“Why is it big that you’re cooking?” Coop asked, frowning.
“Well, this is top secret. My wife loves to cook. She’s not necessarily any good at it. You say anything about that, you die.”
“Gotcha. So, you mentioned you reproduced. Where’s the result?”
“Brett’s napping. You have time to park your trailer before he gets up. You’ll like him—he’s a tough little guy. Your slab is around back. After you handle that, I’ll give you a beer.”
“Obliged,” Coop said. He looked around appreciatively. “This isn’t ugly…”
“I don’t think there’s a place for that wave runner close by,” Luke said. “Too many rocks in the river. Beachfront is a little rough up north here. You could head for the lake, but it’s getting cold on the water. But you’re going to enjoy the Rhino and the Harley—you won’t find more beautiful country. Need a little help hooking up and unloading?”
“Just point me in the right direction,” he said. “And Luke. Great to see you, man. How long has it been?”
“I don’t know. Six years? Eight?”
“Too long,” Coop said. And then he jumped back into his truck and pulled the trailer around behind the cabins.
* * *
Coop had kept in touch enough with Luke to have the facts, that he’d come up to Virgin River after retiring from the Army to check out some old cabins he and a brother had invested in. Luke had nothing better to do, so he stayed, fixed them up, met a woman, got married, et cetera.
But there was no way for Coop to prepare himself for the new Luke, or his wife.
When these two men had met some fifteen years ago or so, Coop was a kid of twenty-three and Luke was a few years older and a helicopter instructor who was just coming off a really bad marriage. When Luke got back from Somalia he’d found his wife pregnant with another man’s child. And not just any other guy, but an officer in Luke’s command. It screwed Luke up so bad, it was legend. Almost as big a legend as Coop’s brush with disaster over a woman. But at least Coop hadn’t married her. He’d merely gone to jail over her.
To say they had been a scrappy pair was putting it mildly.
And here was Luke now, a changed man. Or rather, a man changing a diaper! That was a sight Coop never expected to see. Oh, Coop had married friends here and there, but not this domesticated. And when Luke’s young knockout of a wife got home from work, Coop almost passed out. Luke had said she was young; he had failed to mention she wasn’t quite thirty years old and a stunner.
“You dirty old man, you,” Coop said with a very large grin. “Where did you find this beauty?”
“Right here, my man,” Luke replied. “Twenty-five years old and ripe for the picking.”
“I thought you’d sworn off.”
“Yeah, so much for big proclamations. The minute I saw her—”
Luke was cut off by the ripple of laughter coming from his wife, Shelby. “He’s such a liar,” she said. “He fought me every step of the way.”
But Coop found this new Luke fascinating. In addition to a pretty young wife and rambunctious little kid whom he clearly adored, Luke was also the guardian to a loveable man in his thirties who had Down Syndrome—Art. While Art set the table, Luke served his wife a glass of wine and turned steaks on the grill. Brett drove his miniature quad around in the yard and the catching up on old times commenced. Then through dinner, there was more of the same. And after Brett was tucked in for the night, Luke lit a fire in the pit in front of the porch.
“What were you and Luke like in the good old days?” Shelby asked. “When you first became friends?”
Coop laughed, a tinge of embarrassment included. He was grateful Shelby wouldn’t be able to see the slight stain on his cheeks. “Nothing like this,” he said. “I was just a kid, that’s my excuse. But you wouldn’t have liked us much, I’m pretty sure. We drank too much, drove too fast, got in the occasional fight when we took a break from chasing women.”
“I have no trouble seeing Luke as a womanizer,” Shelby said.
“Yeah, he wasn’t that slick with women,” Coop told her. “One hit him over the head with a beer pitcher once. I never did find out what his offense was.”
“Breathing,” Luke muttered. “I was coming off a bad relationship. I might’ve been a little bitter… .”
Coop let go a big laugh. “Ya think? At least you never went to jail!”
