Sunrise Point

Chapter Twelve


October in the mountains was chilly, often wet, and the busiest apple harvesting time all year. Tom had worn a slicker all day and was still wet to the skin. He was bone tired by the time he was able to make it to the house at five o’clock.

There you are,” Darla said, smiling. She jumped up from the table and Duke immediately thought she intended to pet him. He wagged and went to her and she put out her hands. “Ack! No, Duke, no! Sit. Sit.” Duke tilted his head and looked confused, then forlorn. But he stopped and sat.

Then she smiled at Tom and gave her clothes a brush as if to remove his hair that wasn’t there. She was decked out in a longish gray wool skirt, yet another pair of boots he didn’t recognize, a woolly orange jacket over a silky black blouse. Damn, but the woman could certainly look good.

He touched the jacket. “Nice,” he said.

She brushed the place he had touched, though he had washed his hands in the barn. “Cashmere,” she whispered to him. “So, when are we going out? Soon?”

I can’t think of anywhere to take you that will justify that jacket,” he said. “I need a shower…”

Maxie was busy at the sink, washing up some of her baking dishes. “Long day, Tom?” she asked.

He frowned, then almost laughed at her. No one knew better than Maxie what the harvest was like. Two things occurred to him—Nora would have been helping with the dishes even though she hadn’t dirtied them and Darla hadn’t asked him if he was tired, if he’d had a hard day. But of course he wouldn’t say that. “Give me fifteen minutes.” He looked at his watch. “It’s still early.”

I know,” she said. “But I’ve been reading all day and I’m bored. I’m ready for a change of scenery.”

Maxie turned from the sink. “I put your books on the stairs, Darla. Tom, since you’re going up for a shower, take them upstairs for Darla.”

Oh, no, I’ve got them,” she said.

I can do that,” Tom said.

I’ll…I’ll read a little while you’re showering, then I’ll carry them—”

But he was already at the foot of the stairs. He picked up a stack of books—two textbooks and a paperback. He was transfixed by the paperback, the cover of which had a sexy vampire about to plunge his teeth into the neck of a beautiful woman on it. “Hmm,” he said. “I guess in pharmacology you have to be ready for anything,” he said.

She took the books away from him. “Sometimes I have to let my brain rest for a few minutes—what I study is pretty intense.”

He put the vampire book on top. “Yeah, this looks very relaxing…” Then he watched as she went up the stairs ahead of him. He followed. He braced both hands on the door frame of the guest room, leaning in. “Fifteen minutes, Darla. Just let me get cleaned up.”

Take your time,” she said sweetly. “I’ll go downstairs and visit with Maxie.”

Twenty minutes later Tom was back in the kitchen and when he walked in, Darla’s eyes lit up as she looked him up and down. “Look at you,” she said, smiling. He wondered how he’d managed to please her; he wasn’t as spruced up as she was. He wore black jeans, a dark sweater and camel suede jacket. Instead of work boots, of which he had several pairs, he wore his going-out boots—polished and shiny like a good marine. She stood on her tiptoes and smoothed her hands along his shoulders. “This is a very good look on you. And I swear you must be six-five in your boots.”

I doubt it,” he said. “Maxie, I don’t know where we’re going. You and Duke okay?”

Oh, I think we’ll manage,” she said with a laugh. “Just have fun.”

Want me to bring you home a dessert?” he asked.

She shook her head. “You eat two for me.”

Let’s take my car,” Darla said. “That truck of yours is so high off the ground, I’m afraid I’ll break my neck getting in and out.” She held out her keys. “Want to drive?”

Sure.” Then with a hand on the small of her back, he escorted her to her car. “This is new,” he said. “When did you get it?”

Oh, about six months ago. Maybe nine. I can’t remember.”

Nice,” he said. And when he got behind the wheel, “Lots of leg room.”

You like it? You can heat your seat. Want me to show you how?”

I’ll be fine,” he said with a chuckle.

This was all he had ever wanted, a woman just like this—sophisticated, accomplished, beautiful and already set up in life. A woman who would bring pride to his name, to his family. Darla was established and came from a good, strong, close family.

And yet it felt all wrong.

