“Only if you eat it as well,” he said, pushing against her a little.
The touch zinged through her like lightning. She felt her knees grow weak.
“Don’t push,” she whispered.
“Say again?” he said, leaning closer to hear her.
She stared into his dark brown eyes, awareness spiking to an all-time high. She wanted to drop her plate, put her arms around him and kiss him until she forgot her name.
Sanity returned. She stepped along, stopping to get a glass of the ubiquitous iced tea and then looking for a place to sit.
“Gina saved us places,” Kirk said by her right ear.
She spotted her new friend waving and headed in that direction. “You don’t have to babysit me all day,” she said to Kirk.
“No hardship on my part,” he replied easily.
Then he greeted others at the long picnic table.
Gina made introductions to the people Angelica hadn’t met. When the conversation turned to music, Angelica took notice. It sounded like the festival would be exactly what she was looking for. And she could easily stay until the end of August, the money she’d brought would stretch that far—especially as she was living for free right now in Webb Francis’s house.
After lunch, the men resumed their work on the structure. The roof was on, siding going up, and inside she could hear hammering and sawing. Once the food had been put away, or carried off by those having to leave early, Angelica walked over to the barn, peering inside to see what was going on there.
It wasn’t as bright as in the sunshine, so it took her a few minutes to get used to the dimness. Spotting Kirk using a table saw, she carefully walked over.
He cut board after board while one of the men stacked the pieces until he had several, then carried them over to where she could see they were separating space with stalls.
Kirk looked over and saw her.
“I came to see what you were doing,” she said.
He tilted his head slightly.
“This wood is for the stalls, isn’t it?” she asked.
“We’ll do as much as we can today. I think we’ll finish if everyone working stays until it’s done.”
“Carrie said you’re donating your time and expertise,” she said watching as different men did different tasks. It looked like a choreographed production.
“All of us are donating time for this. Traditions like that go back to the founding of the country. Ben bought the material, we’re just putting it together.”
She nodded, trying to find a similar situation in her own life where people gave freely of time and ability and got nothing in return except the satisfaction of helping a neighbor. Granted, her parents donated to charities, but never put themselves out beyond that to help.
Neither had she, she realized with some shame. There must have been some time she had, but nothing came to mind.
Except—maybe the children who had come to her at Webb Francis’s house. She hadn’t wanted to give them lessons, but Kirk had seen it as something to do. She didn’t have to accept money from Teresa Ann’s mother. She could teach her and Sam for nothing. She thought about it for a minute. She wasn’t a teacher, yet she could share some of what she knew. How hard would it be to give a little of her knowledge to two children so thirsty to learn? She couldn’t build a barn, but she could helptwo children who would otherwise not have lessons until Webb Francis was back.
“Excuse me, miss,” one man said, reaching around her to take the freshly sawed board.
“I think I’m in the way,” she said.
“Stand over there if you want to watch for a while. You and Gina talked out?”
She nodded.
“She had to leave. I know more about the festival now. And how I can help Sam better. He wants to play in it.”
She wanted to share her newly made decision about teaching the boy, but now was not the time. Instead, she watched as Kirk swiftly measured lengths of lumber, drew a straight line cross the grain and then sawed through in a second. As fast as he cut, others would take up the board and place it between stalls and hammer them in. The men moved smoothly as if they’d worked together before and knew each others’ routine.
