Moonlight Road (Virgin River #11)(83)

“I will do that, Sean,” he said, nodding.

Luke was not real good at sentiment. He walked over to the driver’s door of the SUV and opened it for Sean. “Let’s not drag this out—the women are all crying. I hate that part.”

Sean laughed and gave Luke one last, brief hug. “Take care, bud. I’ll be on the cell all the way. We’ll keep you posted on our progress.”

“Just drive like an old woman, that’s all I ask. Now, get on the road!”

Maureen Riordan had said goodbye to her sons a hundred times; sometimes she’d even bid them farewell as they were going off to war. It was always a little hard, though they were grown men who had chosen their work, their lives, and she knew they were doing exactly as they’d planned. This time—kissing Rosie’s cheek and knowing it would be a while before she could hug her tight added a new dimension to the melancholy of farewell.

But this time as Sean and his family piled in his car and pulled slowly out of Luke’s compound, she leaned against George. His arm came around her and gave her a comforting squeeze. This was something she hadn’t had in so long—a partner to take the sting of goodbye away when the farewells were finally done and everyone had to get back to their lives. This time when she got back to her life, there would be love, affection, a best friend and even adventure as they took to the open road.

She sniffed back her threatening tears and said, “Well. They’re off. I’ll make more pancakes for anyone interested. And I brewed a fresh pot of coffee.”

Through all the many goodbyes over the years, this one was the easiest and sweetest for Maureen because she had George. With George she had places to go, people to see, new experiences to explore.

George was the only one to really notice that her mood was neither happy nor sad, but serene. Comfortable and quietly blissful. He put an arm around her waist, nuzzled her neck and said, “You’re looking especially beautiful, sweetheart.”

“I’m feeling that way, too. Thanks mostly to you.”

After Sean, Franci and Rosie left, roughly every twenty minutes Art said to Luke, “It’s Tuesday.”

And Luke would say, “I know that, but it’s not one o’clock yet, Art. We leave right after one o’clock.”

“I know that, Luke,” he said. And then he’d study his watch for a moment.

The watch had helped Art in several ways—he felt more confident and he was always on time returning from the river or doing his chores. He could only tell the hour hand and occasionally he got the two hands mixed up, thinking it was two o’clock when it was twelve-ten, but not often. Luke had miscalculated when buying him a watch with hour and minute hands rather than a digital, but they were getting by.

On Tuesday and Sunday afternoons Luke or someone else from the household would take Art to Fortuna to spend a couple of hours visiting with Netta. The term visiting should be used loosely as the two didn’t seem to talk all that much. On most of those visits Luke would go into the house with Art, say hello to Ellen and Bo and if they were present, the two other women who lived there. Once he was comfortable that all would be well, he’d ask Ellen if she minded him leaving to run an errand or two.

“Not a problem,” Ellen would always say. “Art’s a delight. Just be on time picking him up in two hours.”

Luke always made it back a little early and waited until Art was ready to go. When he was leaving with Art, Ellen would always say, “See you at two o’clock next time. Not early.”

“It’s Tuesday,” Art said for the umpteenth time.

“Tell me when it’s one o’clock, Art.”

At almost one, Luke went to give Shelby a kiss. “I’m headed to Fortuna, baby. Need anything while I’m out?”

“Just whatever you want for dinner,” she said. “And if you go to Costco or Walmart, grab some diapers and baby wipes.”

“How are you fixed if I don’t do much shopping? Has the little pee pot got a few days’ worth?”

“I’m good,” she said, laughing. “If you don’t go shopping, what will you do? Sit around Ellen’s house and wait?”

“No, I should talk to Ellen and Bo about Art—get their take on this getting-married business. He’s driving me to drink.”

“You do that,” she said. “Aren’t you leaving a little early?”

“He’s sitting in the truck, Shelby,” Luke said a bit tiredly. “When I invited Art to live here, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.”

Shelby just laughed at him.

Their routine on visiting days was to leave Virgin River just after one and head into town. They’d have McDonald’s—Art looked forward to that almost as much as fishing, visiting and shopping. All the way to Fortuna, Art kept saying, “Netta wants to be the bride.”

“Not a good idea, bud,” Luke said. “I think you guys are too young for that.”

“But Netta wants to be the bride…”

By the time they finished lunch and got some gas in the truck, it was almost two and they could go to Netta’s house. Art would almost always look at his watch before getting out of the truck and say, “Two o’clock!” It baffled Luke that if Art was so conscious of the day and time, why did he have to badger Luke all day long. But what really should bewilder Luke was the way Art could do that without making him want to jump off a cliff. In almost all other things Luke was impatient and could be easily driven over the edge.