“I think we should explain, since Jack got half the story,” Luke said. “The wrong half.”
“I’m not explaining anything to anyone,” Coop said. “I’m more inclined to move on.”
“Not this time,” Luke said. Luke rested his elbows on his knees and leaned a little closer to Coop. “I think there’s a trait the three of us sometimes share and that’s taking the easy way out—”
“You don’t say that to a veteran soldier who’s been to war,” Coop said.
“Okay, let me put this another way,” Luke said. “The place you’re in right now, where it’s too easy for someone to just assume the worst about you. I’ve been in that place more than once and it sucks. I think Colin can probably relate—”
Luke was cut off by the bark of a laugh coming from his brother. “Me?” Colin said. “The guy who got caught by his brothers chewing up oxycontin like candy? Yeah, there’s been a time or two the worst was assumed about me, and a time or two they were right. I gotta agree with Luke here. We might not get it all straightened out between you and Jack, but I don’t see how that matters much. Here’s what I think matters—that you stand down, Coop. Hold your position—you got framed. You might’ve been a suspect, briefly, but you were never a convicted felon. Don’t let anyone run you off.”
“Please don’t,” Shelby said. “You don’t have to make any commitment here, Coop—we understand this is a stopping off place for you. But please don’t leave before you’re ready just because one person doesn’t understand the circumstances.”
“The most respected person in town,” Coop muttered.
“Jack’s a good guy,” Luke said. “But he’s been known to run into conflicts here and there. He’s also been wrong. And when he’s wrong, he’ll usually man up. It’s worth giving Jack a little time on this.”
“Maybe you didn’t hear me,” Coop said. “I’m not in the mood to explain myself to him, to try to make him understand. I’d rather just get my beer elsewhere.”
“Sure. Reasonable. I’m just saying it’s too soon to pack it in. Just because you’re angry at being judged.”
“Falsely judged,” he clarified.
“Let’s talk about it in a few days,” Colin suggested.
Coop looked down for a moment. Then he took a pull on his bottle of beer and leaned back in his chair. “I thought I was done with this,” he said.
“Any knowledge of what’s happened to Imogene?” Luke asked.
He shook his head. “Nor any curiosity,” Coop said. “Ever have the experience of meeting the wrong person at the wrong time and having a whole lot of stuff just go to hell?”
Luke, Shelby and Colin all looked between each other. Then it was Luke who laughed—Luke who had married pretty stupidly, got his heart really trashed, almost didn’t get over it in more than a dozen years, almost didn’t get over it in time to give himself to Shelby, the best thing that ever happened to him. He reached for Shelby’s hand and held it. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”
* * *
Tom talked to Darla almost every evening. He told her she was more than welcome to come for the weekend, he’d love to see her, but unfortunately he’d be working both Saturday and Sunday.
“Will you have evenings free?” she asked.
“I will,” he said. “I’ll work all day, so I won’t be a party animal, but I don’t work in the dark.”
She laughed at that and said, “I have so much reading to do, it might be nice to just spend the evening together. It sounds like both of us will be working hard all weekend and evenings will be ours. Should I bring some movies?”
There would be baseball. But he said, “Sure.”
Tom didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help but notice that Maxie was a little stressed about Friday night dinner. She made salmon, rice and more asparagus from her fall harvest and although there were none of the evil things involved—like bread, potatoes, gravy, et cetera—Darla didn’t seem to eat much. He supposed this was how it was with her and ignoring it would be best. After all, hadn’t he already had this discussion with himself? He liked women with knockout figures and here was one. That would be hard to keep up unless you lifted apple crates all day or ate grass.
He saw his grandmother’s frown of consternation. “We’re going out for dinner tomorrow night,” he said.
“Oh, splendid,” Maxie said. “You’ll have a wonderful time. Where are you going?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll be sure to let you know. You can join us if you like.”
She patted him on the cheek and smiled into his warm eyes. “Thank you, Tom. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
It came as no surprise that Darla had a special little pack—leather—for her movies, her DVDs. She was kneeling in front of the TV and player. It wasn’t a fancy new TV, but it was high definition—Tom bought it for his grandmother several years ago.
“I brought Love Actually, my favorite movie of all time, and some really special ones—The Proposal, which I love, and some others…”
Maxie whispered, “The Yankees are playing tonight.”
“You pick the movie,” Tom said. Then he stifled his yawn. “Let’s watch your favorite.”
Fortunately, Maxie didn’t kick him. Instead, she got herself a book in progress, took her favorite chair before anyone else did and made herself comfortable.
Tom reclined on the sofa and Darla reclined on Tom. She was lounging between his legs, her back against his chest. They were positioned slightly behind Maxie’s range of vision unless she turned sharply to take in the scene. It was quite decent—he couldn’t even steal a kiss. She was much more casual this weekend, although it took an equal number of suitcases to be thus. And while Tom had never given a rip about the cost of things like women’s jeans, he was curious. They looked damn good on her. On her feet were suede Uggs… He knew because she had told him. And she wore a fantastic, soft, loose-knit sweater he could see through. Under it was some kind of flesh-colored tank, no bra, breasts high and tight. He knew this because he was trained by the Marines in reconnaissance—there was no bra in place. He wished he could slip a hand under that sweater and figure out those breasts. She said she was twenty-nine and they were as perfect as an eighteen-year-old’s… .
