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That left Uncle Ray’s room. She hesitated before opening the door. Eventually, she’d have to cross that threshold, but she hadn’t planned on doing it so soon. It was Uncle Ray’s most private space, his sanctuary from the world outside. Even when she’d visited him, she’d never been allowed inside.

  She turned the doorknob but still hesitated before pushing the door open. This was silly. What did she expect to find? She gave the door a soft shove and took a single step forward into the space that her uncle had kept private.

  Tears stung her eyes as she realized how much the room looked like her uncle—solid, comfortable, plain. The queen-size bed filled up most of the space. Made from pine, the design was simple, which matched the patchwork quilt and utilitarian blue curtains. The haphazard pile of books on the bedside table came as no surprise. Nor did the closet full of flannel shirts and T-shirts featuring the names of old rock bands.

  “Uncle Ray, you sure loved your books and music.”

  Something else they’d both shared besides their love for his mountain home. She pulled one of the flannel shirts off its hanger and slipped it on. Maybe it was whimsical of her, but wearing the soft cotton felt like one of Uncle Ray’s hugs. For the first time since waking up on the kitchen floor, she felt safe.

  Eventually, she’d figure out what had happened downstairs. Maybe she’d walked in her sleep; not exactly a comforting thought. And even if it were true, why would she have crumpled Wyatt McCain’s picture? Too many questions she had no answers for.

  But now that she’d reassured herself that she was alone in the cabin, it was time to do something useful. At some point, she’d have to go through Ray’s things and dispose of them. Surely there was a homeless shelter in one of the nearby towns that could make good use of his clothing. Maybe some of his books, too. His extensive music collection, though, she’d keep.

  As she walked back out of the room, she rolled the sleeves of the flannel shirt up several turns. Despite being a couple sizes too big for her, the black-and-white-plaid fit her just fine.

  At the bottom of the steps, she hesitated briefly. Nothing but silence this time. Good. Where to start? The attorney had gone over the terms of Uncle Ray’s will with her in great detail, some of which were odd to say the least. To start with, he’d made the attorney include a message from him saying that he’d loved Rayanne and had known that she’d loved him right back.

  Bless the man, those few words had melted away her guilt over not visiting him up here on the mountain. He’d known how she felt about him and that’s all that mattered.

  Next on the list was the requirement that she had to move to the cabin immediately. If she stayed until Labor Day, the property and everything on it was hers to take care of for her lifetime. She couldn’t sell it, rent it, or give it away. Failure to comply would result in the place being left to a distant cousin, and Rayanne and her parents would be banned from ever setting foot on the property again.

  He’d also set aside enough money to see her through the summer. Once September rolled around, the rest of Ray’s surprisingly substantial estate would also be hers. With care, she wouldn’t have to work again.

  Meanwhile, the attorney had suggested that she begin by doing a room-by-room inventory of the cabin. The only question was where to start?

  The kitchen would be the simplest. Before starting, she picked out some CDs from Ray’s collection and put them on to play. His taste was eclectic, but this morning some red-dirt rock and country fit her mood.

  With the sound of fiddle and guitar filling the empty silence, she got out her spiral notebook and favorite pen and started to work.

  * * *

  Wyatt drifted closer to the edge of the woods to listen. With the doors and windows closed up tight, he couldn’t make out the lyrics. The singer had a smoky voice, the kind that had a man thinking of a pair of lovers breathing hard as they tangled up together in between soft sheets.

  After all this time, he had only vague memories of what it had been like to coax a woman into sharing his bed for the night. Closing his eyes, he tried to remember the scent of his last lover’s perfume. Something flowery, maybe. He had better luck remembering how silky smooth her skin had been, but nothing at all about what she looked like. Could have been a blonde or a brunette, not that it mattered. She was long dead and buried.

  Lucky her.

  Rather than continue down that dusty road, he dragged his thoughts back to the moment at hand. The man had always played music, too. Wyatt hadn’t realized how silent the mountain had been since Ray’s passing. It seemed odd to know he was gone but that his music would play on beyond his death. It was truly a gift of the modern world, one of the few things Wyatt enjoyed.

  Where he’d grown up, music had been a rarity. Sometimes a passing stranger with an old fiddle or guitar would offer an exchange of music for a meal or two. Ma had always thought that was a fair deal.

  What was the woman doing now? He hadn’t meant to scare her earlier, but then he hadn’t expected her to be able to see him at all. When she’d crumpled to the floor, he’d stuck around long enough to make sure she’d wake up on her own. He wasn’t sure what he would’ve done if she hadn’t. He’d used up all his energy when he’d wadded up that picture of himself in a fit of anger.

  Where had she found that? Why had she brought it with her? Did she remember that long-ago summer? Too many unanswered questions. He’d spent many an hour thinking about her and why she’d been able to see him at all. No one else ever had, not that he knew of.

  She’d screamed back then, too, but to warn him about the shooter on the roof. That was the only time he’d shot the bastard instead of taking one in the shoulder himself. It hadn’t changed the outcome, just the bullet count. He caught himself rubbing the scar, easing an ache that had nothing to do with the actual shooting.

