Return to Virgin River (Virgin River #19)(17)

At five Jack asked her if she was staying for dinner. “Not tonight,” she said. “I have a kitty to feed.”

“Something to go?”

She’d been to the store; she did a mental inventory of what she had on hand, but somehow it didn’t create a picture of a meal in her mind. “A salad to go?” she asked.

“Sure. Can I give you a chicken breast with that?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “And a hunk of bread?”

“You got it.”

A few minutes later she made her way out of the bar with her sack of takeout. She had noticed that Landry left just before she did and when she got home she saw that he was in the fenced yard with the dogs. He waved to her.

“You need anything, Kaylee?” he shouted.

She lifted her bag. “I’m all set, thanks.”

“Have a great night,” he yelled.

“You, too,” she called out, waving.

Now, that wasn’t such a big deal. Just neighbors being friendly, that’s all. But there was much about him to enjoy, not the least of which was his kindness. He didn’t have to ask if she needed anything. He was also handsome. And sexy. And right next door.

She fed her kitty, ate her salad, put on her pajamas and sat on the big bed with her laptop. The sun was setting but she had not achieved much by way of writing, so she opened the laptop while the kitty played beside her on the bed, frequently jumping onto the laptop keys. She forced herself to deal with the dead body in the story, though nothing could have interested her less.

Then she flipped over to that other document, to the fantasy world of her new fictional characters Caroline and Landon. She decided that her own life story lacked pizazz so she made a few adjustments for Caroline. Instead of grieving the loss of her best friend, she decided it would be more interesting if Caroline was a young widow and no one in her new town knew the details.

The only job she could find was a temporary position as an assistant to a producer who happened to be shooting a docudrama in the small town she chose for her escape, for her second chance. It was nothing but busywork, handing out scripts, setting up chairs for a reading, making sure everyone had what they needed, whether that was a coffee or a masseuse. Once, just a few days into her new job, the director stopped her and said, “Do us a favor and read this scene.”

“But I don’t act,” Caroline said.

“No problem, we’re not looking for acting from you. Just read so my leading man can do his thing. It’s only a rehearsal. And he needs it.”

“Okay,” Caroline said. “But don’t hold it against me.”

“Of course not.”

There were about ten people total around the set. She could fake it. She took the script, gave it a quick read, understood the emotion and pauses, silences and outbursts. It was all of two pages. She stood before the outrageously attractive leading man. He gave her a reassuring smile, coincidentally just like Landon’s.

They began. It was an argument that would end with her in tears and him putting his arms around her to reassure her. She accused him of being interested in a woman named Carla, snapped back when he tried to make excuses, stood speechless before him while he fought back, and then (because it said so in the script), she began to cry and fuss about the pain his indifference caused.

The small set was on location in the woods, and when the rehearsal of the short scene was at an end, there was a deafening silence all around. Stillness. Everyone was frozen.

Caroline wiped away the tears she had forced. She had wanted to cooperate as well as possible, after all. She looked around. Silence and open mouths faced her.

“Well, holy shit,” the director said. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Was it terrible?”

“Terrible? Darling, you’re an actress,” the leading man said.

She came back to reality and stopped typing.

Crap, Kaylee thought. Why can’t I fantasize like normal people? The next door neighbor waves at you and you write a scene that reeks of romance and yearning. That’s not normal.

I think it’s adorable, her mother’s voice said. What can it hurt?

“A man is the last thing I’m looking for,” she said aloud.

Whatever. He seems like a pleasant distraction.

“Hush, now. You know that’s not what I want.”

But she played around with that scene, went back to the beginning of this totally outrageous story and reset it, giving it a proper beginning, and typed for three hours. Kitty fell asleep next to her and when she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer she closed the laptop. She slept like that, a laptop and a kitten sharing her space on the bed.

She slept well and with a smile.





4



THE UPSIDE TO being known as the girl from the fire was, she was not considered a stranger. She might be learning the names of the folks around town and their connections to each other slowly, but they all had her down. No matter where she went—on her daily walk, shopping, stopping at the vegetable stand, hanging out at Jack’s—she was greeted as if she were a friend. And because of the fire, she had a history here. There was something comforting about that.

She was still feeling a little lonely, especially in the evenings. This was naturally time she would either phone her mother to share events of the day or maybe she’d drive the few miles from her apartment to her mom’s house. They often ate dinner together. There was no changing that history so she often reached out to some of her friends who were not yet sick to death of her grieving and would talk to her, FaceTime with her.