Redwood Bend

Redwood Bend - By Robyn Carr

One



Katie Malone quit her job and packed up her little Vermont house. The past few years had been tough and the past few months, having been separated from her brother, Conner, her only family, had been awful. In fact, she’d been feeling so alone, she stopped herself just moments before signing on to an online dating service.

But her watershed moment came when she began to have high hopes for a romantic relationship with her boss, the sweetest pediatric dentist who ever lived and a man who had never even kissed her. And guess what? There was a logical reason he hadn’t—he was gay. She was the last person he wanted to kiss.

It was high time she forgot about men and worked on bolstering her independent spirit with a return to California. One of her twins, five-year-old Andy, said something that nearly drove an arrow through her heart and caused her to realize the whole family needed a fresh start.

She was packing up a box to ship ahead to California when Andy asked, “Do we have to move in the dark again?”

She was stunned. Speechless. Here she had been thinking about kisses and loneliness while her boys were worried about fleeing in the dark of night to some strange, unknown place. A place even farther from family than they were now.

She clutched her little boy close and said, “No, sweetheart! I’m taking you and Mitch to Uncle Conner.”

Andy and Mitch were a matched set, five-year-old identical twins. Mitch overheard this and came running. “Uncle Conner?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, suddenly clear on what she had in front of her. She had to get her family together, make sure her boys felt safe and secure. “Right after a little side trip. How does Disney World sound?”

They started jumping for joy, screaming “Yay!” and “Cool!” And then the celebration dissolved to the floor and into a wrestling match. Like usual.

She rolled her eyes and continued packing up.

Last winter her brother had had a devastating experience that had become a family crisis. A man had been murdered behind their family-owned hardware store and Conner called the police at once. He became the only witness in a capital murder case. Shortly after the arrest was made, the hardware store was burned to the ground and a threat was left on Conner’s voice mail. This led the D.A. to decide it was in the best interest of their family to separate them. Katie and her boys were spirited off to Vermont for their own protection, about as far from Sacramento as she could get and still stay in the country, while Conner was hidden away in a tiny mountain town in Northern California.

Now it was over. The suspect in the murder had been killed before he could stand trial, Conner was no longer a witness and their family had escaped danger. Now they could get about the business of healing and bonding.

And Conner had met someone in Virgin River, Leslie, a woman he loved. He’d settled in to make a life with her.

Katie would enjoy surprising her brother, but they’d long ago established the habit of talking every day. Conner talked to the boys, if only briefly, at least every other day—the closest thing to a father they had. There was no way she could conceal her travel plans. If Conner didn’t suspect, the boys would certainly tell all.

“Summer is almost here,” she told Conner. “It’s almost June, we’re all free to roam and move around now that there’s no threat. I have to get my boys back to some kind of stable life. They need you, Conner. I’d like to spend the summer in Virgin River with you, if that’s okay. I want to rent my own place, of course, but the boys should be near you.”

“I’ll come and get you,” Conner immediately offered.

“No,” she said flatly. “I’m taking the boys on vacation, just the three of us. We’ve earned it. We’re going to Disney World for a few days. I’ll have the car shipped from there, then we’ll fly to Sacramento and I’ll drive up to Virgin River—it’s only a few hours. And I love scenic drives.”

“I’ll meet you in Sacramento,” he said.

She took a breath. Conner’s overprotectiveness had intensified after their parents’ deaths. He was always there for her and she adored him for it, but he verged on bossy and sometimes she had to take a firm hand with him. “No. I’m not a child. I’m thirty-two and very competent. And I want to spend some time with my kids. They’ve been on shaky ground since the move and we need some fun time together.”

“I only want to help,” he said.

“And I love you for it. But I’m going to do this my way.”

And he backed off! “All right, fair enough.”

Katie was momentarily shocked into silence. “Wow,” she finally said. “Who are you and what have you done with my big brother?”

“Very funny.”

“Although I have the utmost respect for you, I give all the credit for this change to Leslie. Tell her I owe her.”



