The whole time Aiden visited with Ellen and Bo, Art and Netta were in the backyard, sitting on the edge of a sandbox for the grandkids, doing more staring at each other than talking.
“Your brother told me a little about how he came to be Art’s guardian,” Ellen said. “Of course, we got Netta when that group home was closed. It was a real difficult time for her—she lost her home, her job and her friends.”
“Art, on the other hand, ran away when he was battered,” Aiden said. “Luke found him digging through his trash. He had a big black eye.”
“That’s kind of unusual,” Ellen said. “I mean, for Art to run away like that—it’s enterprising. Wandering off or getting lost, that’s not uncommon. Has he been happy with Luke?”
“Very content, as far as the family can tell. Luke was single when he ran across Art, but he’s married now and expecting his first child soon. His wife, Shelby, and her whole family all love Art. But none of us has much experience with special needs or Down syndrome adults. Luke has some pretty obvious concerns—like when it comes to dating…”
“Sex?” Ellen asked. “Is that the concern?”
“Should it be?” Aiden asked.
“We’ll have to join forces to keep an eye on what’s happening with them,” she said. “If their relationship starts to look too serious, it might be enough to distract them. For now, being alert chaperones will probably do the trick. All of our women are on long-term birth control just for safety….”
“Because you’ve noticed some need? Sexual acting out, that sort of thing?”
Ellen shook her head. “No, Dr. Riordan—libido can be all over the map with special-needs adults—some seem to have a very active libido, sometimes masturbating or flirting or even trying to inappropriately touch a member of the opposite sex with no regard to boundaries. Our women really haven’t demonstrated any appreciable libido, but the birth control they’re on helps with that and with PMS. We also have to keep them safe from pregnancy by a predator. We do everything we can to keep them safe, but we can’t hide them from the world and the reality is, there are bad people out there who prey on the disadvantaged.”
Aiden didn’t often come up against things he was completely ignorant of—but this was one. His training prepared him to offer birth control for mentally challenged women who might have sex because they had no discretion, but this hadn’t been a concern in his military practice. Predators? “Has there been an issue with sexual abuse?” he asked.
“No history of that as far as we know and no symptoms that we noticed, but it’s a danger. Two of our women have Down’s and their vulnerability shows on their faces. Plus, they’re so trusting, so anxious to please. They so often will just do as they’re told. But isn’t Art…?”
“Infertile? My brother doesn’t know if he’s been tested. For that matter, Art doesn’t seem to know if he’s been tested. I haven’t seen any of the signs of sex drive that you mentioned, and he’s a very gentle soul.”
“You probably would have had hints by now, if he had a high-functioning libido,” Ellen said. “We belong to a support group for the parents and guardians of mentally challenged adults and one of our friends has a young man who masturbates quite a lot. It’s sometimes difficult to distract him. I think what we have here with Art and Netta is a perfectly nice friendship.”
“Maybe if we manage to arrange quality time for them, they’ll be very happy.”
“Mentally challenged adults fall in love all the time, Dr. Riordan,” Ellen reminded him. “As a couple, they often end up living with one of their parents, or together in the same group home. It can be complicated in some cases, and I know people who would go to great lengths to discourage relationships like theirs. But doesn’t everyone deserve to feel love and affection? No matter their disability? I see my primary job as keeping Netta safe and from getting in over her head. If what you say about Art is true, she’s interested in a very sweet and kind man.”
“Art is an angel,” Aiden said. “And he’s very functional. He’s been with Luke a couple of years now and hasn’t had a single problem. He loves working with Luke, loves fishing in the river, never wanders off. It’s been good for both of them.”
After two hours of chatting, they came up with a plan. Twice a week, when possible, Art could visit. If Luke could just call in advance, there would probably be times he could drop Art at either the bakery or the house to see Netta while Luke ran errands. If either Ellen or Bo was available to take Netta to Virgin River, she could spend a few hours at the river, learning to fish and visit with Art. They would have phone numbers for each other. That was a good place to start. Just a little reassurance that they wouldn’t lose each other in the system again might be an enormous comfort.
