“Oh, Luke, I’m not a newborn. I’ve been places that I pray, by the grace of God, you never go…. When I thought
about it—you’ve made many commitments, not the least of which was the army. Brothers, business partners, friends. But Art was the one that made me really sit up and take notice.”
“Art’s different, Shelby. He has nowhere else to go. And if I couldn’t take care of him, I could find him a safe place. It’s not the same, you have to know that. And the army? Aw, hell, Shelby—they had me, I didn’t have them. It’s service or AWOL.”
“Bull. Everyone gets a discharge date, unless they re-up. You were committed. And I’m proud of you for that, I’m proud of you for everything, especially for Art. If I don’t go soon, I’m afraid I’ll stay here forever without ever hearing you say the things I need to hear. And that, more than anything, will break my heart.”
He shook his head, his eyes pained, but he didn’t let go of her. “I knew in the end I’d hurt you, and I never wanted to hurt you. Shelby, I want everything for you.”
“I believe you. I absolutely do. You couldn’t have loved me the way you did if you didn’t care, if you weren’t sincere. If I’m hurt, it’s just because you’re so damn hard to give up. And I’m so damn in love with you.” A tear ran down her cheek. She pulled away from him. “Be safe, Luke. I know I’ll think about you all the time.”
“What about Art? Aren’t you going to tell Art where you’re going? What you’re going to do?”
She shook her head. “God, I can’t,” she said softly. “I’ll fall apart. Luke, please, tell him for me. Tell him it was sudden and I’ll write to him. Please?” She was edging away from him and he abruptly pulled her back. He held her tight and covered her mouth in a searing and desperate kiss. In spite of herself, she returned the embrace and opened her lips to him, but a whimper escaped her. While he kissed her, Luke could taste her tears. When he released
her lips, she dropped her head against his chest and for just a moment, she cried. It was very brief; her struggle was courageous. She pulled away from him and in a whisper said, “Goodbye, Luke. You were everything. You were all I needed. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you. Maybe someday you’ll meet someone who is.”
When she went out the door, he stood there for a long time. He heard her Jeep start, saw the headlights strafe the windows as she backed away, listened while the engine noise grew more faint and finally disappeared. And still he stood there. Then he hung his head.
Despite the wicked chill in the air, a few people from Virgin River braved the cold to gather together for dinner at Jack’s. Vanessa and Paul took Abby with them and while they were there, Mel and Cameron came over from the clinic. Mike V. stopped by for a beer before heading home where, he said, their baby daughter would no doubt be screaming like a banshee. Walt passed through only long enough to pick up some takeout for an evening with Muriel. Vanessa was pleased to notice that Cameron took a chair beside Abby and was visiting with her. For a second there she had a hopeful thought—that maybe those two could—
But then she noticed something in the way he seemed to gaze into her eyes and she seemed to lower her lids almost shyly. Abby was not shy. Sure, she was vulnerable right now and probably not in the best shape to receive the attentions of a single man, but… Cameron leaned toward her to say something quietly and Abby smiled and nodded. And then he touched her thigh under the table, giving her a soft and reassuring pat that turned into a brief caress. And Vanessa had to concentrate not to stare.
No one stayed late, the weather was just too frigid. No one seemed to notice that Vanni was unusually quite. Once they were home, Vanni settled the baby for the night and Paul fell asleep, sitting up in bed with a book in his lap. She crept out of her room. Abby was still in the living room, curled up on the couch in front of the fire with a throw around her shoulders.
Vanni went to the couch and lifted a corner of the throw, snuggling close.
“What’s the matter?” Abby asked. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“No. I’ve been thinking…”
“What’s got you thinking?”
“Math.”
Abby laughed. “Well, I can’t help you there. I was never good at math.”
“You left Nikki and Joe’s wedding reception. We knew you were depressed, we all knew you and Ross were on the skids even though you wouldn’t talk about it. We thought you went to your room to suffer in silence and even talked about trying to draw you out, but in the end decided sometimes a girl wants to be alone, to lick her wounds, think, maybe even cry.”
“Well…”
“And now I’m thinking, what are the chances you met someone that night, in Grants Pass? Someone so nice, so sweet. So sexy and handsome that you were tempted to actually pass some time with him. Someone I know.”
