“Get off me, you big ox. Now!”

“Just tell him to get down,” a male voice quickly offered.

“He is down. We both are. Oh, my…” Her last statement ended in a gurgled shriek as the dog renewed its efforts to lick her face with a tongue as wide as her palm.

Twisting her head she blinked hard against the rain and tried to get a better look at the stranger.

“Are you okay?” The man’s voice was gruff.

“Oh, fine. Just peachy.” Sara continued to try to forcibly remove the determined animal. “Would you mind?”

“Samson.” The enigmatic stranger spoke with authority. “Down. Let the nice lady go.”

After one parting swipe with his tongue the dog backed off. Sara felt imbedded in the soggy ground and pushed herself into a sitting position, trying to avoid getting any more mud on the precious pack.

Looking up, she tossed her head to swing her bangs out of her eyes, then reached up to smooth the blond hair back with one hand. She realized too late that she had just drawn a band of red clay across her forehead.

“That was cute.” The man was not smiling.

“I’m so glad you’re impressed.” Sara was anything but amused, herself.

“Actually, I’m not,” the blue-eyed man said. “I can understand my dog wanting to come out in the rain, but I’d think a person like you would have more common sense.”

“I was trying to find my great-grandmother’s old homestead.”

“In the middle of this storm?” His tone said more about his opinion of her poor planning than his actual words.

“It wasn’t raining when I left home.”

“So, why didn’t you turn around when you saw what the weather was like?”

Sara was not about to admit she’d been running away. “I couldn’t turn back. The road was too narrow. The visibility was bad.”

He snorted with derision. “You mean, you might have wound up in a ditch if you’d tried to go back? Seems to me that’s exactly what did happen.”

“It wasn’t my fault. I slid backward.” She was growing exasperated with his know-it-all attitude. Wiping one hand on her ruined skirt she held it out to her would-be rescuer. He made no move to help lift her the rest of the way. She stared up at him. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Well, aren’t you going to give me a hand?” She hoped he didn’t remember that stale old joke and literally applaud her predicament.

“You said you’re not hurt. I’m glad. The way I see it, you got here all by yourself—in spite of the worst storm we’ve had this season—so you must be the independent type. Why should you need me for anything?”

Sara struggled to her feet to face the man eye to eye. She was disappointed to find she’d have had to stand on a box to avoid literally looking up to him. Clearly, she needed to do something to alleviate his annoyance. Perhaps if she introduced herself…

“I’m Sara Stone.” She shielded her face from the downpour with both hands and tried to smile. “Who are you?” For a few uneasy moments she thought he might refuse to tell her.

“Adam Callahan,” he finally said.

“I could use some help with my car, Adam. Please?”

He glanced past her shoulder to eye the stranded vehicle with disdain. “Do I look like I have a tow truck?”

That did it. Sara was through trying to be polite. She was drenched and freezing. There was a fair chance Eric would drive up and accost her at any moment. And the new laptop computer she had finally decided to buy was likely to be ruined if she didn’t get back in the car soon.

“If you could just help me push the stupid car, I’ll gladly go away.” She had to shout to be heard above the noise of wind and rain.

“It’s much too dangerous to drive anywhere while the roads and creeks are flooded.”

She made a disgusted face. “So, what do you recommend I do?” Noting the perplexity in Adam’s expression she couldn’t help grinning. “Besides, take a flying leap, I mean.”

He glanced over at the muddy, blue hatchback. “Looks to me like you almost did that, already.”

“I know.” Wide-eyed, she suddenly realized how close she had come to sliding into the rain-swollen gully. “I’ve never driven on anything but smooth pavement before.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

Sara watched him study the car’s hazardous position. “Can we push it?”

“Sure.” He shot her a cynical look. “You put your water wings on, get behind it, and push while I steer.”

“Very funny.” She faced him with her hands on her hips, keeping her stance wide for better balance due to the rising wind. She sure wished she’d worn something more suitable for stomping around in mud and water.

Adam turned away, ignoring her. He scanned the nearby underbrush, then broke a long, bare limb off a fallen tree. Swinging it around he gave Sara a momentary start until he placed it under the stuck rear bumper of her car and got into position to lift with his shoulder.

“You go over to the other side. Open that door so you can get a good hold and push from there,” he ordered.

“My camping gear will get rained on.”

“If it isn’t waterproof you got cheated when you bought it. Do you want my help, or not?”

“I do, I do.” She pressed her hands and inside shoulder to the door frame. “Okay. Ready when you are.”

“Now!” he shouted.

Sara held her breath and strained with all her might.

The tree limb snapped with a loud crack. Adam yelled and his hood fell back. Sara jumped away. She could finally see the dark, thick hair and chiseled features he’d had hidden beneath the yellow slicker. She could also see he’d given up his attempt to help.

“It’s no use,” he shouted. “We can’t do it by hand.”

“Okay. Now what?”

“How should I know? If I had a brain in my head I’d leave you here and go home where it’s warm and dry. But I can’t do that, can I?”

For the first time since they had met, Sara thought beyond the immediate present. If Adam wasn’t going to leave her, then he must intend to keep her with him. That presented a whole new set of problems. Was it safe to go anywhere with a man she’d known for only a few minutes? Could she trust him?

“Go ahead. Leave me here.” Sara put on a brave front. “I’ll just wait till the storm passes.”