All the way to Arcata she told him about her current course of study, about drug trials and experiments and the FDA and the DEA and how people in her position had to be cognizant of the laws. As she had done before, she segued into the bonus perks after major sales and contracts, not to mention the generous expense account for the wining and dining of doctors and hospital administrators, as if these were the really important parts of her job. “That’s one of the best parts,” she admitted. “Entertaining my clients. And I’m good at it—I have one of the best client lists in the company, and I haven’t been there that long.”

But what if Bob had lived?” he asked before he could stop himself. “You wouldn’t have been able to stay in one place long.”

We’d been married less than a year,” she said. “Before he deployed.”

And it occurred to him, there was no Marine base in the Denver area. “How did you meet?” he asked.

She gave a heavy sigh, as if she’d rather not talk about it. Possibly the memories were still painful. “He was on leave, skiing with friends. I met him in Vail.”

But he wasn’t stationed around there… .”

No. But I traveled so often anyway, it was easy to go to him. Like all the time. I can work from home a lot as long as I have a phone and laptop, so I sometimes spent several days in a week with him.”

But you lived in Denver?”

Why are you asking this? Did he complain about this?”

Tom felt the icy wedge of her voice. He reached over and took her hand. “Never,” he said. “I just never thought of it before, and I wondered.”

I was willing to move, to change jobs or companies, but Bob said it wasn’t fair—he’d just be deploying soon anyway. He didn’t want me to give up a good thing when in the end I was just going to sit alone, waiting, worrying…”

And Tom thought—he is a much better person than I am. If Tom fell in love and got married, he wouldn’t want his wife in another state. If he was newly married and about to deploy in a few months, he wouldn’t be happy about his wife not being around. Proving that he’d really screwed up by directing the conversation to her dead husband, she fell silent. He wasn’t sure what was worse, the silence or the conversation about drug trials and expense accounts. Finally he pulled into the square in Arcata and found a parking place.

The only sushi place I know about is crappy and, I guessed, probably beneath your standards. How do you feel about Mediterranean?”

Wonderful!” she said, beaming, quiet mood gone. And she held her place in the car until he came around and opened her door for her.

Darla seemed pleased with his choice of restaurant; she appeared to be back to her bright-eyed self. After they’d ordered drinks, an appetizer and their entrees, she reached across the table and took one of his hands. “Thank you, Tom, for being such a good host, good date.”

I am?”

You really are.” She laughed. “I look forward to these weekends with you. I hope you’re enjoying them as much as I am.”

Totally.”

I researched your orchard last week, in between other assignments for my class. It’s very well-known, you know.”

Is it? Well-known to whom?”

That’s what I love most about you—you’re so modest,” she said. “You have a laptop—search Cavanaugh Apples on Google sometime. The foodie sites love you. You’ll learn a lot about yourself.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Is there anything I don’t know about myself that I should know?” he asked.

The drinks came, the stuffed grape leaves. And Darla laughed at him. “I’m not sure. Do you know you have forty acres and two hundred and fifty trees with roughly twenty-eight types of apples? You’ve been the primary supplier in the county for twenty years. And most of your forty acres are still undeveloped and what’s considered to be prime real estate. And you have a very successful local cider business going on there. Cavanaugh is leading the pack in cider. You have quite a successful business.”

Well, Maxie does,” he clarified.

I was under the impression it was a family business,” she said, sipping her wine.

It seems to be—it’s been in the family a long time. I had to make a choice between the Marine Corps and the orchard. Maxie can’t run it alone forever. Afghanistan helped me make the choice pretty easily.”

She sipped her wine thoughtfully. “Have you ever considered selling it?”

He devoured the stuffed grape leaves; Darla was apparently satisfied with one bite, half remaining on her plate. Funny, he was getting used to that—how she barely ate. “It was going to eventually come down to that, unless I made the decision to come home and run it. Maxie won’t retire till she’s on her last legs, but I’m not oblivious to the fact that she’s getting older. And a little slower, though not mentally,” he stressed. “We had a major showdown about the ladder last year. Junior, our foreman, brought to my attention that she’d fallen a couple of times. Even though she hadn’t been hurt, he could smell disaster coming and had no influence in convincing her to get an employee to climb the ladder if there was something she wanted done.” He laughed to himself. Maxie’s been up on tripod ladders since she was just a kid, pregnant with my dad. She doesn’t really think she needs to slow down. And it probably keeps her young.”

