Redwood Bend

Thirteen



On the way back to town, Leslie spent a great deal of time trying to talk Conner down. “I know you feel very protective of Katie, but she’s a grown woman who made adult choices and is now living up to them very admirably. She obviously wants to have this baby. Try to be happy for her.”

“She look happy to you?” he nearly growled. “He needs to be accountable!”

“I think she’d be happier if things had gone a little differently—like if she’d had more time to develop a lasting relationship with Dylan. But, Conner, things don’t always go the way we want.”

“Humph,” he grunted. “What kind of a man walks out on a pregnant woman?”

“Maybe the kind who has no idea she’s pregnant,” Leslie said. “I want you to do a little memory check—we made love before we established our future together. It could’ve happened to us.”

“I wouldn’t have walked away like he did.”

She laughed softly. “Actually, you admitted later that had been your original plan. You had trust issues where women were concerned, you were a secret witness whose life had been threatened. You were going to bolt, but that didn’t stop you from crawling into bed with me.”

“But I stayed!” he argued.

“I repeat—Dylan has no idea there’s a pregnancy! He’s not an ass so much as another version of you a few years ago. We will give Katie love and support and stay out of her business. She can make her own decisions.”

“Doesn’t look like she’s making really good ones,” he grumbled angrily.

“If she heard this from you, she would be furious,” Leslie said. “And you’d be lucky if she ever confided in you again.”

“Let me get it out!” he said. “I’ll get it out, I’ll be done with it! Katie won’t have to put up with this from me. I’ll take care of her.”

Leslie sighed. “Stop at Jack’s,” she said. “I’ll get something of Preacher’s to take home. And whatever you have to do to be done with this, do it. I don’t want all this anger from you—I’ve never had to deal with this from you before. You get about fifteen more minutes, then I’m out of patience.”

She soon realized how badly she’d chosen her words. It was almost six o’clock, the bar was at peak dinner hour when they walked in. There were only a couple of empty tables or bar stools. Sitting at the end of the bar with a beer and a dinner plate was Dylan Childress.

It was like waving the red cape in front of the bull.

Conner didn’t look right or left. He stomped into the bar, grabbed Dylan by the front of his shirt, taking him completely by surprise, lifting him off the stool, and began to drag him out of the bar. Leslie screamed, “Jaaaccckkk!” Dylan hooked his boot behind Conner’s knee and they both went down, toppling a table as they crashed to the floor. Just like a scene from the old West, people rose and pushed back tables and chairs to stay out of the way of a good old-fashioned bar fight.

And the fists flew, both men making significant, loud, crunching contact. They each got off two or three on the other before Jack, Paul Haggerty, Conner’s boss and, fortuitously, Mike Valenzuela, the town cop, pulled them apart and got them outside. Dan Brady and Preacher came from the kitchen for backup. Most of the people who had been in the bar were more than happy to leave their dinners to get cold while they headed for the porch, enjoying the show. And quite the show it was, complete with Preacher in what could have appeared to be a bloody apron, except it was tomato sauce.

“What the f*ck?” Dylan yelled through a split lip, spitting blood onto the street.

“You are the f*ck!” Conner returned nasally, his nose having taken on a weird shape and now bleeding onto his shirt. “You don’t treat my sister like the gum on your shoe!”

“No, I don’t! Am I here? I’m here! Why do you think I’m here? She’s a good woman. I care about her!”

“A little late, cowboy,” Conner shot back. “Let go of me,” he said over his shoulder to Paul and Dan Brady. “Let me kill him. I’ll wipe up after.”

“You just try, a*shole,” Dylan roared. “That f*cker’s crazy! Lock him up, will you?”

Jack and Preacher held on to Dylan. Mike V. stood between the opposing teams. “We don’t exactly have a lockup around here,” he said. “I could call the sheriff, however. But I’d have to give him both of you.”

“I don’t like their chances for family holidays,” Jack said to Preacher. “Do you?”

“Did I do anything?” Dylan asked hotly. “I was having a beer and a meal!”

“And screwing my sister!” Conner shouted.

“Conner!” Leslie shouted from the porch. “Shut up!”

“You hurt her!” Conner yelled at Dylan, failing to take his beloved’s advice.

“I’m back here to try to make amends!” Dylan yelled back.

“You’re a little late, pretty boy!”

“You son of a—” And with that, Dylan threw himself against the strong arms that held him.

