Promise Canyon (19 page)

“So…the woman who died,” Kelly said, “she was a hermit?”

“Not at all,” Paige said, leading the way up the front porch. “She was around all the time, in everyone’s business, looking out for the town. She was in the bar almost every evening—she liked a shot of Jack Daniel’s to go with her cigarette. But she definitely had her secrets. Even though she was present for every town event or gathering, none of us has run into a single person from Virgin River who’s ever been in her house. Though lots of people have been as far as the front or back porch or garden…. Hope used to garden like a madwoman and complain about the bunnies and the deer, but she’d give away most of her vegetables.”

As Paige talked, Kelly followed her through the house toward the back and finally they stepped into a massive kitchen. The appliances were old but clearly of the type to service a manor house and not a house for a single inhabitant. There was a large worktable that had a Not For Sale! sign on it in the center of the huge kitchen. There were two sinks, a six-burner stove, two ovens, two
refrigerators and a large, walk-in pantry. Kelly also saw a stairway that went to a cellar. “What’s down there?” she asked.

“There were mice and canned goods that expired forty years ago,” Paige said. “It’s pretty much an unfinished cellar with a dirt floor. This house was built long before people thought of rumpus rooms.”

One end of the kitchen was for cooking while the other was for eating and contained a very large stone fireplace. There was no furniture there.

“It appeared Hope stayed here. There was a big old easy chair and ottoman along with a couple of quilts. From this spot she could look out over her backyard, see the mountains rising back there behind her property. Anytime anyone came to see her, she met them on either the front porch or back porch. As close as we can figure out, she chopped her own wood, too. She had a desk, computer, files and television here; John took the computer home to see if he can help find if there’s anything on it that Jack should know—like relatives, special charity interests, lost accounts or deeds, that sort of thing.” Paige pushed open a door off the kitchen to reveal what would have been maids’ quarters in its day. “Even though there are like seven bedrooms in this old house, Hope lived in the kitchen.”

“That’s what I would do,” Kelly said somewhat absently. She turned to smile at Paige. “I fall asleep in my recliner almost every night. I mean morning. I work till three or four in the morning. I go home, turn on the TV, which by that time is usually showing infomercials, and zonk out. I wake up just before lunch and start over. My bed doesn’t see me that much.”

“But of course you have days off,” Paige said.

“Yes, of course,” she said because she knew she should. But not really. The restaurant was open seven days a week and while it was reasonable that she take Mondays and Tuesdays as her own, there was a thing about turf and she liked protecting hers. She was the senior sous-chef and it was a political position; some of the line chefs who worked under her would cut her throat for her spot in a second, and Durant, the head chef, would hand them the knife.

For the millionth time she said to herself,
I live this life because I love my work and if I hang in there I will be the Durant of the kitchen, and when it’s my kitchen it will be a sane kitchen.

It was at that very moment that she happened to glance out the kitchen window and see what she recognized as her sister’s head. Jillian was sitting on the back porch.

“Have you met my sister, Jillian?” she asked Paige.

“I don’t think I have,” Paige said.

“Come with me,” Kelly said, leading the way out the back door.

When she found Jill on the back porch, she was sitting in an old wooden chair beside a round, rusting metal table, just gazing across the backyard. It was about the size of a football field and led up to the tree line. Most of it was taken up with a garden.

“Hey,” Kelly said. “Whatcha doing?”

Jill turned sentimental, round eyes up to her sister. “The woman who lived here,” she said. “She died in this chair.”

Paige stood just behind Kelly, bouncing her little girl, Dana, on her hip. “Um, yeah, that’s probably right. She spent a lot of time on her front or back porch, weather
permitting. The table and chair are in such sad shape—I don’t imagine anybody would want them—so after the sale we’ll take them to the dump.”

“Her melons and pumpkins are in,” Jill said, standing.

“We’ll harvest them when they’re ready. She liked to give them away. I’m Paige,” she said, sticking out a hand.

“Jillian. Nice to meet you. So—was she very lonely? The woman who lived here?”

Paige shook her head. “She kept herself pretty busy. She spent hours on the computer and phone, running up deals. She bought and sold the church in town, brought our midwife and local constable to town, and even though no one seemed to know much about her, she knew about everyone. She supplied a lot of ranchers and farmers with land that had been left to her that she didn’t use.”

