“Usually you’d expect it to be the bridegroom who would be all fogged over, gazing at his woman….”
Colin looked up to see Aiden smiling down at him. He laughed and shook his head; he was caught.
Aiden dragged a lawn chair over and sat beside Colin. “I like your girl,” he said. “Jillian’s a catch.”
Colin nodded. “She’s pretty wonderful. I’ve never met anyone like her.”
Aiden rested the ankle of his right leg on the knee of his left and leaned back in his lawn chair. “I take it you’re feeling good? Medically?”
“Can’t complain,” Colin said. “Almost never have pain anymore—just the elbow sometimes.” He demonstrated by stretching out his arm. It wasn’t quite straight. “I keep working it, but it’s still a little bent. But at least it’s strong now. I have no trouble carrying heavy things, like a big duffel. I’ve been working with some weights.”
“Don’t overdo it. Take it nice and slow,” Aiden advised. “So, this?” he asked, nodding toward Jill. “Serious?”
Colin gave Aiden his full attention. “Oh, I’m serious about Jill. I’m just not ready to settle down.”
Aiden shrugged. “You haven’t known her all that long. That could change.”
“It’s not about marriage, Aiden. The crash and all the bullshit that followed sneaked up on me. I was a long way from hanging up my helmet. I planned to give the Army thirty, then find a civilian flying job until the age of sixty-five, or as long as my medical held out. I screwed that up.”
“True, you have issues to work through,” Aiden said. “But you aren’t necessarily at the end of your flying career. It’s just a matter of going through all the necessary steps to get your license back.”
“Aiden, I have my license back.”
Aiden sat up straighter. “No kidding? Good for you! When did that happen?”
“Couple of months ago. Six months clean and sober, all healed up—I have my medical back and I’m licensed, but noncurrent. Can’t fly if you’re not current. I’ll need check rides—but first I’ll need an employer willing to set up those checks to get my license current. The Army isn’t going to take me back and a civilian operation in this country won’t be ready for someone like me until the last thing on my résumé looks a lot better than it does right now. Listen—it’s going to be a little complicated….”
“What’s going on, Colin?” Aiden asked.
“I don’t think we should talk about all this here, today. It’s the day after your wedding and I’m not ready to get opinions from Sean and Luke and Paddy. Not to mention our mother.”
Aiden lifted a brow. “I’m ready,” he said.
“Can this be just between us for now? For a few more weeks anyway?”
“As long as you’re not going to tell me you are looking for work as a mercenary,” Aiden said.
“Not directly, but…” He shrugged. “Never know…”
Aiden leaned forward and put his forehead in his hand. “Aw, man…”
“That’s not my first choice. Like I said, I’m not ready to settle down, meaning I’m not ready for a quiet life. I’m not like Luke—I’m not going to be satisfied with some cabins by the river and a sweet little wife and baby. It’s not me. It’s not me yet, anyway. I like to be on the move, challenge myself, do the things not everyone can do. So I have some plans that will keep me moving, give me a chance to check out the possibilities.”
“And these plans?”
“Well, first of all, when my lease on the cabin is up at the end of summer, I’m headed for Africa. I’ve never been there. I want to see as much of it as I can, but I’m planning to do two things for sure—take pictures of wildlife in the Serengeti and check out their aviation installations, see if they need any helicopter pilots. Bush pilots.”
Aiden tilted his head with a nod. “That’s not too shocking for me to handle. Not like the boys in this family haven’t been all over the world. You’re still thinking about this?”
“Nope. I have a ticket—September 1. I’m planning to give the African continent six months—I know they have safari and hunting companies that use commercial helicopters. Since a lot of their clientele are Americans, Canadians and Europeans, an American pilot might come in handy. They even have a couple of aviation ministries that regularly look for pilots, but they pretty much stick to religious guys.”
“So,” Aiden said, “six months and you’re back state-side?”
