by Robyn Carr
“We really need to spend more time talking,” Kaylee said.
“It was in the newspaper or I wouldn’t have mentioned it,” Mel said.
“How long do you plan to be a midwife?” she asked. “Because you must have loads of tales to tell.”
“Forever,” Mel said. “But just spend a little time with Jack. Are you looking for book material?”
“Always.” At that moment Howard came down the porch stairs and handed Kaylee a steaming cup of hot chocolate. “Mel, this is my father, Howard. Dad, this is Mel Sheridan, local midwife and Jack’s wife. Did you meet Jack when you were in the bar?”
“I might’ve,” he said. “It’s a pleasure.”
“I had no idea you were having family for the holiday, Kaylee,” Mel said. “That’s fantastic. Howard, let me show you around a little, introduce you to a few people. Kaylee...?”
“I’ll stay here and have my hot chocolate, thanks. It’s where I told Mallory I’d stay.”
She watched as Howard walked off beside Mel and stopped at the first couple they happened upon—Vanessa and Paul Haggerty. Then the minister and his wife. Then Tom Cavanaugh with three girls, a couple of teenagers and a younger one.
Then she saw Mallory and her best friend, Ali. They were running around the tree with a couple of other girls and Mallory was laughing. They were holding glittery streamers on sticks that sparkled in the lights of the tree.
Kaylee remembered when she and her mom used to sing that Helen Reddy song, “You and Me Against the World,” a mother-daughter song. She wished her mother could see the tree. Or know Mallory. But she also knew that if Mallory’s situation had presented itself before Meredith passed away, Kaylee wouldn’t have done it, wouldn’t have taken her on. She wouldn’t have gone to Virgin River to seclude herself and ended up with dozens of friends, a new boyfriend, a bunch of pets and a child.
Because you weren’t that person then.
Boy, that sounded very much like Meredith. She felt her eyes getting a little moist.
Landry walked up behind her and slid an arm around her waist. “Where’s Howard?” he asked.
“Mel’s taken him to meet the town. What a glorious night, isn’t it?”
“There must be two hundred people in town tonight,” he said. “There’s food in the bar, if you want a little something to eat.”
“Do you have any idea how much my life has changed since I came up here?”
He grinned at her. “Do you have any idea how much my life has changed since you came? Everything is different. I went from being a solitary artist to having trouble spending time in my studio because I’d rather be with you.”
“I think I’m going to have to stay a while longer,” she said. “Mallory should go back to her classroom after Christmas break, where she’s acclimated and comfortable. I can go down to Newport Beach and pick up a few things or we can all go check it out later. In fact, I don’t even know if I’m allowed to take her out of this county. I’m not even an official, certified foster parent. I’m a friend of the family. A neighbor.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “We have room to grow. We have an abundance of possibilities.”
“I wish my mom could see this,” she said.
“She can see it, honey,” he said, pulling her a little tighter against him.
* * *
After all the singing and visiting and snacking, Kaylee and her family headed home for a late spaghetti dinner, which they enjoyed at Landry’s house. Because of Mallory, he had found nice medium-size trees to put up in both houses so there would be one in Landry’s house where they were having their holiday meals and one in Kaylee’s house where Mallory had her room.
By the time they finished eating, it was obvious Mallory was worn out from playing with her friends and there would be no games or movies with Landry and Howard on Christmas Eve. Kaylee took Mallory home while Landry checked on the dogs and made sure Howard was settled in his room.
When Kaylee and Mallory walked up to the house, there were two small packages leaning against the front door. “What’s this?” Kaylee said, reaching for one. “One says ‘Mallory’ and one says ‘Kaylee’ and both say ‘Open on Christmas Eve.’ I guess we should do as we’re told.”
“I guess we should,” Mallory agreed.
They went inside and didn’t wait for Landry. They opened their boxes immediately and discovered matching pajamas, red with white polka dots. They were expensive, classy, grown-up pajamas and they looked to be exactly the right size.
“Oh my gosh, these are so cool,” Mallory said.
Mel, Kaylee thought. She had told Mel about how her mother gave her really nice pajamas every year, the joke being if she was going to work in her pajamas, she ought to have good ones. She couldn’t think of anyone else she had told about their tradition.
They wore their pajamas to bed, and woke up on Christmas morning to presents under the tree and Landry working on breakfast in Kaylee’s kitchen. Kaylee called Howard and told him to come next door for Christmas morning, and he came bearing gifts he’d kept in his trunk.
Kaylee had tried not to go overboard on gifts for Mallory, but she did buy her an iPad and a couple of very expensive books—a leather-bound copy of Harry Potter and one of Watership Down. She got her father a couple of shirts and also some books and for Landry some big picture books of art and dogs.
“I guess books are going to be a way of life from now on,” Landry observed.