“That’s one helluva garden out there,” Jill pointed out, gesturing to the large plot behind the house.

Paige laughed. “Truly. She was a kick about the garden. The bunnies and deer drove her crazy and she used to show up at the bar and tell Jack she was going to start shooting them for the bar to cook and Jack would just tell her he couldn’t accept illegally murdered wildlife. She loved her garden, and a few other things, like local art, which she collected. There was so much about her we didn’t know until after she passed, but I think that’s the way Hope wanted it.” Paige smiled. “There is no question in my mind—she knew she was the most eccentric character in town and loved it.”

“Do you think she liked being a mystery?” Jillian asked.

“Maybe,” Paige said. “Mostly, she was a completely unsentimental, crotchety old woman who constantly tried to cover the fact that she had a huge, soft, sweet heart in her. We found some old pictures—she was widowed in her thirties and an attractive, rich woman. It’s a wonder she never remarried.”

“Mama,” little Dana said, patting Paige’s hair. “Mama! Potty!”

“Good girl!” Paige said. “Please excuse us—we’re in training.”

“By all means,” Jillian said.

When Paige had taken her little girl to find a bathroom, Jill sank back into the chair. Kelly took a seat on the steps of the back porch and looked up at her sister. “Kinda moody there, Jill. Dreaming of getting back to Kurt The Wonderful?”

Jill sighed. “Actually, I was doing some reminiscing. What does this place remind you of?”

Kelly shook her head. “Couldn’t say.”

“Nana’s house,” Jill said.

“Oh, please—this place is huge! You could probably fit three of Nana’s house in this one.”

“But when we were five and six, didn’t it seem like a castle? Like a mansion? I’m still sorry we let that place go. I’d give anything to have that old house to visit.”

“Um, and when would either of us visit it? We both work all the time….”

“I know. You’re right. I just miss it.”

In fact, Jillian often missed the life she had growing up there.

When the sisters were five and six there had been an accident in which they lost their father, and which disabled their mother, confining her to a wheelchair
for what remained of her life. They went to live with their father’s grandmother. A seventy-year-old widow at the time, she suddenly inherited two small children and became a full-time caregiver. At what should have been one of the darkest times of their young lives, Nana gave the girls the boost they needed. She told them they were going to work very hard to take care of their mama, the house, the garden, be good neighbors and good students, but it was going to be okay because they were going to make work
fun.
Every chore became a game, every challenge was a contest. She took them in hand and taught them both the best of the kitchen and garden and then she, a French and Russian immigrant who had very little formal education but spoke five languages, taught them to read so they could take turns reading to their mother.

“Doesn’t it remind you of Nana’s house and yard?” Jillian asked again.

“Nana’s house on steroids,” Kelly said. “Besides Mom and Nana, what do you miss, exactly?” Kelly asked.

Jillian shrugged. “It must have been really hard, all we were going through back then, but it sure seemed easier. Simpler.”

“Poorer. Much poorer…”

Jill laughed. “But we did learn how to make money, didn’t we? Something Nana never had.”

“That’s the one thing I would have changed about her life if I could.”

But their nana had to be moved out of that big old house when she was ninety and their mother passed years earlier. The stairs became too much for Nana, but she couldn’t be trusted to stay off them. They put her in a cushy, ground-floor assisted-living apartment, paid for
it themselves even though they were only twenty-five and twenty-six at the time. And she had
hated
it. “I’d rather stick to one level than live in this little toilet with shelves!” Nana had said. “They’ve poured cement over their garden!”

She had died in her sleep at ninety-four just a couple of years ago. They hadn’t let go of the house until she was gone.

“Better get me back to civilization,” Jillian said. “I’m starting to remember what was surely the most difficult time of my life as sweet and uncomplicated.”

Kelly laughed a bit cynically. “With the way we work, I don’t think I’d argue about the sweetness when we were kids, and we were too young to fully understand the complications. But there’s no going back, Jill, so let’s just remember it fondly and get back to the concrete jungle.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve been out of the kitchen for almost ten days. By now Durant has probably replaced me.”

“And my department has probably voted in a union or something,” Jill said.