When Katie had escaped to Vermont in March, she had left behind her minivan with the license plate that could identify her. It was to be sold and Conner had arranged for a late-model Lincoln Navigator SUV to be waiting for her in Vermont—a mammoth vehicle that she could barely park. As any carpooling mother might, she had grieved her minivan—it was light and easy to handle and felt like an extension of her body. But she came to quickly love the big, gas-guzzling SUV. She felt like queen of the road—invulnerable; she could see over everything and everyone. She looked forward to some time on the road for reflection, to consider her options. The act of seeing the miles vanish in the rearview mirror was a good way to leave the past behind and welcome a new beginning.

It didn’t take Katie long to get out of town. She had UPS pick up her boxes on Monday, phoned the school and arranged to have the boys’ kindergarten records scanned and emailed to her, invited the landlord over to check the condition of the house, and asked her neighbor to come over and help herself to the perishables that would otherwise be thrown out. She arranged to have the Lincoln picked up in Orlando and moved to Sacramento while she and the boys did a little Disney. She packed not only clothes, but the cooler and picnic basket. Her tool belt, which was pink and had been given to her by her late husband, Charlie, went with her everywhere. Armed with portable DVD players and movies, iPads and rechargers, she loaded her monster SUV and headed south.

They got off to a great start, but after a few hours the boys started to wiggle and squabble and complain. She stopped for the bathroom for one when the other one didn’t have to go and fifteen minutes down the road, had to stop again for the second one. They picnicked at rest stops every few hours and she ran them around to tire them out, though the only one who seemed tired was Katie. She repaired a malfunctioning DVD player, set up some snacks and loaded them back up to hit the road again.

She couldn’t help but wonder how parents did this sort of thing ten, twenty, thirty years ago before portable movies and iPad games. How did they manage without fifth-wheel-size cars with pull-down consoles that served as tables to hold games and refreshments? Without cars that, like cruise ships, had individual heating and air-conditioning thermostats? How did the pioneer mothers manage? Did they even have duct tape back then?

Most women, at times like this, would be reduced to self-pity because they were left with these high maintenance, energetic boys, but Katie just wasn’t that kind of woman. She hated self-pity. She did, however, wish Charlie could see them, experience them.

Katie met and married Charlie when she was twenty-six. They had a romantic, devoted, passion-charged relationship, but it had been too short. He was a Green Beret—Army Special Forces. When she was pregnant with the boys, he deployed to Afghanistan where he was killed before they were born.

How she wished he knew them now. When they weren’t in trouble they were so funny. She imagined they were like their father had been as a child; they certainly resembled him physically. They were large for their ages, rambunctious, competitive, bright, a little short-tempered and possessive. They both had a strong sentimental streak. They still needed maternal cuddling regularly and they loved all animals, even the tiniest ones. They tried to cover up their tears during Disney movies like Bambi. If one of them got scared, the other propped him up and reassured and vice versa. When they were forced together, like in the backseat of the car, they wanted space. When they were forced apart, they wanted to be together. She wondered if they’d ever take individual showers.

And just as she’d always griped at Charlie for never closing the bathroom door, she still longed for a little solitary bathroom time. The boys had been in her bubble, no matter what she was doing, since they could crawl. She could barely have a bath without company in the past five years.

So her life wasn’t always easy. Was theirs? They didn’t seem to realize they didn’t have the average family life—they had a mom and no dad, but they had Uncle Conner. She showed them the pictures of their dad and told them, all the time, how excited he had been to see them. But then he’d gone to the angels.... He was a hero who’d gone to the angels…

So Disney World was a good idea. They’d all earned it.



Mickey didn’t wear the boys down quite enough. Three days and nights at Disney World seemed to energize them. They squirmed the whole way to Sacramento on the plane and because they’d been confined, they ran around the hotel room like a couple of nut balls.

