Moonlight Road (Virgin River #11)(26)

“It’s possible I’ll be needed at work,” she lied.

“Well, I don’t have anything better to do than check on your garden now and then. Maybe you’ll be back in time to harvest a tomato or two.”

She walked over to the edge of the deck to look into the backyard. There was a perfect square, the soil tilled and rich-looking, staked markers showing where things were planted. There was no mistaking tomato plants, much larger “starters” than she had begun with. The whole thing was bordered by a short metal-mesh fence and marigolds. She had read that much—marigolds would keep some of the bugs away.

“You put a fence around it?” she asked.

“It won’t keep the deer away, but it might discourage the bunnies. For deer, you should pee around the edges.” Then he grinned. “That’s what I hear. There’s an old woman who stops by the bar in town who has a garden about the size of a small farm—she swears by a human-pee border for deer.”

“You hung up the hammock?”

“I probably should’ve asked,” he said. “I saw it on the deck and I wondered if you just couldn’t figure it out.”

“I couldn’t,” she said. “I thought I needed parts.”

“Nah, it’s all there. Maybe you had another couple of trees in mind?”

“No. That’s perfect.”

“Listen, I don’t mean to pry, but are you recently divorced or widowed or something?”

“No,” she said, frowning, shaking her head. “Why would you ask that?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, also shaking his head. “Plants and pots, no potting soil…hammock, no screwdriver or wrench…vegetable plants and flowers, no hose or adult-size gardening tools. It’s like the stuff the husband remembers to pick up.”

She let a small laugh go. “Just never had time for any of this stuff before. And you’re partly right—my sister and brother-in-law lived in my house for over a year. My younger brother—he’s twenty-seven—was there till last year. I was always working—if I brought home a bookcase or patio furniture or a hammock, one of them took care of assembling it. And if they didn’t, I knew who to call. Up here? Who do you call?”

“Well, maybe your friendly neighborhood vagrant,” he answered with a big smile. “I’ll get out of your hair.” And he turned, leaned the hoe against the deck railing and walked away.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

He looked over his shoulder. “Home.”

“Where’s home?”

He stopped and turned. “My brother has some cabins along the Virgin River. I’m renting one while I think about what to do next. I’m unemployed, remember?”

“How could I forget? But I was informed by a very crabby nurse that you’re actually not a vagrant, even if you look and smell like one. You’re recently discharged from the navy. Can I drive you home? As a thank-you for the gardening help?”

“I like to walk,” he said. “From home to here and back—a little over ten miles.” This was all true, except his car was parked at the bottom of the hill at an outlook point. Just out of sight of the house.

“Would you like some water?”

“I have water,” he said, bending over to pick up his backpack, which waited for him beside the garden. He also picked up the bow and quiver, machete and favored walking staff.

“Would you like a….a beer?” she tempted.

“You’re being friendly, this is a whole new you.” His white smile cut through the red beard.

“Well, you’ve done some nice things, and the E.R. nurse thinks you’re relatively safe. Thank you for putting up the hammock.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you for offering a beer, but I might smell like a vagrant. Or a gardener.”

Her smile was indulgent. “I’ll bring the beer out to the deck,” she said.

He chuckled to himself as he turned around and came back toward the cabin. But when he got to the deck in front of the pretty, open French doors, he didn’t choose one of the chaise lounges. He was dirty and smelly; he’d dug around in the garden for a while. His hiking boots were muddy, his hands dirty, he was sweaty and smelly in general. Instead, he perched on the step, leaning back against a railing, and stacked his things on the ground in front of the deck.

She brought him a beer and, surprise of all surprises, one for herself. And she was smiling. She was looking real good in her fitted khaki capris, white T-shirt and sandals. She obviously got up and did her hair and makeup every morning whether she had somewhere to go or not, but then he’d already established she was a dish. Prissy and feminine.

He rubbed his index finger at his hairline in the middle of his forehead. “It’ll grow back before you know it.”

Her finger went there, as well. “Looks pretty awful, huh? Well, I can’t do anything about it now, except be patient.”

“It doesn’t look bad at all.” He took a long pull from his beer bottle. “Nice,” he said. He held it away and examined the label. “Good beer.”

“My brother-in-law left it.”

“Your brother-in-law was here?”

“The hospital called my sister and brother-in-law and said they’d release me if I had a driver and wasn’t going to be alone all night, otherwise they wanted me to stay overnight in the hospital.” Erin shrugged. “Marcie knew I’d hate that. They drove up from Chico. Bailed me out.”