Sunrise Point (12 page)

* * *

It had come as no surprise to Nora that Jed wanted to come back again as soon as she would allow another visit, and that he wanted to bring Susan. He stood at the door on another Sunday afternoon with another box of gifts. “This is getting almost predictable.”

“Oh, wait,” the woman beside him said with a smile. “Hi, I’m Susan and I’m so happy to meet you. Thanks for letting me be included. Watching Jed discover his family has been…” She sighed, closed her eyes briefly and said, “It’s a joy. It’s been his dream for so many years. He’s enjoyed my daughters and grandchildren, but this is a whole new thing. He’s in ecstasy!”

“Susan,” he said. “Don’t scare her. I’m not obsessed.”

Susan, a woman for whom glamour was obviously not a priority, just laughed. A woman in her fifties, she had chosen to let the gray hair in and wore no makeup. She was dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and wore a flannel shirt over it. Very plain, very down to earth, completely approachable. “He’s obsessed,” she confirmed. “But you don’t have to be afraid.”

Jed didn’t waste any time—he was down on the floor with his box of goodies. Curious Fay was there in a flash, crawling up to the box while Jed slowly removed toys and books. Berry was slower, but she edged near, sitting on the floor, keeping the box between herself and Jed.

“Can I get you something to drink, Susan?” Nora asked.

“Nothing, thanks. I just want to watch Jed. But we can both do that and talk. I wanted to know if you had a major picked out when you were in school. Did you have any ideas about what you wanted to study?”

Nora sat down on the sofa and Susan joined her there. “I thought maybe education, but I had no experience. And no idea why I was drawn to the idea.”

“But even if you didn’t have the details, you knew your dad was a teacher.”

She nodded. “And when I was little, I played teacher with the girl next door and the dolls. But that was all play… .”

“Don’t discount it too quickly,” she said. “I used to build villages as a child. I used flowers and toothpicks and rocks—anything at hand in the yard. Hollyhocks were my favorite people. But never dollhouses, always towns filled with people. I had great complex plays and adventures. My mother thought I’d be a playwright, my father thought I’d be an architect. Turns out I’m an anthropologist.” She laughed and Nora was so taken by how beautiful this plain, unfussy woman could be. Her eyes twinkled; her smile was alive with happiness. “I watched my daughters play and I guessed them right, but they were so obvious.”

“Huh?”

“Well, Lindsey was always undressing other children. She’s doing her residency in family practice. Melanie tried to diaper and breastfeed her dolls—she’s the one with three children and is a stay-at-home mom who still talks about college one day. We’ll see.”

“Holy cow. I’m going to have to watch how Berry and Fay play!”

“But what about you?” Susan asked. “What are you playing at these days?”

“I’m picking apples,” she said with a laugh.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s very hard, heavy, taxing work. And yes, I like it. More than that, I love being there, in the orchard. It feels…natural. Healthy. But I’m doing it because the hours and pay work for me.”

“Do you ever entertain the idea of going back to school?” Susan asked.

“Susan,” Jed said in a warning tone.

“He eavesdrops,” Susan said with a laugh. “But do you?”

“Not for a few years,” Nora admitted. “Why think about things you can’t possibly manage?”

“Well—”

“Susan,” Jed said in a pleading voice, cutting her off. He took a breath and looked at Nora. And while he did that, Fay crawled trustingly into his lap. “Nora, this conversation can wait, we barely know each other. And since these little girls are my granddaughters and I want them protected, I completely support your caution with anyone, including me. But what Susan is jumping into here is—that’s an option for you. If you want to go back to school, complete your education, you have opportunity at Stanford.”

“Jed,” Nora said with humor. “It’s not just tuition and books that stand in my way. I have a family to support. Even if you paid for school—”

“Most of my friends are married men and women with kids,” he said. “I know what’s involved. Housing, subsistence, child care, transportation—lots of expenses. I understand. But listen—you should be more sure of me, comfortable with your decision, clear on your goals. Personally, I don’t care—if school doesn’t interest you, maybe something else does. I just want to help.”

“Haven’t you helped enough?” Nora asked.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “For seventeen years I sent a check to Therese without knowing how it was used. That was at least fifty percent my fault—I should have found a way. But now? I want to give you the things I couldn’t give you while you were growing up. And there aren’t any strings attached.”

“Look out, Nora,” Susan said with laughter in her voice.