It’s a shame,” Darla said. “She deserves a much more relaxing retirement!”

Like?” Tom asked, taking on the rest of the grape leaves.

Like a low-maintenance home where people do all the hard stuff for you. In a nice place, like near the ocean. Where there are lots of people and activities and life is finally about fun rather than back-breaking work. But if anything should go wrong, like a fall or illness, there are trained professionals nearby. At the orchard, if Maxie falls off a ladder, it’s only you or Junior to help her. Or if she, God forbid, had a stroke…”

He stopped chewing and stared at her. He had never thought of that. In this place, in the country, people got old on their land and, unless they moved away to live with their children or grandchildren, they often died on their land. If they had an accident or got sick, their family took care of them.

Darla picked up the last piece of her stuffed grape leaves and popped it in her mouth. “We put my grandmother in assisted living last year. She didn’t think she wanted to go, but now she loves it. She’s the community poker champ, can you beat that? And it’s in a really beautiful Colorado Springs valley with glorious views, near enough we can visit her and bring her to visit us for weekends, where there are walking trails and all kinds of fun things for the residents to do. She’s so grateful now.”

Is she,” Tom said in passing. Many things about Darla made him wonder. And then at the risk of slowing the conversation again he said, “I have such a hard time picturing you as the wife of a career marine… .”

To his surprise, Darla laughed. “Career marine? What gave you that idea?”

Well, Bob gave me that idea when he said that was his intention… .”

Was,” she stressed. “When we got married he had pretty much given up that idea. I had a job all lined up for him—my dad has a golf buddy with a soft water conditioner manufacturing plant who wanted to add to his management team and Bob, being a smart, decorated marine, was perfect. Good salary, too.”

Tom wondered if Bob just talked about a career in the Corps in front of his boys to encourage them when in fact he was planning to exit and get a civilian job in a factory. But Bob didn’t seem like that kind of guy.

And the dinner arrived.

Oh, my God,” Darla said, looking down at her Greek salad. “Have you ever seen so much food?”

Tom knew there would be a doggie bag, and not for Duke. But that was after he had a satisfactory taste of Darla’s uneaten dinner.

She lifted her fork, poised over her salad, and asked, “So, Tom, if you sold your orchard and looked for another line of work, what would you do?”

Tom had chicken kabobs—looked wonderful. He stabbed his fork into a wonderful cube of chicken and said, “Just out of curiosity, what do you have lined up for me?”

She laughed merrily. “You’re so funny.” She lifted one lovely light brown brow. “Well, there’s that manufacturing job, still open…”

He didn’t find that particularly funny. “There is nothing else I want to do.”

But it’s exhausting,” she counseled.

And if it ever becomes too much work at the harvest or the planting, there are lots of people around here looking for work. But if Maxie can last seventy-four years, I can last longer.”

You could actually invest the money you earn from the sale of the orchard, watch it grow, take care of Maxie in high style and begin another career.”

He chewed and noticed that she grinned excitedly. What had her parents invested in that smile? It was simply beautiful. He was also curious about her breasts, so large and high and delicious-looking—he wondered if he would touch them and find them not real. That wouldn’t be an issue if he was in love, but he was beginning to realize he was not even close to in love. Still, he was curious.

Finally he came back to the present. He looked at her levelly and said, “I’m going to work the orchard till I drop dead.”

Why?” she asked almost desperately.

Because I just love apples.”

She made a gak sound in the back of her throat. And Tom laughed.



* * *



The drive back to Virgin River was a revisit of the drive away—a lot of talk about vacations, bonuses, expense accounts, perks. There was a little about drug trials and prescriptions thrown in there. Tom thought about introducing the topic of national health care but frankly he was tired. So he drove.

She asked him if he was happy living in an older home; she had purchased her home new with lots of upgrades like granite countertops, slate floors, cherrywood cabinetry. She could open her garage and turn on her hot tub from blocks away.

He told her he loved that old house. “I’ve never seen a really proper porch on a new house.”

Then they came to the orchard. Tom jumped out of the car, opened the gate, pulled in, jumped out and closed the gate, and as they were driving between the groves Darla said, “Tom, I want you to know how grateful I am for your friendship. If I didn’t have these little escapes to the orchard on the weekends, I don’t know what I’d do.”

