Read Online For the Sake of Warwick Mountain (Harlequin Heartwarming) by Charlotte Douglas - Free Book Online

Malibu, the prospect of marriage to any one of them had never crossed his mind.
    He’d already determined that Rebecca’s natural manner made her different from the others. But there was more than that. Maybe it was her complete indifference to him as a man. Had he taken her attitude as a challenge? Maybe if she showed some interest in him personally, her appeal would lessen.
    The silence on the mountain was deafening. Only the slightest ruffling of leaves and the muted creak of the rockers broke the stillness. If he stayed here long, Matt thought, he’d soon go into withdrawal, longing for the sixty channels on his wide-screen television or a quick drive to Sunset Strip for some delicious food at The Standard.
    “What do people do around here for entertainment?” he asked.
    She looked at him askance. “Most folks work so hard, by nightfall or on Sunday, they’re happy to sit on their porches and relax.”
    “I saw a television in your living room. You and Emily ever watch it?”
    “The mountains usually block reception. Sometimes, if weather conditions are right, we can tune in the Asheville stations, but we don’t count on it.” She drank more of her coffee. “Besides, Emily would rather hear stories.”
    “You read to her?” A pleasant childhood recollection of sitting on his mother’s lap as she read to him flashed through his mind, something he hadn’t thought about in years.
    “We don’t get our stories from books. Storytelling is a family tradition. No one could tell a story like my granny, but I try to fill the void and keep the oral tradition going. I hope one day Emily will tell these stories to her children.”
    “Tell me a story.” He surprised himself with the suggestion, but he enjoyed the slow, soft drawl of her voice and wouldn’t mind listening to more.
    “What kind would you like to hear?”
    He’d expected her to be coy, to want to be begged to perform, but she hadn’t hesitated.
    “What are my choices?” he asked.
    “Humorous stories, stories that teach a lesson, like in ethics or history, ghost stories—”
    “I don’t believe in ghosts.”
    “You would if you lived in these mountains for a while.” Her smile was challenging. “People have written entire books on Tarheel ghosts. And ghost stories are Emily’s favorites.”
    “Okay, I’m game.” He settled deeper into his chair. “Let’s see if you can make a believer out of me.”
    She straightened her back and cleared her throat. “Back at the turn of the century, in a small town on the other side of Asheville, a farmer built a new home for his family.” Her voice had deepened and taken on a more serious tone. “The day they moved into the new house was a long and happy one, and that night, long after his usual bedtime, the farmer sat in the front parlor, reveling in his new domain before turning in.
    “He wound the mantel clock and set the time, noting it was almost midnight, the time the nightly freight train passed down in the valley on its regular run. Still too excited to sleep, the farmer lit his pipe and returned to his chair by the fire.
    “As the clock struck midnight, the farmer could hear the whistle of the passing train. To his amazement, the front door that he had locked and bolted earlier swung open as if pushed by an invisible hand.”
    An owl hooted eerily in a nearby tree, as if right on cue, and the temperature of the breeze dropped a few degrees, raising goose bumps on Matt’s arms. He had to give her credit. Her delivery was perfection, better than any of the actresses he’d dated.
    “The farmer jumped from his chair,” Rebecca continued in a dramatic tone, “and hurried to check the door. His entire family was asleep. No one else had been in the room, nor could he find a sign of anyone on the porch or near the house. Perplexed, the farmer locked the door again and went to bed.
    “The second night he retired at his usual time, making certain to lock the front door securely. But when he