Wild Man Creek

Twelve




On Monday afternoon, Paul Haggerty brought a man into Jack’s Bar. He grinned and said, “Jack, meet one of our new neighbors—Lief Holbrook.”

Jack stuck out a hand. “How do you do. Welcome. Drink?”

“You could talk me into a cold beer,” Lief said. “I’m not a neighbor yet—it’s going to take a while.”

“Jack, remember that vacation home I built for the rich couple? One of the first houses I finished up here after yours. Three thousand square feet with a view of the valley, about three miles northwest of your place.”

“I walked through that house,” Jack said. He whistled. “Some kind of vacation home. I never did meet those folks.”

Paul just laughed and explained to Lief, “Up here, when there’s a house under construction or in renovation, half the town walks through it, just to see how it’s coming along. Then most of them make sure I have their opinion.” Then to Jack, he said, “I don’t know that the owners were up here more than once after it was finished.”

“It’s in foreclosure,” Lief said. “My bid was approved, but foreclosure homes take a long time to close. Meanwhile, I came up to see if Paul could finish the office with built-ins.”

“Which I’m all too happy to do, once the property closes.”

“I don’t think anyone but Paul ever met the folks who built it,” Jack said. “What happened?”

“No idea,” Paul said. “Eyes bigger than their wallets?”

“They hadn’t made a payment in a year,” Lief said. “I’d been on the lookout for something in a friendly small town. I knew this place was small. Now I’m just hoping I’m right about the friendly part.”

“We’re friendly,” Jack said with a laugh. “As long as you don’t cross us. So, what made you go looking for a small town?”

“Aw, a better place for my family than L.A. And, with my work, I don’t have to spend much time in L.A. I can live just about anywhere.”

“Family?” Jack asked.

“One thirteen-year-old daughter, Courtney. My wife is deceased. Which is very hard for Courtney, of course. We’re healing—we need to step back. You know? Get out of the rush and noise, slow down, see if we can move on and get past this.”

“My condolences, Lief,” Jack said sincerely. “How long ago did you lose your wife?”

“It’s been almost two years now, but it’s not easy. Courtney’s having a difficult time and I struggle to do the right thing for her, to help her get through it. She was just eleven, an awful tender age to lose a parent. Hopefully we’ll be up here and moved in before school starts in September, so she can make a fresh start.”

“Good luck with that. I hope it goes well,” Jack said. “I do know a real good counselor, kind of specializes in middle school and high school kids. Real nice guy. A kid I’ve known for years, almost a son to me, came back from Iraq missing a leg and the counselor really helped him. If you ever want the name…”

“When we get back up here, I’ll be in touch. I can use all the help I can get,” Lief said.

Right at that moment the door to the bar swung open and in the frame stood a skinny little girl with stringy black hair streaked with pink, purple and red. Her fingernails were painted black and she wore pounds of black eyeliner and mascara. A little turquoise tank top stretched over her flat chest and above an itty-bitty black skirt, fish-net hose and black ankle boots. The whole look was completed by a sneer on her face that, somehow, didn’t look in character. “Are we just about done here?!”

“Just about,” Lief said patiently.

She turned on her heel and disappeared.

Jack gave the counter a wipe. “I’ll find that counselor’s name and number,” he said to Lief.

“Thanks,” Lief said in return.



Lilly Yazhi had lived in the area between Virgin River and Grace Valley since she was thirteen, which made it almost fourteen years now. But she had only begun keeping a horse at the Jensen Stables and teaching riding part-time with Annie, the vet’s wife, in this past year. And it had only been six months that she’d been engaged to the vet’s tech, Clay Tahoma. Lilly was Hopi and Clay, Navajo. They had much in common and their love for horses was one of many things.

She was in the stable, brushing down her Arabian mare, Blue, when she sensed him coming up behind her on silent feet. He slipped his arms around her waist and put his lips against her neck. She stood still, smiled and hummed.

“I never manage to surprise you,” Clay Tahoma said. “You sense me even when you can’t hear me.”

“Oh, Clay? Is that you?” Lilly asked in a teasing voice.

He turned her around and looked at her laughing face. Then he wiped that smile off her face with his lips. He kissed her soundly. Deeply. His hands found her small bottom and pulled her hard against him. “I missed you last night,” he said, his voice soft and hoarse. “I plan to make up for it tonight.”

“Unless there’s another sick horse somewhere and you have to go out again,” she said.

He frowned. “That could put me in a mood. I meant to tell you, my mother called me this morning. You’ve made her very happy, Lilly, by agreeing to having our wedding at home on the Navajo Nation.”

“I’m glad.”

“It’s a generous thing you do for her. The place of the wedding is your decision and I know you didn’t have the reservation in mind when you agreed to marry me.”