“Vanni…”
“He’s a good man, Abby. A very good man. He’s come to help our town. He courted me a little and when he realized I was in love with Paul, not only did he back away like a gentleman, he helped us—more than once.”
“Vanni, I don’t really know him.”
“Then I suggest you get to know him. Real soon. I could tell by the way you two looked at each other—there’s something happening there. You have his babies inside you, don’t you?” Abby looked down. “Well, if, worst-case scenario, you can’t fall in love with him, at least you can let him be a father to his children. He’s not a slimeball like Ross—he’s decent. And I happen to know—it would mean a lot to him.”
There was a long period of silence. “Do you think everyone knows?”
Vanni was shaking her head. “No one knows you like I do. And remember, I know him, too. Lucky guess. Plus, I was in Grants Pass. Abby, you’re going to have to deal with this. Does he know?”
“It didn’t take him long to guess,” Abby said. “Just exactly what I was hoping to avoid.”
“Well, kiddo, that ship has sailed. How in the world did this happen?”
Abby shrugged. “He was alone in the bar. So was I. We spent a couple of hours, just the two of us, talking. Laughing. And my head was so screwed up, I let myself be coerced upstairs to his room. I never meant that to happen. It was a mistake.”
“I don’t know about that. Sounds like it could have been fate. So, what’s the plan?”
“He doesn’t think it will raise many eyebrows if we become friends, get to know each other a little bit. But, Vanni, you have to understand something— I’m not diving headlong into another relationship with someone I don’t know very well. It’s going to take time and it may not end up being the fairy tale you’d like it to be. We were two disappointed, needy people that night. That’s all. In a practical relationship, I’m not sure we have that much in common.”
“Hmm, I can think of a couple of things.”
When Walt got to Muriel’s house, the dogs rushed to him, but Muriel didn’t. He found her sitting at her kitchen table with a notepad and glass of wine. He hefted his sack. “I brought you meat loaf and garlic mashed from Jack’s.”
She looked at him across the cheerful kitchen and said, “I’m doing it, Walt. I’m going back to L.A. to work.”
When he thought about it, he’d expected this. She was enchanted with the script from the moment she read it. And he knew she wouldn’t sell out, so it must have come together in a way she thought was worth her time and effort. He put the sack on the counter and went to the cupboard and got down a glass and that special bottle of Pinch she reserved for special occasions, pouring himself a drink. Then he sat at the table across from her. “Tell me about it.”
“I probably should have talked to you about it sooner, when it started to look like it was going to work to my advantage. But I try not to get stupidly optimistic about possible deals. For just about the first time, it turned out I was the last holdout. The actress waiting in the wings for the part was Diane Keaton. It’s a good part, Walt. A good opportunity.”
“Why don’t you seem happy?”
She shrugged. “It wasn’t how I thought I’d spend the next six months. It’s going to be a lot of hard work. And later, when the film is out, there will be promotion—that’s also a lot of hard work. And none of it can be done here. I’ll be in L.A. for some of it and on location in Montana in spring and early summer.”
He took a bolstering drink and then reached for her hand. “We’ve been over this, Muriel. If you feel strongly about doing the film, I’m behind you. If you have worries, I don’t want one of them to be me.”
She smiled a small smile. “I have to leave tomorrow to begin rehearsing.”
“Tomorrow?” he asked, shocked. “My God! Should you be packing?”
She shook her head. “No need. I just have to get together my cosmetics. I can take the dogs with me—I had them put it in my contract that I’ll have help with pet care. They’ll send someone to stay in the guesthouse and take care of the horses. And—”
“Why don’t you need clothes?” he asked.
“I have a place in Los Angeles. A small but very nice condo. I left behind a full closet—those clothes wouldn’t work for me here and the clothes I wear around here won’t work for me there. I figured in a year or so I’d empty the place out and either rent or sell it, but now it’ll come in handy. I’ve let a couple of friends use the place for visiting relatives, so it hasn’t gone to waste.”
“You never even mentioned it,” he said, and for a moment he was grateful for that. If he’d thought all along that she still had another home, he might not have been so optimistic about their chances.
