Mountain Charm (Appalachian Heart Series) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Also by Sydney Logan

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Mountain Charm

  Appalachian Heart Collection, Book 2

  By

  Sydney Logan

  First Published by The Writer’s Coffee Shop, 2013

  Copyright © Sydney Logan, 2013

  The right of Sydney Logan to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000.

  This work is copyrighted. All rights are reserved. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The Writer’s Coffee Shop

  (Australia) PO Box 447 Cherrybrook NSW 2126

  (USA) PO Box 2116 Waxahachie TX 75168

  Paperback ISBN- 978-1-61213-165-8

  E-book ISBN-13: 978-1-61213-166-5

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the US Congress Library.

  Cover image licensed by depositphots.com / © Depositphotos / Balint Roxana

  Cover design by: Jada D’Lee

  www.thewriterscoffeeshop.com/slogan

  Dedication

  To Allison,

  Thank you for letting me borrow your name,

  even if you can’t read my books until you’re a teenager.

  Thank you for being my youngest and sweetest fan.

  Matthew 6:21

  Prologue

  Angelina Clark gazed down at the shining candle. Its yellow flame flickered and glistened against the darkness of the living room. She had eagerly anticipated this day—her thirteenth birthday—since she’d been a little girl.

  “Today is a special day,” her mother said, her voice solemn.

  Growing up, Angelina had heard the legend that had been passed down from her grandmother. It was a fairy tale—much like Cinderella, but without the glass slipper or the wicked stepsisters. Instead, this story involved nothing but a shimmering candle and a simple song, both of which would allow the young girl to blossom into a strong and intelligent young woman. She would be beautiful and—at the age of twenty-one—would find her true love.

  It couldn’t be a fairy tale without true love.

  Angelina had always been a skeptical child and wondered if there was any truth to the story, but she had never been able to ignore the evidence. With long black hair and piercing blue eyes, her mother was stunning. Celia Clark was joyful, gifted, and wise, and her husband loved her as much today as he had on the day they’d married.

  “Are you ready?” Celia asked.

  Angelina nodded. Her heart was thundering, and her hands were trembling, but her mother assured her this was to be expected. The ceremony was an important rite of passage in a daughter’s life—a sacred ritual that had been passed down from her ancestors. One day, Angelina would sit on the floor with her own daughter, and her daughter’s candle.

  “I’m ready,” Angelina said, her voice brave.

  Her mother smiled proudly at her daughter as they joined hands. Between them, the candle danced, casting shadows upon the walls. Angelina closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and began to sing.

  “True love and sweet whispers

  Till death do us part;

  Send someone to love

  My Appalachian heart.”

  Celia gave her daughter’s hand a reassuring squeeze. With her eyes still tightly closed, the young girl swiftly blew out the yellow flame.

  Chapter 1

  The crimson sky was aglow along the horizon of the Smoky Mountains. Standing on the front porch with her dog by her side, Angelina had to shield her eyes from the brilliant glare as she stared at the natural beauty of the dawn. To her, it was just another pretty daybreak, but to her mountain mama, a red sunrise was a sure sign of rain.

  I’ll need to remember my umbrella.

  She inhaled deeply, letting the smell of the pines wash over her. So many times, Angelina had been tempted to move closer to town. After all, she was twenty-one years old, and none of her friends still lived at home.

  Then again, none of her friends had a view like this from their front porch.

  “Isn’t it pretty, boy?” Angelina murmured, stroking the dog’s coat. Cash, her faithful chocolate Lab, had been her constant companion since her tenth birthday. Fiercely protective and devoted, he always joined Angelina on her morning walks.

  It was still early, and the fog had yet to lift. The sun was trying its best, but mountain mist was stubborn, and sometimes it was mid-morning before it finally disappeared. Angelina loved the haze, because it always dissipated, revealing the gorgeous green of spring and summer, or the pretty mosaic of auburn leaves in the fall. In the winter, blinding white snow covered the mountaintops and clung to the trees.

  All of it was beautiful.

  All of it was home.

  “Angelina, breakfast is ready,” her mother called from the kitchen.

  Just like that, Angelina’s peaceful morning was gone. Her mom’s exhausted tone served as a grim reminder that not everything could be beautiful all the time.

  Celia Clark’s voice was always laced with a determined energy as she tried to remain strong for her daughter, but Angelina knew better. It had been nearly two years since her mother had buried the love of her life, and as much as Angelina missed her father, she knew her mom missed her husband even more.

  “Come on, boy,” Angelina said, tugging the dog’s collar. Squaring her shoulders, she took another lingering look at the mountains before heading inside. The house smelled of bacon, eggs, and buttermilk biscuits. Angelina’s stomach growled as she and Cash made their way into the kitchen.

