After asking Maggie to repeat the directions one more time, Noah mounted his horse and followed the path past the church and beyond a rock house Maggie labeled as Jon and Laurel's place. The briskness of the morning softened with the warmth of the sun finally breaking through the trees as he continued his ascent. No wonder his wife held an otherworldliness about her sometimes. This place carried a strange sort of old and distant feel to it.
The rhythmic sound of a hammer striking wood reached him first. A woman's light voice echoed over the breeze saying something about … sun tea? The trees parted to reveal a large clearing with a beautiful two-story white house to the right, a covered porch lining the front, and a sprinkling of outbuildings across a field, all encompassed by a fence. Well organized. Tidy. With a mountain climbing up behind it on one side and a view over the trees with a small glimpse of sky on the other.
Barking pulled his attention toward the barn where three dogs charged at him and his horse. He slowed his approach, keeping a firm hold on the horse's reins. A little girl with golden curls stood on the porch, her calico dress blowing in the breeze. A pair of little boys, clearly twins, sat near her with a ball passing between them. Suzie and the twins?
“Down,” came a firm voice from the barn.
The dogs immediately stopped in their tracks but kept their eyes on Noah, as if weighing whether he came as a friend or foe.
Up ahead a young man in overalls and rolled-up shirtsleeves walked forward, a broader and older man a few paces behind. Still farther behind followed another young man, light hair and more refined features, whose crisp clothes gave off more town than mountain.
The young man in overalls came to the fence line first, keeping his distance, and sent a look up and down Noah before offering a curt nod. “Can I help you?”
With a deep breath and another prayer, Noah dismounted and glanced back toward the house. The little assembly on the porch had been joined by a young woman with wild curly hair holding a baby and a blond woman, about the same age, wiping her hands on her apron.
Noah named them all as best he could guess. Jeb, the young man in overalls, and Mr. McAdams, the elder. He had no idea about the refined man or the curly-haired woman, but the family resemblance in the golden-haired woman likely meant she was Laurel.
Noah approached the fence and offered a smile.
“Good afternoon. I'm looking for the McAdams family of Maple Springs.”
“You found ’em.” The younger man dipped his head. “I'm Jeb McAdams.” He gestured back with his chin as the older man approached. “This here is my daddy, Sam. And following up behind him is my brother-in-law, Jonathan Taylor.”
“A pleasure to meet you all.” Noah offered his hand and swallowed through his tightening throat. “My name is Noah Lewis. I'm—I'm married to Kizzie.”
Both Jeb and Sam froze in place, from their expressions all the way down to their feet, much like Maggie had done. No one moved, except Mr. Taylor, who joined them at the fence, his smile wide and hand outstretched. “Jonathan Taylor.”
Noah pulled his attention away from the other two men to take Mr. Taylor's hand. His accent sounded English. What on earth was an Englishman doing back in these mountains? “Noah Lewis.”
“You're … Kizzie's husband,” Jeb repeated, his gaze boring into Noah's.
“Yes, we've been married almost two years.” His attention shifted from Jeb to Mr. McAdams. “Kizzie doesn't know I've come, because I wasn't certain of the welcome, so I didn't want to get her hopes—”
“Kizzie's alive?” The question burst out of Mr. McAdams’ throat on rasped air. “She's all right?”
Noah had stiffened at the man's explosive response and then released a nervous laugh as his positive response made its way into Noah's comprehension. “She's wonderful.” The answer emerged before he could catch it. “I mean, except that she misses her family, and … I thought if I could see … if perhaps you'd be willing to see her—”
“Mama!” Mr. McAdams turned his face toward the house, his voice carrying over everything else. “Laurel, git your mama. Git her quick.” The older man rounded the fence and in two steps grabbed Noah in a hug.
The strength in those arms held Noah fast. His throat closed for a whole different reason.
For Kizzie.
When Mr. McAdams released Noah from his hold, the man's pale, red-rimmed eyes held a glossy sheen. “You're tellin’ me true, boy? You know where my girl is?”
“Yes, sir.” The heat in Noah's chest rose into his face, burning his eyes. “We have two strong and healthy children.”
The man shook Noah by the shoulders and released a big laugh. “Two more grandyoung'uns.” He turned back toward the house where an older woman, about his mother's age, came forward in a simple dress and apron. Her golden hair, seasoned with small hints of gray, was twisted tight against her head in a bun with a few locks falling free around her face.
There was no mistaking the resemblance. The fine features and high cheekbones. The eyes.
Other younger women and the children he'd seen on the porch followed behind her, all looking from Noah to Mr. McAdams as if somebody was going mad.
“Caroline.” Mr. McAdams laughed again. “This boy, he's married to our Kizzie. She's alive.”
Mrs. McAdams paused in her steps, and the color drained from her face as she stared first at Mr. McAdams and then focused on Noah, as if the words took some time to make it to understanding. She stumbled a step forward.
“Did he just say Kizzie is married?” This from the woman he presumed was Laurel. She released a laugh of her own and burst forward, taking her father's place to hug Noah. “And you're her husband?”
