Angel Kisses & Riversong - Riversong, Book 1, Chapter 1

Chapter 1

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Salem Finn propped her elbows on the foyer desk and leaned her head into her palms. She was tired. Actually, tired didn’t even come close. Exhausted. Bone weary. Drained. Add all those words together and multiply them by a factor of one thousand, and it might land somewhere in the vicinity of how she was feeling.

She only hoped that in her exhaustion, she wouldn’t make some mistake while caring for Gran. If only her job with D.I.M.E.S. had worked out. The job that would have allowed her to pay for Gran to be in a top-rated care facility. Working for them had been her dream job. But they obviously didn’t feel the same about her since they’d quit calling her after the third interview she’d had with them. Gran could be getting the best medical attention possible. Instead, she was stuck living with Salem as her caretaker, and Salem was stuck hoping and praying that nothing too medically challenging ever happened to Gran. Salem also felt guilty about the fact that she was having to leave Gran on her own in her room more than she would have liked. Remodeling and trying to get a bed and breakfast business started took up a lot of time…and energy.

She closed her eyes but immediately snapped them open again. A few more seconds with them shut and her night’s guest would find her drooling on her invoices. Then she’d be resigned to greeting him with a crick in her neck to rival Big Bend.

Thankfully, Gran had fallen asleep without too much fuss tonight, though Salem was still half expecting to hear her bedside bell ring followed by a plaintive request for another cup of chamomile tea, or to have her pillows readjusted, or a cramp in her leg massaged out. But last Salem had checked, Gran had been sleeping soundly—much to her relief.

Salem lifted the cup from beside her paperwork and took what she hoped would be a rejuvenating swallow of the tepid coffee. She needed to power through these bills before her very first, and one-and-only, boarder arrived for the night.

One-and-only.

Her stomach knotted into an ache. The problem wasn’t necessarily in powering through the bills, it was in deciding which one she should pay, and which ones she might get away with putting off for a bit.

When she’d taken over her grandmother’s care and decided that her best option was to turn the place into a bed and breakfast, which would allow her to generate an income and still remain near Gran all day, she hadn’t realized just how much work she would need to put into the place to get it going.

Neither had she realized how much work Gran would be, to be honest. Her grandmother was nothing if not set in her ways. Thankfully, Salem had now renovated and decorated one of the rooms. But having only one room ready for guests was putting a severe crimp in the budget for these first few months.

Still, it was no small miracle that the one room had booked up immediately after she’d posted the availability online. Even if it was for only one night. She would take it.

With a sigh, Salem flipped through the stack of bills. Water. Power. Sewer. All those went in the “need to be paid now” pile. The cable bill she tossed into a separate pile, along with the bill for the internet provider. Though…she studied those last two, tapping her fingers against them…guests might get upset if they arrived and had no wifi or cable options in their room. With a little groan, she moved cable and internet to the “must be paid” pile. That left her cell phone bill, which she used as the number for customers to make reservations, so it really had to be paid—she plopped it into the appropriate stack—and the waste management bill. That last one she put in its own little pile. If she put off paying that one for a while, she could maybe store the full garbage bags at the far end of the shed and then haul them to the dump later in the spring.

She swiped her phone to life, opened her banking app, and checked her balance. She slipped one hand to the back of her neck and squeezed. If she took the payment her upcoming guest paid tonight, she might have enough to get three of the bills paid. If only the man had wanted to stay more than one night. She might have to do some research on which service provider gave the most amount of grace if a bill wasn’t paid on time. The thought sent another curl of apprehension through her stomach.

Jesus, I could really use a little help here? I’m just trying to do the right thing and take care of Gran, but getting this bed and breakfast off the ground is taking more time than I anticipated. And I don’t know how long I can do both on my own.

 

***

 

Jett Hudson slowed for a curve in the mountain road, rolling his shoulders and willing himself to relax. He’d been keeping an eye on his rearview mirror ever since he’d left the airport, and it didn’t appear that anyone had followed him. Now it was dark, and all he could see were headlights. A few cars were traveling the road behind him, but this was only a two-lane highway with few places to turn off until they got to the other side of the mountains, so it didn’t mean he had a tail.

Maybe his stocking cap, tugged low over his brow, and the several days' worth of scruff he’d let grow had kept him from being recognized, as he’d hoped. Or maybe it was the fact that he was a quarterback from Florida, landing in Seattle. Or maybe he was just as much of a “has-been” as he feared, and no one even cared about him anymore.