They set off for Virgin River right after breakfast, but as for the scenic drive to Virgin River, it was dark, gloomy and rainy. She was completely disappointed—she wanted to take in the beauty Conner had described—the mountains, redwoods, sheer cliffs and lush valleys. Ever the optimist, she hoped the gray skies would help the boys nod off.

But not right away, apparently.

“Andy has Avatar! It’s my turn to have Avatar!”

“Christ almighty, why didn’t I buy two of those,” she mumbled.

“Someone wants soap in her mouth,” Mitch the Enforcer muttered from the backseat.

It was hard to imagine what she’d be up against if Charlie were still with them. He had no patience and the filthiest language. Marines blushed when he opened his mouth. For that matter, Katie wanted to shout into the backseat, I took you to goddamn Disney World! Share the goddamn movie! “If I have to stop this car to deal with your bickering, it will be a very long time before we get to Uncle Conner’s house! And then it will be straight to time-out!”

They made a noble effort, but it involved a great deal of grunting, shoving and squirming.

As soon as she got off Highway 5 and headed for the narrow, winding road that skirted Clear Lake the driving became more challenging. Sometimes it was harrowing. She passed what appeared to be a small dock house or shed that had broken apart in the lake, right off the road, but as she slowed, she saw that it was an RV that had slipped off the road and crashed into the water. She slowed but couldn’t stop; there was no place to pull over and behind her were the sirens of first responders.

Once they got to Humboldt County, she turned off the freeway right at the coastal town of Fortuna and headed east on Highway 36, up into the mountains. This was a good, two-lane highway and as she rose into the mountains, the views took her breath away. Huge trees on the mountainsides reached into the clouds, lush farms, ranches and vineyards spread through the valleys below. She couldn’t indulge in the views—there were no guardrails, nor were there wide shoulders. And before she’d gone very far up the mountain she found herself buried in the forest on a winding road that broke left, then right, then up, then down. The trees were so large, blocking what little light there was, and her headlights in the rain were a minor help.

Then it happened. She felt a bump, then heard a pop. The big car swerved, then listed to the left and went kathump, kathump, kathump. She pulled over as far as possible, but was on a very short straightaway between two curves, so still stuck out into the road a bit. Here’s where having the supersized SUV wasn’t so convenient.

“Stay in the car, in your seats,” she told the boys. And she cautiously exited the car, watching for traffic coming around the curves in either direction. The rain came down in a steady sheet, although it was filtered by the boughs of huge pines and sequoias. Those pine needles didn’t do much to keep her dry, however. She shivered in the cold rain and wondered, This is June? It had been so warm in Sacramento, she hadn’t taken jackets or sweatshirts out of their suitcases. She hadn’t accounted for the temperature drop in the mountains.

She crouched, sitting on the right heel of her Uggs, and glared at the traitorous tire in disgust. Flat as a pancake, rubber torn away. What a mess. It wasn’t going anywhere, that was for sure.

Katie knew how to change a tire, but just the same, she got back in the car and took out her phone. On a vehicle this size, it could be a challenge. Maybe they were close enough to Virgin River for Conner to help.

No bars. No service. No help.

Well, that certainly diminished her options. She looked into the backseat. “Mommy’s going to change the tire and I need you to stay in the car and sit very, very still. No moving around, all right?”

“Why?”

“Because I have to jack up the car where the flat tire is and if you wiggle around it could fall and maybe hurt me. Can you sit still? Very still?”

They nodded gravely. She couldn’t have them out of the car, running wild in the forest or along this narrow highway. She shut off the SUV and went to the rear, lifting the hatch. She had to pull out a couple of suitcases and move the picnic basket to open the wheel well cover and floorboard. She pulled out the lug wrench and jack.

