Read Online Makin' Miracles by Lin Stepp - Free Book Online Page A

about her. “Madame Renee has threatened me.” She giggled. “She says I’m ruining her business. She comes into my shop sometimes to rant and rave at me.”
    He grinned at her. “You mean there really is a Madame Renee?”
    â€œOh, yes. She rents a place out on the highway outside of Sevierville. Many of her clients talk to her about me. She showed up in the store one day furious that I told one of her clients a different piece of knowledge than she had.” Zola laughed. “She was especially angry I was giving away my knowledge for free. Said I was foolish to do that—and that it made her look bad.”
    Spencer laughed. “I guess it does.”
    â€œHave you ever gone to a fortune-teller?” Zola turned her eyes toward his.
    He shook his head. “No. But I remember a woman named Jewel Kilgrew that people called a ‘wise-woman’ out on Daufuskie Island. Many of the people on Daufuskie lived isolated from the world for a long time. They still hold a lot of odd beliefs and superstitions. I remember Jewel got what she called a ‘knowing’ about what was wrong with my dog one time when he was sick. Came to tell me about it. I was grateful. Her advice helped to save Zeke’s life.”
    Zola nodded. “Turn left up ahead.” She pointed. “At the road sign beside my Uncle Ray’s place on the corner.”
    â€œIs this your uncle’s store?” Spencer asked, turning onto the road between the store and a tourist shop beside it.
    â€œYes.” Zola looked at Uncle Ray’s new sign and smiled. “It’s hard to make a living off farming alone like in the old days. People often need to have other occupations to supplement. My family uses their farm mostly for their own needs today. Even my grandfather worked down in Sevierville at the hardware store most of his life. He only farmed on the side.”
    â€œBut your family has kept the land.”
    â€œYes.” Zola smiled. “We all love the land. It’s in a pretty valley with the hills rolling up behind it. You’ll see. My Nana says our blood is all planted in the Devon land.”
    Zola pointed out two more turns to Spencer until they drove down Jonas Creek Road along the long, broad, tumbling stream the road was named after.
    â€œWhere were you raised, Spencer?” Zola asked.
    â€œJust outside Richmond, Virginia.” He loosened his tie with one hand.
    â€œIs your family still there?”
    â€œYes. All of them but me.” He slowed the car to pass over a short, wooden bridge.
    She gave him a teasing look. “And does Virginia call to your blood, Spencer? Are you still planted in that land in your heart?”
    â€œNo.” He nearly bit her head off with his sharp answer.
    Zola’s eyes widened. “Ouch. I guess I hit a nerve.”
    â€œYes. I’m not very close to my family.” He didn’t add anything else.
    Watching his jaw clench, Zola wisely decided to let the topic go for now.
    She pointed to a dirt road up ahead. “Turn there, Spencer. That’s the Devon Farm Road leading back to my grandparents’ place. It weaves a circle through the major part of the old farm. The big gray house we passed a block back on the left was my Aunt Becky and Uncle Gene’s place.”
    â€œIs your place on this road?” he asked.
    â€œNo, but there’s a well-worn path to it across Buckner Branch and through the woods. By the road, you need to continue driving down Jonas Creek Road about a mile.” She smiled at him. “You can run me down to the house after lunch if you want. But don’t expect much. It’s only an old renovated farmhouse.”
    Spencer turned to smile back at her. “Are you kidding? This whole place around here is a photographer’s heaven.” He pointed. “Look around you. It’s beautiful. Graceful white farmhouses, weathered red barns, fresh green fields dotted