“Susan!” Jed said. And again, Susan laughed. “I brought a few things you obviously need,” Jed said. “Things that will make your life a little easier. I want to do these things just because you’re my daughter and these are my granddaughters.”

“What things? Like formula and diapers?”

“And a car,” Susan said.

“Oh, for the love of…” Jed rubbed his temples.

“It’s used,” Susan said. “It was mine—used by me and I took very good care of it. I put a lot of miles on it, but I pampered it. I was ready for a new car so Jed bought it from me rather than me trading it in. It’s a few years old, in pristine condition and it comes with car seats.” She smiled that lovely smile again. “My daughter knew exactly what kind to get and where to get them at the right price—she’s an expert on that. The other one is an expert at saying, ‘Put on this gown, please.’ See, we all have our special gifts!”

Nora was speechless. A car? No, this was too much. No matter what anyone said, there had to be strings. And she wasn’t ready… .

“I can’t,” she said, shaking her head.

“But you can,” Susan said. “See, my ex-husband and I had to help my girls out with cars and with their insurance when they were sixteen or seventeen. They had jobs. We both worked and couldn’t chauffeur. It was a choice between helping with the transportation or no jobs. Then there were other expenses—proms, graduation, events, and the clothing and accessories became more and more expensive. So over the years, we ponied up for stuff they needed. Lindsey needed tons of college, Melanie and her young husband needed a down payment on a house. Had Jed been around when you were going through all those stages, it wouldn’t have seemed like such a windfall.” She smiled at Nora. “You’re very lucky. Your father wants to help and he doesn’t expect anything in return except for a chance to get to know you.”

Jed had Fay in his lap on the floor and Berry sitting cautiously beside him as he read the
Please and Thank You
Book
.

“Really?” Nora said.

He glanced at her. “Nora, I have a lot to make up to you. Not the other way around.”

Luke Riordan was throwing trash from his cabins into the big Dumpster on his property when he heard a horn honking. He looked up and saw a big truck hauling a camper pull into the compound. There was no mistaking his old friend, Coop, two weeks early. Unsurprisingly, with no notice. He tossed his trash in the Dumpster, laughed and shook his head. Then he headed for the truck just as Coop was getting out.

“You get fired again?” Luke asked, sticking out a hand in welcome.

“I quit. You heard about that oil spill in the gulf?”

“Was that your company?” Luke asked.

“
Was
being the operative word. They were always on the edge, stupid bastards. Took way too many shortcuts and it was coming. So I quit.”

“Now what?” Luke asked.

“For now, this little town in the mountains while I regroup,” Coop said. And then he flashed that badass grin he was known for.

Henry Cooper, AKA Hank or Coop or Hank Cooper, had gone to helicopter training when Luke was an instructor at Ft. Rucker. He was known as a rebel. Also known as one of the best chopper pilots the Army had. He’d had a notable Army career, though he did butt heads with authority regularly. And for the past ten years Coop had flown a helicopter for oil companies to offshore wells. And no big surprise, he butted heads with them, also.

“And the paycheck?” Luke asked.

Coop ran a hand around the back of his neck. “Yeah, they didn’t give me a farewell package. But hey—I socked away a few bucks before I quit. And I sold stock. While they were killing people at the pumps, my options went way up. There’s no justice, right? I’m in pretty good shape. I can screw around hunting and fishing while
you
work—that suits me.” And then he smiled again.

Luke had to laugh. He talked a good game, but Coop always pitched in. He was a hard worker. “And Ben?” Luke asked of the third buddy scheduled to show up for this little reunion.

“Yeah, I called him. Not only can’t he come early, he might not make it when we were planning to get together. He’s got some kind of cesspool or septic tank issue up at that bait shop of his. You ever been there?”

“Never,” Luke admitted. “Well, at least you brought your own bed. Whatcha got there?”

“Toy hauler. I keep a Harley, a Yamaha Rhino—an off-road vehicle—and a wave runner. Plus it’s a pretty nice apartment. I sold the boat.”

“You been living in that thing?”

“Yup,” he said. “I’m a damn fine landlord, too.”

“Some things just don’t change,” Luke said with a laugh. “Well, you’re in luck—I have the RV park all set up with power, water and sewage and—this is big—I’m cooking tonight.”

“Why is it big that you’re cooking?” Coop asked, frowning.

“Well, this is top secret. My wife loves to cook. She’s not necessarily any good at it. You say anything about that, you die.”

“Gotcha. So, you mentioned you reproduced. Where’s the result?”

