Promise Canyon (Virgin River #13)(47)

"Looks like something's happening there with you and Lilly."

Clay lifted a brow, peered at his son and asked, "How would you feel about that?"

Gabe shrugged and said, "To tell the truth, I really didn't think she was too old for me. But you beat me to it." When his dad went pale, Gabe laughed at him. "Lighten up, man. Lilly's cool. Go for it."

And Clay thought, I did, I am, and I will....

Lilly's weekends till now had been very predictable and dull. She spent Saturdays shopping and cleaning, both her house and her grandfather's. She made sure his laundry was caught up and his house clean. Yaz was far from helpless; he always made his bed, washed his dishes, swept his floors and put things away. But he was sixty-nine and no longer noticed the finer grit--the dust or smears or stains. He made apologetic comments when he realized she was cleaning something he had missed. "I didn't notice the spill, Lilly." "You could ignore the sheets for another week--they're clean enough." "I already mopped there--but I suppose I'm not as fussy as you."

Even though she had moved into her own little house, she was still the only woman in his. If she didn't chase away the dirt, no one would. But on this Saturday, after her chores, she had gone to the stable for a ride and later had that hard, strong Navajo in her bed all night.

On Sundays she shared a meal with her grandfather, a meal that she prepared at his house. He made his usual snide remarks about her vegetarian dishes; he said his doctor ordered him to have meat in his diet. She knew perfectly well he didn't have a doctor. No amount of badgering would get him to go for a physical.

"When are you going to let it out, Lilly?" he asked her. "The thing that's got you smiling to yourself and avoiding eye contact?"

She shrugged. "I don't want a lot of crap about it," she informed him.

"Take your chances. I'm a blunt old man."

"You use age as an excuse. What if I told you I think I like the new man who works for Nathaniel Jensen? You know who I mean--the Navajo vet tech."

He looked at her levelly for a long moment. "I could die a happy Hopi," he finally said.

"See? What a pain you are! I just said I like him, that's all!"

Yaz ignored her and became serious. "Lilly, when a man and woman are right together, the earth stands still for a moment," he said, almost solemnly. "That's how it was with your grandmother and me. Time stopped and a bright light protected us. We wore halos and could only see each other. There was impatience in every glance between us. Our fathers hurried our marriage to keep us from making a lot of big mistakes. She was not my first girl. I was not the first boy she had been attracted to, but when we met it was done. That was the last. The best and the last." He had a lot of wrinkles around his eyes. He stared at her hard. "I never saw this with you and any young man. Never. If I saw you with that new man, that vet tech, is that what I'd see?"

She glanced away. "I doubt it. I just think he's nice, that's all. We have horses in common." She shrugged and muttered, "It's probably a mistake, but there it is. I like him." She glanced over her shoulder at her grandpa. "Do you? Like him?"

"Ah, I think he's all right," Yaz finally said. "Nothing wrong with him that a little Hopi blood wouldn't fix, huh? Truth? I don't care who he is or what he is--I care about you. When we came here, you changed yourself as much as you could, making yourself as different as possible so you would never risk making a mistake. Shiyazhi, little one, don't you know you can't make a big enough mistake to turn me away from you?"

That's what she had done and she knew it. Starting at an early age she chose discipline; feeling she'd failed her only family, her grandpa, with her dangerous fling, she pursued perfection. She studied, built her body strong, took perfect care of the house and meals. She even denied herself--she ate sparsely, rationed possessions and friends, worked hard since before she was fourteen, before it was even legal to employ her. She gave up horses. Her grandpa offered to find her a stable where she could do a little riding for fun, but she declined. It was a long time before she relaxed and even began to enjoy life. To let herself enjoy life.

Even now, she was denying how deeply she felt for Clay, telling her grandfather she just sort of liked him. Why couldn't she just let herself go?

She couldn't help the gathering moisture in her eyes, nor her smile. "I know that, Grandpa," she whispered. "Thank you."

He stood from their table and with a deliberate lack of sentiment, he carried his dishes to the sink. "Don't thank me. Do what you must. Before I die, if you please."

She laughed at him. That old Hopi would be dancing on her grave. He might look weathered from too many years of work and too much sun, but he was healthy as an ox.

She was pulling into the drive of her little house at six in the evening when her cell phone chimed in her purse. She didn't recognize the number, but answered. "Hello?"

"There is only your car in the drive," Clay said. "Is it safe to assume the boyfriend is still down with the flu?"

She couldn't help but laugh at him. "I imagine so," she said.

"Can I come to you?"

She turned her head right and left, back and forth. "Where are you?"

"Down the block, being circumspect. Giving you time and space. But I just couldn't stay away. Will you be on your own tonight or should I drive away?"