Paradise Valley (28 page)

I’m a screwup,
he thought. Muriel had told him the production had rented her a nice little house in an ordinary neighborhood, yet this was not at all what he expected. He shook his head. It was
exactly
as she had described, and yet he’d assumed it would be flashier. He’d wallowed in some weird self-pity because she’d gone off to make a movie, forgetting that he knew her. Knew every inch of her. He’d been disgracefully out of touch, not hearing her, not listening. When he complained he didn’t know anything about movie people, he had no idea how correct he was.

The key was under the mat, just as she’d said. There were a couple of rockers on the porch and he was tempted to just sit there a while and take in the neighborhood. It wasn’t unlike the little house he grew up in, except they hadn’t had a porch. Muriel would need a porch; she loved the outdoors. Did the neighbors bother her? he wondered. If she brought her glass of wine out here, did the neighbor women all converge on her to ask questions about that movie taking place just out of town in the shadow of glorious mountains?

He carried his groceries inside first and he almost laughed. A small dining room was just inside the door and a little farther ahead was the living room—just big enough for a fireplace, sofa and two overstuffed chairs, a couple of side tables. The upholstery was old, faded floral. It was clean but old-fashioned and worn.

The kitchen cabinets were painted a faded pink, of all things. The sink was even pink, the appliances old and white. When he opened the refrigerator to put away his groceries, he found her celery, carrot sticks, cheese, sliced turkey breast and hummus. He smiled to himself as he unloaded salad makings, Chilean sea bass, rice, baby green beans, French baguette and butter, white wine and a bottle of Pinch.

Then he went for his suitcase and found the bedroom she used. He left his suitcase at the foot of her double bed. That was okay, he thought. He didn’t intend to let much space get between them at night. He poured himself a drink and went out to the porch to wait. He’d been in the country a long time; he’d missed the sounds of a neighborhood in early evening. Children laughing and yelling, women talking over the fence, a lawn mower somewhere down the block, the slap of the newspaper on the front walk as the paperboy flew by on his bike.

It wasn’t long before she drove up to the house, turning a rented truck into the driveway that led to a detached garage out back. He filled his eyes with her—she looked exactly as she did when he drove up to her house back in Virgin River. Jeans, T-shirt covered by a denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up, boots, a cowboy hat. She walked toward him, he came down the porch steps and immediately put his arms around her. He gave her a nice little kiss and said, “I shopped for our dinner. I’ll cook for you.”

“That would be so wonderful. I could have showered out at the set, but I was in a hurry to see you. It’s been long and sweaty and horsey. Let me shower off the grime, then I’ll join you for a drink.”

“Perfect. Try not to take all night.”

“I’ll be quick,” she promised.

She went into the house, Walt following. She hung her hat on the antique rack just inside the door, sat to pull off her boots and headed for her room. He heard a door close and momentarily, the banging of old pipes as the shower turned on. He’d already checked out the bathroom across the hall from her bedroom—nothing in this house was remodeled. It had a claw-foot tub with a shower curtain.

He sat at the same old hat rack and pulled off his boots, placing them next to hers. He studied the sight and liked it. Her boots should be by his all the time. He walked down the hall to her bedroom, pulled his shirt out of his pants and off, laying it over the only chair in the room. And then, despite the noise of the shower, he heard something odd. Soft sounds, as if maybe she was singing off-key in the bathroom.

He pulled off his socks and pants and decided to join her, whether she liked it or not. He gave a knock, then let himself into the bathroom. When he pulled back the shower curtain, she had the washcloth over her face. “Make room,” he said. “I’ll wash your back. Then I’ll wash anything else you have in mind.” And he stepped into the tub.

She turned away from him and he knew—something was wrong. He turned her back and pulled the cloth away from her face. It was hard to be certain with the water flowing over her, but he thought maybe she was crying. Muriel didn’t cry. Not unless the director said, “Cry!”

He wiped a big thumb under her eye. “What’s this?” he asked softly.

