Paradise Valley (Virgin River #7)(75)

“Uh, yeah. This is going to take a while because of the cost. Couple of months, at least, depending on things like overtime. It needs everything. I’m doing the floor and walls first, cupboards and counters next, and appliances one at a time. This is also going to be more expensive than some grass seed and paint. Lots more. I hope you’re planning to let me stay here cheap for a while to make up for the investment.”

“Sure. I don’t want it.”

“I don’t even know where to start with that bathroom. Nice big room, but it’s a nightmare the way that shower’s put in. Plus, I’m going to have to give up the bathroom during the remodel, and after living in a camper shell for a while, that shower, ugly as it is, comes in real handy. Especially when you work construction all day, then again at home all night.” She didn’t say anything, just looked around in wonder. “That bathroom could use a tub and shower, and new toilet.” Still, silence. “I’m not taking on that back room till I’ve been here a year or more. Fact is, it needs to be ripped off and rebuilt. Hey—we in the same solar system here?”

“Oh. Sorry. Gee… Um, what’s your name again?”

He sighed. “Dan Brady.”

“Sorry, Dan. I’m just blown away by how good the place looks. And in a little over a month. You must have worked yourself to death.”

“Nah. A little after work, a little on the weekends.” He still held his wallet in his hand. “I owe you like a month and a half rent. Cash all right?”

“Sure. Yeah.”

“Next time the rent’s due, I can drop it off in Eureka when I’m over there, if you’ll give me an address. I get around that way at least once a month, buying stuff like paint, caulk, repair stuff. Maybe we could grab a quick bite, talk more about what I’m thinking for the house, get to know each other a little, you know….”

She tilted her head. “You don’t know about me, do you?”

“Ah—you lived here. Your mother died and your father is with a brother? That right? You work and live in Eureka, right?”

“I’m an alcoholic,” she said, straightening almost proudly.

“Ah. Expensive date or enjoying sobriety?”

“Over seven months sober. I know the exact number of days. Hours.”

“Good for you. So, if it doesn’t freak you out for me to know where you live and if you’d like a free meal—”

“I don’t get involved with men.”

He looked stricken for a second. “Oh God, I’m sorry, Cheryl. I didn’t mean to mislead you—I wasn’t expecting to get involved. I just thought rent money, early dinner and someplace casual. Listen—”

She started to laugh to herself, softly, shaking her head. “Paranoid,” she said quietly. “Goes with the territory. Listen, Dan—I wasn’t an ordinary drunk. I was a very drunk drunk. Did a lot of regretful things. That’s why I don’t come back here, where it all started, where I was at my worst. Ask anyone in town—they can all tell you about Cheryl, the town drunk. You don’t want to have dinner with me.”

He gave her a small smile. He stuck out his hand. “Cheryl, meet Dan—ex-con.”

She didn’t take the hand, but lifted her eyebrows slightly. “For…?”

“Growing weed.”

“Aw, Jesus, you a druggie?”

He shook his head. “Never used dope, I just grew it for the money. I was in a tight spot, a family member needed help, I couldn’t think of anything else and I’d met a guy way back who knew someone who knew someone who could set me up and I could make a bunch of money fast. And I got caught and did time.” He grinned. “Ask anyone around here about Dan, the grower.”

“What are you doing here? In Virgin River? Fixing up an old shit hole like this?”

“I’m getting my life back. What are you doing?”

“Okay, okay, touché.” She reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a scrap of paper and a pen. “Here’s my phone number. Call a week ahead and clear a time with me. And I don’t know about a meal—I’ll have to think about that.”

“Good,” he said. “You think. I’ll paint. And here’s three hundred dollars to catch you up. Though now the place is looking better, you probably want a friggin’ security deposit, huh?”

“Doesn’t anything bother you?”

“Anymore? Not so much.”

Cameron had put off calling his parents for as long as he could. Though he was thirty-six, it still mattered a great deal to him what they thought of him. So, after a light dinner with Abby at the cabin, he told her he was going to call his mother. She groaned and leaned against him. “It’s going to be all right,” he told her, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “But, Abby, I’m not going to lie to my parents and pretend I just got involved with some pregnant girl.”

“I know,” she said softly, nervously. “I’m going to the bedroom,” she said.

She had no idea how happy it made him when she said that—the bedroom, not my bedroom. Because night after night they lay there together, kissing, touching, fondling, not ha**ng s*x but having everything else. For Abby, as huge and uncomfortable as she was these days, sex was way down on her list of things she needed. She just took comfort in the touching, the affection, nearness. For Cameron, it was a little more than that. His emotions were definitely sexually charged. He found it crazy and beautiful that he wanted her just as much round with the babies as he had the night they’d conceived, when she was so small, so svelte. Of course he couldn’t keep that a secret from Abby, nor did he try to. She even offered to help with that. “Let me, Cameron,” she said, touching him intimately. “There’s no reason you have to be frustrated.” And he had said, “I’m waiting for you, and that’s the way I want it. After these little ones are born and you’re recovered, we’re going to rock the walls of this cabin.”