“Brett’s napping. You have time to park your trailer before he gets up. You’ll like him—he’s a tough little guy. Your slab is around back. After you handle that, I’ll give you a beer.”

“Obliged,” Coop said. He looked around appreciatively. “This isn’t ugly…”

“I don’t think there’s a place for that wave runner close by,” Luke said. “Too many rocks in the river. Beachfront is a little rough up north here. You could head for the lake, but it’s getting cold on the water. But you’re going to enjoy the Rhino and the Harley—you won’t find more beautiful country. Need a little help hooking up and unloading?”

“Just point me in the right direction,” he said. “And Luke. Great to see you, man. How long has it been?”

“I don’t know. Six years? Eight?”

“Too long,” Coop said. And then he jumped back into his truck and pulled the trailer around behind the cabins.

* * *

Coop had kept in touch enough with Luke to have the facts, that he’d come up to Virgin River after retiring from the Army to check out some old cabins he and a brother had invested in. Luke had nothing better to do, so he stayed, fixed them up, met a woman, got married, et cetera.

But there was no way for Coop to prepare himself for the new Luke, or his wife.

When these two men had met some fifteen years ago or so, Coop was a kid of twenty-three and Luke was a few years older and a helicopter instructor who was just coming off a really bad marriage. When Luke got back from Somalia he’d found his wife pregnant with another man’s child. And not just any other guy, but an officer in Luke’s command. It screwed Luke up so bad, it was legend. Almost as big a legend as Coop’s brush with disaster over a woman. But at least Coop hadn’t married her. He’d merely gone to jail over her.

To say they had been a scrappy pair was putting it mildly.

And here was Luke now, a changed man. Or rather, a man changing a diaper! That was a sight Coop never expected to see. Oh, Coop had married friends here and there, but not this domesticated. And when Luke’s young knockout of a wife got home from work, Coop almost passed out. Luke had said she was young; he had failed to mention she wasn’t quite thirty years old and a stunner.

“You dirty old man, you,” Coop said with a very large grin. “Where did you find this beauty?”

“Right here, my man,” Luke replied. “Twenty-five years old and ripe for the picking.”

“I thought you’d sworn off.”

“Yeah, so much for big proclamations. The minute I saw her—”

Luke was cut off by the ripple of laughter coming from his wife, Shelby. “He’s such a liar,” she said. “He fought me every step of the way.”

But Coop found this new Luke fascinating. In addition to a pretty young wife and rambunctious little kid whom he clearly adored, Luke was also the guardian to a loveable man in his thirties who had Down Syndrome—Art. While Art set the table, Luke served his wife a glass of wine and turned steaks on the grill. Brett drove his miniature quad around in the yard and the catching up on old times commenced. Then through dinner, there was more of the same. And after Brett was tucked in for the night, Luke lit a fire in the pit in front of the porch.

“What were you and Luke like in the good old days?” Shelby asked. “When you first became friends?”

Coop laughed, a tinge of embarrassment included. He was grateful Shelby wouldn’t be able to see the slight stain on his cheeks. “Nothing like this,” he said. “I was just a kid, that’s my excuse. But you wouldn’t have liked us much, I’m pretty sure. We drank too much, drove too fast, got in the occasional fight when we took a break from chasing women.”

“I have no trouble seeing Luke as a womanizer,” Shelby said.

“Yeah, he wasn’t that slick with women,” Coop told her. “One hit him over the head with a beer pitcher once. I never did find out what his offense was.”

“Breathing,” Luke muttered. “I was coming off a bad relationship. I might’ve been a little bitter… .”

Coop let go a big laugh. “Ya think? At least you never went to jail!”

Shelby sat up straighter and faced Coop. “What did you do?”

“Turned out I did nothing, but since I was passed out, I wasn’t much good in my own defense.”

“Passed out with bruised knuckles…” Luke contributed.

“Yeah, that’s the missing link, I guess. I have no idea how that happened, but there was a time I had a bad habit of losing my cool and punching a door or a wall, because, that’s how intelligent I was back then. It took a few years to occur to me that didn’t hurt anyone but me.”

“But how did you end up in jail?”

“I had this girlfriend—Imogene. She wasn’t a very good girlfriend to start with—extremely high maintenance. But beautiful, very beautiful, with a body you wouldn’t believe. She was a waitress at a dive right off Ft. Benning. I used to ask her all the time why she didn’t look for more upscale work and she said military men were the best tippers. Especially the ones who couldn’t afford it. Hopeful, that’s what I think they were—hoping for a grope or at least a phone number. We were on and off, like oil and water. But one night when we were ‘off’ I’d had an unfortunate amount to drink and passed out, Imogene got knocked around. So, she called this asshole marine she knew from the bar, cried for him and told him her boyfriend beat her up. Fifteen years after the fact, I think she was looking for more than sympathy from the guy.”

