Return to Virgin River (Virgin River #19)(25)

Then Laura was offered a chance to audition for a part in a movie if she’d go to LA. It was a decent part with some potential. She told Landry she’d be gone for a few days for the audition and if she got the part she might be gone for as long as three months. That was the end of his marriage as he remembered it. She got the part and traveled to Portugal for the shoot. She was home in a few months but only for a few days before there was another opportunity. By the time their second anniversary rolled around, she informed him she would have to move. LA would be her base, not San Francisco. But of course she would come to him whenever she wasn’t working.

He tried to be supportive; he knew how much she wanted it, wanted to be a star. He thought about how frustrated and unhappy he’d be without his art, but he missed her. This wasn’t his idea of marriage. He offered to move to LA, though he preferred San Francisco. “That wouldn’t solve our problems, Landry,” she said. “At least half the time I might get the part there but we’d go somewhere else for the shoot. The next movie—a made-for-TV movie—we’re shooting in Vancouver. I’ll be there for at least four months. You can come and visit if you like, but I’ll be working long days. Twelve-hour days. I’m going to rent something with some other actors. Something cheap that I won’t use much. A flop house, if you will. You wouldn’t want to relocate your whole business in the hopes of seeing me less than two days every other month.”

For two years she “visited” him, usually for less than a week a few times a year. They still talked on the phone all the time, but not every day. It was after they’d been married three years and he hardly ever saw her that he decided to move back to Virgin River. He could live with his dad in the house he grew up in. “But it’s so much harder for me to get to,” Laura complained. “I’ll have to fly into San Francisco and rent a car and drive to Humboldt County!”

So he saw even less of her. Even though she constantly said she missed him, somehow he didn’t think she missed him all that much. She had a rental house in LA that she shared with roommates, two men and two women, some of them on location sometimes. It was nicer than a flop house but less conducive to Landry’s possible visits. He did visit once to surprise her and a man with a towel wrapped around his waist answered the door. He was talking on a cell phone when he said, “Can I help you?”

“I’m Laura’s husband,” he said icily.

“Come on in, man!” he said. Then he ended his call and called out for Laura, who looked pretty flustered by the surprise visit. And Landry knew then that things were over. Laura had two lives and the one she had with him didn’t rate as high.

Laura had explained the man in the towel was just one of the roommates. They had a miserable time together because there seemed to be a lot of people around all the time. The house Laura lived in was a gathering place. She liked being surrounded by people while Landry was a loner. He liked being by himself, creating his art. Plus, he never quite bought the roommate story.

She’d been wherever there was work for the last ten years. He’d been in Virgin River for the last eight and they kept in touch from time to time.

He listened to the message on his phone. “Landry, darling, call me back soon! I have some good news.”

He thought he knew what that meant. She probably had a new film and would be telling him where she’d be spending the next several months. He wasn’t sure why she bothered. But then, they did have a good, compatible relationship for people who had effectively separated ten years ago.

“Landry!” she said as she answered the phone. “How are you! I’ve missed you!”

“I’m great and Otis says hello. How are you and what’s your news?”

“I’m going to be in San Francisco for at least a few days. I’m auditioning for a play. I thought I’d tack a few days on to the audition and visit you. Then if I get the part I’ll be living in San Francisco for several months and we can see more of each other.”

Damn, he thought. “When is your audition?”

“It’s in a couple of weeks. This is a huge sacrifice, Landry. The work is hard and the director and writer are walking nightmares. But it would be so good to see you.”

“Likewise, but you picked an awful time. I have several community art shows in a row. The fall festivals. The fall months are tough. During September and October I’ll be out of town four times, four days each time. If you’re still in San Francisco in November, there will be more room to breathe.”

“Can’t you cancel a couple of your fair things? They can’t be that important.”

There were a million angry replies that jumped to his lips, but he wouldn’t let them out. Those “fair things” were important and very good moneymakers. Over the years there were people who followed him from fair to fair just to see what was new. He reserved space a year in advance, was listed in the catalog, and taking and setting up his wares was not quick and easy. Each event was exhausting. But he loved it and he knew many of the people who participated and shopped. They were big events. “I pay for the booth a year in advance and there’s no refund at this late date, Laura. It’s a huge commitment. I usually use the whole week before an art fair to finish my work and have it ready and three days to take everything to the show and to do the setup. It’s a lot of work.”