“It’s important to your family,” she said. “There’s just Grandpa and me—you have all those Tahomas to contend with. It’s a good thing we won’t be using that traditional church seating of bride’s side and groom’s side—the bride’s side would be woefully vacant.”

“I love you for thinking of them. I’ll find something to do for you that will make you just as happy with me. I promise. Maybe you know of something….”

She looked briefly away. “We’ll talk about it sometime. Maybe when you’re all soft, sweet and vulnerable. After we make love… Before we make love again…”

He smiled at her. “You can tell me now. Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“I want you at my mercy first,” she said.

“Tell me. Tell me now so I can say yes and think all day about how you’re going to thank me.”

She shook her head and frowned slightly. “It might be something you can’t give me, Clay. It might be too much. You have your son, and Gabe is nearly an adult—he’s a man already. And even though I will think of Gabe as my son, also, I think I’d like a child of my own. A child with you. But maybe it’s a thing we should speak to Gabe about—it might seriously cramp his style.”

Clay smiled and ran a knuckle along her jaw. “I wish it could be a little girl with your witch’s blue eyes.”

“If I’m marrying into the Tahoma family, that seems very unlikely.”

“One can hope,” he said, giving her a brief kiss.

“You’ll consider it?” she asked him.

“I’ll promise it. I was too young to be a father with Gabe. At the time that was a difficult passage, but now I think I’m better prepared and there’s more time to enjoy a child.”

“Thank you, Clay. I hoped you’d say yes.”

“Lilly, I’d give you the moon if I could. Surely you know that.”

“How did I find you? You’re the best man. And the most beautiful.”

His mouth hovered over her lips. “We need to get that wedding done soon so we can get to work on a little Nava-Hopi,” he said. “I’m always hungry for you, always ready for you.”

She laughed at him. “I know this. Promise me that isn’t going to change too much after the vows.”

“I think that’s a promise I can safely keep.”

Someone cleared his throat and Clay looked toward the barn doors.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Colin Riordan said.

Clay laughed and after placing a sedate but affectionate kiss on Lilly’s brow, he moved away from her. “It’s probably a good thing, Colin. You saved me from even more unprofessional behavior.” He walked around the horse and stuck out his hand as he neared Colin. “My fiancée, Lilly. You caught us talking about the wedding. It tends to make me anxious.”

“As in nervous?” Colin asked.

Lilly just giggled and came toward Colin, as well. “Nice to meet you, Colin. And no, Clay isn’t nervous.”

“I want it official so Lilly’s grandfather can stop glaring at me and so my son, who just graduated from high school, can stop teasing me.”

“I think I understand. Does it happen soon?”

“Later in summer. We go home to the Navajo Nation where I have more family than I know what to do with. How have you been?”

“Excellent,” Colin said. “I dropped by to take you up on your offer, Clay. You mentioned you have a cousin with a gallery. If he’s willing, I’d like to talk to him, get his advice on what to do with my work.”

“Ah, the wildlife art. Of course. I think I have one of his cards. Excuse me just a moment.” Clay walked away and left Colin with Lilly.

“Your sister-in-law Shelby is a friend of mine—we’ve ridden together a few times,” Lilly said. “She talks about you and your astonishing work. How do you like the area?”

“More than I expected to,” he said. “It is really a very special place.”

“I’m glad you like it here. So, I understand you’re going to talk to Shiloh.”

“Shiloh?” he repeated.

“Clay’s cousin, the artist. Named for some Bible reference about the silent one or peaceful one. The Tahoma family is known for their involvement in many wars—right up to code talkers in World War II—and Shiloh came along during a peaceful time. He’s a Native artist, but what’s most interesting about him is that he also carries other art in his gallery that’s stunning. You can read about him and see some of his works online—Shiloh Tahoma. He’s regionally famous.”

“You’ve met him?” Colin asked.

“No,” she said. “I have a classical art education—I studied art history and modern art but I was naturally drawn to some of the Native artists. I will get to meet Shiloh at our wedding. According to Clay, the Tahomas are very big on births, deaths and weddings, so every relative will be there.”

He laughed out loud. “That describes the Riordan family exactly. Apparently the Irish and the Native community have a great deal in common.”

Clay returned with the business card. “Here you go. Call him, tell him we’re friends and ask him what he recommends. Shiloh is very successful in the art community now, but he’s been painting for a long time. Against much adversity, he seems to have found his niche and with that, success. You’ll find him very helpful.”

Colin studied the card, which was simple. It had a name, address, Web address and phone number. “Thank you. This is all new to me.”

“I saw your painting. I don’t know anything about art, but I don’t think it will be new to you for long,” Clay said. “Best of luck.”