Shelby sat up straighter and faced Coop. “What did you do?”
“Turned out I did nothing, but since I was passed out, I wasn’t much good in my own defense.”
“Passed out with bruised knuckles…” Luke contributed.
“Yeah, that’s the missing link, I guess. I have no idea how that happened, but there was a time I had a bad habit of losing my cool and punching a door or a wall, because, that’s how intelligent I was back then. It took a few years to occur to me that didn’t hurt anyone but me.”
“But how did you end up in jail?”
“I had this girlfriend—Imogene. She wasn’t a very good girlfriend to start with—extremely high maintenance. But beautiful, very beautiful, with a body you wouldn’t believe. She was a waitress at a dive right off Ft. Benning. I used to ask her all the time why she didn’t look for more upscale work and she said military men were the best tippers. Especially the ones who couldn’t afford it. Hopeful, that’s what I think they were—hoping for a grope or at least a phone number. We were on and off, like oil and water. But one night when we were ‘off’ I’d had an unfortunate amount to drink and passed out, Imogene got knocked around. So, she called this asshole marine she knew from the bar, cried for him and told him her boyfriend beat her up. Fifteen years after the fact, I think she was looking for more than sympathy from the guy.”
“But you didn’t, did you?” Shelby asked. “Hit her?”
He shook his head. “I still can’t remember what happened to my hand, but no one turned up hurt or dead. No complaints from a door or wall. For a terrible few days I hoped to God I’d never hit a woman. I had a lot of flaws, but that wasn’t one of them. Even I had my limits—I’d never do something that low. And I’d only hit a man who made me. But this asshole marine called the MP’s and they threw me in jail with a promise of Leavenworth. There are two things in the military that guarantee arrest and jail time—DUI and battery domestic.”
“I guess you got out of it,” Shelby said.
“Not fast. I was in the brig, court marshal pending when a couple of my boys from Airborne training rounded up a few witnesses who said a customer got rough with her at the bar. She was pissed at me for not being there to defend her, or being there and not able to defend her. And I think she had her eye on the marine.” He laughed sardonically. “He shipped out while I was still in the brig, so that didn’t work out for her, I guess.”
“Who was that?” Luke asked.
“I don’t know his name but I’ll never forget his face. Just some jarhead who’d been to that bar a few times. Thought he was a goddamn hero. It’s a face I better never see again. I could forget that I stopped punching people.”
“Did the woman get in trouble? For blaming you?” Shelby asked.
“Nah. She was a civilian,” Coop said. “She finally allowed that it had been dark and she might’ve been mistaken. And she didn’t point at anyone so the MP’s were out of it. However, there were boys at the bar who caught up with a guy who bragged about teaching her a lesson. Problem number one—no one saw the incident occur and he might’ve bragged in the bar but when questioned, he knew nothing about it. They said they were real sorry when they let me out of jail. They also said if I wanted to avoid situations like that in the future, I might want to cut back on the drinking and try to date less vindictive women.”
“And did you?” she asked.
Coop rubbed his jaw. “Can’t remember the last time I got drunk, but I’ve never had great luck with women… .”
&
nbsp; “Ever married?” she asked. “Children?”
“Almost married—twice. It didn’t work out. No kids. And I’m thirty-seven, kind of set in my ways. My life has changed a lot since I was twenty-two. I’ve been told I march to a weird beat. I guess I’m kind of a loner.”
“No family?”
“Oh, I have family,” he said. “Parents still living and three married sisters, a couple of nieces, couple of nephews. My family is all in Albuquerque, where I grew up. And I’ve been working the past ten years in either Costa Rica or the Gulf of Mexico for Texas-based oil companies.”
“That sounds like more than one company,” Shelby said.
Coop gave a lame shrug. “I never had a big role in the companies, the drilling, the pricing—my job was helicopter transport to the offshore platforms. But there are things you can’t help but see. When they get greedy and take chances on the people, on the wildlife and ecosystem… Let’s just say I get my back up. I’m a pilot—it’s safety first. Risk management. No amount of money is worth a life…”
“Absolutely not!” Shelby agreed.
