Return to Virgin River

by Robyn Carr

  “And now it’s your job?”

  “Just part-time. Because I enjoy it. Dogs deserve to be well trained. I think it makes them happy. I know it makes them social. And it makes a good family. Frustrated dog parents are unhappy and unhappy parents are sometimes angry. That’s no good for anyone.”

  “Why don’t you teach people how to train their dogs?”

  “I do that, too. But not everyone has the right temperament. It takes a certain kind of confidence. For me, it’s satisfying to turn over a well-behaved pet or partner...”

  “Partner?”

  “I train hunters and support animals, too. They’re working dogs.”

  “And guard dogs? And police dogs?” she asked.

  “No. Canine officers should train their own dogs; it’s part of the bonding experience. I don’t like the idea of guard dogs. Get an alarm. Or just an ordinary dog will bark at just about anything that stirs. Most people want guard dogs that will scare people, even attack. That’s not what I do. I want to work with people who want happy dogs. That’s a tall enough order.”

  “And you have many other things to do,” she said. “I’m very curious about all your art. But I’m more curious about your experience with this town. How long have you been here?”

  “I grew up here. It was just me and my dad. This was his property. I was little when he and my mother got divorced. She went back to the city and we stayed here. He was a lineman with the county—back then it was power lines.”

  “So, you spent almost your whole life right here?”

  “Not all, no. I went to college in San Francisco, lived there a few more years, before I decided I didn’t have to pay those high city prices. What about you? Where did you grow up?”

  “Southern California. Newport.”

  “One of those California beach girls...”

  Before long, he began the second beer while she sipped her wine. They talked about areas of the state they liked, the differences between the northern mountains and the southern beaches. She told him she’d been married, though briefly, and had been divorced for nine years. He mentioned that he had been married eleven years ago, that his hadn’t worked out, either. It was one of those pleasant, superficial, just-getting-to-know-you chats. She heard her phone ringing in the house and decided whoever was calling could leave a message because she was enjoying this time with her landlord.

  They parted ways as the sun was getting low over the pines and a small chill was settling over the land. “We’ll have to do this again,” he said.

  “By all means,” she said.

  When she was back inside, she checked her phone. It was Howard, her father. His voice was a little hysterical.

  “Kaylee, where the hell are you? I’ve left messages, you haven’t returned my calls, so I stopped by the house and there’s a strange couple living there! They said you’d moved to Northern California for the rest of the year! Call me or so help me God, I’ll come looking for you.”

  She sighed deeply. It was tempting to just ignore the message, but clearly he was going to keep calling. She didn’t understand the urgency. He seemed to have spent much of his life avoiding her until Meredith got sick. Then suddenly he was calling frequently, wanting to see her, wanting to form a family with her.

  There just didn’t seem to be a polite way to tell him he was much too late.

  Kaylee had grown to hate the words, “Well, he is your father.” From the time Howard had left them, he had not been an attentive or doting father. In fact, he rarely visited her. He would come to the house occasionally, and even at the age of seven or eight she knew he was coming more to see Meredith than her. It became more evident as the years passed that he regretted leaving Meredith, and on his visits he would spend a great deal of the time visiting with her, not Kaylee. Kaylee would say hello and then go watch TV, and Howard and Meredith would sit at the kitchen table and talk like old friends. By the time Kaylee was a teen she had come to understand Howard wanted to talk to his ex-wife about his unsuccessful relationships.

  “Doesn’t that make you mad, that he complains to you about his wives or girlfriends?” she once asked her mother. And Meredith said, “No, sweetheart. It makes me very grateful that he left me.”

  Meredith was fine with his visits, given they weren’t too frequent. Because Meredith was classy. Her heart no longer ached for the marriage that fell apart and she’d had plenty of gentlemen friends in the years since the divorce. She had a good social life.

  But then Meredith got sick and Howard amped up his visits, causing Kaylee to be jealous of the time he spent with her mother. Whenever Kaylee complained, Meredith would say, “Go easy on Howard. He is your father.”

  And to be fair, Howard had paid child support and helped with her college expenses. He’d done well for himself in the real estate business, which was lucky since he had to pay a lot of support. He’d had a total of four children.

  She decided to get it over with and called him back. “Hi, Howie,” she said in greeting because she knew he hated it. He always instructed her to call him Dad. But for some reason she kept forgetting... “No need to panic. I wanted a change of scenery for a few months so I could finish a book.”

  “Where exactly are you?” he demanded. “And why didn’t you tell me you’d be out of town?”

  “I’m in Humboldt County, and I didn’t mention it to you because I’m thirty-five years old, we’re not close, you don’t tell me where you’re going all the time. In fact, I don’t expect you to.”

  He sighed. “Okay, I deserved that,” he said. “I wasn’t there for you when I should have been and there seems to be no way to make up for it now. But with your mom gone, I wish we could spend a little time together. I was going to invite you out to dinner. I think we’re both missing her.”

  The last thing she needed was an evening of reminiscing with Howie. “Sorry, but I came here to work and that’s what I’m doing. Maybe when I get back to Newport.”

  “Are you getting a lot of work done?”