“And then what? In case you haven’t noticed, that old wreck of yours is axle-deep in mud.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I have a sleeping bag and plenty of provisions.”

“Where?”

“In the back seat and under the hatchback.”

“How do you propose to reach them without falling off the cliff?”

“Well, I…”

Adam scowled at her. “I thought so. I suppose you’d better come with me then. My conscience won’t let me leave you here. Come on. I’ll take you to my place.”

Sara didn’t move. She insisted she wasn’t afraid. Not really. She just couldn’t make up her mind whether or not it was a good idea to go with him. The safest choice was to continue to decline his neighborly offer, no matter how innocent it was.

He wiped his wet face with a quick pass of one strong hand and pushed his hair off his forehead. “Well?”

“I’m not going with you.”

“Fine. In that case, I think you should know one thing. These hills are riddled with limestone caves. Every once in a while, when the soil gets waterlogged like it is now, the ceiling of one of the caves collapses.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Adam eyed the contents of her car. “Have you got a tour book in there?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Look it up. There’s a big one in southern Missouri. Grand Gulf, I think they call it. A cave roof fell in and created such an impressive canyon they made a state park out of it.”

Sara had been analyzing him as he spoke, trying to accurately judge his truthfulness. After being fooled so completely by Eric, she no longer trusted her intuition. Still…“You’re not kidding, are you?”

“Nope.” He held out his hand. “Well?”

She hesitated, changing her mind repeatedly. Should she? Shouldn’t she? The idea of being warm and dry certainly sounded appealing, even if she was forced to listen to more of the man’s unwarranted criticism while in his company.

Adam shook his head in disgust as another bolt of lightning struck across the wooded valley. “That was too close. I’m not going to stand here and beg while we both freeze to death or become toast.” He reached down and grabbed her wrist.

Sara gasped. “Hey! What…?”

“I’m taking you home with me, lady, and if you scream or pitch a fit I’m going to let go and leave you right here. I’ll be happy to forget my idiotic dog ever led me to you. Got that?”

“Perfectly.” She made a successful grab for the strap of her pack, lurching and stumbling along behind Adam.

The man had a valid point. It was pretty stupid to just stand there and argue. When he’d had time to calm down she’d tell him exactly what she thought of his high-handed tactics.

But I’ll do it politely, if it’s still raining, she added, shivering. Being warm and dry sounded wonderful. She wasn’t about to risk being pitched out into the storm again because she was too outspoken.

Chapter Two

“Watching history on television does not prepare a person for this,” Sara shouted. “How in the world did the women cope in long skirts back then?”

“They probably didn’t go brush-busting in the first place.” He lifted her feet off the ground as he pulled her up behind him on a rocky ledge. “We aren’t taking the usual trail. It’s too far that way. The sooner I get out of this blasted weather the better I’ll like it.”

“How much farther is it?” She was breathless.

“Just up this hill and through the little valley beyond.”

Sara didn’t want him to let go of her wrist because she was afraid she might not be able to keep up without help. The ground beneath her ruined sandals was slippery. She’d lost her footing repeatedly. She’d barked her shins and torn her skirt on brambles and briars. Not to mention almost winding up impaled by a deadly-looking tree with thousands of three-inch-long thorns!

“What happened to your dog?” she asked.

“Knowing Samson, he’s bringing up the rear to make sure we both get home okay.”

“Good. I’d hate to have anything bad happen to an animal that likes me so much.”

Adam gave a hard tug and pulled her up beside him. They were balanced on a narrow rock ledge beneath the canopy of a gigantic oak. The leaves didn’t stop all the rain but they did offer a slight respite from the wind-driven torrent.

“Yeah. I don’t understand that,” he said, scowling. “He’s supposed to treat his family like a flock of sheep and be really leery of outsiders.”

“Guess he could tell I was friendly.” Sara looked up into her companion’s deep-blue eyes and wondered for an unguarded instant if she was crazy to have placed all her trust in the rugged-looking, taciturn stranger.

Sensing her uneasiness, Adam softened his expression. “Look, lady. I promise I won’t hurt you. I really am trying to keep you out of danger and get us both back inside before we catch pneumonia.”

“I know.” She gave him a sweet, trusting smile. “If I had to get stuck anywhere, I’m glad it was on your road.”

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.

His thoughts returned to his guest. Sara Stone was spunky. Most women in her shoes would have collapsed in tears. She was definitely not his type, though. Which was for the best. The last thing he needed or wanted was to become involved in someone else’s personal life.

As if on cue, Sara called out from behind the bathroom door. “Excuse me?”

“Yes?” he replied.

“I hate to bother you, but I just unwrapped my sweatshirt and it’s damp. Got one I can borrow till it dries?”

“Sure. Hang on.” He found a gray fleece that would do. “Here.”

The slim, smooth arm she held out from behind the almost closed bathroom door gave him a start. She had long, tapering, expressive fingers, and delicate, unblemished skin that looked softer than satin.

Adam slapped the rumpled sweatshirt into her hand and turned away. What was the matter with him? Had he been alone so long that any woman, even Sara Stone, looked good to him?

What’s wrong with the way she looks? he admonished himself, analyzing his curious thoughts. What difference did it make? He didn’t intend to relinquish his hard-won tranquility for any reason. All he wanted was to be left alone. Period. End of story.