Return to Virgin River

by Robyn Carr

  “Hunting, huh?” she asked. “Support dogs?”

  “All kinds of support—for owners with anxiety or diabetes or phobias or, like I said, PTSD. If you decide to stick around, I can help with that fear thing, though can I stress to you right now—you should never trust a dog you don’t know. They’re animals, after all.”

  So, he could help her, she thought wryly. It was universal, that desire to fix things, especially with men. She didn’t want to be fixed. She wanted dogs to stay away from her. She had a spontaneous urge to flee before he went any further with his offer.

  “Let’s just have a peek at the inside,” he said, walking onto the porch. “It may not be what you’re looking for, but you came all this way.”

  Before she had even gotten to the porch, he was holding the door open.

  “Would you prefer to look around by yourself?”

  “It’s okay. You can come in. It’s your house. There might be things you want to point out.”

  “Sure,” he said, standing aside so she could enter. “This is the living room.”

  She stepped through the door. Damn. It was lovely. Modern, decorated in earth tones of beige, rust, brown and a small bit of yellow. It was one large room. There was a sectional sofa and easy chair with an ottoman on one end, a dining table on the other. It had an open kitchen with a small breakfast bar and two bar stools. The living room furniture looked soft and comfortable, accented with pillows in a variety of colors and a large square coffee table, all sitting on a large, white-and-beige, deep shag area rug. The floor and furniture were polished to a high sheen; the countertops and cupboards looked as though they’d been recently wiped down. The appliances were immaculate.

  “This is beautiful,” she said before she could check her words. The rent probably just went up, she thought.

  “No fireplace, I’m afraid. I have one in the bigger house. The bedrooms are that way. A master and guest room, but like I said, I never furnished the guest room. If you need to use it for guests, just give me some notice. I can get it furnished. Go ahead. There’s a big closet and good-size bath.”

  She passed a small powder room and stepped into a lovely bedroom, if a little masculine. There was a king-size bed and again, the colors were beige and brown. The bed frame was large, the headboard tall and tufted with a wheat-colored fabric. There were two bedside tables and a bench at the foot of the bed. That was it for furniture. She glanced over her shoulder at him and he indicated a couple of pocket doors. She slid them apart and they opened into a master closet that was very large. And of course empty, since he wasn’t living here.

  “Wow,” she said.

  “Yes. When I built it, I robbed the bedroom of some space to make the closet larger—I always had a lot to store. Everything from camping gear and art supplies to linens. There’s a small stackable washer and dryer right there, too. If you have to wash something large like a rug or comforter, my washer is larger and available. The spare room is just down the hall two steps. It was my shop or studio, whatever your preference. It’s only a room. There’s no closet, no bath, nothing but a space.

  “There’s a back door off the kitchen but not much of a back porch. There’s a path into the woods and a stream back there. Oh, and there’s bear repellent under the kitchen sink...”

  “Bear repellent?” she nearly shrieked.

  He laughed. “And you were worried about the dogs. By the way, I rarely get a dog who doesn’t play well with others. I mean, it has happened, but... Enough said, the dogs won’t be a problem for you.”

  “What’s the rent on this house?” she asked, a little afraid of the answer.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve gotten five hundred before, but I’m willing to consider an offer. It’s been sitting empty for a while.”

  Five hundred? she thought in shock. That wouldn’t get a one-bedroom and closet in Newport. In fact, she couldn’t rent a room in a house for that! “That sounds more than fair,” she said. Even without a fireplace it was so much bigger and nicer than the places the Realtor had shown her. Here, she could put her laptop on the dining table or sit in the living room with it on her knees. She might even get an outdoor chair with ottoman and do some work on the front porch. “You’re sure about the dogs? Because I don’t know anything about dogs except that they make me uncomfortable. I have friends who put their dogs outside or send them to bed when I visit...”

  “It’s guaranteed. I could put it in the lease if you like. By the way, I didn’t hear how long you need a rental.”

  “Through the rest of the year. I’m renting out my house in Southern California and they plan to stay through Christmas because they have grandchildren nearby. But we’re both flexible on when in January we return to our original places.”

  “But through Christmas. That’s nice. This little town really lights up at Christmastime. For myself, I kind of hate it.”

  “You do?” she asked, wondering if she might have found a kindred spirit.

  “Well, yeah,” he said. He pulled off his hat and ran a big hand through his hair. “The people I’d most like to be with on a holiday are gone and seems like the ones I’d least like to be with are around. I find holidays really awkward. Except the food. I end up eating a lot of really good food because of Christmas. There isn’t much more to recommend it.”

  She almost said, I hate it, too. But she used to love it. Then her mother was dying as Christmas approached and she thought she’d never again have a survivable holiday. “Well, I think I’d like to rent your house. If you’re sure about the—”

  “I’ll be extra cautious,” he said. “I don’t want you to be scared.”

  “Thank you, because I don’t want to be. I guess that’s it, then. When would you like me to move in? I mean, when is it available?”