A piercing whistle shot through the air and everyone stopped yelling and moving. Right at the base of the porch stood Mel Sheridan and her partner, Doc Michaels. Jack lifted his eyebrows, wondering if that whistle had come out of his wife.

“Two choices, gentlemen,” Mike Valenzuela said. “You can walk away quietly, get patched up and go home or I can cuff you and call the sheriff’s deputy.”

Dylan immediately stopped struggling. “I’m not the problem,” he pointed out.

“Wanna get your lip fixed?” Jack asked.

“Pretty boy probably needs a plastic surgeon,” Conner said.

“I’m about done trying,” Mike V. said.

“All right,” Conner said. “All right.”

“Take Conner to the clinic,” Jack said. “His nose needs to be…” he cleared his throat “…adjusted. This one can go to Preacher’s quarters with Mel.” Then to Dylan he said, “If you even bump into my wife, you’ll have me to deal with and trust me…”

“Why would I bother your wife, man?” Dylan asked. “That was just self-defense, what happened. I just need a little ice. I’ll settle up for my dinner and get out of here.”

Mel walked over to Dylan and looked at his face, the bleeding lip, a small cut over his eye and rapidly spreading inflammation on the right side of his face. “I can probably fix those cuts with some tape,” she said, turning his head left and right. “I’ll go get my bag from the clinic. It could take me a few minutes to wade through all the testosterone in the street, so be patient.”



Katie sat on the sofa in her little living room, wrapped in her soft, terry robe, giving her toenails a coat of polish. Her hair was piled on her head with damp tendrils trailing. She’d been in the tub long enough to cry a little bit; begging help from her brother yet again had taken a toll. Her eyes were a little red, her cheeks pink. But fortunately Katie had never been one to indulge in a lot of self-pity, so once she let some of that emotion go, she just took a deep breath and moved on.

Unfortunately, she knew she wasn’t finished with the crying. If being pregnant without a father around wasn’t hard enough, holding that newborn, alone, could really rip a woman’s heart out. There would be more tears. Hard tears.

The knock at the cabin door caused her to immediately assume that either Conner or Leslie or the two of them together weren’t finished talking about it yet. But when she opened the door, it was Dylan.

“My God,” she gasped. “Have you been in an accident?”

“No,” he said. “It was very deliberate.”

“What in the world happened?” she asked, holding open the door for him. He was inside before she realized that if his face weren’t banged up, she wouldn’t have let him inside at all. She would have asked, “What are you doing here?”

He stepped inside. “I came back,” he said. Then with a hand on his chin, he worked his jaw a little bit, clearly uncomfortable. “I was getting up my courage to come and see you, to talk to you about…I don’t know. Our relationship and the way I left you… That was wrong. We should’ve had some discussion about how we’d stay in touch, when we’d see each other or… Your brother happened into Jack’s. And he obviously has some issues with my departure, also.”

“Conner did that?” she asked, aghast.

Dylan nodded. “And he wasn’t quite done, either.”

Katie had not heard the rumble of the Harley. She glanced past him and saw a big white truck sitting in her clearing, the motorcycle loaded into the back.

“I rented a truck,” he explained. He tilted his head, listening to the sound of Avatar in the loft. “Can we talk?”

“I guess so,” she said. She curled up on one end of the sofa, pulling her terry robe around her legs, and he took the other end. And she waited.

“I don’t really know where to start,” he said.

She said nothing. Waiting.

“It wasn’t my plan to get involved and then leave the way I did. With so many things unsaid.”

She shrugged. “You said you were leaving all the time, that you had to go back to work. And I thought your explanation was thorough—that I was the best time you ever had and you were going to make a movie…”

He winced. “See? That was done badly.”

“Well, I said I understood. You had to make some money.”

“That’s not the part I should’ve explained better—I should’ve told you how much you meant—for a little while, we were really close…really good friends.”

“Not good friends, I think,” she corrected. “Lovers, but not really friends. Friends would’ve been a little kinder to each other. And I don’t need any more sweet talk as you’re on the way out the door. It’s inconsiderate.”

He slid a little closer. “Katie, the decision to leave was sudden—the producer I’d been talking to finally came through with something. I hate the business, but I like acting, I’m good at it and I like the kind of money it can pay. It’s just that there was money involved and it was the perfect opportunity to take a big payday back to Montana… If the whole movie deal could be worked out and it looks like it can be—”

“I know,” she said.

