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“Then you better come in out of the cold,” she said, and stepped aside.
“Church bells aside, you look beautiful,” Sean said.
Amalie beamed. “Is this where I’m supposed to be coy and say, ‘Oh, this old thing?’”
Sean eyed her gray slacks and her cable-knit sweater the same color as her eyes.
“You don’t have to say anything. You’ve already made your statement without saying a word.”
“Then, thank you,” she said, and gestured around the room. “So, this is home. Still a couple of boxes to empty here and there, but mostly because they’re full of books.”
“You like to read?” Sean asked.
“I love to read. First choice is always fiction, but in a bind, I’d read the back side of a cereal box. So, where are we going?” she asked.
“The Back Porch, just off the main square. Have you been there?”
“Yes, and I love it. I spent two weeks in Jubilee last year between Thanksgiving and Christmas. I don’t think I missed a shop, an eating establishment, or a music venue.I’ve been the tourist, but I’m looking forward to becoming a local.”
He frowned. “I can’t believe we never saw each other then.”
Amalie shrugged. “Maybe we did and just didn’t know it.”
“Then I am sorely disappointed in myself. Is this your coat?” he asked, pointing to the one on the back of the sofa.
“Yes.”
“Allow me,” he said, helped her into it, then waited while she grabbed her purse and keys and escorted her out of the house.
Amalie glanced at his profile as they were driving away. The little boy she’d known was definitely long gone, but the adult version of him was spectacular. When he caught her staring, she blushed, thankful he couldn’t see it in the dark.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to stare, but I can’t get over how tall you are.”
Sean nodded. “I get a lot of that, but wait until you see the rest of the Popes on the mountain. I’m just middlin’ in size compared to some of them.”
Her mouth dropped. “The rest of the Popes? You mean there are more than just your mom and your brothers?”
He nodded. “It’s a long story, and I won’t bore you with the details, but our ancestor had a trading post in the area. He was a big Scotsman named Brendan Pope. He married a little Chickasaw woman named Cries ALot, but he called her Meg. The mountain is full of their descendants. Big men with long legs and broad shoulders like Brendan, and black hair like his Meg. I’m just one of them.”
Amalie was entranced. When they pulled up at a stoplight, she turned sideways in the seat to talk.
“All my life I’ve wondered who I am. Who my people were. I don’t even know for sure if my birth mother named me, or if the name I have was just pulled out of a hat. When I was eighteen, I did the Ancestry.com thing. It told me nothing except that my ancestors were from all over.”
“And nobody ever contacted you thinking you might be a part of their family tree?” Sean asked.
“Nope. And that was the end of that,” Amalie said. “Ooh, look, it’s starting to snow again. I love this place. I love this weather. I fell in love with the mountain. It’s why I came back.”
A wave of emotion swept through Sean as he pulled into the parking lot.
“You fell in love with the mountain?”
She nodded. “It felt like I was being called to it. I drove up it one day and then back down again. Didn’t see anything or anyone but a couple of deer, one possum, and something hiding in the shadows as I drove back to Jubilee. It gave me peace just looking at it.”
“Then I have Pope Mountain to thank your presence in Jubilee?”
She smiled. “I guess. Or the fact that you lived there,and it wasn’t the mountain who was calling. Maybe it was you.”
All of a sudden, the smile slid off his face. “Are you psychic?”