  “Whenever you like.” He dug around in his pocket, pulled out a key ring and wrestled a key off. “This is for the front and back door, but don’t panic if you forget to lock. We don’t have burglars around here.” Then he grinned and added, “Too much barking, for one thing.”

  “Great,” she said. Then she startled and said, “Oh, I guess pets are allowed?”

  He just lifted both eyebrows.

  “I found a kitten hiding under my car.” She formed that little cup with her hands to indicate her tininess. “I couldn’t leave it. So I bought food, kitty litter and toys. If it doesn’t work out, I hear there’s a no-kill shelter nearby.”

  “Don’t give up on him,” Landry said. “Pets bring a lot of comfort. As long as they’re fluffy and not slimy.”

  “I’ll be back tomorrow morning, then,” she said.

  * * *

  Meredith used to say that Kaylee was stronger than she realized. “I think it’s a combination of being very clever and also lucky, but you always land on your feet.” It was true she always seemed to come through in the end. She didn’t get into a couple of writing programs she really wanted to try, but she actually wrote anyway and sold her first book at a very young age. She fell in love, had a great wedding, had her heart broken within a year, and though it was one of the most painful things she’d ever been through, she came out of it stronger, more independent, and had learned some valuable lessons about trust. And about men. Lesson number one, when you know someone is lying, trust yourself, not him!

  She’d been only twenty-four when she married and divorced, yes, in the same year. She had her share of wonderful experiences and successes and no shortage of disappointments to survive. Now, at thirty-five, there was but one thing she hadn’t bounced back from. She could hear her mother’s voice telling her to be patient. “Give yourself some time to heal but don’t be self-indulgent. You don’t need forever. We’ll still be together anyway. We’ll always be together.”

  Hah, Kaylee had thought. A little over eight months and she still missed her mother so, felt so lonely at times. And though she coul
d see her mother’s bright, laughing face and sometimes hear her voice, she was never coming back. She dreamed of her sometimes, just a little scene here or there, wanting it to be more, to feel real, to hear some of her sage advice or laugh together till they almost lost control... And she would wake up, sometimes feeling warm and sentimental, sometimes feeling the loss all over again.

  What would Meredith think of this new twist, her daughter moving into a rather handsome man’s guesthouse? If she were a little bit more stable and restored, she might even see the potential for a relationship. But a man was about the last thing Kaylee needed. She needed her best friend. There was just no substitute for Meredith.

  When she drove up to the Sheridan house, Mel was sitting on the porch. She had a bottle of wine and two glasses and was once again braiding Emma’s hair.

  Kaylee stopped and got out of the car, shouting to Mel over the open car door. “Are you waiting for me?”

  “I am,” Mel said. “I’m not on call tonight. You can celebrate that with me if you like. I’m dying to hear about the places you saw today.”

  “Let me park, check on the kitty and I’ll be right back.”

  Emma’s head jerked up as if she’d gotten an electric jolt; she was all attention. “Kitty?” she said.

  “Can you bring your kitty?” Mel asked.

  “Sorry, I forgot Jack wanted me to keep that kitty kind of secret.” She nodded toward Emma.

  “Jack’s a coward. Bring the kitty. Emma would love to just hold it for a little while. If that’s okay.”

  “It’ll just be a few minutes.”

  Kaylee did what she had to do, placing the kitty in the litter box, getting some results, then putting her back in the little carrier. She opened a can of food and carried everything back around the house to the front. Emma sat down on the porch floor, crossed her legs and reached out her little hands, just waiting. The expectation on the little girl’s face made her shine.

  “After you hold her a little bit, then we have to feed her. She’s so little that I have to offer her food three times a day.” She put the kitten in Emma’s anxious hands. “Be very gentle, sweetie.”

  “I’ll be gentle,” Emma said. “I know how. I held babies. Real babies.”

  “Then I guess you’re an expert.”

  “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Mel said. “Emma wants to be a baby doctor.” She lifted the wine. “Is white okay?”

  “Just perfect.”

  “So, what did you find?”

  Kaylee quickly explained the first three houses and then Landry’s. “It’s really pretty beautiful. Very nicely decorated, plenty of room, a nice porch with a swing and it’s immaculate. Like it’s been cleaned with a toothbrush. One thing, though. It might be a problem. He has dogs. I told you, I’m not very good with dogs.”

  “A bad bite, you said,” Mel remembered. “But Landry sometimes trains dogs. It’s not his main business but he’s developed something of a reputation. Mostly hunting dogs, I think. But if he’s a trainer, there shouldn’t be out-of-control dogs tearing up the countryside. Right?”

  “I hope so, because that could spoil the whole thing. He said he’s also some kind of artist.”

  Mel nodded. “I’ve seen some of his pottery and glass—very beautiful. He ships a lot of stuff to San Francisco and other places and he usually has a booth at some of the town fairs. There are lots of artists tucked away in these hills. We have a good friend who paints wildlife portraits. Colin Riordan. He and Landry are friends.” Then Mel’s eyes twinkled. “He’s cute.”

  “Colin? Or Landry?”

  “I guess they both are, but I was commenting that your new landlord is cute. Are you in the market?”