“You know?” he asked.

“Even though you’ve been away from it for a long time, apparently the name Childress still gets people all excited in Hollywood and…” She reached over to the coffee table trunk and lifted the lid. She pulled out a few tabloids and tossed them on the sofa. “I figured that out pretty easily.”

He glanced at the pictures idly. “This is what I hate,” he muttered. “This is all B.S. This one here, with Jay Romney, this is the only one I actually posed for. The rest of them? I didn’t even know there were photographers present. They might have even been taken with a cell phone and retouched with Photoshop for all I know. This one, I remember this,” he said, showing her the picture with the pretty blonde. “But the caption is bogus.”

“Hmm,” Katie said. “So that one’s real.”

“It’s a hug,” he said. “I was so happy to see her. Lindsey. I hadn’t seen her in about twenty years. She was offered a chance to test for a part in this film.”

Katie lifted her chin a notch. “How lovely for you.”

“Seriously,” he said, catching her sarcasm. “She’s one of the few people I trust. She’s good people. We didn’t exactly keep in touch, but I’ve known her since she was thirteen.”

“I recognize her,” Katie said. “Lucky you.”

“Katie, she’s married with two kids. A nice person…”

“Well then, I guess we’re all caught up,” she said, standing up.

“Come on, sit down. I just want a chance to explain. I think you know most of what I’m going to say—I tried to say it before. I was feeling kind of serious and I told you how nervous it makes me to feel serious. That long history of family members who just can’t—”

“Blah, blah, blah,” she said.

He frowned, then grimaced because it hurt his face. “Okay, I guess you don’t buy that.”

“Oh, I buy it, Dylan. I also think it’s a pretty convenient excuse to just bail out. You went to a lot of trouble to explain all this to me—that you just don’t want a relationship. You wanted what we had. And we had it. I’m not holding you here.”

“Katie, I called,” he said. “I gave you my number—I didn’t give it to very many people. I wanted you to call. I wanted us to stay in touch because maybe down the road… You mean a lot to me. I missed you like crazy. You’re the one who said our lives just don’t match.”

“Listen, Dylan, I don’t expect you to understand this—it’s just not a part of your lifestyle and it’s very old-fashioned, but I’m a mother and a woman who needs stability and permanence. This is my fault—I knew it was going to be a fling and I don’t have flings. I don’t have any practice at it. It was bound to work out the way it did. And I was bound to be unhappy about it. I didn’t realize when I was involved with you that a part of me hoped things would be different with me, with us. Dumb. You told me up front, that would never change. So, don’t worry—we’re all square. You can hit the road with a clear conscience—you have more temporary girlfriends waiting.”

He scowled. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, you’re pissed. I don’t blame you. I don’t have girlfriends waiting and I want to work this out with you. Maybe we can stay in touch or…something.”

“Dylan, I’m not the kind of girl you want to stay in touch with. I’m looking for something a little more committed. This is not your problem. You don’t have to make amends for just being yourself. I have no regrets about getting…” She almost said getting knocked up by you, but cleared her throat. “It was totally consensual. And I’m really sorry about Conner—he shouldn’t have done that. It’s inexcusable.”

“And why did he?” Dylan asked.

“He must have felt kind of bad for me,” she offered. “He’s very protective.”

“Why did he feel bad for you?”

“Probably because he thought my feelings were very hurt, which they were for a while. He thought I was depressed but actually I seem to have a little…” She slid her hand over her belly. “I guess I have a little bug in me. I haven’t been feeling so well. Better now, though. Nothing serious—just a temporary thing.” Should last about eight more months, she thought.

“Katie, I wanted to be so much more romantic. I wanted to let you know how much you got under my skin and how hard it was to leave you, but I thought I might never leave. Every time I got near you, I just couldn’t go. It was torture. Things were different with you!”

“Hmm,” she said. “Well, as sorry as I am for you, I think you’ve done a noble thing, coming here to apologize, but you can leave now. I know this is going to upset your feeling of being unique, but they write articles about your type in all the women’s magazines. Commitment phobia is almost a cliché.”

“Nice,” he said, sitting back. “May I have some ice before I go, please? For my face?”

She sighed. “I suppose. But then you have to go before the boys see you. They’re zoned out to the movie in the loft, maybe even asleep already.” She got up. She put some ice in a dish towel and brought it to him. “Let’s not drag this out.”