  But music or not, he wanted the woman gone. She’d already disturbed his peace enough. These were his woods and Blessing was his town, even if only by squatter’s rights. The law didn’t count for much out here. Rules and regulations only held sway when there was authority around to enforce them.

  And this morning’s encounter was proof enough which one of them belonged here. She had no business intruding on his solitude, especially when he had no way of knowing if she’d be able see him all of the time or if this morning was a fluke. How could he find out without risking scaring her into a fit again?

  He hated change almost as much as he hated that nothing ever really changed up here on the mountain.

  Time to move on. Maybe see if anyone else was stirring back in town. It was doubtful. Too early in the summer yet. Soon, though. And when the good folks of Blessing put in their appearance, would the woman see them again?

  Only time would tell.

  For now, he’d check on the town and then rest. Normally, he could hold on to his form most of the time once the days started growing longer. But the encounter with the woman had burned up a great deal of his energy. Even now he couldn’t see his feet or feel his hat on his head. If he waited much longer, he’d fade completely. Hating the feeling that he was nothing more than a shadow with no real substance, he preferred to disappear at a time and place of his own choosing.

  So for now, he’d just let go. Tomorrow would be soon enough to check in on the woman and see if he could learn when she planned to leave. She wouldn’t stay. There wasn’t anything up here to hold a woman like her—all modern and independent.

  The song faded away, so he did the same.

  Chapter 4

  Morning dawned sunshine bright and warm. Wyatt preferred the shadows under the aspen trees, but he’d been drawn back to the edge of the meadow. It had been a day since he’d faded out. He rarely paid much attention to the passage of time, but things were different right now. She was still there, for one.

  As he’d drifted on the breeze, he’d sensed h
er movements. He wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she’d spent most of the day before banging around in the kitchen. If she’d been hunting for something, he hoped she’d found it. He was tired of the noise, not to mention it disturbed the other residents in the woods.

  The deer had moved farther off, the birds were quiet and even the squirrels and chipmunks were nowhere to be seen. Eventually, they’d adjust to the woman’s presence, but for now they were being cautious.

  Probably good advice if he was in the mood to listen to it, but curiosity won out over caution. Since he’d yet to regain form, it should be safe enough to peek into the kitchen window. One glance and he’d be gone.

  He caught a breeze that carried him toward the front porch, the only sign of his presence a faint shadow on the ground below. Nothing a rational person wouldn’t put off to a random cloud passing overhead. At the edge of the porch he drifted up next to the wall, keeping well below the level of the window. Once he was settled in place, he rose up slowly.

  The kitchen looked as if it had been ransacked by a bunch of wranglers just coming in off a long trail drive with nothing but dust and cows for company. Every inch of counter space was covered with pots, pans and dishes. In all the years Ray had lived there, he’d never once left a mess like that. In fact, the man was obsessively neat, always doing things in the same way on the same days.

  Wyatt suspected the habit had given the man some sense of control. When that failed to calm his demons, Ray had walked the game trails for long hours at a time, especially at night. Often Wyatt had followed along, glad for the company, even if Ray had only rarely acknowledged his presence. He’d been too busy trying to outdistance the ghosts of his own past, not the ones who actually shared his mountain home.

  Sometimes Ray had also wandered through what was left of Blessing. Each year more of the old town fell victim to the passing years. Dry rot had left most of the remaining buildings unsafe for humans to explore. Sometimes Ray did small repairs, like when he’d replaced that missing step in the church.

  Had he hoped the girl would come back to visit again? Well, she hadn’t. Not until it was too late to do her uncle any good.

  A movement inside caught his attention. She was headed for the door, holding one of those little things Ray used to talk into. A telephone, Wyatt knew. He had no idea how it worked, but then he didn’t understand a lot of things these days.

  He flattened himself against the cabin wall as she stomped out onto the porch. Her voice rang out over the meadow, loud and full of frustration. Her free hand waved around in the air to emphasize whatever point she was trying to make, not that the person she was talking to could see it. Or maybe he could. In this ever-changing world, anything was possible.

  Eavesdropping was rude, but it was one of the few pleasures Wyatt had anymore. He settled in to listen.

  “No, Dad, I won’t be leaving here until the first week of September. I told Mom that before I came up here, and nothing’s changed.”

  She listened a few seconds, rolling those expressive green eyes and biting her lower lip, probably trying to hold back her temper. He didn’t know what her father said next, but she immediately cut in.

  “Dad, don’t Now, Rayanne me. I’m an adult, even if you and Mom have a hard time remembering that. I’m using the time up here to do research. I can work here just as well as I could from my apartment. Which, I might add, I’ve already sublet to a grad student for the summer semester.”

  She listened some more, her fair skin flushing with frustration.

  “Look, I understand why you’re worried, but I’m doing fine. Don’t show up here without calling first because I don’t like being interrupted when I’m working.”

  Wyatt grinned. In the bright sunshine, her hair looked more red than blond, and she sure enough had a redhead’s temper. He almost felt sorry for her father, but maybe the man deserved the sharp edge of her tongue.

  Her voice softened. “I do love you, Dad. Talk to you soon.”