The first thing to do was actually the hardest for a woman her size—loosening the lug nuts before jacking up the car. She put her whole body into it, but she couldn’t budge a single one. Not even the slightest bit. This was when it didn’t pay off to be five foot four and a lightweight. She used a foot and two hands. Nothing. She stood up, pulled a rubber tie out of the pocket of her jeans and wound her long hair into a ponytail. She wiped her hands down her jeans and gave it another try, grunting with the effort. Still nothing. She was going to have to wait for someone to…

She heard a rumble that grew closer. And because today wasn’t turning out to be one of her luckier days, it couldn’t be some old rancher. Nope. It had to be a motorcycle gang. “Crap,” she said. “Well, beggars can’t be choosers.” And she waved them down. Four of them pulled up right behind the SUV. The one in front got off his bike and removed his helmet as he approached her while the others stayed balanced on their rumbling bikes.

Whew, wasn’t he a big, scary-looking dude. Huge and leather-clad with lots of hair, both facial and a long ponytail. He also jingled a little while he walked—there were chains around his boot heels, hanging from his belt and adorning his jacket. With his helmet cradled in the crook of his arm, he looked down at her. “Whatcha got?”

“Flat,” she said, and shivered. “I can handle it if you’ll just help me with the lugs. I’m in good shape, but I’m no match for the air compressor torque that tightened ’em down.”

He cocked his head and lifted one brow, probably surprised that a woman would know about the torque. He went over to the tire and squatted. “Dang,” he said. “Doesn’t get much flatter than that. I hope you have a spare.”

“In the undercarriage. Really, I can—”

He stood up and cut her off. “Let’s just get ’er done. That way the lugs on the spare will be as tight as these.”

“Thanks, but I hate to hold you up. If you’ll just—”

He completely ignored her, walking back to his bike and stowing his helmet. He pulled a few flat road warning triangles out of his side pocket and handed a couple to riders. “Stu, take these warning markers up the road to that curve. Lang, go back down to that last curve and put these out. Dylan, you can help change the tire. Let’s do it.”

And then he was walking back to where she stood, still holding the lug wrench. Now, Conner was a big man and this guy was yet bigger. As she stood dripping in the rain, she felt fully half his size. As two bikers rode away with their road markers, the fourth, Dylan, propped up his bike, removed his helmet and came toward them. And her eyes almost popped out of her head. Warning! Major hottie! His black hair was a little on the long side, his face about a couple of days unshaven, his body long and lean with a tear in each knee of his jeans. He walked with a slight swagger, pulling off his gloves, which matched his tan leather jacket, and stuffing them in the back pockets of his jeans, though they were so tight there couldn’t be much room for anything. She lifted her eyes back to his face. He should be on a billboard.

“Let’s make this easy,” Number One was saying to Dylan. “How about you lighten the load a little bit.” And then he applied the lug wrench, and with a simple, light jerk, spun the first lug nut, then a second, then a third. Piece of cake. For him.

Dylan approached her and she noticed his amazing blue eyes. He completely ignored her and began to pull things out of the back of the SUV—first a large, heavy suitcase, a smaller one, then the cooler. Meanwhile, the SUV was lifting, apparently already on the jack.

Dylan paused, cooler in his hands, looking down at her. She followed his gaze down. Swell. Her white T-shirt was soaked, plastered to her skin, her pretty little lace bra was now transparent, her nipples were tan bullets pointed right at him. He looked up and frowned. He put down the cooler, stripped off his leather jacket and draped it around her shoulders, pulling it closed.

Nice, she thought. Wet T-shirt display on the deserted road for a biker gang. “Thank you,” she mumbled. And she backed away so he could empty the back and get the tire from the undercarriage.

“Must’ve hit a pothole or something,” the first biker was saying. “That tire is done for.”

She hugged the jacket around herself and his scent rose, his very pleasant musk combined with rain and forest. It was toasty inside, dripping on the outside. Okay, maybe they weren’t Hells Angels. Just a bunch of nut balls out for a ride in the rain?

While Dylan took the spare around the SUV to his buddy, Katie got into the suitcase on top and pulled out a dark, cowl-neck sweatshirt. She put the leather jacket in the back of the car and pulled the sweatshirt over her wet T-shirt. She looked down. Better.

