Valerie Hansen - Blessings of the Heart

S tartled, Brianne Bailey froze. Listened. Straightened. Who in the world could be making such an awful racket?

Shed been in her kitchen, peacefully raiding the refrigerator for a quick afternoon snack, when shed heard the first whack. Before she could determine the source, repeated pounding had built to a deafening crescendo and was echoing through the enormous house. It sounded as if a herd of rampaging elephants was trampling down her substantial mahogany front door. That, or she was being accosted by a psychopathic door-to-door salesman who knew she was there alone and hoped to frighten her into buying his wares!

Both ideas were so ludicrous they made Bree chuckle as she hurried down the hall to answer the knock. Boy, Ive been living in a world of fiction for too long, she muttered. Im beginning to think like the crazy characters in my stories. Which wouldnt be too bad if I were writing at the time, she added, smiling.

The hammering intensified. Okay, okay, Im coming, Brianne shouted. Dont you break the stained glass in the top of that door, whoever you are. Ill never be able to replace it.

She grabbed the knob and jerked open the door, ready to continue scolding her would-be intruder. Instead, she took one look at the cause of the disturbance and gasped, slack-jawed.

The man standing on the porch with his fist raised to continue his assault on her helpless door was dirty, sweaty, scratched and bleeding, as if hed just plunged through a green-briar thicket. He was also remarkably handsome in spite of his disheveled appearance. Left speechless, she wasnt having a lot of luck sucking in enough air for adequate breathing, either.

Her visitor looked to be in his mid-thirties, with dark, wavy hair and darker eyes beneath scowling brows. Standing there, facing her, he seemed larger than life. As if the pounding hadnt been enough, his reddened face was added proof of his anger, although what had upset him was a mystery to Bree. Far as she knew, she didnt have an enemy in the world.

Can I help you? She managed to speak.

Its your pond, the man said, looking directly into her wide, blue eyes and pointing with a thrust of his arm. Its cut off all my water!

Brianne held up one hand in a calming gesture. Whoa. Theres no need to get upset. Im sure we can work things out. Just tell me exactly what water youre talking about?

From the spring. Over there, he explained. You built your new pond between my place and the spring.

My pond? Oh, dear. Did I do something against the law?

I dont know. What difference does it make? By the time we finally get enough rain to finish filling that enormous hole of yours and spill over into the creek bed again, Ill be an old man.

Oddly, his comment amused her. She smiled, smoothed the hem of her knit shirt over her shorts and said, I imagine that will be quite a long time.

This isnt funny. I need water for my cabin.

Which is, I take it, downhill from here?

Brilliant deduction.

Certain the man wouldnt appreciate her growing humor, Bree fought a threatened eruption of giggles. Thanks. Im trying.

Well? he asked, scowling.

Well, what? I had that valley explored before I made any changes in the landscaping up here. We did find one old cabin, but these hills are full of abandoned homesteads. Surely, you cant be talking about that decrepit old place.

I certainly am.

Oops. Sorry. Her smile turned apologetic. You live there?

I do now.

I see. What about your well?

Dont have a well. Or running water. Never have. He held up the bucket he was carrying. Thats what Ive been trying to tell you.