Huh?” he said.

I’m lonely, so far away from my family. And with Bob gone…”

Oh, man,” he said. He’d been so busy falling out of like with her, he’d forgotten she was lonely and widowed and all that. “Well, I’m glad it’s relaxing for you.”

It’s a godsend, seriously. Like a rescue. And there’s all the other stuff—going out, which I haven’t done in so long. Home cooking. Fresh fall air. It’s all just wonderful. I look forward to it all week. I’ve been out on a few dates, but I hadn’t really expected to end up seeing a handsome, successful man with his own rather impressive business.”

I grow apples,” he reminded her.

Very popular apples,” she reminded him. “If you chose to sell that orchard to a commercial grower like Del Monte, you could really make a killing. But I hope not too soon—I love coming up here every weekend. It’s so lovely and quiet.”

He wondered if she knew his net worth. He didn’t, but he wondered if she did.

Um, Darla. Next weekend might not be as relaxing. For a couple of weekends every October we open up the orchard for people to tour, visit, buy apples and other products. It might not seem like such a big deal, but the place is swarming. People come from everywhere. Typical of Virgin River—most of the town comes out. They shop, pick apples, bring their own ladders even. They bring their dogs, their kids, sometimes their grills. It’s big business.”

Is it lucrative?” she asked.

He paused before he said, “It works for us. But it’s madness. And there is no home-cooked meal, no going out to dinner, no walk in the moonlight between the groves.”

Oh, it must be so exciting!”

You would hate it. It’s not fancy. It’s not prestigious. It’s a bunch of county people on ladders, picking, tasting cider and pies and throwing softballs around. It’s barking dogs, small children, shouting and laughing people, swarming all over the orchard, in the barn, in the house…”

In the house?” she asked.

They’re our friends,” he said. “They’re the town.”

Wonderful!” she said. “Well, if the invitation stands, I’ll see you Friday late afternoon.”



* * *



Tom was up and in the orchard office by five-thirty and even though it wouldn’t be light for some time yet, Nora was there by six.

Good morning,” she said. “I guess I thought you’d be sleeping in or enjoying one of those big country breakfasts. You do have company.”

I’m sure she’s having sweet dreams,” he said. “What are you doing here so early on a Sunday morning?”

Getting an early start. I’m planning to leave right at lunchtime if you’re sure you can spare me. Jed will be coming to the house. We were talking about a picnic, but with this weather…”

He smiled. “Still Jed, is he?”

I’m working up to Dad, but it doesn’t come easy.”

I knew about your plans, Nora—we’re all ready to back you up. We might have an issue with the next two weekends. If you’re not going to be able to work, tell me now—we’re opening up the orchard to the public. It gets chaotic.”

So I’m told. I wonder—would it be all right if Jed and Susan come and bring the girls? I promise not to get too distracted.”

Absolutely, tell them about it. Maxie would probably love it.”

I’m going to get moving before I’m caught burning daylight.” She zipped up her jacket and pulled on gloves. She went past him to the break room to grab a rain slicker off a set of hooks on the wall that held a dozen or so.

Don’t you want a cup of coffee to get your engine started?” he asked her when she passed back through the office.

She grinned at him. “Now that I’m wealthy, I have coffee at home. With cream!” And off she whirled. He heard her outside as she said, “Hey, Duke, old pal—how are you this morning? Gonna be another wet one, but you like it that way, don’t you? Doesn’t that wet dog smell make it all worthwhile?” And then she laughed.

She was just the cutest damn thing, he found himself thinking. He wondered what she’d think of stuffed grape leaves… .

It was a few hours later, the morning fog and mist beginning to give way to a bright morning sun, when Tom heard the bell from the back porch. He had asked Maxie to ring it when Darla was ready to have her luggage carried downstairs. The bell had almost never been used. Tom’s grandfather had installed that bell when Maxie was very, very pregnant. It was one of those old-fashioned things with a strip of rawhide attached to the clapper. He wanted her to use it if she needed him for anything rather than walking up and down a couple of acres of trees looking for him. And what had Maxie done? She had walked through the entire orchard to find Grandpa to tell him, “I didn’t want to bother you, but I’ve been in labor all day and now I think I have to call the midwife. Can you get her for me?”