“No telling,” Colin said, shaking his head. “If I don’t find what I’m looking for in Africa, there are lots of other places to explore, to experience, and while I’m at it, places where I can look for work. Alaska, Costa Rica, Australia and New Zealand, maybe India. I’m into the animals, Aiden, not the sunsets.”
“What about the painting?”
“The painting is good—feeds something in me, but I’m not sure what. I think eventually I’ll paint full-time, and that’s one of the reasons I want to take photographs in the Serengeti and hopefully the Amazon—the pictures could keep me busy painting for a long time. But I’m not ready to give up my lifestyle to paint every day. As long as I can travel and fly, painting is good for me. As a steady diet? Just not enough.”
The expression around Aiden’s eyes was almost sad. “I get it,” he said. “It’s how you’ve always lived—I get that. What about Jillian?”
Colin smiled sentimentally. “You just can’t imagine how incredible she is. She understands and encourages me to do this. She wants me to be sure I’ve done what I have to do to get my life back. It’ll be hard to say goodbye, but I’m going to stay in touch with her. There’s email, live video feed, international cell phones. Until we get bored with the long distance, or she meets someone who is better for her, I’m not planning on just giving her up.” He shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe Jilly will get tired of her funky little tomatoes and decide to come with me? She’s a risk taker at heart—she’s not afraid of anything.”
Aiden was contemplative for a moment before he said, “Hmm. Sounds like a good plan.”
Colin sat straighter. “Seriously?”
Aiden just shrugged and smiled.
“No lecture about leaving a good woman just for travel and good times?”
Aiden chuckled. “Colin, if it turns out you love that woman,” he said, tilting his head toward Jillian, “you’ll learn a lot more if you actually leave her than you will if you give up your plans to stay with her. I just hope your instincts and timing are real, real good because if they’re not, the agony of the last year is going to seem like a picnic compared to trying to make a life without the other half of your heart.”
Twelve
On Monday afternoon, Paul Haggerty brought a man into Jack’s Bar. He grinned and said, “Jack, meet one of our new neighbors—Lief Holbrook.”
Jack stuck out a hand. “How do you do. Welcome. Drink?”
“You could talk me into a cold beer,” Lief said. “I’m not a neighbor yet—it’s going to take a while.”
“Jack, remember that vacation home I built for the rich couple? One of the first houses I finished up here after yours. Three thousand square feet with a view of the valley, about three miles northwest of your place.”
“I walked through that house,” Jack said. He whistled. “Some kind of vacation home. I never did meet those folks.”
Paul just laughed and explained to Lief, “Up here, when there’s a house under construction or in renovation, half the town walks through it, just to see how it’s coming along. Then most of them make sure I have their opinion.” Then to Jack, he said, “I don’t know that the owners were up here more than once after it was finished.”
“It’s in foreclosure,” Lief said. “My bid was approved, but foreclosure homes take a long time to close. Meanwhile, I came up to see if Paul could finish the office with built-ins.”
“Which I’m all too happy to do, once the property closes.”
“I don’t think anyone but Paul ever met the folks who built it,” Jack
said. “What happened?”
“No idea,” Paul said. “Eyes bigger than their wallets?”
“They hadn’t made a payment in a year,” Lief said. “I’d been on the lookout for something in a friendly small town. I knew this place was small. Now I’m just hoping I’m right about the friendly part.”
“We’re friendly,” Jack said with a laugh. “As long as you don’t cross us. So, what made you go looking for a small town?”
“Aw, a better place for my family than L.A. And, with my work, I don’t have to spend much time in L.A. I can live just about anywhere.”
“Family?” Jack asked.
“One thirteen-year-old daughter, Courtney. My wife is deceased. Which is very hard for Courtney, of course. We’re healing—we need to step back. You know? Get out of the rush and noise, slow down, see if we can move on and get past this.”
“My condolences, Lief,” Jack said sincerely. “How long ago did you lose your wife?”
“It’s been almost two years now, but it’s not easy. Courtney’s having a difficult time and I struggle to do the right thing for her, to help her get through it. She was just eleven, an awful tender age to lose a parent. Hopefully we’ll be up here and moved in before school starts in September, so she can make a fresh start.”