He pressed the ice against his eye. She could only see half his face when he talked. “The thing you don’t get, Katie, it’s not an excuse. I’m not proud of this. I probably qualify as some player—at least technically—because I don’t get into steady things. You have no idea how much I wish it wasn’t the case. My best friend is a married man with five kids, he’s like family to me. Except for my grandmother, the only real family I have. His house is where I spend every long weekend and holiday. I would trade a kidney for his life even though he’s always strapped for cash, usually tired, in constant demand at home, lives in perpetual chaos, but he’s always got a smile on his face. I’d give anything for that life.”

She wasn’t sure if she was being played right now or if he was sincere. She took a chance. “Do you expect me to feel sorry for you?”

“It wouldn’t hurt. And you might give me a chance to…I don’t know…check this out, this thing we have. I want to. I’ve never met a woman so hard to leave.” He took a breath.

“Okay, that’s too obvious. What do you want?”

“A second chance?”

“Oh? For how many days or weeks this time?”

He got clumsily to his feet, holding the ice over his eye. “Okay, I deserved that. I won’t jam you up anymore. Would it be all right if I stayed in touch for a while? Called? Maybe visited you sometime?” He wobbled a little.

She stood, as well. “Where are you going?”

“I thought it seemed pretty obvious you’re all done talking here…”

“I don’t know that you’re okay,” she said. “You’re a little unsteady.”

He pulled the ice pack off his eye. “It’s just my balance with the ice over one eye. And the fact that your brother tried to beat my brains out.”

“So, where are you going?”

“Not sure,” he said with a shrug. “I passed by Riordan’s and they’re full up. Even that funky little trailer he let me have for a week is in use.”

She just stared at him for a minute. “I don’t think you should drive…”

“I’ll be okay,” he said, handing her the ice pack.

She groaned in resignation, handing it back. “You can have the couch. I’m going to get my children in bed before they see you. If you sneak into my room tonight, you’d better be coming to get me because the house is on fire or you’re going to live to regret it. Are we clear?”

He looked down. “Can I take off my boots? Or should I be ready to run?”

“You take off anything else, you better run,” she said, and she turned away from him, going upstairs. She hustled the boys into their room before they noticed him. And then the door to her bedroom closed.



Dylan felt the sunlight, then he felt the eyes. He opened one of his to four brown ones. “Y’know, you guys are sometimes a little creepy. The way you do that.”

“Did you have a sleepover again?” Andy asked.

“And forgot your pajamas?” Mitch added.

“I had a sleepover,” he said. “I was feeling a little wobbly and your mother thought maybe I shouldn’t drive.”

“She said you had an accident,” Andy shared.

“That’s right,” Dylan said. “Ran right into a big, stupid fist.”

“Boys, go to the table,” Katie said. “Your waffles are ready.” When they left and she looked at Dylan, she made a face. He was more swollen and the skin around his eye was definitely black-and-blue. “The color is setting in,” she informed him. Then she picked up four empty beer bottles from the top of the trunk. “Go ahead and help yourself to a beer.” She carried them into the kitchen.

He followed. “I’ll be glad to replace them. I had a little trouble sleeping. Did you have trouble sleeping?”

“Sleeping seems to be one of my gifts lately,” she said. “I slept like a dead person. Would you like an egg or something before you leave?”

“Coffee would be nice,” he said.

When she turned away from him to grab a cup, he eyed her backside. She was wearing some thin summer knit sweatpants that fit loosely around her hips and a short shirt, leaving her midriff exposed. He remembered her as tiny, but today she was looking thin. When she turned toward him with a cup of coffee he asked, “Have you lost weight, Katie?”

“I told you, I had a little bug. I’m not completely over it, but almost…”

“Katie,” he asked, stepping closer. “Did I do that to you?”

“Probably,” she said. “Egg?”

“Let me take you out to a big breakfast,” he said.

“Boy, guilt really works on you, doesn’t it? I’m going to have a little cereal, not feeling like a big breakfast.”

“You’ve gotten too thin,” he said. “Makes me want to feed you. And hold you.”

“Wow, that’s real talent,” she said. “You know how to make a woman feel unattractive and desired in the same sentence. Do you want an egg or are you on the way out?”

He tilted his head. “Have you always been this cranky? Could you be a little nicer, please? Your brother beat me up and I’m concerned about you.”

