The Enchanted Life of Adam Hope - By Rhonda Riley Page 0,37

on her shoulder and said, “That was real sweet, darling.”

After that, we spent our Sunday evenings at Freddie and Marge’s. She preferred to play standing. Among the mostly middle-aged, meaty men who met at Freddie’s, she was a bright contrast, swaying pale and slender. Sometimes she set the fiddle aside and we sang, harmonizing like sisters. Her skin seemed to shine then, and when she turned that gaze on me, she was brilliant. Absorbing. She filled the room.

Cole was confined while his leg mended. The thought of the two of them meeting again made me nervous. Addie had told me that, while I’d gone for help, Cole had mostly been unconscious, moaning and cursing some. Still, I wasn’t certain what he might think about me and her. When I visited him during his recovery, I went alone. I brought him magazines and a pie. He spent his days in his family’s parlor, his broken leg encased in a thick white cast, stretched out the length of the couch, the rest of him covered with blankets. I told him about Addie, reminding him of how she favored me.

He nodded. “I don’t remember much but the pain and cold. She held my hand and hummed to me. That helped. She reminded me of you.” He rubbed his chest thoughtfully.

I distracted him with a question about my plans to get his daddy to loan us the tractor in the spring.

He would have to come with the tractor, he told me. His daddy wouldn’t want a girl driving it by herself. Beyond that, we spoke of nothing important. We had no privacy sitting there in the parlor, awkward with his family around, coming and going. I stayed only a few minutes each time.

By late March, Cole’s leg had healed well enough for him to get up on a horse. I was sweeping the back porch when he trotted up on his old chestnut. He dismounted slowly, easing his bad leg down, then walked up to the house with a limp that made me wince. He had a bouquet of dried mistletoe tied with a red ribbon. “This is the best I can do this time of year.” He grinned. “I was hoping to remind you of my Christmas present.”

He meant my Christmas promise to him. I had expected he would want to be back in my bed. But too much had changed. He and I had not so much as kissed since early December. I could not be with him like that, not while I was with Addie. For the first time, I had to admit to myself that what I did with her was what I had done with him. That admission stunned me speechless. He laughed, misunderstanding my stammering blush. Waving the mistletoe over my head, he leaned forward for a kiss.

Just then Addie and Hobo came around the corner of the house. She stopped, smiled at him, and held out her hand. His mouth hung open. He looked from me to her and then whistled. “Geez, I’d heard you looked alike, but I really didn’t remember. I didn’t see that well when my leg . . . Geez.” He shook her hand. “Thank you, Miss . . . Addie, for . . .” He pointed toward the road. “. . . When I . . . umm.” It was his turn to go red-faced.

“Just Addie. Where’s the horse you rode before—the gray one? I liked her.” She walked over to his horse and stroked her neck. The mare sidestepped closer to Addie, nudging her shoulder.

“She’s too lively for me now with my leg. Too spooky to begin with. That’s why we got her so cheap. Though I reckon I have paid a price for her. She’s worse now. Daddy’s thinking of selling her. She’s still trouble.” He rubbed his leg and moved to sit on the edge of the porch.

“I’ve seen her out in your pasture and talked to her. I’ll take this one to the barn for you,” she said and turned. The horse followed, its reins dangling. Cole watched them walk away.

“God, she looks like you.” Then he turned to face me. “Can I come see you some evening?”

“Just me?”

“Well, yes, just you. Like before.” He moved closer but I continued to sweep the steps. A subtle move, but it registered in his face.

“I can’t. Cole, I can’t, not with her here.”

“We can be quiet.”

“No, we sleep in the same bed. She’s scared of the dark. She doesn’t like