Wild Man Creek (Virgin River #14)(70)

“Tell me. Tell me now so I can say yes and think all day about how you’re going to thank me.”

She shook her head and frowned slightly. “It might be something you can’t give me, Clay. It might be too much. You have your son, and Gabe is nearly an adult—he’s a man already. And even though I will think of Gabe as my son, also, I think I’d like a child of my own. A child with you. But maybe it’s a thing we should speak to Gabe about—it might seriously cramp his style.”

Clay smiled and ran a knuckle along her jaw. “I wish it could be a little girl with your witch’s blue eyes.”

“If I’m marrying into the Tahoma family, that seems very unlikely.”

“One can hope,” he said, giving her a brief kiss.

“You’ll consider it?” she asked him.

“I’ll promise it. I was too young to be a father with Gabe. At the time that was a difficult passage, but now I think I’m better prepared and there’s more time to enjoy a child.”

“Thank you, Clay. I hoped you’d say yes.”

“Lilly, I’d give you the moon if I could. Surely you know that.”

“How did I find you? You’re the best man. And the most beautiful.”

His mouth hovered over her lips. “We need to get that wedding done soon so we can get to work on a little Nava-Hopi,” he said. “I’m always hungry for you, always ready for you.”

She laughed at him. “I know this. Promise me that isn’t going to change too much after the vows.”

“I think that’s a promise I can safely keep.”

Someone cleared his throat and Clay looked toward the barn doors.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Colin Riordan said.

Clay laughed and after placing a sedate but affectionate kiss on Lilly’s brow, he moved away from her. “It’s probably a good thing, Colin. You saved me from even more unprofessional behavior.” He walked around the horse and stuck out his hand as he neared Colin. “My fiancée, Lilly. You caught us talking about the wedding. It tends to make me anxious.”

“As in nervous?” Colin asked.

Lilly just giggled and came toward Colin, as well. “Nice to meet you, Colin. And no, Clay isn’t nervous.”

“I want it official so Lilly’s grandfather can stop glaring at me and so my son, who just graduated from high school, can stop teasing me.”

“I think I understand. Does it happen soon?”

“Later in summer. We go home to the Navajo Nation where I have more family than I know what to do with. How have you been?”

“Excellent,” Colin said. “I dropped by to take you up on your offer, Clay. You mentioned you have a cousin with a gallery. If he’s willing, I’d like to talk to him, get his advice on what to do with my work.”

“Ah, the wildlife art. Of course. I think I have one of his cards. Excuse me just a moment.” Clay walked away and left Colin with Lilly.

“Your sister-in-law Shelby is a friend of mine—we’ve ridden together a few times,” Lilly said. “She talks about you and your astonishing work. How do you like the area?”

“More than I expected to,” he said. “It is really a very special place.”

“I’m glad you like it here. So, I understand you’re going to talk to Shiloh.”

“Shiloh?” he repeated.

“Clay’s cousin, the artist. Named for some Bible reference about the silent one or peaceful one. The Tahoma family is known for their involvement in many wars—right up to code talkers in World War II—and Shiloh came along during a peaceful time. He’s a Native artist, but what’s most interesting about him is that he also carries other art in his gallery that’s stunning. You can read about him and see some of his works online—Shiloh Tahoma. He’s regionally famous.”

“You’ve met him?” Colin asked.

“No,” she said. “I have a classical art education—I studied art history and modern art but I was naturally drawn to some of the Native artists. I will get to meet Shiloh at our wedding. According to Clay, the Tahomas are very big on births, deaths and weddings, so every relative will be there.”

He laughed out loud. “That describes the Riordan family exactly. Apparently the Irish and the Native community have a great deal in common.”

Clay returned with the business card. “Here you go. Call him, tell him we’re friends and ask him what he recommends. Shiloh is very successful in the art community now, but he’s been painting for a long time. Against much adversity, he seems to have found his niche and with that, success. You’ll find him very helpful.”

Colin studied the card, which was simple. It had a name, address, Web address and phone number. “Thank you. This is all new to me.”

“I saw your painting. I don’t know anything about art, but I don’t think it will be new to you for long,” Clay said. “Best of luck.”

By mid-June the weather in Virgin River had warmed considerably and Jillian’s gardens were beginning to flourish. Even the most delicate of her seeds had erupted into strong stalks and vines, coming alive with health and vitality, giving her great optimism. Flowers were in full bloom around the house in bright yellows, purples, reds and pinks; huge hydrangea and rhododendron shrubs added their colors of powder blue, lavender, pink and white. In the big open garden Jill clipped buds to strengthen the vines or stalks, delaying some fruit but hoping for a heavier crop when the plants were stronger. Green apples hung from the apple trees, and blackberries, still green, weighted down the bushes. The hanging baskets around the porch were sporting tomato vines and were speckled with small fruit, some already ripening.