  “Nah,” Kaylee said. “I’m in recovery. I struggle every single day with my mom’s death. I’m not ready to open up to anyone new.”

  “But your life is getting bigger,” Mel said. She lifted her glass in Kaylee’s direction. “May it get bigger and bigger.”

  * * *

  It took Kaylee a little more than an hour to wash her linens, clean the bathroom in the casita, load up her belongings and kitten and head across town to Landry’s house. As she drew close, she passed a vegetable stand. It was mostly late summer vegetables like squash, melons, berries, cauliflower and broccoli. There were still tomatoes but the lettuces and kale were looking a bit tired. The artichokes were amazing, and she loved artichokes. She had seen a nice grocery in Clear River the day before; she planned to make a run later for butter, bread, bacon, tuna, sliced turkey, cheese. Also chips, salsa, garlic, eggs and a few other things.

  This was a sign she was going to settle in.

  Once she got everything into the cabin, her next task was settling her kitten. She showed her where they’d keep the litterbox, then got some toys out of the bag and shook out the soft, fluffy bed, which the kitty immediately began to claw.

  Next, Kaylee set up her music—she chose her Beatles playlist. She ate a couple of tomatoes with avocado. She did a quick inventory of the kitchen to see if there was anything she had to buy in order to feed herself dinner.

  She made tea. Then she sat down and read those seventeen pages again. Blah, blah, blah.

  She opened the document she had titled A New Start and began to write.

  She wanted to feel safe, cozy and completely confident. After all, being alone was hardly a new thing for her. And this temporary space had everything she needed from a porch swing to a flower bed bordering the house. In days gone by, all she had to do was burrow into a comfortable chair, open her laptop, place her mind in a story and write. Not that it was easy—even the easiest writing was filled with constant revision, change and improvement. But it had always felt good before. Now, with her best friend gone, it was like her talent was gone as well. She didn’t know where to look to find her magic again.

  She should give herself and her best friend names.

  Sometimes she felt like her mother was still alive. Sometimes she thought of her alive and well, robust and funny and cynical and pouring a cup of coffee or glass of wine in her house in Newport. Countless times she felt her hand reaching for the phone to give her a quick call. “I’ll go get us Mediterranean and we’ll eat on the patio,” Kaylee would say. “Do you have good wine?” And before she finished the thought she would remember Meredith wasn’t there.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of barking dogs and she went to the porch cautiously. Landry was in the fenced yard behind his house with a couple of dogs. She didn’t know what kind they were. Two were blond and hairy, one was sleek and black. Landry was throwing ball after ball for them to chase. He stopped, put three balls in his pocket and called the dogs with a shrill whistle, and all three trotted over to him, wagging their tails fiercely. They sat. Then he lowered a hand to one, then another, then threw a ball to the third. Only that dog ran to fetch. Then that dog sat and was told to stay while the second dog was invited to fetch. Then the third. Remarkable. They took turns and politely waited.

  “Cool,” she muttered to herself. But she had no desire to be anywhere near them. She sat on the porch swing and listened to the barking, the whistling, the quiet, rinse and repeat.

  She put her kitten in the carrier to keep her out of mischief while she was gone, packed up her computer and drove to town.

  Given it was midafternoon, there were only a few people in Jack’s Bar. He called out her name, greeting her, and even though it had only been a couple of days it had much the feel of Cheers—friendly and familiar. She went to the bar for a Diet Coke, found a table in the corner away from the door and bar, and opened up her computer.

  She forced herself to write one page of her novel. She was desperate to make some progress and the best way she could think of was to toss a dead body in there. To make it interesting, the body had several bullet wounds and was discovered by one of her favorite recurring c
haracters—a seventy-eight-year-old woman, a busybody with a fierce interest in forensics.

  Then she flipped over to the other document.

  The last thing she had any interest in was a man or a romantic encounter. She noticed that Landon spent a lot of time outdoors with his horses and his garden. She couldn’t help but see him. A lot of him. The way his jeans fit seemed to be particularly appealing, not that she was checking him out. She told herself she wouldn’t have noticed the jeans if it hadn’t been for his lovely personality. He was so comfortable around her, so accommodating and affable. His eyes were so shockingly blue and his smile both frequent and engaging. When he smiled at her she felt her pulse pick up a little. She couldn’t help but watch him when he was in sight.

  She wondered if they might become friends while she lived in his guesthouse. And she hoped to become better friends with the bartender and his wife—they were so kind and generous, not to mention fun.

  “Hey, it’s the fire girl,” someone said. She looked up to see Mike, the guy who had been behind the bar the first night she was in town. She had since learned that he was Jack’s brother-in-law and lived next door to Mel and Jack. Today he was wearing a badge on his belt. “The writer.”

  “We’re going to have to go with names and not reputation,” she said, sticking out her hand. “Kaylee Sloan.”

  “Mike Valenzuela, how you doing?”

  “Great,” she said. “I didn’t know you were the police.”

  “Constable for this town. How’s the new place?”

  “It’s very nice,” she said. “Just what I was looking for since the Templeton house is off the market. I’m lucky—it was just a lucky break.”