Sunrise Point (Virgin River #19)(22)

One thing he did do was give his only female employee a ride each morning and afternoon. She had stopped protesting and he found himself looking forward to those few minutes coming and going, fascinated by the updates on her family situation. She had met her father and began either talking to him for a few minutes a day or emailing from Noah’s church office.

“There’s a lot to process,” she told him. “It’s shocking how much I have to learn about myself—how my experiences growing up influenced some of the choices I’ve made.”

“As in bad choices?”

“Sure, some. But Reverend Kincaid has been wonderful in helping me navigate this minefield and tries to prompt me to find some of the good choices I’ve made. Like the choice to be a loving mother. Now, I don’t know about you and your views of fatherhood, but I always thought I’d be stuck with the kind of mother I turned out to be and to tell the truth, I was afraid I’d stink at it. It never occurred to me I had a choice.”

“I think some people are naturals, though,” he said.

“Oh, I’m sure. Your grandmother, for example. If I could be like her one day…” And then she smiled at him with a smile that so lit up her pretty face he thought it was a miracle he didn’t drive off the road.

He realized they were becoming friends, the most unlikely friends imaginable. If she were a little older and less encumbered, they might even be more than friends. That was out of the question, of course. Tom was not in the market for an instant family. He was especially unwilling to take on the kids of some unknown guy or guys.

It was too bad she had that baggage because there were things about her that really blew his whistle—like her undeniable beauty. She had rich mahogany hair—long, silky, thick. She usually kept it in a ponytail but had a habit of letting it loose, shaking it out, combing it with her fingers back into the tie that held it. And her eyes were smoky, a kind of odd brown shade that grew almost gray in the bright light. And those slim, dark brown brows—she could lift just one and it became provocative. Sexy and even suggestive. He loved that she took her breaks in the orchard rather than the break room in the barn—she said fall was her favorite season and it would be gone too soon. And it touched a place deep inside him when she said working in the orchard was like a fantasy she hadn’t even dared dream of—a luxury.

Almost everything about her appealed to him. Except her past, of course. And the ready-made family—he didn’t even know where they’d come from.

He would enjoy their chats, get a kick out of her sometimes teasing, sometimes challenging personality. Here she was, struggling and down on her luck, yet she didn’t take any of his guff. He liked that in a girl. All that being said, he’d keep looking. He’d find the right woman one day. And he wouldn’t be completely surprised if she turned out to be a little like Nora.

Until he did, he not only picked her up and drove her home, after a week of that he began to go all the way into town to get her. And he tried not to keep an eye out for her during the workday, but still managed to find things to do near wherever she was picking.

Maxie took a run over to the coast for some shopping and since she was gone, Tom went to the kitchen to make himself a huge sandwich full of meats, cheeses, lettuce, tomato and pickles. He cut it in half, wrapped it in a couple of paper towels and set off for the orchard. He went to where he’d last seen her picking, but she wasn’t there. Her ladder stood abandoned. He walked deeper into the orchard and finally he thought he heard her humming and he moved toward the sound.

Very soon he realized it wasn’t music—she was crying. His pace quickened as he looked for her. “Nora?” he called. But she didn’t answer; her sobbing became closer and more ragged. He felt panic rise; his fear for her surpassed all other thoughts.

Finally he saw the satchel in which she carried water and lunch and the shadow of her bent knee on the far side of an apple tree. Her crying was very close. She was sitting on the ground, leaning against the tree, her face covered with her hands. Three long strides brought him to her and he instantly fell to his knees in front of her.

“God, are you hurt?” he asked.

She shook her head and turned her red, wet eyes toward him. But she didn’t answer, she simply cried.

He put aside the sandwich and gently grabbed her shoulders. “Nora, talk to me. Tell me what happened, what’s wrong.”

She just shook her head and sobbed.

He pulled her against him and held her. He whispered to her, shhhh and, it’s okay. He rocked her a little bit. And finally, through her tears she choked out, “I remember.” And then she cried some more.

Tom had always hated it when girls cried. He had always thought it either weak or manipulative. But when Nora gripped the front of his shirt in her hands and held her face against his chest, weeping, he found it curious that those thoughts didn’t even come to mind. His shirt was getting all wet and he didn’t care. And while he wished he knew exactly what caused these tears, he was willing to soak them up until she was ready. All he wanted was to take care of her. He wanted to comfort, stop the tears, ease her worry, feed her half of his sandwich.

He held her for a long time before she took a few deep, uneven breaths. Against his chest she said, “All of a sudden I remembered. I was up in the tree, on top of my ladder, and I remembered.” Then she leaned back a little bit and still gripping his shirt with some desperation she added, “I just remembered. Jed…my father…said that he was divorced when I was four but stopped coming for his visits when I was six and for all these years I believed my parents divorced when I was six. I remembered so clearly, coming home from first grade and asking if Daddy was coming home.” She shook her head. “I lost two years of my life. Two whole years. And I just got them back.”