Maxie cleared her throat and coughed; he jerked to attention as if she’d spoken aloud.
“Oh, this part always makes me cry!” Darla exclaimed.
He looked up; he had no idea what this movie was about. He slipped his arms around her waist and held her while she sniffed. And then damned if he didn’t start to nod off. He came right awake again, thank goodness, because Darla turned her head and looked over her shoulder and up at him. “Tom,” she whispered. “I think your grandmother is snoring!”
He almost said, “Are you sure it wasn’t me?” but he caught himself. Instead he said, “Shhhh.”
Every once in a while Tom stole a look at Maxie. She held her book in her lap and her head tilted down, her glasses on her nose, as though she might be reading. She didn’t even bob. Every so often she’d emit a soft little snore. He had never envied a person more—he’d love to catch a little nap, or at least check the score of the baseball game. But he didn’t dare.
The movie ended, Darla heaved a heavy, satisfied sigh and Maxie stretched. She closed her book, removed her glasses and while the credits were running she said, “Lovely, Darla. I’m all in. I think I’ll just go ahead and head for bed.” She stood up and smiled at them, so cozy on the couch. “Why don’t you two enjoy another movie?”
The traitor, Tom thought. She was going to pay for that.
Darla just smiled, which was lucky for her. Tom was annoyed enough by the movie selection that if Darla had said something cheeky like You slept through the whole thing, Tom was never going to see her again. He could be perturbed with Maxie, but everyone else better mind their manners.
Then came Saturday. As Tom had
explained, he had to work. He had his part-time crew in, working overtime, at least until early afternoon. He drove the tractor or truck or forklift by the barn and house several times and caught sight of his grandmother in her garden or picking apples off the small trees or lower branches. She was hearty and healthy, but they had agreed she was going to stay off ladders, at least for the most part. She baked, visited with workers, brought lemonade to the break room in the barn, put out cider for anyone who would like to take a gallon home.
Darla mainly sat on the porch lounge with a book in her lap. Well, hell, she had said she had to work as well, and this must be her work—he had no cause to judge or complain.
“We got a fence issue, Tom,” Junior said.
“Now what?”
Junior scrubbed off his cap and wiped a rag over his thin hair. Junior had started out here over thirty years ago when he was a teenager and stayed on. He was one of their few year-round employees. Since Tom had known him he’d served a tour of duty in the Army, married and divorced and was now on his own. He had two grown children and was by far one of the finest and most dependable men Tom had known. He was damn sorry about the family issues and even more sorry Junior was mostly alone except for seeing his kids now and then.
“I just happened to see it,” Junior said. “Kinda close to the house—tore down the cyclone mesh. I’d like to get it back up today. If one of Maxie’s pies gets snatched off her cooling tray on the porch, she’ll kill that old bitch with her bare hands.”
Tom chuckled despite himself. “That bear?”
“Who else? Wunt elk or deer or bobcats.” He pronounced wasn’t as wunt. “Only a bear with a family is gonna go to so much trouble as that. So damn heavy, all ’em, they broke it down tryin’ to get over. And wunt a person—they’d climb over, no trouble. Not like we got barbed wire on top.”
“She’s starting to get on my nerves,” Tom said. “Costing me way too much in fencing. I see two possible solutions here—either she heads for hibernation with the kids pretty soon or I’m going to have to sit up late, catch her and shoot her. It’s come down to that.”
“I’ll do that if you want,” Junior said.
Tom grinned. “Maybe we bag that bear together?”
Junior grinned in response. “I’m into that idea.”
“Buddy’s working today. Pull him off the trees and get him to help on the fence—I have stuff to do.”
“Sure thing.”
Tom went around the perimeter to look at it even though he wasn’t going to work on it. Sure thing, it wasn’t torn apart so much as bent over. Same as always. It looked like a few heavy bears attempted to climb the fence and it bent under their weight. The poles that held up the cyclone fencing flattened and the metal wire collapsed. It was a bigger pain to repair than if someone had taken wire cutters to it and opened it up. With this kind of damage, more of the fencing had to be removed and replaced, more support poles replaced.
He checked more of the perimeter and saw a couple of familiar legs up on a ladder. He slowed, killed the engine and heard humming. “Hey, apple girl,” he yelled.
She laughed and came down a couple of steps, her bag nearly full. “What’s up, boss?”
“Got another bear scare. Damn things broke down some more fencing.”
Her eyes got wide. “They aren’t in here, are they?”
“Nah. One thing about bears, they’re kind of hard to hide in daylight. They’re big and clumsy.”
“Shew. Try not to scare me.”
“You’re working this weekend, huh? What about Jed?”