“Really, I didn’t think I’d ever use it unless I was in L.A. visiting or something…”
“Muriel, are the dogs going to be a problem while you’re making this movie?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll have some long hours, but the studio will make sure there’s someone assigned to walking them, feeding them, all that. I just won’t get to run Luce or train Buff like I’d planned to.”
“Let me keep them for you. Let me take care of the horses.”
“Walt, I can’t ask you to—”
“You didn’t ask, Muriel. Really, it’s selfish. I don’t want
to think of someone else living in that bunkhouse or the dogs pooping on concrete somewhere when I can run them along the river. Besides a little babysitting, what do I have to do? Shelby’s gone, Vanni and Paul have their own place, I take care of horses every day anyway…”
“It’s a lot of bother, Walt.”
“I offered. No strings,” he added. “I didn’t offer so that you’d feel obligated to me in any way. I mean, who knows? Jack Whatshisname might turn out to be just what you’ve always dreamt of.”
“You jealous of him already?” she asked.
“You’re goddamn right,” he said, leaning back in his chair, drawing those fierce eyebrows together. “He’s going to spend the next six months with you and I’m not.”
“Well, he doesn’t stand a chance,” she said softly.
He thought, this must be how Peg felt when he was leaving for a long remote tour, as though there was a chance he wouldn’t come back to her. “I’ve been down this road,” he told Muriel. “Separations for work. It’s not easy, but it’s highly survivable. Do you need a ride to the airport?”
“That would be nice. It’s just to Garberville.”
“Picking up a charter?” he asked.
She shook her head. “They’re sending a jet.”
His eyebrows shot up. “I haven’t been down that road,” he said, shaking his head. “You want meat loaf? Or do you want to go upstairs, let me peel your clothes off and tell you goodbye properly?”
She grinned at him. “Let’s think about meat loaf for breakfast.”
“Good idea,” he said, standing. He reached for her hand. “Come on, honey. This is my last chance to pamper you before your Oscar. What time does your flight leave?”
“When I get there.”
The next morning, Walt drove her to the Garberville airport where there was a Lear waiting. The pilot and cabin steward, nicely uniformed, were waiting at the bottom of the airstairs and they fussed over her very impressively. She had only one small bag and traveled in her jeans and boots, leather jacket and cowboy hat. She kept them waiting while she gave Walt a long, deep kiss goodbye. “If there’s a break in the filming, I’ll be up for a visit. And I’ll call you when I get there.”
“Muriel, stop being reluctant and sad. You want this and I want it for you. You’re good, that’s why you’re getting this chance. Knock ’em dead. And if Jack Whatshisname makes a play for you, tell him to fuck off. You have a boyfriend already.”
She laughed. “I’ll be sure to tell him.”
“And I’m a good shot.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Thanks for taking on the animals. They mean a lot to me.”
“Me, too,” he said.
He stood there in the blistering cold until her private jet took her away. He watched it until it was out of sight. All he could think was, what if she doesn’t come back? What if she really does get that Oscar and is lured into one more and one more and one more? A private jet came for her and she didn’t even have to pack. And having her own jet didn’t make her the least intimidated or uncomfortable. This was Muriel’s real life.
What the hell was I thinking I could mean to her?
What if she’s all done being mine?
Mel heard a truck pull up in front of the clinic and thought it must be Bruce bringing mail and asking after
specimens to be delivered to Valley Hospital. She walked out onto the porch, but didn’t recognize the truck. She frowned as a woman got out of the passenger side. This was an attractive woman in her early thirties—trim, brown hair, pink cheeks. She looked up at Mel and smiled somewhat shyly. “Hi,” she said.
Mel frowned, then returned the smile. “Hi. How can I help you?”
“Oh, you already have.” She took two steps up onto the porch. She wore light makeup, slim jeans, a long-sleeved turtleneck shirt and down vest.
And then it dawned on her. Cheryl Chreighton! Her transformation was nothing short of astonishing. In just a few months’ time her complexion had pinked up, her eyes were clear, she’d dropped about twenty-five pounds—probably most of it the edema that she carried from drinking—and she was not just clean, but actually groomed and styled. Someone had cut her hair and showed her how to fix it. She wore women’s clothes and a very happy smile. “Oh, dear God.”