Sunrise Point (Virgin River #19)(73)

It was always an ordeal, transporting children, especially sleeping children. It required a committee. There were not only the kids, but a port-a-crib to collapse and stow in the trunk, supplies to gather, seat belts to fasten. It wasn’t until Tom pulled up behind her that he realized he’d never been inside her house before.

He was pleasantly surprised—it was spotless and the furniture was perfectly nice. Holding Berry against his broad chest, her head on his shoulder, he whispered, “This is very nice.”

“New,” she said. “Compliments of Jed.”

“He should get upgraded to Dad pretty soon—furniture, supplies and the offer of a college education.”

She chuckled and said, “Bring Berry to my room and put her on the bed. Carefully.”

Tom stepped into the only bedroom and was a little startled to find only a mattress on the floor and a very old and weathered chest of drawers. But the bed was perfectly and meticulously made up and there was a soft, thick area rug under it.

“You need a bed frame,” he told her in a whisper.

“It’s not a priority right now,” she said. “Besides, until Jed brought the port-a-crib, we all slept together and it was safer for the kids, mattress on the floor—if one of them rolled off, they didn’t get hurt. Just lie her down, Tom, and take Fay for me so I can go get the crib.”

“I’ll get it,” he said, gently lowering Berry to the bed.

After everything was accomplished, children settled, she was walking him the ten steps to the door. He turned toward her. “This is nice, Nora. A good little house.”

“Thank you. With the help of Jed and neighbors, it’s been possible to do a lot with a little. Thank you, Tom. It was such a nice night. I’ll probably never forget it.”

He leaned down to her and gave her a brief kiss on the mouth, just a peck. He wanted much more from her, but just couldn’t tempt himself further. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at noon—will that work?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll bring a couple of lawn chairs and a blanket for the yard at Jilly’s. You’re in charge of kids’ stuff, and round up some things for Fay to play with on the blanket.” And then he went home to face Maxie, who had her game face on, sitting in front of the TV, not asking questions. Now, two things about this were suspicious. One—she wanted the details but didn’t want to ask and give herself away. And two—by this time in the evening she was always nodding off in the chair. Tom would usually jostle her and tell her he was going to bed.

“I have nothing to say about the date,” he informed her.

“I didn’t ask,” she told him.

“Then we understand each other. I’ll be up early, giving the orchard some time before going to Jilly’s farm.”

“And I’ll be up early because I can’t help it,” Maxie said.

And he went to bed. Where he didn’t sleep much.

* * *

Jack and Preacher shut down the bar. A sign was posted on the door—Town Party at Jilly’s Pumpkin Patch. Strangers welcome. Food and drink available. Fun optional. And there were directions.

They got to the farm a little early so they could set up their grills. Jilly’s sister Kelly, the chef, was in charge of the food, but Jack and Preacher were in charge of grilling. For events like this they provided big tubs of ice-cooled drinks, burgers, dogs, buns and paper products. They brought burgers and hot dogs from the bar’s kitchen, but they were happy to cook up any meat brought by picnickers. They usually put out a jar for donations rather than going through the madness of ringing up for the food and beverage, and they always made out better that way.

Kelly was going to provide the rest of the food—she’d have a regular pumpkin buffet of bisque, pumpkin cheesecake, roasted pumpkin seeds, muffins and pumpkin bread. In addition she was putting out a huge potato salad plus deviled eggs, green salad, a vegetable tray with her own special dill dip and lots of chips. People in town showed up with a variety of things—some would bring a covered dish and still others would burden the food table with their own baked goods and bowls of Halloween candy. They’d stay all day and share whatever they felt like sharing. And even though many of them had gardens, they’d probably all take home a pumpkin. Some would come in costume.

Before the crowds arrived, Hank Cooper came around the corner of the big Victorian house. Alone.

“Hey,” Jack said. “You bring any Riordans?”

“They’ll be coming. I thought maybe I could have a second. I could help you set up, if you want my help.”

“We’re ahead of it here,” Jack said. “What’s on your mind?”

“Well, it’s this. Sometimes I do unpopular things. I’m not saying that incident back at Ft. Benning—that was entirely a twenty-two-year-old mishap of me being in the wrong place at the wrong time with a wrong woman and not my fault. But I’ve had strong opinions about things here and there—like quitting oil companies I worked for because I disagreed with their practices, that kind of thing. You might not understand that—but then, maybe you’ve never seen what happens in a spill.”

Preacher started scraping the char off the grill with a spatula. “In my opinion, it is not wrong to avail yourself of what the earth provides, but it is wrong to abuse and exploit and endanger it.”