“Good luck with that. I hope it goes well,” Jack said. “I do know a real good counselor, kind of specializes in middle school and high school kids. Real nice guy. A kid I’ve known for years, almost a son to me, came back from Iraq missing a leg and the counselor really helped him. If you ever want the name…”
“When we get back up here, I’ll be in touch. I can use all the help I can get,” Lief said.
Right at that moment the door to the bar swung open and in the frame stood a skinny little girl with stringy black hair streaked with pink, purple and red. Her fingernails were painted black and she wore pounds of black eyeliner and mascara. A little turquoise tank top stretched over her flat chest and above an itty-bitty black skirt, fish-net hose and black ankle boots. The whole look was completed by a sneer on her face that, somehow, didn’t look in character. “Are we just about done here?!”
“Just about,” Lief said patiently.
She turned on her heel and disappeared.
Jack gave the counter a wipe. “I’ll find that counselor’s name and number,” he said to Lief.
“Thanks,” Lief said in return.
Lilly Yazhi had lived in the area between Virgin River and Grace Valley since she was thirteen, which made it almost fourteen years now. But she had only begun keeping a horse at the Jensen Stables and teaching riding part-time with Annie, the vet’s wife, in this past year. And it had only been six months that she’d been engaged to the vet’s tech, Clay Tahoma. Lilly was Hopi and Clay, Navajo. They had much in common and their love for horses was one of many things.
She was in the stable, brushing down her Arabian mare, Blue, when she sensed him coming up behind her on silent feet. He slipped his arms around her waist and put his lips against her neck. She stood still, smiled and hummed.
“I never manage to surprise you,” Clay Tahoma said. “You sense me even when you can’t hear me.”
“Oh, Clay? Is that you?” Lilly asked in a teasing voice.
He turned her around and looked at her laughing face. Then he wiped that smile off her face with his lips. He kissed her soundly. Deeply. His hands found her small bottom and pulled her hard against him. “I missed you last night,” he said, his voice soft and hoarse. “I plan to make up for it tonight.”
“Unless there’s another sick horse somewhere and you have to go out again,” she said.
He frowned. “That could put me in a mood. I meant to tell you, my mother called me this morning. You’ve made her very happy, Lilly, by agreeing to having our wedding at home on the Navajo Nation.”
“I’m glad.”
“It’s a generous thing you do for her. The place of the wedding is your decision and I know you didn’t have the reservation in mind when you agreed to marry me.”
“It’s important to your family,” she said. “There’s just Grandpa and me—you have all those Tahomas to contend with. It’s a good thing we won’t be using that traditional church seating of bride’s side and groom’s side—the bride’s side would be woefully vacant.”
“I love you for thinking of them. I’ll find something to do for you that will make you just as happy with me. I promise. Maybe you know of something….”
She looked briefly away. “We’ll talk about it sometime. Maybe when you’re all soft, sweet and vulnerable. After we make love… Before we make love again…”
He smiled at her. “You can tell me now. Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”
“I want you at my mercy first,” she said.
“Tell me. Tell me now so I can say yes and think all day about how you’re going to thank me.”
She shook her head and frowned slightly. “It might be something you can’t give me, Clay. It might be too much. You have your son, and Gabe is nearly an adult—he’s a man already. And even though I will think of Gabe as my son, also, I think I’d like a child of my own. A child with you. But maybe it’s a thing we should speak to Gabe about—it might seriously cramp his style.”
Clay smiled and ran a knuckle along her jaw. “I wish it could be a little girl with your witch’s blue eyes.”
“If I’m marrying into the Tahoma family, that seems very unlikely.”
“One can hope,” he said, giving her a brief kiss.
“You’ll consider it?” she asked him.
“I’ll promise it. I was too young to be a father with Gabe. At the time that was a difficult passage, but now I think I’m better prepared and there’s more time to enjoy a child.”