  She disappeared inside with the phone but immediately returned to lift her face up to the sun as if needing its warmth. He could still see the gawky girl she’d been the last time she’d come to the mountain, but she’d matured into a beautiful woman. Were those waves of red-gold framing her face as soft as they looked?

  He drifted closer, careful to make sure the breeze wouldn’t push him into her. She might not notice anything other than a brief chill, but she’d already surprised him with her ability to sense his presence. Even in his current scattered state, it was hard to resist the sweet warmth of her life force. She positively glowed with it.

  Hellfire, he wanted a taste of that. What he wouldn’t give to kiss his way across that scattering of freckles on her cheeks. He bet she hated them, but he’d always had a weakness for freckles. Did she have them anywhere else? No way to tell with what she had on.

  That old flannel shirt of Ray’s did little to hide the female curves underneath. He preferred a woman to dress like a woman with lace and petticoats. He’d always loved the challenge of peeling off one layer at a time before he reached all that silken skin underneath. On the other hand, her dungarees certainly showed off the sweet curve of her backside in enticing detail. She certainly didn’t need a bustle to draw a man’s eye.

  Suddenly, she shook her head and smiled. He didn’t know what she was thinking about, but he had to wonder if that lush mouth would taste as tart as her words had sounded. And why did he care? It wasn’t as if he’d ever know. He wanted her gone. That’s all that mattered.

  After a few seconds, her smile faded, and she drew a deep breath that she let out in a soft sigh.

  “Uncle Ray, I don’t know if you can hear me, but thank you for this gift. I need this time up here on the mountain, even if Mom and Dad don’t get that.”

  Her smile was back and she laughed. “Well, Rayanne, you’ve only just gotten here, and already you’re talking to yourself. Time to get busy.”

  Rather than heading back inside, she stalked off toward the woods. So now he knew her name—Rayanne. Seemed only fair since she knew his, even if she didn’t realize he was around. After all, no matter how he felt about it, it appeared they were destined to be neighbors for a while.

  He waited until she reached the edge of the trees before following her. Where was she headed? And why did he care? He couldn’t remember the last time he felt curious about much of anything, but he wanted to see for himself where she ended up. He was betting on the old church belfry.

  Besides, he had nothing better to do.

  * * *

  No matter how determined she was to not let anyone ruin her time on the mountain for her, it was hard. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone? Yeah, like that was going to happen. Her parents meant well, but it freaked her out to have them joining forces against her. It was the first time they’d put up a united front since their divorce.

  She understood their concern. As her father had rudely pointed out, they’d spent a lot of time and a ton of money dealing with the aftermath of her last trip to Blessing. Not that it had helped. After months of counseling and arguments, she’d simply given up and spouted whatever the shrink wanted to hear. He’d marked her down as another success on his scorecard, and her parents’ guilt had eased. Whoopee, everyone won except her. All she’d done was learn to keep the nightmares to herself.

  Even Shawn hadn’t bothered to disguise his own displeasure in her decision to accept Uncle Ray’s legacy. Did they really think she didn’t know her own mind?

  Well, she wasn’t going to let them ruin her good mood. She was proud of what she’d accomplished so far, even if she’d made a total wreck of the kitchen. She’d washed out all the drawers and cabinets. After she walked off her frustration, she’d replace the shelf paper and put everything back. Tomorrow she’d start on another room. Or not.

  Her decision. No one else’s
.

  She stepped into the shadows of the trees. The old game trail looked unchanged from her last visit. At least this time she was wearing the right kind of shoes for hiking over the uneven ground. The faded scar on her shin was just one other reminder of that fateful day.

  Here under the trees and out of the direct light of the sun, the day wasn’t as warm as she’d thought. Even with Ray’s flannel shirt, there was a bit of a chill in the air. As long as she kept moving, she’d be fine. If memory served her right, the far side of these woods was less than half a mile away, at best a ten-minute walk. From there, it was only a short distance to where Blessing sat nestled in a small valley.

  She’d keep today’s visit short, just a quick trip to reacquaint herself with the general layout of the town. Her plan was to do a complete survey of Blessing, measuring each of the remaining buildings and marking them on a map. When that was complete, she’d follow up with a photo survey.

  Once she finished that much, she’d make a trip to the county courthouse and see if there were any records of the town still on file. Maybe one of the local newspapers would have archives that went back far enough to tell her something. Who knew? Wyatt McCain’s death might have warranted a column or two.

  Slowly, step by step, she hoped to complete the picture. By then, she should have a feel for whether her work would justify a book on the subject or if she’d submit a paper to one of the professional journals. Either of those choices would be the sensible thing to do.

  Or she could just say the heck with being sensible and try her hand at writing a historical romance based on what had happened there in Blessing. She grinned up at a squirrel, which was chattering at her for disturbing his afternoon.

  “Sorry, guy. Didn’t mean to encroach on your territory. I promise I’m just passing through.”

  She laughed and kept walking. The trees came to an abrupt end just past the next bend in the trail, giving way to the valley below. The bright green of the grass sprinkled with early-blooming wildflowers stole her breath away. How could she have forgotten how pretty it was?