Luke, Shelby, the baby and their helper, Art, returned to their home along the river before sunset, in enough time for Art to get a little fishing in before dinner. When Art was headed for his cabin next door to grab his rod and reel, Luke said to Shelby, “Did you notice that Jack was getting the freeze treatment from some of his friends?”

“We should have gone to that town meeting,” Shelby said. “As Mel tells it, some of the Virgin River folks have it in their heads that he should just divvy up the money Hope left the town and write everyone checks.
And Jack, being Jack, got pissed and stormed out of the meeting.”

Luke lifted the baby out of the car seat. “That’s what I would’ve done,” Luke said. He held the baby against his shoulder for a moment. “They should be thanking Jack for taking care of this whole thing. I mean, it’s not like Hope
asked
him.”

Shelby laughed. “She obviously knew better. Mel said it’s just a little lover’s spat between Jack and some of the town. It’ll pass.” She reached for the baby.

“I’d say screw ’em,” Luke said. He handed over the baby. “Let ’em be mad.”

“You have a very cranky side that’s not all the way softened up yet,” Shelby pointed out to him. “I have an idea. Before we think about dinner, let’s sit on the porch with a glass of wine. The baby is zonked from all his fresh air today and I bet we get a good half hour of this awesome weather.”

“Consider it done,” Luke said, pulling the baby carrier off its base to carry, along with the heavy diaper bag, up to the porch. “I’ll pour you a nice glass of wine.” Then he grinned. “Kinda nice that you unloaded and now can have fun things like wine and lotsa sex, huh?”

She made a face at him. “Actually, I think this is kinda nice for
you.
And I’m not referring to the wine.”

“Well, if you don’t want a lot of sex, stop being so freaking sexy!” he said, walking into the house.

Shelby sat in one of the porch chairs, snuggling the baby close. She’d put him in his infant carrier in a second, but she never really tired of holding him close. Since she’d started back to nursing college and Luke was in charge of Brett, Shelby missed him during the days she was at school.

She heard Luke open the refrigerator and get out a chilled bottle. Then she heard her brother-in-law Aiden’s voice on their answering machine.

Luke, I need you to call me when you get this message—there’s been an accident. Colin. I’m on my cell and I’ll give you what details I have when you call.

As Aiden’s voice poured out of the answering machine, Shelby stood from the porch chair and wandered to the doorway. She found Luke standing at the work island in their kitchen, a bottle of wine in one hand and the opener in the other, frozen, a stricken look on his face. His eyes were wide and definitely afraid, a look he tried to erase the second his wife’s eyes were on him. “I know what it is,” he said. “Colin drives like a lunatic, always has. I’ve been telling him for years, he’s gonna ride that bull just a little too long and zap, he’ll get hurt.”

“Luke,” Shelby said, “just call.”

“’Course I’ll call,” he said. “But I bet it’s a fender bender and he broke a couple of bones. Aiden didn’t say he was—” And there he stopped, because he couldn’t say it or think it. “Want me to pour your wine first?”

Shelby shook her head. Her expression was serious. She knew her husband’s predilection for trying to make things turn out a certain way by just lending his voice to them.

He picked up the cordless and dialed. All he said was, “Aiden.”

“Aw, Luke, he augured in. They were in exercises at Fort Hood when some crazy civilian airplane crossed protected airspace, flew right into a crop of Black Hawks and Cobras. Ran right into the tail-boom of Colin’s helicopter…”

“How the hell did a civilian aircraft—”

“I don’t have any details, but the sergeant who called me said the plane was erratic and flying out of control. Maybe the pilot had a stroke or coronary.”

“And Colin?”

“Critical. Broken bones, possible internal injuries, burns. All messed up. Unconscious.”

“Aw, Jesus!”

“Sean is closest to him in Alabama and he’s on active duty. He’s already on his way to Fort Hood. The rest of us are going to sit tight till they stabilize him. He could stay at Fort Hood, end up back at Fort Benning or even be airlifted to Fort Sam in San Antonio, depending on the extent and type of his injuries. If they airlift him out of Fort Hood, chances are Sean can catch a ride on a military aircraft. So… Go ahead and throw a few things in a bag and when I know more, I’ll call you.”