  “Morning, Mom.”

  Celia looked up from the frying pan and offered her daughter a smile. “Good morning, Angelina.”

  “How are you feeling today?”

  “Oh, it’s a good day. Hungry?”

  They took their seats at the table, and Celia handed her daughter a glass of juice while trying to disguise her tired smile. Celia Clark might have been the strongest woman Angelina had ever known, but she was a terrible liar.

  “Busy day at the shop?”

  Angelina nodded and swallowed her eggs. “The Massey brothers are dropping off some of their instruments today. They’ve built some beautiful mandolins and fiddles.”

  Celia’s Strings was a little music store in the foothills of the Smokies. Samuel and Celia Clark had always loved music and wanted to offer a place for local artists to sell their instruments. Angelina had worked in the shop since she’d been old enough to count change.

  Celia gazed out the kitchen window. “We always ne
ed more mandolins. They sell so quickly.”

  Her breakfast remained untouched, but Angelina pretended not to notice. Instead, they talked about the store. Her mother always listened intently, but Celia’s desire to run the shop had died along with her husband. She’d been ecstatic when Angelina had offered to manage it herself.

  “Happy birthday, Angelina.”

  Angelina sighed. She supposed it had been too much to hope that her mom had forgotten today’s date.

  “Twenty-one years old. What a wonderful year you’re going to have. I only hope . . .”

  Celia’s voice trailed off, making her daughter’s heart ache. Her mom was doing that more and more—talking about the future and how she might not be around to see it.

  Angelina shook her head. “I think this year is going to be just like all the others. You know I don’t believe in that old spell.”

  Angelina had stopped believing in Appalachian magic long ago. If wishing made it so, her dad would still be alive, and her mom’s hair wouldn’t be falling out in the shower each morning.

  Angelina Clark was officially a skeptic.

  “You will,” her mother murmured.

  It was hard to argue with her. Despite Celia’s failing health, her visions of the future were as clear as ever.

  After finishing breakfast and clearing the dishes, Angelina grabbed her bag, and her mom followed her to the door. It was a half-hour drive into town, and Angelina wanted to beat the city traffic and do some paperwork before the shop opened at nine.

  Celia handed her daughter an umbrella. “Red dawn. Rain’s coming.”

  “I know.”

  “See? You do believe.” Celia’s blue eyes twinkled, and Angelina smiled because it was so good to see her mom excited about something. Celia reached for her daughter’s blouse and adjusted the collar that didn’t need adjusting at all. “You look so pretty today. I’ve always loved this color on you. It brings out the blue in your eyes.”

  All of their female ancestors had bright blue eyes. It was the one physical trait that never seemed to skip a generation.

  “You have been given such gifts, Angelina. You should use them. And I wish you could see the spell as a blessing instead of a curse.”

  “But it is a curse.”

  Her mother laughed lightly, knowing it was a losing battle. They’d had this same argument for years. She’d always believed curse gave the whole thing a negative connotation. She preferred spell or enchantment, while Angelina preferred to forget she’d ever blown out that silly candle.

  “My sweet, pessimistic daughter. You’ll see.”

  Angelina grinned and kissed her mom’s cheek.

  “That’s what you keep telling me,” she said.

  Soft bluegrass music flowed from the speakers, flooding the shop with the sounds of acoustic guitars and gentle mandolins. Angelina spent the morning hanging the new instruments on the far wall of the shop. They were well-crafted and beautiful, just as the Massey brothers had promised.

  “Celia’s right, you know,” Maddie said.

  Angelina shook her head and climbed down from the stepladder, taking a second to admire the craftsmanship of the newest selection of instruments. Customers flew in from as far away as California to buy them—a fact that had always made Samuel Clark immensely proud. Providing musicians with quality instruments was the one family tradition Angelina was determined to uphold.

  Her best friend and business partner, however, was always reminding Angelina of the traditions she wished to forget.

  They’d been best friends since elementary school, so Maddie Price knew all about Angelina’s family heritage. Actually, the entire community knew. For Angelina, it hadn’t been easy growing up in Maple Ridge when the whole town believed she dabbled in witchcraft. That was why she’d always been cautious and reserved when it came to using her gifts.

  Sure, she’d had some fun with it back in school. Back in eighth grade—after catching Christine Williams kissing Maddie’s boyfriend in the school library—Angelina had pretended to curse Christy with pimples. It’d been a complete coincidence, of course, when the girl woke up the next day with her very first zit—right on the tip of her nose. Celia had grounded her daughter for two weeks, but even at the age of twelve, Angelina knew the punishment was worth it.

  The witchcraft rumors had quieted down over the years, but some of the older residents still loved to talk about Abigail Rose, the famous Witch Doctor of Maple Ridge. If the tales were true, Angelina’s great-great-great grandmother had delivered all the babies in the county and used mountain medicine to heal everything from snakebites to chicken pox.

