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“AS A BIRD THAT WANDERETH FROM HER NEST, SO IS A MAN THAT WANDERETH FROM HIS PLACE.” —PROVERBS 27:8

A fter the long, dusty drive from Ft. Worth, Stoney Creek was an oasis in the desert. Sydney drank in the lush, rolling hills sparsely dotted with modest houses and wooden fences. The mountains were so close she could make out the outlines of the trees with their varying shades of greens that looked like variegated shag carpet.

The scenery had started changing in Mississippi, where a string of stalwart pines lined the interstate on each side, their branches lifting high to hold hands with each other in the sky. But it wasn’t until she crossed the Tennessee state line that a tingle of excitement crept up her spine. A few more miles into Alabama and the sky was turning bluer by the minute. A mimosa tree caught her attention. It was covered from head to toe with pink, fuzzy tufts that from a distance looked more like a flamingo convention than a tree. She rolled down her window, expecting to get a whiff of fresh air. Instead, the sulfuric stench of the paper mill hit her full force. The smell was a powerful reminder of her reason for coming to Stoney Creek. A shadow of fear lurked underneath her thin layer of optimism. She started to roll up the window and use the air conditioner instead but thought better of it. She might as well get used to it. It was the smell of home. At least for a while anyway. She eased off the accelerator.

If the rest of the world were moving at a minute’s pace, then Stoney Creek was parked way back on the hour hand and not in any hurry to catch up. The Piggly Wiggly was a stark contrast to the posh cobblestone grocery stores in Ft. Worth. It was the main attraction in a strip mall constructed of dull metal that had zero aesthetic appeal. The film of dust and grime covering the sign had settled so inconspicuously over the years that it was as integral a part of the building as the windows and doors. She looked the other direction to see Jack’s , a fast food restaurant.

“What the heck!”

Sydney’s knuckles went white, and she gripped the steering wheel to keep from being thrown into the dash. She hit her brakes and pulled the weaving jeep to a halt on the side of the road and got out to inspect the damage. Her left front tire was in shreds with shards of metal poking through. She had a spare on the back of the jeep but had no idea how to put it on. She pushed a strand of hair out of her face and leaned over the driver’s seat so she could rummage through her purse for her cell phone. What were the chances of getting Triple A to come out here?

A low whistle caught her attention, and she turned to see a man walking up beside the jeep.

“Looks like you could use a hand.”

Sydney pushed the “end” button on her cell phone and lowered her phone from her ear.

“Yeah, I was just driving when the tire blew. I’m not sure what caused it. I must’ve run over something.”

The man bent down to study the tire, giving Sydney a chance to get a good look at him. Her pulse increased, and she steadied herself. He was a little older than she. His medium brown hair was crew cut, giving his head a squared effect. Hazel eyes specked with green flecks set a little too far apart in his face emphasized a slightly crooked nose that looked like it had been broken a couple of times. She liked his chin most of all. It was strong and sure, the perfect match for his easy smile. His jeans and t-shirt seemed to be an extension of his muscular body. At first she thought he was a half a head taller than her, but after getting a good look at him, she realized he was probably a mere three inches taller. The extra height came from his leather boots. He stood and dusted his jeans then went around the back to retrieve her spare.

He changed the ruined tire in five minutes flat. It was refreshing to see a man use his hands so adroitly. She reached for her wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

He chuckled and Sydney flushed. Was he laughing at her? “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No, not exactly.”

“If your Texas plates hadn’t given you away, your question would’ve.”

Sydney shook her head. “I don’t follow you.”

“Around here, people stop and help each other ’cause it’s the right thing to do.”

“Oh, I see.” She rewarded her rescuer with a brilliant smile. “Thank you.” She extended her hand. “I’m Sydney Lassiter.”

He gave her a firm handshake. “Kendall Fletcher.” He studied her with open curiosity, characteristic of a Southerner. “Are you passing through?”

“I’m moving here, actually.”

“Oh?”

“I am going to be working at the sawmill.”

He raised an eyebrow. His look of surprise both annoyed and amused Sydney.

“I’m the new safety consultant.”