He jutted his jaw to one side. Since when had he started to care what other people thought about him? He’d never gone into the NFL because he wanted fame or fortune, though both had come. He’d simply followed his heart and worked hard to be able to keep playing a game he loved. He’d done his best to honor God with the talents he’d been given, and he’d fought to keep his privacy because he wasn’t a guy who enjoyed the spotlight. In fact, ‘loathed’ was a much better word to describe how he felt about the constant scrutiny, both from the media and from the fans. But he’d put up with it all because of his love of the game.

Then he’d taken that hit…

His leg ached, and he reached down to rub his shin.

Once again, he heard the crowd noise. The grunt of the onrushing lineman. The unnaturally loud snap of both his tibia and his fibula. The guttural, instinctive cry of shock he’d emitted as his leg collapsed from under him. The gasp and then horrified silence that had fallen over the home crowd in the stadium. He felt the jolt of the ground rushing up to meet him, and then the jagged shards of pain zipping along the nerves from his leg. His thoughts rushed to the end of that fateful day, to the hospital room where he’d first heard those life-changing words “career-ending-injury.” The six months since then had been a haze of surgeries, painful rehab, and the difficult task of resigning himself to his new reality.

He grunted and slapped the power button for the radio. He cranked it up high and willed the country ballad to wipe his memory clean. Old Blue, the truck he’d purchased with cash at the first car dealership the cabby had taken him to, might be ancient, but she had a first-rate sound system. Yet, even with the loud tunes pounding through the cab, the memories refused to be banished.

Jett scrubbed one hand over his face.

This trip was supposed to be a time to get away from everything. A time to forget about the past and start looking to the future. What did he do with his life now? He had no idea.

After seven years in the NFL, with stats to rival those of the greats like Aaron Rogers and Russell Wilson, he hadn’t even been close to thinking about retirement yet. It didn’t matter that seven years practically made him an old man in a sport where the average career lasted about three and a half.

His five-year plan hadn’t included metal pins holding his leg together.

With Carrie Underwood crooning in the background, he rounded a bend and the town of Riversong stretched out before him. In the dark he couldn’t see much, but from what he’d read of the place, it was a tourist town that attracted a lot of visitors during the winter months for the Christmas festivals and tree lightings the town put on, but remained fairly quiet the rest of the year. Since he didn’t plan to be around till Christmas, and since this was just about as far from Florida and fans who might recognize him as he could get, he was just fine with that. He hoped he’d be able to spend a few quiet weeks soaking in some relaxation, maybe a few hikes. Some kayaking. Some fishing. But as he always did, he’d only booked one night to start with. That way if he hated the place, he could move on with nothing holding him here.

He glanced at his phone’s GPS. The road he needed was just ahead. He turned right. About three miles down, he turned left into the drive of the Riversong Bed and Breakfast. The sign was pitifully small and hard to see. He hoped that wouldn’t be an indication of the kind of service he should look forward to. But even if he liked the town and decided to stay, he could always move to a different place if needed. One night wouldn’t kill him.

He parked in the designated area, cut the engine, and stepped from the cab. Rushing water hummed an undercurrent that was accompanied by crickets and a lone bullfrog.  

A breath eased from him. Yes. This town might be just what the doctor had quite literally ordered. “Take a break from all the media madness. Get away from all the pressure to make a decision about the future. Relax. Try to just accept what happened. That’s an important first step.”

Accept.

It was hard not to accept when his leg still pained him with almost every step.

Slinging his guitar over his shoulder, he popped the top on his truck’s lock box and pulled out his backpack and suitcase. He locked both the box and the truck and then made his way to the front door of the log cabin inn. A sign painted on an old chalkboard held aloft by a large carved grizzly bear proclaimed that he should come on in, so he turned the handle and stepped into the foyer.

Off to his left, he could see a well-appointed kitchen, and just ahead stood a large L-shaped reception desk. A small chrome bell sat on the marble. “Ring it for service” was printed on the placard next to it. Since there wasn’t a soul in sight, he stepped toward it, but soft snoring froze him mid-reach.

He peered over the top of the chest-height counter. Sure enough. A woman with long blond hair had crossed her arms beneath her head and fallen fast asleep on the desk. On second thought, she was so small, maybe she was just a girl. Another soft snore slipped from her.

Jett pursed his lips and glanced around. The town might be just what the doctor ordered, but he doubted he’d be staying more than the one night at this B&B. The welcome had been less than exuberant.

He glanced back at the woman. He hated to disturb her, but he hadn’t slept for nearly twenty hours, and he was ready for some shut-eye. There didn’t appear to be anyone else around, so it was either wake her or sleep on the couch he could see just ahead in the great room.

He frowned.

Rubbed the back of his neck.

Considered how good a hot shower sounded about now.

“Excuse me, miss?”

 

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