  “I’m trying,” she said. “I...I still find it hard to focus, hard to concentrate. But I’m giving it everything I’ve got.”

  “Maybe I’ll come up in a few weeks,” he said. “You can show me around and we’ll have dinner.”

  “I don’t have a guest room, Howie.”

  “I can make arrangements,” he said. “Think about it and we’ll talk about it later. I’ll give you a call next week.”

  “All right. Take care.”

  “You, too. Love you.”

  “Goodbye.”

  She never said she loved him. She wasn’t sure she did. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

  * * *

  Kaylee took Kitty to the vet that Jack recommended—Dr. Lynne Murphy. “Well, Kitty turns out to be a boy,” the vet said. “And I’d guess about eight weeks old. He’d have to be that old to eat solid food and use the litter box. Let’s give him a couple of weeks of growth and then start his shots. Meanwhile, would you like me to chip him?”

  “Chip him?”

  “A microchip that ID’s his name, owner, vital information so if he’s ever lost he can be returned to you.”

  “Oh yes, please.”

  “Is he going to get another name besides Kitty?”

  “Oh man. This is actually my first pet. My mother was allergic and I know nothing. I guess that’s obvious.”

  “Not to worry. This cat will probably raise you. So, he should be neutered because if he’s not he will not only make more cats, and he’ll make a mess, spraying his scent around your house. We’ll give him shots, make sure he’s in good health and check his weight. After about four months of inoculations and after he’s been neutered, if you keep him as an indoor cat you’ll be on your own unless you need us. He’s a pretty little guy.”

  She had them put Tux on his chart as his name because of his blac
k-and-white markings. She pretended not to hear when the doctor said, “Original.”

  * * *

  The next afternoon when Kaylee was at Jack’s having lunch, Jillian Matlock came in carrying a large cardboard box filled with vegetables. “It’s your lucky day, Jack. Is Preacher around?”

  “Yep. Stand by.” He turned and banged on the wall that separated the bar from the kitchen. “Brought him some goodies, did you?”

  “The harvest is winding down and these are good but not pretty enough to send out.” Preacher came through the swinging door, drying his hands on a dish towel.

  “Hey,” he said. When he saw Jillian, he smiled. “Goodies?”

  “For my special friend. The last of the Russian Rose and purple calabash, some artichokes, onions, turnips... Late stuff.”

  Kaylee got off her stool and slowly gravitated toward Jillian and the box of veggies. There were peppers, cucumbers, a bunch of green and purple leaf lettuce and a few other things she couldn’t name.

  “Have you two met?” Jack asked.

  “The fire girl,” Jillian said. “We met last week. How are you?”

  “I’m Kaylee,” she said with a laugh. “I’m great, thanks. Is this stuff from your garden?”

  “I’m a farmer,” Jillian said. “I have a few acres dedicated to heirloom vegetables and other organic stuff. They’re some little known varieties mostly used by restaurants as garnish. Also my sister is a chef and she makes a variety of sauces, relishes, and a few dressings and pastes. She’s a cooking miracle. She’s working on some soup starters as her new line—absolutely amazing stuff.”

  “You oughta see Jillian’s place,” Jack said. “It’s incredible. And she farms year-round.”

  “Look at those artichokes,” Kaylee said. “They’re huge!”

  “I’d love it if you came by,” Jillian said. “I’ll give you a tour. Whenever you’re available. I’m just about done for the day if you’re free now.”

  She glanced at her laptop, which hadn’t seen a lot of action today, and said, “I’m free.”

  “Great! You can follow me home! I’ll take you around in the garden mobile.”

  Kaylee did just that, driving down Highway 36 behind Jillian and then down a long road, through the trees and up to a beautiful Victorian mansion. After she parked she admired the house.

  “Completely restored, mostly by Paul Haggerty,” Jillian said. “I found it and rented it and started a small garden, then I bought it and the ten acres it’s on and planned a farm. The house is wonderful; I’ll take you through it after we tour the gardens. Colin and I live here, but my sister, Kelly, uses the kitchen to cook. She has a commercial kitchen in Eureka where she produces her sauces. But she’s always trying new things, usually on a large scale, and this kitchen is perfect. Come in and meet her.”

  Kaylee followed Jillian inside and met Kelly, who appeared to be up to her elbows in dough.

  “Bread,” Jillian said. “I love it when she bakes bread. You can smell the aroma all the way to the coast. If you’re interested, we can see the gardens first, then the house.”

  “Oh, I’m interested. I want to see anything you have time to show me.”

  “Good, I love showing it off.”

  Sitting in the garden mobile next to Jillian, Kaylee bounced around the huge gardens behind the house. They were like a quilt of many colors and textures, lush and looking tasty. Most of the outdoor gardens were picked clean except for the melons, pumpkins and some late squash. But there were several greenhouses in the back, filled with raised beds that held fruits, vegetables and flowers. “Mostly edible flowers that chefs like to garnish their plates with. I just started doing that a couple of years ago.”

  “How do you get your stuff to the restaurants? Because unless I missed something, there aren’t a lot of restaurants around here.”

  “You didn’t miss anything. These flowers and heirloom vegetables go as far as Seattle and San Francisco via FedEx. They’re tender little things that won’t last long; they go overnight.”