“But you didn’t, did you?” Shelby asked. “Hit her?”

He shook his head. “I still can’t remember what happened to my hand, but no one turned up hurt or dead. No complaints from a door or wall. For a terrible few days I hoped to God I’d never hit a woman. I had a lot of flaws, but that wasn’t one of them. Even I had my limits—I’d never do something that low. And I’d only hit a man who made me. But this asshole marine called the MP’s and they threw me in jail with a promise of Leavenworth. There are two things in the military that guarantee arrest and jail time—DUI and battery domestic.”

“I guess you got out of it,” Shelby said.

“Not fast. I was in the brig, court marshal pending when a couple of my boys from Airborne training rounded up a few witnesses who said a customer got rough with her at the bar. She was pissed at me for not being there to defend her, or being there and not
able
to defend her. And I think she had her eye on the marine.” He laughed sardonically. “He shipped out while I was still in the brig, so that didn’t work out for her, I guess.”

“Who was that?” Luke asked.

“I don’t know his name but I’ll never forget his face. Just some jarhead who’d been to that bar a few times. Thought he was a goddamn hero. It’s a face I better never see again. I could forget that I stopped punching people.”

“Did the woman get in trouble? For blaming you?” Shelby asked.

“Nah. She was a civilian,” Coop said. “She finally allowed that it had been dark and she might’ve been mistaken. And she didn’t point at anyone so the MP’s were out of it. However, there were boys at the bar who caught up with a guy who bragged about teaching her a lesson. Problem number one—no one saw the incident occur and he might’ve bragged in the bar but when questioned, he knew nothing about it. They said they were real sorry when they let me out of jail. They also said if I wanted to avoid situations like that in the future, I might want to cut back on the drinking and try to date less vindictive women.”

“And did you?” she asked.

Coop rubbed his jaw. “Can’t remember the last time I got drunk, but I’ve never had great luck with women… .”

“Ever married?” she asked. “Children?”

“Almost married—twice. It didn’t work out. No kids. And I’m thirty-seven, kind of set in my ways. My life has changed a lot since I was twenty-two. I’ve been told I march to a weird beat. I guess I’m kind of a loner.”

“No family?”

“Oh, I have family,” he said. “Parents still living and three married sisters, a couple of nieces, couple of nephews. My family is all in Albuquerque, where I grew up. And I’ve been working the past ten years in either Costa Rica or the Gulf of Mexico for Texas-based oil companies.”

“That sounds like more than one company,” Shelby said.

Coop gave a lame shrug. “I never had a big role in the companies, the drilling, the pricing—my job was helicopter transport to the offshore platforms. But there are things you can’t help but see. When they get greedy and take chances on the people, on the wildlife and ecosystem… Let’s just say I get my back up. I’m a pilot—it’s safety first. Risk management. No amount of money is worth a life…”

“Absolutely not!” Shelby agreed.

“Not even the life of a duck,” he said.

Luke laughed. “Coop’s gotten a little liberal there.”

“Can’t help what I see,” he said unapologetically. “I can’t make the rules. I haven’t been a whistle blower, at least not yet, but I’m not going to work for a company that rapes the land and the consumer and puts the employees at risk while they’re doing it.”

“You?” Shelby asked. “Were you at risk?”

“Oh, hell no,” he said. “If they asked me to fly out to a rig in bad conditions, I wouldn’t go. They could always find someone who would go—that galls me. But I’m not a cop. Cost me a couple of jobs, but I was more than happy to let them go. I had to think for about ten seconds—let’s see, job? Life? Huh?”

“And now, you’re an ecologist? More or less?” she asked.

He laughed heartily at that. “I appreciate nature,” he said. “I respect it. As long as we don’t hurt anyone or anything by drilling, by supplying fuel, I’m good with that.”

“But you hunt,” she said.

“And wear leather. And fill up my tank. But I don’t shave safety regulations or take advantage of hungry people who need the work to feed their kids… Aww, get me off this soapbox, Luke!”

Luke laughed. “How do you like your slab out back? You have your traveling apartment all hooked up?”

Coop grinned and looked up at the sky. “I think I’m going to like this.”