Tom laughed to himself. He’d heard the story so many times while growing up. His grandpa had swept his grandmother up in his arms, carried her to the house, up the stairs to the bedroom and sent someone for the midwife. The midwife was from another town, of course—that long ago Virgin River wasn’t much but a few farms. And the midwife didn’t make it, which at the end of the day had been something of a tragedy because Maxie had a few complications that left her unable to have more children. Of course there was no guarantee that getting the midwife there on time would have mattered.

Even though his grandparents, dead in love till the day Grandpa passed away, said they’d love to have had a baker’s dozen, they were also quick to say they were grateful for the bounty God gave: a son, an orchard and a woman who could bake a decent pie.

He trudged across the yard to the house. For some reason he had a picture in his head of Nora tromping through an entire orchard rather than just ringing the bell. And then, unsummoned, an image of Darla being carried on a litter by a group of Nubian slaves… .

He found himself ridiculous—stuck in a box of his own making, rejecting the one who appealed and spending every weekend with the one who was not right for him, though he had desperately wished she could have been. But it was hopeless. She was hopeless.

She was waiting in the kitchen. “Going to get an early start?” he asked Darla.

Since you’ll be busy all day, I’ll get the drive behind me. I look forward to next weekend. It sounds like such fun.”

Tom mentally tried to calculate how many more weeks she’d be in Davis, close enough to spend every freaking weekend at the orchard. “Let me go up and grab your bags,” he said. “Have you eaten breakfast?”

Long ago,” she said with a smile. She turned to Maxie, who was stirring a giant pot on the stove. “Thank you once again, Maxie. Your hospitality is unsurpassed.”

Always a pleasure, dear,” she said. “Oh, by the way, the next two weekends? There will be lots of company. I hope you love a crowd.”

Oh, yes,” she said.

Staying over,” Maxie stressed. “Some of my girlfriends from around the mountains are coming. We’ll be packed in here.”

It sounds like fun!”

Good, then.”

Tom, chuckling and shaking his head, headed up the stairs. He managed the four designer bags in two trips, loading up her trunk. He drove her to the gate, opened it while she transferred herself to the driver’s side. She slipped her arms around his neck, stood on the toes of yet another pair of boots to give him a brief kiss. He was planning his email in his head—Darla, rethink this idea of spending the weekend during the apple festival. If Maxie’s friends are coming, you might end up on a cot in the cider works. And if you pick at your food, they might tie you down and feed you. They’re old, but they’re strong and bossy.

He went back to the house, to the kitchen, having been called by wonderful smells that he hoped weren’t being prepared for dinner.

Whatcha got going there, Max?” he asked.

Chili,” she said. “It’s getting so cold, so wet, I thought maybe I’d put it in the break room on a warming tray along with some disposable bowls. What do you think?”

I think I’ll do that for you, after I’ve had a couple of bowls right now. Crackers? Shredded cheese?”

She lifted one thin brow. “Side of beef to go with that?”

Make it a big bowl,” he said. “Then I’ll see if I can go pick the rest of your apples for you.” He waited patiently while she fished around in the cupboard for a large bowl, grabbed a bag of shredded cheddar out of the refrigerator and a box of crackers from the pantry. “I’m going to make corn bread to go with this but I sense you can’t wait for that.” She placed it in front of him with a spoon.

Can’t wait,” he confirmed. “So? Company’s coming? Who?”

I’m not entirely sure yet,” she said, sitting down at the table with him. “I never have any trouble rounding up friends.”

I see,” he said, crumpling crackers on top of his cheddar-laced chili. “You haven’t invited them yet.”

I’m going to do that straight away.”

Why? We’re usually awful busy on apple festival weekends.”

They’ll come early, help with baking, all that stuff.”

That’s not why,” he said. “Damn, this is good, Maxie.”

Thank you.”

So? Why?”

I’m getting tired of Miss Picky Pants. If you marry her I’m going to kill myself.”

His smile fought hard to get out, but he held it in. “What if I’m completely in love with her?”

She rolled her eyes and clasped her hands together as if praying for strength. “I’ve had a good life…”

He couldn’t help it, he laughed. He leaned toward her. “Maxie, do you ever think about retirement?”