Art’s behavior on the way back to Virgin River seemed to reinforce that idea. He clutched the piece of paper with Netta’s phone number. Art had never spent any time on the phone, but just holding that number appeared to give him such confidence.
Aiden had a stop to make and Art was fine with that. Aiden drove straight up that road to Erin’s cabin. “Where’s this?” Art asked him.
“The person living here was trying to make a garden, so I helped,” Aiden said. “I just want to check it. Maybe water it.”
“Okay, Aiden.”
Erin’s car wasn’t parked at the cabin, so Aiden took a six-pack of beer out of the back and sat down on the deck to write a note. Chill this. My whole family is in town and it’s a circus. See you soon. A.
Then he went to look at the garden. Well, well—she’d been tending it. The soil was moist and the weeds were few. He went to the shed that was back against the trees, got out his tine cultivator and scrambled up the dirt a little bit. He bent to pull a few weeds, then dragged out the hose to spray it down. Art wandered around the backyard. “Don’t go in the forest, please,” Aiden yelled.
“I’m not,” Art yelled back.
Eventually, Art ended up in the hammock, still strung between the trees. He was swinging himself a little wildly and Aiden hoped it wouldn’t break loose. Art was not small!
“Hey,” a woman’s voice said. “I thought you’d given up on me.” She was smiling and holding the six-pack in one hand. “I tried to keep it going.”
“You did fine,” Aiden said. He stepped over the short fence. “I thought I’d leave some beer and maybe next week…”
“Sure,” Erin said. “Next week.” She looked beyond Aiden. “Friend of yours?”
“Yeah, that’s Art. Did I tell you my brother has some cabins on the river? Art’s a helper of his. We were just out running some errands and I thought I’d swing by and check the garden. You haven’t escaped back to the city yet?”
“Not yet. But I’ve discovered the best reason to work sixty hours a week is daytime TV.”
“Only sixty.” Aiden grinned. “Slacker.”
She grinned back. “I guess the navy works you 24/7.”
“Well, they do, but remember I told you my sister-in-law is very pregnant? Family is gathering. They tend to take up space and time.”
“What kind of family?” she asked.
He shrugged. “My mother—in her sixties—arrived in an RV with her seventy-year-old boyfriend. That’s hitting a nerve or two. One brother is due back from Iraq tomorrow, on leave, staying in the cabins with his family. My pregnant sister-in-law has a lot of family around here and they’re always available, if you get my drift.”
She had a kind of melancholy smile. “Sounds like fun, actually.”
“I guess so.” Art came up behind Aiden. “Oh, Art—this is Erin. Erin, this is Art.”
“How do you do?” she said, nodding.
“Thank you,” he answered, and they both laughed.
“I’m sorry, Erin, I have to get Art back. I’ll see you later. The garden looks good.”
“So do you,” she said quietly.
Art perked right up. “Maureen says he looks…he looks…ghost…gast…”
“Ghastly,” Aiden
said by way of helping. “My mother put her hands on both sides of my face and said I looked ghastly. Horrible. Dangerous. So I guess you weren’t alone in that early opinion.” He turned and handed the long-handled tine to Art. “Would you mind putting this out in that shed?”
“Sure, Aiden.” And he trudged across the yard.
“He’s very sweet,” Erin said.
“He is that. How are you doing?”
“Great,” she said with a smile. “Totally great.”
“Good. See you later.”
“I’ll chill the beer.”
Six
“Are you going to date with her?” Art asked while Aiden was driving them back to Luke’s.
“I think we’ll just be friends,” he said, though he had started hoping they’d be more. He wasn’t sure when or how, but he’d figure that out after their next beer together.
“Luke says dating is talking and holding hands and watching TV.”