“I’m really just fine,” she said in a calmer voice. “Meet me on the porch.” She grabbed her glass of juice and headed out the door. She sat in one of the chairs and when he sat down beside her, she winced again just looking at him. “What are the chances Conner looks as bad as you?”

“I think he won,” Dylan said.

“Lord. Men.” She cleared her throat. “Listen, Dylan, I apologize if I’ve been less than friendly. But just how many times do you think I want to go through withdrawal? Because seriously, I am not interested in a close casual friendship with benefits. It’s not who I am. I’m not comfortable with that kind of relationship.”

“Did Charlie ask you to marry him after the first week?”

“No,” she said. “After the first week he said he couldn’t live without me. It was after the second week he begged me to marry him. But that has nothing to do with us, with now. Now I’m a mother first and I’m feeling a little protective. I’m not a good mother if I’m worrying about how some man feels about me.”

He felt a smile come to his lips. “That’s very reasonable.”

“Thank you. No regrets, but I’m not getting involved with you. Again.”

“I understand. But you don’t hate me?”

“I don’t hate you. I’ll never hate you. After all, I loved you for three years when I was a girl. And that was before I even slept with you.”

He smiled wider. “What if I wanted to be friends? Without benefits?”

“Big talk,” she said. “We have history. We’d probably end up in the sack and I’d just get hurt again.”

He took a thoughtful sip of his coffee. “Katie, I’d never deliberately do anything to hurt you.”

“You know what? I believe you. But I’d end up hurt just the same and you’d be fine—off meeting up with old movie star girlfriends, et cetera, while I sit here alone in the woods wondering what happened. And the boys…”

“What about the boys?” he asked.

“Well, brace yourself,” she said. “They like you. They were so excited to see you sleeping on the couch, it was almost impossible to keep them from waking you up. It’s probably not so good for you to come in and out of their lives.”

“Kind of sounds like I really screwed this up.”

“This?” she asked. She shook her head. “We were attracted to each other, but there’s nothing we can do about the fact that we’re not headed in the same direction, except maybe make a clean break so we can move on. You have to go!” She touched his hand. “It’s okay, Dylan. Let’s just part friends. No hard feelings.”

“I don’t necessarily want to—”

There was a bit of rustling and a small bear cub rolled out of the bushes, followed by a second. Katie jumped to her feet. “Dylan, in the house, hurry up.” She was ahead of him, heading for the kitchen. She went to the small cupboard above the microwave and grabbed the air horn and the bear repellant, a fancy hair-spray-size can of mace. “She is seriously getting on my nerves....” And then she was out on the porch again. “Hey!” she yelled. “Get outta here!” And she blasted the horn a few times, some short annoying pops.

Dylan stepped out on the porch, wide-eyed. “Holy shit, Katie! Get inside!”

Mama stepped into the clearing and puffed up, making her groaning, almost growling noises. That could’ve meant You’ll be my breakfast soon or Come with me, kids.

Katie aimed the mace and the horn just in case, but she blew the horn again. The bear stood on her hind legs and her cubs ran behind her. She dropped back to all fours and disappeared into the shrubs, and a moment later Katie saw the four of them hightailing it up the path and into the forest. And Katie yelled, “I’ve got cubs, too! Bitch!”

He grabbed her arm. “Katie, good Christ, you shouldn’t antagonize her like that. Just get out of the way.”

“She’s really got some attitude, that one. A guy I met at Jack’s, some guy with an orchard, said she’s been bothering them and he was going to call someone—like the game warden or something.” Then she turned her big blue eyes up to his. “But I think maybe I’ll find something a little more urban. Know what I mean?”

He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. The boys peeked out the door to see if there were bears. “Go inside, please,” Dylan said. “Get ready for school.” When they were gone he turned to Katie. “All right, listen to me. I’m not leaving right away. I’m going to take the boys to school and drop them off. Then I’m going to run a few errands, make a couple of phone calls and come back here. You—stay in the house and do not confront that bear again!”

“I don’t want you hanging around here,” she said. “I’m not going to sleep with you!”

“Oh, absolutely not,” he said. “But we are going to examine the potential for a relationship, you and me. It might not be easy, but—”

“But Hollywood waits,” she said.

“Yeah, well, I probably won’t be able to work and hang out here all the time, but I also probably won’t be out of town any more often than a soldier. Right now I think you need me. So I’ll take the boys to town and I’ll be back.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you understand ‘no’?”

“No,” he said.