“Silly,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m just tired.”

“Muriel, honey, I’ve seen you knee-walking tired after working on that house of yours. You saying movie work is even harder than that?”

She looked up at him. She put her hand against his cheek. “I didn’t think you’d come,” she said quietly.

“But we talked. You knew I was coming.”

“I mean ever,” she said. “I thought that if I didn’t come to you, if I didn’t live across the meadow, you’d let days and weeks and months separate us if I wanted to work. I thought I was a convenience. I didn’t think you’d meet me halfway.”

He smiled down at her, slipped his arms around her naked body and pulled her against him. He lifted her chin with a finger and kissed her tenderly. “I was foolish,” he said. “I don’t know what was the matter with me. I let that whole business of you being famous intimidate me. This won’t happen to us again, Muriel. The next time we’re in this situation, we’re going to plan our weekends and days off together. I’m just so damn happy I got a second chance. I knew you were pissed.” He gave a shrug. “Besides, you haven’t been the least bit convenient. You’re actually a lot of trouble.”

“I missed you,” she said. “I thought you wouldn’t make the effort. Just for me.”

“
Just
for you? For God’s sake, I’m in love with you!”

“That’s what I hoped. But then you grew so distant. I didn’t know if you were in some kind of pout, or you were letting go of me.”

“I’ll be honest—I didn’t want you to leave. It took you no time to spoil me, Muriel.” He kissed her and ran a hand over her breast, the other sliding over her bottom and bringing her close. “It’s a real spoiled man who just wants everything to stay the same.” He chuckled. “And if there are going to be any changes to the routine, the man gets to bring it on.”

“But you said I should fulfill all my ambitions, that you’d be rooting for me!”

“I knew that was the only decent thing to say, and I meant it. Until you left and I was missing you.”

“You understand, it had to be something important for me to give up the contentment I found with you.”

“I’m getting that, Muriel. By the way, this is the part where you tell me you’re in love with me, too.”

“I don’t want to jinx us,” she said. She gave a little hiccup of emotion. “Plus, I miss my animals.”

He shook his head, then lowered his lips to her breast, kissing. He ran a tongue over her nipple and lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “I want to hear it.”

“I swear to God, I didn’t cry over my last three husbands.”

“Do you always have to bring them up?” he asked.

She smiled at him as her hand wandered. “Maybe we should talk about the fact that even when I mention ex-husbands, you’re hard as a baseball bat.”

“Are you done with your shower?” he asked. “I might have the erection of a twenty-year-old right now, but if I try to do it in this tub, I could break my sixty-two-year-old back. And then I’ll be no good to you.”

“We can’t have that,” she laughed. “And really, to be completely honest, that’s not the erection of a twenty-year-old. At least as I recall. Go with forty-year-old.” She smiled and shrugged. “As I recall.”

“Come on,” he said. He put her hand on him. “That’s solid steel, right there.”

“Walt,” she said. “I’m in love with you. It feels like the first time I’ve ever been in love. I don’t want it to go away. I hate being here when you’re there. I can handle little bits, but not long separations. I’m happiest with you.”

“I’m not going to let this happen to us again, honey. I’m not giving you up. And if any of those hotshot movie stars flirts with you, I’m going to shoot him dead.”

She laughed. “Walt, you just sweep me off my feet when you get all tender and talk murder like that.”

“No more crying, honey. I love your smile. I love your smart-ass remarks, your laugh, the way you don’t let me get away with anything. Now, come on, you dry me off and I’ll dry you off and then we’ll go at it like a couple of kids.”

“You’re on.”

Muriel took him on a tour of the movie lot on Saturday, introduced him to a few people who were working, showed him her trailer. “You could as easily live here,” he said, impressed. “This is a helluva RV.”

“I know, and there are nights we work late and I just shower and sleep here. But it’s good to get away from all this commotion to decompress. I like that little house.”

“Do all the other actors live in little rented houses?” he asked.

