Moonlight Road (Virgin River #11)(84)

Ellen opened the door and said hello, let them in. Art stood inside the front door until Ellen told Art where to find Netta. “Netta’s in the backyard, Art. I think she’s been watering flowers with the hose. Go find her.” And then off he went, smiling. “Going shopping today, Luke?” she asked him.

“I wonder if we could talk about some things,” he said. “If you have a little time.”

“Sure. How about some tea or a soda?”

“Do you have a cola?”

“Coming right up. Let’s sit in the living room. I’m sure Art and Netta will be fine and the girls are watching one of their favorite movies.”

She poured herself a glass of iced tea, gave Luke a glass of ice and a can of cola and led the way. “How’s the baby?” she asked, sitting in her favorite chair.

“Terrific. If you like getting peed, puked and pooped on and getting no sleep.” Then he grinned and sat opposite her. “Turns out I happen to actually like it. He’s really something.”

She laughed. “How’s Art doing with the baby?”

“He’s very careful. He doesn’t bother the baby unless he thinks something’s wrong, like if there’s too much crying. I think he has very sensitive ears. Noise seems to get to him. If there’s a lot of crying, he’ll point it out to us even though we’re right in the middle of it, trying to quiet the baby. Shelby could be walking, jiggling, shooshing, and Art will say, ‘The baby’s crying, Shelby.’”

“It’s probably disorder that bugs him,” she said, laughing. “It’s really the only thing Art has to go on. His routine is probably his greatest security. Besides you and your wife, of course. Haven’t you noticed?”

Luke leaned back on the sofa. “Well, if his routine is his security, why does he start telling me first thing in the morning that it’s Tuesday or Sunday? Fifty times, even after I tell him I know?”

“He probably doesn’t want to forget. Or you to forget. It’s very important to him.”

“Hmm. But he goes off fishing sometimes—and it’s not exactly on the schedule…”

“I bet it is. I bet something about it is routine—like he’s finished his chores or had his breakfast or something. I mean, everyone’s different, but most mentally challenged adults function best if they do things almost by habit. For example, the girls all know that after your shower you dry off, put on your bra first, then your panties, then dry your hair, then put on your clothes, then your shoes. One of my girls had her appendix out and we wanted to keep her in her pajamas and at least lying on the couch, if not in bed, for the day, and that just was not happening. I thought we were going to have a brawl. We settled for stay-at-home clothes—a sweatsuit—and kept repeating, ‘no lifting’ over and over until I was saying it in my sleep.”

“That a fact?” Luke said. “That simple?”

She laughed. “Simple? Well, until it’s not. Sometimes that stuff can get on my last nerve.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Listen, something worries me a lot. Art keeps talking about getting married. I happen to agree with you—who are we to deny anyone love and affection, regardless of their mental acuity? But Art and Netta? Married?” He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Someone would have to take care of them for life. Art’s never going to be completely self-sufficient. He gets by just great, even stays in his own cabin next door, keeps it clean as a whistle, can fix some of his own meals if they’re simple, but—”

Ellen was frowning. “Luke, are you sure about this? Netta hasn’t mentioned wanting to get married.”

“Art won’t shut up about it, I’m telling you.”

“I bet it’s one of those real specific, literal things. Come on, let’s go ask,” she said, standing up.

“Just like that? Ask?”

“We might not get the answer, but we can ask. Leave your drink—we’ll come back.” She led the way through the house and out back.

Netta was still watering flowers and Art stood beside her, hands in his pockets, looking happy as a clam.

Ellen said, “Art? I have a question. Have you been talking about getting married?”

“I don’t drive a car,” he said with a shrug.

“I want to be the bride,” Netta said right away, not looking at anyone.

“I know,” Ellen said with a laugh. “I know, I know, I know. But do you want to get married?”

Netta looked at her and frowned in confusion.

“Netta, do you want to live here and work in the bakery?” And Netta said she did. “And Art? Do you want to live with Luke and Shelby?”

Art looked panicked for a second. He cast pleading eyes to Luke. “I have my own house, Luke. I help you.”

“You absolutely do. You live with us, you help us and you fish in our river. You seem to catch a lot of fish—we appreciate that.”

Art visibly relaxed.

“I want to be the bride,” Netta said, showering the flowers with the hose. “I want to be in the wedding.”

“You do such a great job in the bakery, Netta. Thank you for watering the plants. Your favorite show—all about weddings—will be on TV on Thursday. Do you two want some kind of snack right now?”