  The back acreage was lined with fruit trees and berry bushes. “The berries come in in spring, finished by the first of August, but the apples come in later. I don’t rely on that apple crop for much, except to satisfy the deer. I sell them out on the roadside stands—we have two large ones now. Kelly uses the fruit and berries in her creations; she ships a lot of pie filling, jams, jellies and that sort of thing. I’ve added to the berry bushes and paid the price—the bears love berries. I have to scare them away. I have an air horn they don’t like. Having wildlife in the yard can be fun until you get a sample of their mischief. A mama bear with a couple of cubs will break into the greenhouses or turn a garden mobile upside down. I really can’t afford to be welcoming.”

  “They don’t scare you?” Kaylee asked.

  “Not really,” Jill said. “But I don’t get up close and personal. I’ve seen the size of their claws. And I’ve seen the evidence of their shenanigans.”

  “Could you put up a big fence?” Kaylee asked.

  Jillian laughed. “Have you ever seen a bear up a thirty-foot tree? There’s no fence to keep them out. We do have fences around some of our outdoor gardens to keep the deer out, plus I use a lot of bunny repellant to save my lettuces and root vegetables. The bears, I’m afraid, go where they please. Thus the air horn. It’s very loud.”

  Kaylee was in awe of the terraced plots that adorned the hillsides surrounding the house, separated by narrow roads to make movement easy. Every now and then Jillian would stop the golf-cart-size garden mobile and pick some fruits or veggies and throw them in the back of her little truck. There was everything from apples to tiny potatoes; there were several rows of grapes with only a few still on the vine. She pulled up a few honeydew and cantaloupe from their vines and added them to her catch.

  “The pumpkins will be ready for Halloween,” she said.

  When they got back to the house, Jillian showed her around, and by far the biggest treat was the second-floor sunroom where Colin had his studio. His wildlife paintings circled the large room, and he was at work on a huge painting of a buffalo. “God, that’s breathtaking,” she said. “Do you sell them in a gallery?”

  “Most of them go to a small gallery in Sedona, Arizona, owned by an artist who has become a good friend. I do some special orders and sell some from my website. It’s keeping me out of trouble,” he said.

  There was a third floor that had a couple of guest rooms and to Kaylee’s surprise, a staircase to the roof and a widow’s walk. “We don’t know where the idea for a widow’s walk came from, but you can see all of Jilly Farms and beyond from up here. The first year I was here, I came up here all the time. I would call Kelly; we didn’t have a satellite connection yet and it was the only place I could get really good reception. And I would watch over my little farm.”

  When they went back downstairs, Kelly had some snacks prepared for them. They talked for a while about their various artistic pursuits from Kaylee’s writing to Kelly’s culinary skills. And when Kaylee was finally leaving, Jillian handed her a large plastic laundry basket full of the things she’d picked on their tour of the gardens.

  All of them made sure she knew she’d be welcome back anytime. “I can’t wait to come back,” she said.

  She drove directly home from there, and as she pulled in she saw Landry was sitting on his porch steps, holding a bottled water. When she parked in front of her house, he wandered over. She lifted the hatch. “I’ve been to Jilly Farms. And look what I got!”

  “Awesome,” he said, looking through the fruits and veggies.

  “I’m going to have a veggie dinner.”

  “Do you have a ham hock to go in the beans?” he asked.

  “No, of course not—I wasn’t expecting this.”

  “I do. I’ll get it for you. You can’t have a pot of green beans without pork of some kind.�
��

  “Then you have to join me for dinner!”

  And there was that grin. “That would be great. I’ll make sure Otis stays home.”

  5

  KAYLEE’S FIRST DINNER with her landlord was so easy, she felt as though she’d known him for years. He helped her clean up the kitchen, accepted an after-dinner cup of coffee, didn’t stay too late and thanked her profusely. She and Kitty—erm, Tux—wrote eight pages, staying up till almost midnight.

  The very next day when she was returning from her afternoon walk he waved to her from his porch and shouted, “What are your plans for dinner?” She gestured that she didn’t know, just shrugging her shoulders. He told Otis to stay on the porch and walked down the path to the road. “I thawed some ground sirloin for hamburgers. Care to join me?”

  She glanced at Otis. “If you cook them on your grill and bring them over, I’ll slice tomatoes and make deviled eggs. And there are leftover beans.”

  “That sounds perfect,” he said. “I’ll get a shower and do some grilling. How about six?”

  “I look forward to it.”

  She had her own shower and did a little primping, wondering if he’d notice. Then she wondered why she bothered.

  She bothered because he was handsome, pleasant and quite good company. They talked about anything and everything. He gave her the background on a lot of her new friends.

  “The story on Jillian and Colin is she was fired from a big executive job and came up here from San Jose to try to get her head together. Colin came to Virgin River because his brother Luke lives here, though why he did that is a mystery. They can’t get along at least half the time. I take that back—they’re either best friends or enemies. Jilly found the house and its neglected garden and started digging and planting. Colin is an ex-military Blackhawk pilot. He was recovering from a crash and painting was his therapy. He didn’t quite know he was any good.”