Angel's Peak (Virgin River #10)(92)

At the Riordan household, Luke had purchased a couple of long folding tables and foldable chairs for their Thanksgiving dinner. With Art’s help, he rearranged the furniture to make room so the women could set up their dinner table.

“I’m not very good at this sort of thing,” Shelby told her mother-in-law.

“What nonsense! You’ve stuffed the bird and he’s roasting beautifully! You’ve done a fantastic job so far.”

“My uncle Walt talked me through it—he’s a great cook. We don’t have enough dishes, so my cousin Vanni is bringing some of her mother’s, along with some table linens. It isn’t going to be fancy—all mismatched plates and flatware and—”

“Darling,” Maureen said, putting a hand on her arm to still her. “I can’t think of a thing you could do to make it more perfect.”

Shelby smiled and leaned toward her to whisper, “I can think of one thing. You have to let Luke make his announcement, but I’ll give you a tip. We’re going to give Rosie a cousin.”

Maureen pulled her into an embrace. “Congratulations, sweetheart. When are you due?”

Shelby shrugged. “The height of next summer, just as Luke planned.”

“And you’re feeling well?”

“Actually, I feel like crap. Oops,” she apologized. “I mean, I’m kind of tired and have some morning sickness and, according to Luke, I’m not in the best mood. I might want to have a little consult with my brother-in-law after dinner.”

“Good idea,” Maureen said. “Maybe he’ll have a suggestion or two. Now, let’s get this house ready for the company!”

The first to arrive were Sean, Franci, Rosie and Vivian. Viv jumped right into the kitchen work with Maureen, while Rosie checked with everyone present to see if anyone was going fishing!

Next came Paul and Vanni with their little ones and a couple of boxes of additional dishes, linens and flatware. Right behind them were Walt and Muriel. Walt’s son, Tom Booth, and his girlfriend, Brenda, were having dinner with Brenda’s family but planned to arrive for dessert. The kitchen was full of women, talking and laughing, with the general trying to edge his way into direct traffic.

The house was full of people when Art quietly asked Luke how long it would be before dinner. When he was told it would be at least an hour—right around four o’clock—he slipped away and walked to his little cabin next door to grab his rod and reel. Art loved people, but large crowds stuffed into a small house made him a little jittery. All those little children! Art thought himself a little clumsy sometimes; he was afraid he might step on one of them!

Recently, Luke had given him a very nice watch for his birthday, and when Luke told him a time to be somewhere or do something, Art was exactly on time. He loved his watch! He did just as the Riordan brothers did—he’d check his watch and mark the time in his head. He never forgot. In his fantasy life, he was a Riordan brother. Brave and handsome and courageous.

Down at the river’s edge Art walked upstream to his favorite spot where the river was shallow and most narrow. There were some flat rocks he could step on to get out into the middle of the stream and, from there, he would cast. Casting was still a little new to him and learning it hadn’t been easy, but Luke had been patient and never made him feel stupid. Of all the things he loved about Luke, his favorite thing was that Luke always treated him like a man.

He stepped on the flat rocks—one, two, three—very slowly and cautiously. If he didn’t go too quickly, not a drop of water would wet the tops of his tennis shoes. He went easy and lightly so as not to slip. Luke said he might get waders for Christmas and he was so excited about that.

Art stood almost in the middle of the river and threw his fly into the deeper part, reeling in slowly. If he caught a fish, they would put it in Luke’s freezer for another day. Today was turkey day.

Contentment always washed over Art while he fished. Not only did it relax him, but when he pulled in a fish and gave it to Luke and Shelby, he felt as if he was contributing to the family. They ate fish for dinner about twice a week—almost always fish that Art had caught. Out of the corner of his eye Art caught a glimpse of something red. He turned and saw Rosie standing right at the water’s edge. She had a fistful of bread and she was tearing off pieces, tossing them in the water, watching to see if the fish would come close to her. Her feet were wet and she didn’t even have a coat on!

Just then, she threw some more bread in the water and she lost her balance!

“Rosie!” Art yelled.

She righted herself, standing in water over her ankles.

“Rosie, you’re not supposed to be here all by yourself!” he yelled.

“I’m fishing,” she said, completely ignoring Art’s concern. She threw more bread and slipped again.

She was standing near a deep pool! It wasn’t too deep for Art, but she was so little! If she fell in, she could drown! The current that ran near the shoreline wouldn’t pull someone as big as Art downstream, but little Rosie might be helpless!

“You stay right there!” he yelled.

He dropped his rod right in the water, giving no thought to it, focused only on Rosie. He took two quick, giant steps, but on the third step he slipped on a large flat rock and the sole of his shoe slid off. He teetered and fell forward. He put out his hands, but there was too much momentum—he fell face-first in the shallow end of the river, hit his head on a rock and lay facedown in the river.