Aiden thought, I don’t remember Luke dating like that.
“Maybe dating with a girl is drinking beer, too,” Art said.
Aiden chuckled. “You know, Art. Sometimes you catch more than you miss. Listen, would you do something for me, please?”
“Sure, Aiden. What?”
“Would you mind if we didn’t tell anyone about the garden?”
“Why?”
“Well…” Aiden thought for a minute. “Well, at the end of summer when there are fresh tomatoes and some vegetables from the garden, I might get to have some. And I could surprise Luke and Shelby with them.”
“Oh,” Art said. “Okay, then.”
By the time Aiden and Art got back to the cabins, Sean had just arrived and the carnival atmosphere had been cranked up a notch. There was nothing to compare to the air of celebration surrounding a returning soldier, or in this case, airman. The crowd wasn’t limited to the Riordans and Booths; some folks from town had stopped by—Jack and Preacher, their wives and kids, other friends and neighbors. Luke had pulled out the large gas grill and two coolers were filled with ice, sodas, bottled water and beer. Walt Booth had brought wine; he uncorked the white and settled it against ice in the cooler and uncorked the red and put some bottles out on the picnic tables to breathe. Even the folks who rented the cabins were invited to join them.
After embracing his younger brother, Aiden set about helping Luke turn hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill. The women put out condiments, chips, potato salad and coleslaw. Preacher brought a couple of pies and Jack contributed a big tub of ice cream.
Sean could not be urged very far from Franci’s side; he hadn’t seen his wife in six months and his first night stateside in a San Francisco hotel was spent with his wife and little girl. His arm was securely attached to Franci’s waist or shoulders, pulling her closer whenever he could. His mother finally came to his rescue.
“Rosie, would you like to spend the night with Grandma tonight?”
“Do you still lib in dat RB?” Rosie asked, her eyes wide.
“Yes. There’s an extra bed. And we can have popcorn and watch a movie if you like.”
“But Daddy said you din’t lib in dat RB right now. He said you libbed in sin. Where is dat?”
There was a slight hush just before laughter rocked the whole compound. When it finally let up, Maureen replied coolly to her granddaughter, “Ask your daddy, sweetheart. He’s an expert.”
Sean flushed scarlet, but when the laughter subsided he looked at his watch and announced, “Time to pack up Rosie for Grandma’s, honey. Then we better get to bed so all these nice people can go home!”
Once the party had broken up and Aiden had helped Luke with cleanup, he retired to his cabin and turned on his laptop. He had seventeen e-mails, but he checked the one from his friend Jeff first. You didn’t call her, you loser, and she won’t stop calling me. No matter how many times I tell her that calling me won’t get you to change your mind, she won’t stop. Do a guy a favor, huh? Call Annalee. She says it’s urgent. She won’t tell me what’s urgent, but she won’t stop! Here’s the number you probably threw away.
Aiden wrote back at once. She won’t tell you what’s urgent because nothing between us is urgent and talking to her at all is like inviting the plague into my life. Please—just tell her I’m dead.
Things in Virgin River had been pretty quiet, even if there was family en masse out at the Riordans’ on the river. A couple of days after welcoming Sean home from Iraq, Jack Sheridan was in his usual place behind the bar when one of his favorite customers came in. Brie, his younger sister, was seldom seen around town during the day. She was a lawyer with an active practice that usually had her driving all over the mountains and valleys and as far as Eureka where she consulted with the D.A.
“Well, sweetheart,” he said. “What brings you to my office?”
Brie jumped up on a stool. “I was hoping we could talk,” she said.
“Sounds serious. Can I get you a drink to go with that expression?”
His sister didn’t answer. “Jack, there’s a pink elephant in the living room and it’s a surrogate pregnancy.” Jack’s chin dropped and he stared down at the bar. “Are we going to talk about it or keep pretending it’s not there?”
He lifted his chin. “What can I say?”