Not long after her clothing adjustment, Dylan came around the back of the car, carrying the useless tire, his long-sleeved shirt glued against his totally cut, sculpted chest. His shoulders and biceps bulged with the strain of carrying the heavy tire. But, God, what a body. He probably shouldn’t be out riding in the rain—he should be modeling or working with the Chippendales.

Stop, she told herself. Great to look at, but I’m sworn off. I’m concentrating on my future and my family.

After he stowed the tire, she picked up the jacket and held it toward him. “Here you go,” she said. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure. Hard to believe it’s June.”

“I was just thinking that.”

And then he did the most unexpected thing. He put the jacket down in the back of the SUV and stripped off his soaked shirt; he put the jacket on over skin. Her mouth fell open slightly, her eyes riveted to his body until he snapped the jacket closed. Then she slowly looked up, and he smiled and winked. He walked back to his bike, shoved the wet shirt in a side pocket and returned to the back of the SUV just as it was lowering onto a new tire.

Dylan began to reload the SUV and for a second she was just mesmerized, but then she shook herself and began to help, every once in a while meeting his eyes. Oh, God, he had Conner’s eyes—crystal-blue and twinkling beneath thick, dark lashes. She also had blue eyes but they were merely ordinary blue eyes while Conner’s (and Dylan’s!) were more periwinkle and almost startling in their depth. Paul Newman eyes, her mother used to say. And this guy had them, too! Her parents must have had a love child they left on the church steps or something.

No. Wait. She knew him—the eyes, the name. It had been a long time ago, but she’d seen him before. Not in person, but on TV. On magazine covers. But then, surely it wasn’t… Yes, the Hollywood bad boy. What had become of him since way back then?

“You can get back in if you want to,” Dylan said. “Turn the heat up. I hope you don’t have far to go.”

“I’m almost there,” she said.

Dylan put the cooler in, then the heaviest suitcase. He took a handkerchief out of his back pocket, wiped down his rain-slicked face and then began to wipe off his dirty hands. “You have a couple of stowaways,” he said, glancing into the car.

She peeked into the SUV. A couple of identical sets of brown eyes peered over the backseat. “My boys,” she said.

“You don’t look old enough to have boys.”

“I’m at least fifty now,” she said. “Ever been on a road trip with five-year-old twins?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

Of course he hadn’t, because he was some gorgeous godlike hunk who was as free as a bird and out either terrorizing or rescuing maidens in the forest. Wow.

“You’re all set, miss,” the big biker said as he came around the SUV, pulling on his leather gloves. Jeez, he had chains on those, too.

“Thanks for your help. The lugs get me every time.”

“I’d never leave a lady in distress by the side of the road, my mother would kill me. And that’s nothing to what my wife would say!”

“You have a wife?” she asked. And before she could stop herself, she added, “And a mother?”

Dylan burst out with a short laugh. He clapped a hand on the big guy’s back and said, “There’s a lot more to Walt than meets the eye, Miss… I didn’t get a name…”

She put out an icy hand. “Katie Malone.”

“I’m Dylan,” he said, taking the hand. How in the world he had managed warm hands after changing a tire in the freezing rain, she would long wonder. “And of course, this is Walt, roadside good Samaritan.” Then he addressed Walt. “I’ll ride back and get Lang. We’ll scoop up Stu on the way up the road.”

“You should be just fine, Katie,” Walt said. “Jump in, tell the little guys to buckle up, crank up the heater and watch the road.”

“Right. Yes. Listen, can I pay you for your trouble? I’m sure it would’ve cost me at least a hundred bucks to have that tire changed.”

“Don’t be absurd,” he said, startling her with his choice of words. It just didn’t seem like the vocabulary that would fit a big, scary biker dude. “You’d do the same for me if you could. Just be sure to replace that tire right away so you always have a spare.”

“You always go out for a ride in the rain?” she asked.

“We were on the road already. But there are better days for it, that’s for sure. If it had been coming down much harder, we’d have had to hole up under a tree or something. Don’t want to slide off a mountain. Take care.” Then he turned and tromped back to his Hog with the high handlebars.