“Not even the life of a duck,” he said.
Luke laughed. “Coop’s gotten a little liberal there.”
“Can’t help what I see,” he said unapologetically. “I can’t make the rules. I haven’t been a whistle blower, at least not yet, but I’m not going to work for a company that rapes the land and the consumer and puts the employees at risk while they’re doing it.”
“You?” Shelby asked. “Were you at risk?”
“Oh, hell no,” he said. “If they asked me to fly out to a rig in bad conditions, I wouldn’t go. They could always find someone who would go—that galls me. But I’m not a cop. Cost me a couple of jobs, but I was more than happy to let them go. I had to think for about ten seconds—let’s see, job? Life? Huh?”
“And now, you’re an ecologist? More or less?” she asked.
He laughed heartily at that. “I appreciate nature,” he said. “I respect it. As long as we don’t hurt anyone or anything by drilling, by supplying fuel, I’m good with that.”
“But you hunt,” she said.
“And wear leather. And fill up my tank. But I don’t shave safety regulations or take advantage of hungry people who need the work to feed their kids… Aww, get me off this soapbox, Luke!”
Luke laughed. “How do you like your slab out back? You have your traveling apartment all hooked up?”
Coop grinned and looked up at the sky. “I think I’m going to like this.”
* * *
Nora knew that Tom Cavanaugh would come for her on Monday morning, so she waited out in front of her little house, leaning against her five-year-old gray Nissan. She couldn’t wait to see the expression on his face. He pulled up at the usual time and just sat in his truck for a minute, staring. It made her let go a big laugh.
He finally got out of his truck and looked at her quizzically. “Do you have company?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Jed gave me a car,” she told him. She opened the back door. “With car seats!”
He pulled off his cap and scratched his head. “Just gave it to you?”
“He’s trying to make up for lost time, I think. It belonged to his lady friend, Susan. And rather than trading it in for a newer car, she sold it to Jed, who wanted it for me. I was pretty shocked. I still can’t believe it. And guess what? It’s very nice.”
“I guess that means you have a driver’s license.”
“Of course I do. I just haven’t driven in a long time.”
“Maybe you should let me drive you to the orchard until you have a couple of test drives,” he suggested. “You can tell me about your visit.”
“I think you’re disappointed I don’t need a ride,” she said with a laugh.
“Nah. But I kind of got used to the updates… .”
“We can talk at lunchtime. If you’re not too busy.”
He looked uncomfortable. She thought he actually squirmed a little, looking briefly away. “I don’t want anyone to think—”
She was shaking her head. “Come on,” she coaxed. “This isn’t junior high, and you have a girlfriend!”
“Not quite yet.”
“Oh, boy—now we have to talk! I want to hear all about the red boots!”
“Did you get anything else from good old Jed besides the car?” Tom asked.
She put her hands on her hips and grinned. “Did you just change the subject?”
“I wondered, that’s all…”
“Walmart gift card for winter clothes, some toys for the girls and, get this, he brought dinner—roasted chicken, potatoes, vegetables. He bought it on the way.”
“I guess you don’t need much now… .”
“I need to know how your weekend went!” she said, laughing. “Okay, look—I’ll follow you back to the orchard. I’ll make your coffee. We’ll have a cup while we wait for the others to come—the ones you’re so careful to arrive before and leave after. You can ask me questions and then you’ll tell me all about your weekend with that magnificent woman!”
“Magnificent?” he asked with a frown.
“Well, Tom, I saw her! Let’s get a move on or we won’t have time to talk. Because God forbid old Jerome or Junior think we’re friends. Come on!”
* * *
Tom was completely unsure how this little spitfire did it to him, but he was grinning all the way to the orchard, following her as she carefully putted along the almost deserted road at dawn. And after they’d arrived and parked, he suggested they have coffee in the kitchen with Maxie.