Kaylee and Mallory stayed in their pajamas for a long time, playing with Mallory’s new iPad, reading, lounging, talking. For a while in the late morning Kaylee noticed that Mallory became a little quiet and morose. So they talked about her mother, about missing both their mothers, and it was just the two of them remembering and wishing things could have been just a bit different.
But for Kaylee, this Christmas was very special. The Christmas she had hoped would never come was magical and filled with love, filled with people who had never been in her life before. She was in love with a man she could not have even hoped for, he was so wonderful. She had a little girl who depended on her, a little girl she had quickly grown to love and hoped would be with her forever. And there was a prodigal father who had found a way back into her heart.
Mel called. “Merry Christmas! How’s it going?” she asked.
“It’s lovely. And thank you for the pajamas.”
“Pajamas?” Mel asked.
“Mel, it had to be you! Red matching pajamas for me and Mallory? I told you my mother gave me wonderful pajamas every Christmas! There were two boxes leaning up against the door when we got home last night!”
“Kaylee, I was in town. At the tree. I didn’t leave any gifts. I bet it was Landry.”
But he said no when she asked him. He swore he wasn’t lying. “I’m telling the truth. There was a note, wasn’t there?”
“But it was printed,” she said.
“I think you should accept the fact that you have a guardian angel. And she might be walking the earth or maybe not. But there is one thing I noticed that you didn’t.”
“What’s that?”
“You didn’t fall apart at 11:04.”
She hadn’t. She had glided right through the time and when she noticed a while later, it made her smile. It was as if Christmas had been given back to her. Times ten.
Epilogue
One year later
KAYLEE WAS THRILLED to be back. She couldn’t imagine spending Christmas anywhere but Virgin River. They’d spent a couple of weeks in Newport Beach early in the year, long enough to check out the house, the towns, the galleries and the beaches. Then they moved back in the fall so that Mallory could start school there. Kaylee arranged to have a small studio erected behind the house in the backyard, just on the other side of the small pool. It was big enough for Landry to use as his studio when they were there.
Landry liked Newport and there were many opportunities for him in the shops and galleries around Southern California. And Mallory took to the town and the ocean very quickly. She also took to the idea of being part of the family she’d helped to create.
Kaylee was now officially a certified foster parent. The county had found a couple of distant relatives of Mallory’s, her mother’s second cousins living in Seattle. They hoped to meet them soon, but Mallory was very happy with Landry and Kaylee and had no interest in finding other guardians.
It was as if the three of them came together at exactly the right time. Landry had been lonely, Kaylee had been bereaved and Mallory had been in need of a family to help her with the rest of her growing up.
Kaylee and Landry balanced their work and family life like synchronized swimmers. There were times Landry had to visit stores and galleries to sell his art just as there were writers’ conferences and promotional trips Kaylee was anxious to return to.
In the new year Kaylee and Landry were planning to get married.
But they were back in Virgin River for their first Christmas as an official family. They had seen the raising and decorating of the tree, and Kaylee had spent days working with the volunteers who put together food baskets and bought Christmas gifts for residents in need. There were many social gatherings, and Howard was invited to stay with them for the holidays.
The anonymous Christmas fairies again delivered gifts to Kaylee’s porch. Sometimes it was obvious where they came from—winter crops from Jillian, canned delicacies from Kelly, handmade fishing flies from Jack, baked goods from Paige and many others who just appreciated all that Kaylee and Landry did for the town. This time Kaylee reciprocated with her own gifts of signed books and baked goods, scattering them around the mountain village.
And a few days before Christmas a small decorated tree had appeared on Kaylee’s porch. Her mother had not appeared, which was very disappointing. But there was an ornament on the tree that looked like a pair of pajamas, the kind with feet in. It was made of red glass, something Landry could have crafted. There was a white streamer, also glass, swirling out from the ornament. And on the streamer it said, You’ll Be Fine.
And they were.
* * *
Keep reading for an exclusive look at Robyn Carr’s thoughts on visiting the set of the Netflix production of Virgin River.
Robyn Carr’s reflections on visiting
the set of Virgin River
Virgin River is Alive! Really!
When my readers write to me to say my characters have become real to them, that they have become like friends or family, I always smile and think, You have no idea how much so. Sometimes they’re almost too real for me. When I am writing a novel, my characters occupy so much space in my mind. I join them for meals, take them on walks, lie beside them in bed, wake up to them in the morning. Sometimes I feel like covering up in the shower!
They talk to me inside my head; I can imagine the sound of their voices, and there are times I’ve created writing exercises to help bring them to life. A few times I’ve interviewed characters to get a better fix on who they are. To a novelist, especially this novelist, the most authentic writing doesn’t look like writing at all. It looks more like scribbling or daydreaming or, in the best of times, rocking in a hammock. I took this approach when I started writing Virgin River. Me to Mel: What are you running away from? Mel to me: I lost my husband, and it was a brutal loss.