“Say something, Jack,” Brie insisted. “Because Mel has been asking me to contact her old fertility doctor in L.A., to get familiar with all the legal ramifications so that I’ll be ready to negotiate a contract. Meanwhile, she’s got an appointment set up for later this summer to have her eggs harvested. Where do you stand on this?”
He looked away uncomfortably. “I don’t want to,” he finally said.
“Why? What’s going on?”
Again he glanced away. Then he grabbed a glass and dish towel from under the bar and began to absently wipe out the water spots.
Brie closed a hand over his glass-and-towel action. “Put it down and talk to me. I’m all grown-up now and among other things, I’m your attorney.”
“Did Mel ask you to talk to me?”
“No. In fact, we were on the phone a little while ago and she said she had a patient at Valley Hospital, so I thought it was a good time to come over here. Let’s stop screwing around, Jack. It’s obvious you and Mel aren’t on the same page here—she’s hounding me to get moving on this and you haven’t even weighed in!”
“I’m worried about her,” he said softly. “I was hoping this would go away.”
“It’s not going away, it’s gaining momentum. Now, what’s going on?”
Jack shook his head. “We don’t need a baby. We’re having enough trouble hanging on to two little ones with our schedules and obligations. Three might really tip the scales, but that’s not it, Brie—if Mel hadn’t had a hysterectomy and another one happened along, we’d manage. It’s this idea she has that she has to beat the odds. Even a hysterectomy won’t make her vulnerable. If she wants another one, by God she’ll get one. Even if it costs thirty thousand dollars and involves a third party we’ve never met.”
“Is it the money?” Brie asked him.
“God, no! I’d buy her the moon, you know that! What do we need money for? Our family is priority. It’s just the whole idea. The way it happens.”
“People do it all the time, Jack,” Brie said softly. “It’s a great solution for people who can’t just have children the old-fashioned way. A growing number of people, by the way.”
“I know this,” he said. “I asked Preacher to look it up for me. He printed me off a lot of stuff from the Internet. Sometimes there’s an infertile husband or wife and donors are used. I guess that’s so people can grow their own rather than adopt. Whatever works, I say. This would be ours. Her eggs and my sperm would meet in a tube and then grow inside the body of some woman we’ve interviewed. Some woman we’ll pay to be the incubator.”
“Is that it, then? The idea that you don’t know the woman and you pay her to do the job?”
“Partly,” he said with a shrug
. “That much is irregular, if you ask me. I mean, if we were a couple who met, fell in love and said to each other, ‘By God, we gotta have at least five kids to be happy,’ maybe I’d feel different. But we weren’t that couple, Brie. We were a couple who thought we were using birth control in the first place. Mel kept saying two was one more than she’d counted on. A couple years ago Mel almost died in a uterine hemorrhage. John did all he could, but taking the uterus saved her life. And he told me to be prepared for her to struggle with the loss—but not Mel. She bounced right back, just grateful we have each other and a couple of healthy kids. Now, all of a sudden, she’s hell-bent to have a third one, even though it’s not something we ever talked about.” He leaned his elbows on the bar. “Brie, she’s ready for you to draw up a contract and has an appointment to get her eggs harvested and I haven’t said I’d do it.”
“Could it be she knows you will if it’s important to her?”
“I’m afraid she’s trying to push back time,” he said. “I’m worried she’s not really okay with being a thirty-six-year-old woman whose childbearing is over. It’s like she’s not okay with us, the way we are.”
“No, Jack…”
“Do you know what I felt like when she got pregnant even though she wasn’t supposed to? I felt like Atlas, that’s what. I felt like a small god. Like an Olympian. Watching her get fat and moody, it was a miracle to me. My woman took me inside her body and created a life for us to share. Jerk off in a cup and watch it grow in someone I don’t know?” He shook his head. “We don’t need to do that, Brie. We just don’t need to.”
Brie’s mouth actually hung open for a moment. Then she said, “Whoa.”