His recovery was quick. “Well, let me be the first to welcome you to Stoney Creek. I work at the high school.”

“Are you a teacher?”

“I coach football.”

Syndey nodded. That explained the muscular physique.

An awkward silence passed. “Well, thank you again.” Sydney got in her jeep.

“Anytime.” He turned to go and then in what looked like an afterthought, turned to face her. “Would you like for me to ... I mean, if you’d like for me to show you around sometime, I’d be happy to.” He became interested in some spot on the ground as he shuffled his boot in the dirt.

It was an obvious attempt to ask her out, but he’d turned the words around to sound like he was doing her a favor. Her first impulse was to decline his offer, but seeing the discomfort on his face made her soften. There was something childlike and simple about him that was different from the polished, confident men she’d known in Ft. Worth. “I’d like that,” she said.

His genuine smile sent a blanket of warmth over her.

Before driving off, she looked in her rearview mirror and watched him get into his truck. She couldn’t wait to tell Ginger about the renegade cowboy who’d come out of nowhere to rescue her.

The shrill sound of the train whistle made Sydney question her decision to rent a house a mere two blocks from the railroad tracks. She had a hard enough time sleeping as it was. Adding a train to boot would make it impossible. She edged her Jeep Liberty up the steep, narrow road leading to the one-lane viaduct. Twenty feet below, the train was whizzing past. She waited for the car in the other direction to cross over. Now it was her turn. Was it her imagination, or did the rickety thing creak under the weight of her jeep?

Once on the other side, Sydney’s fears eased at the sight that greeted her. The house she had rented was nestled on a cozy street in the historical section of town. The big stately trees lining the road reminded her of the TCU Colonial District where her aunt had lived. An overwhelming feeling of loneliness surged as she thought of her aunt, and she pushed it away.

Sydney’s house was yellowish beige with dark green shutters and a matching painted door. From the first moment she’d seen it, she’d been impressed with its large windows and wide front porch. She walked up the cobblestone path leading to the door and up the steps. She lifted up a nearby planter that was empty and found the key that Tess Lambert, her realtor, had promised to leave.

Tess had wanted to meet Sydney at the house when she first arrived, but Sydney declined her offer. Tess was fine with that but told Sydney that she would be by next week to check on her.

Sydney was glad Tess wasn’t here. The realtor was nice enough, but nosy. Sydney wanted to get to know her house alone, on her terms. She stepped into the front room. Her footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor as she walked around the empty room.

Tess had shown Sydney this house last because she’d been certain that Sydney would prefer one of the newer ones with central heat and air. Dust particles went flying when Sydney turned on the wall air conditioning unit, and she wondered if Tess had been right. She spent the next few minutes wandering through the downstairs part of the house as she inspected the kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. Next she walked back into the living room and then up the steps where there were two more bedrooms and a bathroom.

The movers would arrive the next day with her things. Tonight, she would sleep in a sleeping bag in one of the bedrooms. A shrill ringing caused her to jump, and she ran downstairs to answer the phone. She’d forgotten that it had already been installed.

“Hello?”

Ginger’s warm voice came over the line and without warning, Sydney’s eyes blurred. She dabbled them with her sleeve.

“Yes, I made it … everything’s fine. No, I haven’t changed my mind about coming here.”

A few minutes later she placed the phone on the receiver and ran her fingers through her long hair. She’d sold her aunt’s house and given up her life in Ft. Worth, including Adam, to come here. Was she crazy? Only time would tell.

Sydney walked out to the jeep and stopped. What was that smell? It was the scent of flowers, but Sydney couldn’t put her finger on which one. Then it hit her. Magnolias. Sydney retrieved her sleeping bag out of the back of her jeep. A soft southern drawl drifted from behind the bushes. “Come here kitty. Kitty, kitty, kitty. Oh! There you are.”

Standing on her tiptoes, Sydney caught a glimpse of a woman in her mid sixties entering the house next door. Was that the woman’s perfume she smelled? If so, she must’ve slathered on a whole bottle. The woman was wearing a white Hawaiian muu muu with a huge orange floral design. Not your typical southern attire, that’s for sure. Sydney shook her head and made a mental note to ask Tess about her neighbor.