“But Tom, I’m not going to get all the more intimate details if your grandmother is there,” she said quietly.
He leaned down, close to her face. “You’re not going to get intimate details anyway.”
“Oh,” she said, laughing, covering her mouth. “All right, then.”
When they walked into the kitchen, they found Maxie leaning on a hand, elbow braced on the table, her paper and coffee in front of her. She was dozing.
“Maxie?” he said.
She jerked awake. “Oh!” Then she smiled. “Morning, Nora.” And she yawned. “Good grief.”
“Oh, you’re tired,” Nora said. “Let’s go get coffee going in the office.”
“You okay, Maxie?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said. “I think I didn’t sleep well the last couple of nights or something. So—are we having coffee?” She sipped hers and made a face. “Mine has gone cold.”
“Let me fix that up for you,” Nora said, taking her cup. She dumped it, dressed a new, hot one with cream and sugar while she fixed her own, then sat down at the table. “Tom has promised to tell me about his weekend.”
“That should be interesting—he hasn’t really told me,” Maxie said.
Tom cleared his throat. “You were here,” he said, pouring his own coffee.
“Yes, and I’m not sure if we had a good time or not.”
“We had a great time. Darla’s a city girl, a businesswoman. She loved the orchard, the redwoods, the coast. She just couldn’t appreciate our country lifestyle, I think. You know what I mean—not the type to get real excited about country-fried steak and gravy. But she wants to come back.”
“She does?” Maxie asked.
“She does,” he confirmed, narrowing his eyes at Maxie, trusting her not to carp about the strange appetite, the many outfit changes, the fact that Darla never got out of her chair to help with dishes.
“How wonderful.” Maxie looked at Nora. “She’s a very beautiful and successful woman. Widowed.”
“So I heard,” Nora said. “Her husband served with Tom, right?”
“What was her husband like?” Maxie asked Tom.
“A good guy,” Tom said.
“Oh, now I could pick him out of a crowd,” his grandmother said.
“He wo
rked for me,” Tom said. “You can’t usually get real cozy with the men you command, but he was a sergeant and his boys would walk into hell for him. In the end, he walked into hell for them—he lost his life saving others. But let me tell you this—he was loyal, smart, brave…and he had a great sense of humor. When he wasn’t driving them hard for their safety and survival, he was making his boys laugh. Sometimes he thought rules were stupid and sometimes I agreed. He didn’t exactly cross the line, but man,” he said, laughing and giving his head a shake. “He ran right up to it—he was an edgy guy. He had common sense and terrific instincts. Unafraid. He didn’t talk about Darla too much, at least not with me. But then, we were kind of busy.”
Nora was in a trance, listening. “Busy,” she repeated. Though he hadn’t said, what she imagined he meant was that they were under fire. She tried to shake that off—he was home safe now. So she asked, “What’s Darla like?”
“Like?” he asked, frowning. “Nice.”
Maxie and Nora exchanged looks. Maxie lifted her brows.
“Okay, she’s very smart and sells drugs for a pharmaceutical company,” Tom said. “She has to travel a lot. She seems to like clothes and I think she must make good money. And she… She watches her weight.”
Nora laughed and shook her head. “Men,” she said in exasperation. “So—what does she like to do for fun? Does she hike or surf or go duck hunting? Or does she play chess, or read or paint? Is she kind to animals? What are her big goals and what are her impossible dreams? Does she have religion, speak more than one language, cook, bake, sew? Is she on Facebook? Does she tweet? Would she like to have children, and would she rather be a working mother or stay-at-home mom? Who is her best friend, and worst enemy? Who is her idol? When she lists her five most important things, what are they? And what are the three things she’s most grateful for? And if she could have dinner with any famous person, dead or alive, who would it be?”
When she finished, both Maxie and Tom were staring at her, openmouthed.