She shook her head. “They all have different needs. A couple stay on the lot, some stay in hotels in Butte or Missoula. A lot of crew stays in the motor lodge at the end of town. And some crew brought families and their own RVs. There’s something like a tent city on the other side of the lot.”

“It’s not fancy,” he said. “I thought it would be fancy.”

“Not usually. There’s a lot of money wrapped up in this—people are working hard to get the job done, and on time. Every day we spend here costs tens of thousands of dollars.”

They spent Saturday afternoon touring the local area from the car, stopping off in some antique stores because it was an addiction of Muriel’s. They ate in a diner in a town no bigger than Virgin River, bought a few things to take home for dinner and Sunday-morning breakfast, sat on the front porch with their glasses of wine and people waved to them as they walked by.

They visited a local stable and took a couple of gentle horses out along a mountain trail, walked along a local river holding hands and had long, seamless, almost endless talks about everything and everybody.

And then Monday morning arrived, in spite of the fact that both of them wished it never would. Muriel had to report to the set and Walt would drive back to Missoula and fly home. She had to leave the house before he did, so he walked her out onto the front porch to say goodbye.

“That was a damn fast forty-eight hours,” he said.

“I’ll talk to you tonight, though it could be late. It was wonderful having you here, even if it was only for a little while.” She smiled up at him. “I’ve never had so much sex in my life.”

“Really?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Even when you were younger?”

“Even then.”

“I must be getting better with age,” he said. “I’m coming back for another round.”

“You are?”

“Yep. I’m going home and making airline reservations for a couple of weeks from now, so put it on your calendar. And I’m going to keep coming back often until this godforsaken movie shit is over.”

“It might be bad luck on my Oscar for you to refer to it that way.”

“I just hope your next movie isn’t filmed in some Middle Eastern desert—I’ve seen enough of those in my life.”

She lifted a brow. “My
next
movie?”

“If you decide to retire for real after this one, I can live with that,” he said, grinning. He ran a knuckle along her cheek. “Did we talk about everything? Anything lingering out there we didn’t cover?” She shook her head. “Well, there’s that one thing that kind of goes with I’m in love with you,” he continued. “If you want to get married, I’m game.”

“I don’t know…”

“And if you don’t want to, it’s okay. As long as I have your naked body up against mine on a very frequent basis, I’ll get along. I’m leaving the whole issue completely up to you, Muriel.”

“Why, Walt?”

He shrugged. “I don’t have a problem with marriage. I liked it, it worked for me. No boogeymen or curses as far as I’m concerned. Whatever you decide you want to do, either way I’m claiming you. Don’t try to wiggle out of it. It’s a done deal.”

“I don’t want to get out of it. I like you.”

“You
love
me,” he corrected. “Passionately. Desperately. Insatiably.”

“I do,” she laughed.

“You make me feel twenty-one,” he said. “Honest to God. And when the fabulous sex simmers down a little, you’re the best friend I’ve had in a long time. Muriel, you’re not a convenience. I’d walk across a mile of cut glass in my bare feet to hold your hand and talk to you for one hour. You’re everything to me.”

She sighed deeply and her eyes glistened a little. “I’d better go before I give up the only Oscar of my lifetime by playing house with you.”

“Tell me I’m everything to you, too,” he said.

“Damned if you aren’t,” she said. “Now kiss me in a way that will hold me for a couple of weeks.”

“Kind of took you by surprise, didn’t I?” he teased. “Admit it, you didn’t think this would turn out to be so much, did you?”

“Walt, the second I saw you blush when you asked if I was married, I knew. And I wanted you. Right then. Right there. Sweaty and naked on the trail.”

That made his smile huge. “You didn’t let on.”

“I hadn’t wanted something like that in a long, long time,” she said, smiling. Then she rose on her toes and planted a big sloppy one on his lips, holding him close. “I
adore
you,” she whispered against his lips. “I’ll count the seconds until you’re back.”