From the very beginning of my Virgin River novels, I imagined a televised series. Over the years there has been interest from a variety of production companies, but I always knew it wasn’t a story that could be told quickly. It’s an ongoing story with the potential for growth and an infinite opportunity for expansion.
The Netflix production of the series is a dream come true. And I was very pleased to be invited to visit the set and watch my characters come to life.
Of course, once the announcement was made, before a single cast member was selected, I began to get letters. “They better get Jack’s character right!” And the less threatening version: “I hope you have input in selecting the cast!”
However redundant these thoughts may be, we all have our own image in our heads as to what characters might look like. That’s the true beauty of fiction—while our eyes scan the page, our mind is busy turning it into a movie in our minds. Will that vision be the same for everyone? Of course not.
But I knew my characters were in good hands, and I could hardly contain my excitement when visiting the set. Inside a giant warehouse was Jack’s Bar and several other structures, including Doc’s house and clinic. There were enormous painted backdrops of the great outdoors—the monument-size trees, mountains, rivers. As I walked around the set, I was in awe. It was a town, incredible down to the smallest detail. I wandered in and out of the structures, touching the stacks of papers on Doc’s desk, checking out the exam table in one of the exam rooms, looking at the small kitchen where so much action happened in the book.
I mounted the steps to Jack’s Bar with some trepidation—so much of the series takes place there—would it look anything like I’d imagined? I stopped just inside the door. It took my breath away. Every detail was precise. I sat on a stool at the bar and about a hundred scenarios ran through my mind. A little later in the day I watched the filming of a scene in which Mel was talking to Jack about her life as an urban nurse practitioner, tossing back a couple of shots, wobbling off the stool and needing a little assistance from Jack! Yes, the place was Jack’s, down to the animal trophies on the walls. It was exactly as I’d pictured it when I first wrote about it.
And there were so many people everywhere. A large gathering of people at picnic tables outside of Doc’s house turned out to be extras. They’d be called on to walk up and down the street, sit in the bar, maybe be waiting for a doctor’s appointment, whatever the need. Also within the crowd there were tradesmen: carpenters, painters, builders, cameramen, grips. A good many of them approached me, introduced themselves and asked me, usually a bit shyly, if the set met my expectations. I had to be honest—it far exceeded my wildest desires. When I said so, their faces would light up with pride. They, too, want the show to meet the expectations of the fans of the books.
Also gathered were production people: the director, sound techs and others. I found a chair with my name on the back and we gathered to watch them shoot a scene, then reshoot from several different angles. I must say, I’ve always had this image of actors as having a glamorous job, but what I saw was very unglamorous. They worked hard, over and over again, standing, sitting, walking, moving. And the days were long—they kept the set open, working twelve hours a day. There were trailers in the parking lot for the stars to relax between scenes, study their lines, rest, rehearse or catch up on emails or phone calls when they weren’t required on set.
And the food! This was my biggest surprise of the day. The unions are strict, and those hardworking folks need regular breaks. Every few hours tables full of catered food were put out. Between breaks, great bowls of fruit appeared.
I sat through a table reading of the ninth episode. Every actor read their lines from the script. They did this every day for several days. It was an opportunity for questions and so they could discuss their lines or delivery with the director.
The scenes that I saw or read were not what I wrote in the original book. The sc
ript can’t follow the book exactly. It would be confusing, too long and the meaning could be lost in translation. The screen is a completely different format. There’s no way to film a character’s thoughts or internal dialogue, so adjustments are made to make the spirit of the story fit the new format. There were things I didn’t recognize but so many new twists I wished I had thought of. It was true to the spirit of my work and it was excellent!
It was a brand-new adventure with some of my most beloved characters. And those people who see the televised series first will have the same experience when they read the books—fresh adventures with favorite characters.
I was on the set for two days and it was magical. I fell in love with everything I saw, but there were a couple of things that stood out. First of all, the extreme gratitude of the cast and crew, to the last. There were hundreds of people working on this series. We provided jobs—hundreds of them. This wasn’t something I had done alone, even if I had created the setting and characters. This was something that evolved out of the millions of readers’ love for the series.
And the second thing was nestled in the heart. One of the tradesmen asked if I’d seen the sign in the bar. He took me over to show me what he meant. A closer look revealed a slice of tree trunk with some words burned into it. “Virgin River—Built By Men Of Honor For The Women They Love.” It was perfect.
That is the spirit and essence of Virgin River—the town we all want to call home. I hope you enjoy the books and the Netflix series as much as I do. Please visit my website, robyncarr.com, for more behind-the-scenes information about the show.
If you enjoy the Virgin River series, you’ll love Sullivan’s Crossing!
Keep reading to discover this series from #1 New York Times bestselling author Robyn Carr.