“He’s coming up tomorrow afternoon, which usually means he’ll be here tonight. I think he spends the night over at the Best Western in Fortuna. I’ll work till lunchtime tomorrow, then he’ll come over. He wants to take the girls to the redwoods and coast on a picnic before it gets too cold.”
“Nice,” he said. “I guess it’s working out.”
“So far,” she said. “I’m trying not to let the fact that he’s given me so much influence my opinion of him. Know what I mean?”
Tom nodded. Her love was not for sale. “You like baseball?” he heard himself ask.
She looked a little perplexed, but nodded. “Why?”
“Red Sox played the Yankees last night,” he said idly.
“Did you see that game?” she asked, suddenly excited.
“Did you?” he asked back.
“I don’t have a TV, but Buddy and Jerome were talking about it—Jeter took three bases. Must have been awesome. And he put it into overtime!”
“So, you’re a Yankees fan?”
“Me? I’m a California girl, it’s the Giants for me.”
“Well, I was raised here and I’m all about the Red Sox!” he informed her.
“I think I have a better track record, but you do what you have to do.”
“Hah! Maybe you’ve had a little luck here and there, but better record? I beg to differ.”
“What are you talking about? Giants knocked out the Sox 4-2!”
“And the next two games? Sox put ’em down!”
“Don’t get cocky—it’s not over.”
“It’s over—they didn’t make the series!”
“They will next year—and your sucky Sox won’t be there for it.” She stepped closer to him even though she had a full, heavy bag of apples hanging off her shoulders. “What are you doing throwing your lot in with an East Coast team? Have you no loyalty?”
He laughed and lifted the canvas apple bag from her. She would be fun to attend a game with. Not that that would ever happen, but it would be fun. “I spent a lot of time in other places, I guess I turned.” He walked to the big bin and unloaded her apples for her. Then he handed her back the bag. “I suppose you watch a lot of chick flicks,” he said.
“Tom, try to keep up here—no TV. And no money for movies.”
“Back when you did have a TV and went to movies…” he said.
“Some,” she admitted. “But I’ll tell you something if you promise not to share.”
“What?” he asked.
She leaned close. “I like disaster films,” she whispered. “The kind that blow up the world. I’m not fussy—it can be asteroids, aliens or Mother Nature. I think I’m a special-effects junkie.”
“Yeah?” he asked, feeling like he’d suddenly grown lots more teeth in his mouth, he was smiling so big. “What was the last good one you saw?”
“It’s been a while—but I think it was Day After Tomorrow—the glacier. I really loved that. Before that I saw New York City demolished about three times—asteroids and aliens and even volcanoes.”
He laughed, hands on his hips. “Tell you what, one of these times you come out with the kids, we’ll find a way to get them to sleep and watch a newer disaster movie.”
She actually took a step back. Away. “That could be fun,” she said. But her posture and the way she said it made it sound like anything but fun.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said.
“No really. What?”
“I’d love that,” she said. “But the girls have to get baths and go to sleep after dinner and I have to get them home for that, Tom. And I get up at five. I mean, it sounds like fun, but it’s not practical.”
“We’ll do it on a weekend,” he said.
“I think you have other things to do on weekends…”
“Probably not every weekend,” he said.
She gave him a smile that said she was pretty sure he was booked.
So he got a little more aggressive. “Not every weekend. We’ll make it work because I love watching cities get blown up.”
“You do?”
He shrugged. “As long as it’s pretend. Get back to work—have to check the fence. Don’t want the bear family eating all our apples!”
* * *
Nora got back to her pick
ing, though she wasn’t humming anymore. We’ll do it on a weekend kept circulating in her brain. He must have meant that he would include her along with his new friend. But then, when she suggested he seemed to be pretty busy on the weekend, he could have clarified that, but instead said he wouldn’t be busy every weekend, which almost sounded like he wanted to do something with Nora. Just Nora.
That would not be good, thinking he liked her.
When she’d thrown her life away the first time, she’d been nineteen, inexperienced, foolish and unquestionably starved for love. Now things were different—she was older, knew how bad things could get if one wasn’t cautious and she didn’t need the love of a young man to validate her.
She had no interest in a broken heart.
Chapter Twelve
October in the mountains was chilly, often wet, and the busiest apple harvesting time all year. Tom had worn a slicker all day and was still wet to the skin. He was bone tired by the time he was able to make it to the house at five o’clock.
“There you are,” Darla said, smiling. She jumped up from the table and Duke immediately thought she intended to pet him. He wagged and went to her and she put out her hands. “Ack! No, Duke, no! Sit. Sit.” Duke tilted his head and looked confused, then forlorn. But he stopped and sat.
Then she smiled at Tom and gave her clothes a brush as if to remove his hair that wasn’t there. She was decked out in a longish gray wool skirt, yet another pair of boots he didn’t recognize, a woolly orange jacket over a silky black blouse. Damn, but the woman could certainly look good.
He touched the jacket. “Nice,” he said.
She brushed the place he had touched, though he had washed his hands in the barn. “Cashmere,” she whispered to him. “So, when are we going out? Soon?”