Wild Man Creek (Virgin River #14)(101)

Luke snorted. “He looked all right to me.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I thought he was in good shape, too. But I can’t count the number of times he told me he just wanted to fly again, to challenge himself again. He told me painting was good, but too tame. He’s forty years old and since he was twenty he’s been flying, traveling, skydiving and who knows what else. He said he’d be ready to slow down someday, but he wasn’t about to let that accident and the problems that followed do it for him.” She looked into Luke’s eyes and a fat tear ran down her cheek. “I sure wasn’t going to be the second thing in his life to force him to settle for less. To live a life that didn’t suit him, that didn’t give him a sense of value. Do you have any idea what it’s like when a man feels like a failure?”

Oh, let’s see, Luke thought to himself. He’d been in three Black Hawk accidents in his career, the first one in Mogadishu and it had been pretty serious. He had been young then and had come home to his pregnant wife only to learn the baby she was having wasn’t his. So long ago. Suicidal tendencies had followed that…. Years of living on the edge to avoid living an authentic life. And later, after finding Shelby, almost losing her out of the sheer stupidity of believing he couldn’t deserve her. “He’s such an idiot,” Luke muttered. “I thought I had the franchise on that.”

“You must promise you won’t ever tell him you found me like this,” she said. “I don’t want him to come home because I need him, because I’m pathetic. I want him to come home because this is where he wants to be. Do you promise?”

He wiped a tear off her cheek. “I promise. Have you heard from him?”

“Just the emails. The same ones you got. And there was one short one just for me. Two weeks ago.”

“No phone calls?” Luke asked.

“He’s in the jungle, Luke.”

“Don’t they have some kind of communications?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “He told everyone not to be worried if he was out of touch. I just wish… It would have been nice to hear his voice before he went into the wild. You know.”

“Do the two of you have some kind of plans for after this? Like when he comes back? Because…”

But she was shaking her head. “He said he’d keep looking for a good flying job, an exciting flying job. Something that can compete with flying for the Army, I guess. If not Africa, maybe New Zealand or Alaska. And he said he’d paint, but he couldn’t be happy just painting. I think I’m smart enough to know he couldn’t be happy on a farm where the most exciting thing that happens is the first Russian Rose tomato comes in.”

“He had no idea what’s next for him? Because he never suggested to the rest of us that this was just the beginning… He said six months….”

She shook her head. “Unless he found that flying job he’s looking for,” she said. “He said he told you all that if he found something he liked, it could be longer than six months.”

“Yeah, I guess he said something like that.”

“Maybe that’s what’s so hard now. He might find he does just fine without me, that it’s time to move on….”

Luke started to laugh.

“Funny?” she asked.

“Yeah, it’s funny. I really thought I was the biggest blockhead in the family. Good of Colin to outshine me in this area. Remind me to thank him.”

“Sure,” she said. “Can I show you something private?”

Luke frowned. “I don’t know if I want to see anything private. Could be embarrassing…”

“You’ll get over it, Luke. You might not know all about your brother. Come with me,” she said, getting off his lap. She let the quilt drop in the other porch chair and walked through the kitchen and up the stairs.

As Luke followed her, he was vaguely aware that she’d grown thin. Well, she didn’t have much to spare to begin with, but it seemed she’d been more solid before Colin’s departure. He followed her into the bedroom and there, over the bed, were two large oils. Nudes. A woman in a big straw hat that hid most of her face. Only the curve of a breast or roundness of her butt were visible, but just the line of the jaw and tilt of the smile made these portraits out to be Jillian. And the Jillian in the paintings was much rounder, fuller, more muscular than the one who stood before him, her pajamas hanging off her trim frame.

“He gave me these before he left. They were a complete surprise.”

“My brother painted these?” Luke asked, though he knew the answer.

She nodded.

Luke shook his head. He whistled. “I was never exactly jealous of this, that he could do this. I don’t have any interest. But damn. I wonder if that pain-in-the-ass brother of mine has any idea how much he has to be grateful for.” He turned to look at Jillian. “I kind of doubt it. He’s got a gift, but he’s not all that bright.”

Jillian laughed in spite of herself. “Stop. He’s very smart.”

“Aw, you and Shelby, always sticking up for him. I don’t get it.”

“You’re both good guys. I don’t know why you don’t get along better.”

“Because he’s a blockhead and a pain in the ass,” Luke said. “Now you get a shower and get on some jeans. I’m taking you home to dinner and don’t argue. We’re not going to say anything to Colin, should we ever hear from that lowlife idiot again, but you’re obviously not eating. Probably not sleeping much, either. Waste of your time, crying over that ass**le if you ask me, but this is gonna get fixed. Don’t tell Shelby I said this, but she’s not a great cook—but tonight is pot roast and she hardly ever makes it inedible. There will be plentiful wine with it and dessert which, thank God, she bought. The food and wine will go a long way to helping you sleep. I’m going to make sure you eat and sleep until you get back to your old self.”