“Thank you, Clay. I hoped you’d say yes.”
“Lilly, I’d give you the moon if I could. Surely you know that.”
“How did I find you? You’re the best man. And the most beautiful.”
His mouth hovered over her lips. “We need to get that wedding done soon so we can get to work on a little Nava-Hopi,” he said. “I’m always hungry for you, always ready for you.”
She laughed at him. “I know this. Promise me that isn’t going to change too much after the vows.”
“I think that’s a promise I can safely keep.”
Someone cleared his throat and Clay looked toward the barn doors.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Colin Riordan said.
Clay laughed and after placing a sedate but affectionate kiss on Lilly’s brow, he moved away from her. “It’s probably a good thing, Colin. You saved me from even more unprofessional behavior.” He walked around the horse and stuck out his hand as he neared Colin. “My fiancée, Lilly. You caught us talking about the wedding. It tends to make me anxious.”
“As in nervous?” Colin asked.
Lilly just giggled and came toward Colin, as well. “Nice to meet you, Colin. And no, Clay isn’t nervous.”
“I want it official so Lilly’s grandfather can stop glaring at me and so my son, who just graduated from high school, can stop teasing me.”
“I think I understand. Does it happen soon?”
“Later in summer. We go home to the Navajo Nation where I have more family than I know what to do with. How have you been?”
“Excellent,” Colin said. “I dropped by to take you up on your offer, Clay. You mentioned you have a cousin with a gallery. If he’s willing, I’d like to talk to him, get his advice on what to do with my work.”
“Ah, the wildlife art. Of course. I think I have one of his cards. Excuse me just a moment.” Clay walked away and left Colin with Lilly.
“Your sister-in-law Shelby is a friend of mine—we’ve ridden together a few times,” Lilly said. “She talks about you and your astonishing work. How do you like the area?”
“More than I expected to,” he said. “It is really a very special place.”
“I’m glad you like it here. So, I underst
and you’re going to talk to Shiloh.”
“Shiloh?” he repeated.
“Clay’s cousin, the artist. Named for some Bible reference about the silent one or peaceful one. The Tahoma family is known for their involvement in many wars—right up to code talkers in World War II—and Shiloh came along during a peaceful time. He’s a Native artist, but what’s most interesting about him is that he also carries other art in his gallery that’s stunning. You can read about him and see some of his works online—Shiloh Tahoma. He’s regionally famous.”
“You’ve met him?” Colin asked.
“No,” she said. “I have a classical art education—I studied art history and modern art but I was naturally drawn to some of the Native artists. I will get to meet Shiloh at our wedding. According to Clay, the Tahomas are very big on births, deaths and weddings, so every relative will be there.”
He laughed out loud. “That describes the Riordan family exactly. Apparently the Irish and the Native community have a great deal in common.”
Clay returned with the business card. “Here you go. Call him, tell him we’re friends and ask him what he recommends. Shiloh is very successful in the art community now, but he’s been painting for a long time. Against much adversity, he seems to have found his niche and with that, success. You’ll find him very helpful.”
Colin studied the card, which was simple. It had a name, address, Web address and phone number. “Thank you. This is all new to me.”
“I saw your painting. I don’t know anything about art, but I don’t think it will be new to you for long,” Clay said. “Best of luck.”
By mid-June the weather in Virgin River had warmed considerably and Jillian’s gardens were beginning to flourish. Even the most delicate of her seeds had erupted into strong stalks and vines, coming alive with health and vitality, giving her great optimism. Flowers were in full bloom around the house in bright yellows, purples, reds and pinks; huge hydrangea and rhododendron shrubs added their colors of powder blue, lavender, pink and white. In the big open garden Jill clipped buds to strengthen the vines or stalks, delaying some fruit but hoping for a heavier crop when the plants were stronger. Green apples hung from the apple trees, and blackberries, still green, weighted down the bushes. The hanging baskets around the porch were sporting tomato vines and were speckled with small fruit, some already ripening.