  Maddie had always been fascinated by it all and had spent most of her childhood begging Angelina’s parents to adopt her.

  “You are blessed, Angelina, no doubt about it,” Maddie told her friend. “You are beautiful and smart. You own a successful business, and this is the year you’ll finally meet the love of your life. No more horrible dates with complete losers. It’s the ultimate fairy tale, and I’m a little disappointed you aren’t sufficiently excited about this.”

  “First of all, beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Angelina said as she walked back toward the counter. “If I were beautiful—which I’m not—it would be because of my mother’s genes and not some crazy curse. If I am successful, it’s because I work my ass off seven days a week.”

  Maddie laughed. “And when your true love walks through the door? Are you going to tell me it’s some cosmic coincidence and has nothing to do with that spell?”

  “I never should have told you that story.”

  “Oh, I love that story,” Maddie said, her voice wistful and soft. “It’s so romantic, and yet you refuse to believe it. Why wouldn’t you want to believe it?”

  Maddie sighed and twirled a lock of her curly red hair around her finger. Angelina couldn’t help but think her best friend, with her ivory skin and bright hazel eyes, was the truly beautiful one. Freckles dotted her nose, despite her useless attempts over the years to conceal them with the most expensive make-up on the planet.

  “For argument’s sake,” Angelina said, “let’s say my true love walks through the door any minute now. Why would I want to be with someone if the only reason they love me is because of some ancient mountain spell my ancestors conjured centuries ago?”

  From her perch on top of the counter, Maddie looked at her friend with bewildered eyes. “Angelina, I remember your thirteenth birthday party. We had strawberry cupcakes and danced to Britney Spears, and all you could talk about was that sacred candle. You were so innocent and hopeful and—”

  “The word you’re looking for is naïve.”

  Maddie grinned. “I was so jealous. That candle was going to give you happiness, beauty, and love, and you believed it with all your heart. I know your faith in magic has really been shaken, but this is a good thing. You should believe in this.”

  Just then, a tall, middle-aged man walked through the door, gave the girls a nod, and headed straight for the vintage vinyl. Maddie wiggled her eyebrows, and Angelina stifled a giggle.

  “If we have to play this game, could we at least hope he was born in my decade?” Angelina muttered under her breath.

  Maddie nodded and hopped off the counter.

  “This conversation isn’t over, but I’m going to run next door and get us some coffee.”

  “I’d like a tea instead, and take an umbrella.”

  “Why?” Maddie curiously glanced out the window.

  “Just take it.” Angelina grabbed her mom’s umbrella from behind the counter and tossed it in her friend’s direction.

  Maddie’s eyes flickered with understanding. “I bet that was a pretty red sunrise.”

  “It always is.”

  “You know,” she said, leaning her elbows against the glass counter and grinning. “You can’t pick and choose, Angelina. You either believe or you don’t.”

  It wasn’t the first time she’d been called a hypocrite. Angelina was immune t
o it.

  With a grin, Angelina nodded toward the window. In a matter of seconds, the heavens had opened.

  “Maddie, I can believe in the rain. I can see the rain.”

  “I wonder what we’ll see today.” Maddie’s eyes widened. “I can’t leave! What if he shows up while I’m out getting your tea?”

  With a groan, Angelina walked around the counter and grabbed her friend by the arm, all but shoving her out into the torrential downpour.

  The rain continued throughout the day, keeping the customers away. Angelina was secretly glad. Even though it wasn’t good for business, she couldn’t deny the strange sense of satisfaction in seeing the miserable look on Maddie’s face. Whenever the door would chime with an occasional customer, Maddie would practically jump over the counter to get a better look. She’d nearly given David Murray a heart attack, which wouldn’t have been good considering he was still recovering from his last one.

  “What can we do for you, Mr. Murray?” Angelina asked.

  A disgruntled Maddie shot her a glare and headed toward the stock room.

  Thank goodness it’s nearly closing time.

  “Evening, Angelina. I need some banjo strings.”

  She nodded and gingerly took the man’s arm, leading him over to the selection of strings. Time hadn’t been good to David. As if the heart attack wasn’t enough, he was almost blind due to the cataract in his left eye. Regardless, he still drove around town and played the banjo like a pro.

  His voice was low as they walked back toward the register. “Angelina, I don’t mean to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, but I was just having supper over at Sally’s Diner. There was some reporter snoopin’ around, asking questions about your family. Said he was doing a story about Appalachian folklore and someone in Cumberland County pointed him in this direction.”

  It wasn’t the first time a stranger had been interested in her family’s history, but the attention always made her uncomfortable.