Promise Canyon (Virgin River #13)(67)

But Colin, in pain and bored out of his skull, wasn't exactly the best company. He was also struggling with some stress about his future, because although he should be able to heal and get back in the cockpit, the idea of everything being different from now on was doing a number on his head.

"Can't you talk Mom out of going to Fort Benning?" Colin asked Luke.

"I doubt it, buddy. Why don't you relax and take advantage of it? You know she'll do anything she can for you--ask her to bring you stuff from home, run errands, do laundry, anything you need."

"I need to be left alone," he said.

"Well, I'm sure after two weeks of your charming personality, you'll get that."

But when Luke called home that night, he discovered he'd have to cut his own stay in Fort Hood short.

"We had a little excitement today," Shelby said over the phone. "An earthquake!"

"Are you kidding me?" Luke nearly roared.

"Just a very little one, off the coast in the Pacific, but we all felt it. It was kind of cool."

"Cool?"

"There wasn't any damage reported anywhere," she assured him.

"Were you alone? You and Art and the baby?"

"Uncle Walt had just left for the day and Art was still at the river even though it was almost dark."

"Was Art upset? Scared?"

"Just the opposite," Shelby said. "He said some fish jumped out of the river--more than he's ever seen jump at once. I've always heard that animals get all revved up when there's an earthquake or even when one's coming."

"All right," Luke said. "Things are handled here. My mother is here and arrangements have been made to get Colin home. I'll be on the next plane."

"Luke, I miss you, but everything is fine! It wasn't a scary earthquake or anything. I've had plenty of company, plenty of help, and I don't want you to leave Colin until you're sure it's time."

"It's time--I don't want you and my son left as the responsibility of someone else. Colin's got a lot of work to do to rehab his body and he's a giant pain in the ass. It's time for him to be someone else's pain in the ass. I'll be home as fast as I can get there."

"Well, whatever makes you happy--but be sure to tell Colin that I haven't called you home! Because I'm no wimp and I'm doing just fine."

Luke did tell Colin that, and Colin said, "Good--go home. And did I thank you for coming?"

"No," Luke said.

"Well, thank you for coming," Colin said. "And please don't come again until you're invited."

"I guess you didn't get that gracious Irish gene," Luke said. "I'll call."

"Be sure to leave a message if I don't pick up. I hear they have a great soccer team at the Wounded Warriors hotel...."

Lilly wanted to tell Clay a few things--like the fact that she had done very, very little dating, that there hadn't been a serious relationship with a man in her life in fourteen years, that there were things that haunted her and had kept her from forming a strong, healthy relationship with a good man. And she planned to. She knew there would be a perfect moment and when she found it, she wouldn't hold anything back. It was easy to put off; she was enjoying the finest time of her life and just couldn't let a negative thought or memory interfere.

It was fall; the weather was cooling and the colors emerging. Lilly and Annie took six eleven-year-old girls on an overnight trail ride before the first real freeze. Nathaniel wanted to go with them or at least send Clay along, but Annie and Lilly had agreed, that was not the message they wanted to send their troop. Annie was very good with a rifle if there was any wildlife threat, and they had planned a ride only into the foothills, so they would never even be at a high enough elevation to contend with any freezing weather.

Both women appreciated the concern their men showed, but Nate and Clay didn't push too hard. They trusted their competence, while still waiting anxiously to welcome the riders home.

The trail ride was one hundred percent successful; the little girls returned to their parents wild with excitement, all gamy and rosy cheeked, happy and feeling self-reliant.

A few days later Lilly took Yaz to the Toopeek house for one of those big family meals. It was no surprise that Yaz and Lincoln gravitated toward each other. Tom Toopeek, ever the politician, seated one elder at each end of the long oak table. They both started out stern and cautiously observant, but before long they were laughing with the family, making jokes at the expense of Lilly and Clay. And when dinner was done, the old men went outside, where Lincoln liked to enjoy a small fire. It was one of his old traditions and even though there were very strict burning laws in the mountains, Lincoln's fire was safe from prosecution because the police chief's father had a Get Out Of Jail Free card.

Inside the house, the women cleaned up--a tradition Lilly hoped to change if she ever had a family. The men and kids played Scrabble noisily. It seemed as though Gabe and eighteen-year-old Johnny Toopeek were beating their fathers.

Lilly hadn't ever allowed herself to fantasize about what it would be like to have a lover, a partner, a family. She had always considered it practical to stay away from romance; after all, she had Dane and she'd been happy. Now there was love and family all around her--at the Jensen clinic, at the Toopeek household, in Clay's sturdy arms. She enjoyed a kind of contentment that was fresh and new. On the days she delivered feed to the clinic she made sure it was her last delivery of the afternoon and she would stay long enough for a ride, often with Clay if he didn't have other work-related duties. Even if she went riding alone, the joy of it was sheer bliss.