Of course. This is my retirement. I don’t work nearly as hard as I used to—Junior manages almost everything. At least he did until you came home.”

Ever thought about selling the orchard?” he asked.

No, I thought about you selling it after I was dead. I felt kind of bad for Junior and the others, but by the time I’m dead, they’ll be near dead anyway and I just can’t manage from the grave.”

No doubt you’ll try,” he mumbled.

What was that?”

Nothing,” he said.

My hearing is perfect,” she informed him.

So,” he asked, deliberately speaking very quietly. “Have you ever considered one of those homes for seniors? When you’re, you know, senior?”

I’m seventy-four,” she said. “How much more senior do you expect I’ll get?”

I think some of your girlfriends live in fancy-dancy senior communities. Don’t they? Where they can have the lawn taken care of for them, the cooking pretty much done every day, a little housekeeping? Some fun and games?”

Lorna is the karaoke queen at hers… . Ever hear of such a thing?”

Yeah, that’s right,” he said. “You ever lust after one of those places?”

You need a little more privacy, Tom? Because I have places to go if you want a weekend alone or something.”

He shook his head. “Darla mentioned they put her grandmother in one of those assisted-living places and she didn’t want to go at first, but now she’s happy about it. Loving it.”

Maxie’s face contorted into a very mean grimace. “Is that so?”

So it seems.”

You might want to tell Miss Picky Pants I have a shotgun and I’m a right fine shot.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back.

Tom roared with laughter. “Maybe I’ll just let you handle this whole thing your way.”

What whole thing?” she asked. “Is she already putting me out to pasture?”

Uh-huh. And selling the orchard and investing the money and getting me started in a new career,” he admitted. He thought about telling his grandmother what Darla had paid for her red boots, but then Maxie might stroke out and he was afraid Darla would move in to help him cope.

For the love of God,” she said.

Tom put down his spoon. His eyes became serious. “Listen, we have a situation. Her husband was one of my men, killed while he served in my command. She’s lonely. She’s nearby. She wants to come here… Why, I’m not entirely sure. It’s not like she eats apples or wants to bake pies. But she wants to come. Maybe the service is too good… .”

I could get out the lumpy pillows and scratchy toilet paper… .”

I tried to discourage the next couple of weekends but she’s planning to come even though I warned her she won’t get any attention. It’ll be apple-picking time. You told her you were going to fill the house up with old women and she still wants to come. I think, at least until she finishes this course in Davis, we’re stuck with her.”

You’re not mad in love with her?” Maxie asked.

He shook his head. “I want to be,” he admitted. “She’s very pretty.” Sexy. “She seems smart and I gather she has a solid, functional family background, but…” But I haven’t had sex in so long I can’t even remember how…and I still can’t get excited about her coming for another visit… If she sprawled naked on my bed, I probably wouldn’t be able to…

Tom, can I say something about that? About that solid, functional family background? I don’t know where you got that judgmental streak or your almighty standards—maybe from your great-grandfather. Your great-grandmother was so open to possibilities, so nonjudgmental. When I stumbled into this orchard looking for work, I had come from a really rugged family—dirt-poor, had nothing, uneducated, didn’t know what the term emotional support meant—and your grandfather took an instant liking to me anyway. I’m sure because of that your great-grandfather refused to hire me on. But your great-grandmother did hire me—brought me into the house, into the kitchen to help with jam, ciders, pies and housework. Tom, I had a lot of what you young people call baggage, but your grandpa didn’t care. He said he loved me and wanted me no matter what my past had been like, no matter what load I was bringing along. That’s never been a secret in our family—that I had burdens. Your grandpa had to take on a lot to take me. Most people have a load to carry, Tom. So do you—look at your family history! You have some amazing family history and some of it kind of strange—like the disappearing mother. You know.”

I know. You never heard from her again, did you?”

Maxie shook her head. “I would’ve told you. I’ve always told you everything.”

Many family stories,” he said, very seriously.

They were both silent for a moment. Finally Maxie said, “You aren’t mad in love with Miss Picky Pants?”

He shook his head.

Then stop kissing her!” Maxie demanded.

Tom grinned. “You don’t miss anything, do you?”

You think I raised a decorated marine and made money on apples by missing things?”