By mid-June the weather in Virgin River had warmed considerably and Jillian’s gardens were beginning to flourish. Even the most delicate of her seeds had erupted into strong stalks and vines, coming alive with health and vitality, giving her great optimism. Flowers were in full bloom around the house in bright yellows, purples, reds and pinks; huge hydrangea and rhododendron shrubs added their colors of powder blue, lavender, pink and white. In the big open garden Jill clipped buds to strengthen the vines or stalks, delaying some fruit but hoping for a heavier crop when the plants were stronger. Green apples hung from the apple trees, and blackberries, still green, weighted down the bushes. The hanging baskets around the porch were sporting tomato vines and were speckled with small fruit, some already ripening.

It was during this time that Jill’s sister, Kelly, said she was taking a little time for herself and wanted to drive up to Virgin River to check things out.

“Either she’s way more concerned about me than she let on, or something else is going on—it’s like pulling teeth to get Kelly to take time away from the kitchen,” Jillian told Colin. “For at least the past ten years the only vacation of the year she’ll take is one week or so with me and our two best girlfriends, and we usually plan it for early fall.”

“Did you tell her you’re fine?” Colin asked.

“A hundred times. I want her to come, of course—I miss her. Finding time for each other with our demanding jobs has always been difficult—having her for a week will be heaven… As long as everything is okay.”

“I’m going to ask you something,” Colin said. “I want you to be completely honest with me. Would this be a good time for me to be scarce? Entertain myself so you and your sister can have some time alone?”

She almost jerked in surprise. “Are you kidding? I’m sure part of the reason she’s coming is to meet you! You don’t have to disappear.”

“Should I plan to sleep alone…?”

She laughed at him. “I think Kelly can handle the idea of us sharing a bed as long as we don’t embarrass her with the sounds of our wild lovemaking.” She ran her fingers over his lips. “We’ll find something to stuff in your mouth.”

“All right, consider this option—I’ve been meaning to make a road trip with my work. Lake Tahoe, Sedona, Albuquerque, Sante Fe…. I met a man while I was out painting in a pasture—a Native American guy who said his cousin is an artist with a gallery in Sedona and that Southwestern galleries were big on wildlife art. I looked at the cousin’s work online, emailed him, spoke to him on the phone and he recommended some other galleries as well as his own. I’ve been putting out feelers, but the bottom line is that I have to show original work. Since I have to take some representative work, I have to drive.” He noticed her eyes lit up. “It’s going to take me a week or so. I could meet your sister, spend a couple of days here while she’s visiting, then take off. You’ll have some privacy with her while I’m gone, but I wouldn’t be running out on you.”

“You’re going to do it, Colin? Get an opinion on your work?”

He nodded. “I’m curious, Jilly. But we could both be disappointed, you know. Could be I’m just a novice staying busy while my bones mend.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. But it really says something that you’re going to check it out anyway.”

“So you like that idea?”

“Spend a couple of days with us, two or maybe three, then head out on your road trip? I like that idea—but you have to promise to be in touch every day. I want to hear all about it. Everything, I want to know everything.”

He promised. “What’s Kelly like?” he asked.

“She’s very beautiful,” Jill said. “Maybe it’s for the best you’re only going to spend a couple of days with us—you might find yourself hopelessly in love with her.”

He couldn’t help it; his eyes got as big as hubcaps. “Whoa, Jilly! In my mind there isn’t anyone on earth more beautiful than you—inside and out.”

She smiled sweetly. “And this is why I let you hang around, Colin. Because you always say the most intelligent things.”



As Kelly made her way toward Virgin River she couldn’t help but wonder if her younger sister had found true love. Oh, she’d been told it was love with an expiration date, but would that really come to pass? If it was real, something would have to change. He would stay or she would give up her garden and go with him. Simple. If you found The One, you did what you had to do.

Fortunately for Kelly, she’d found The One. Unfortunately, he was not available to her. Professionally, they were close—he was a mentor and a good friend. They were in touch all the time and had many long discussions that always started with food and went from there. All Kelly could do was exactly what she was doing—perform as an exceptional sous-chef and try not to take these intense discussions too seriously or too personally. She tried not to let it show that he’d already swept her off her feet and she was consumed with him.

Luciano Brazzi, an Italian chef with his own restaurants and merchandising food products, was a wealthy man; a beautifully sexy man; a charismatic man who spoke to her inner chef and inner woman. He was eighteen years older than she, but it didn’t seem like there was an age difference at all and she knew in her heart that he would prove to be incredibly virile. “Italians, you understand, do not grow old there,” he once told her in a joking manner.

He romanced her with food and they often cooked together, either at her restaurant or in one of his kitchens. When they did, sometimes he would feed her, slipping a morsel past her lips. He loved to spoon tiny bites into her mouth; she fantasized about being free to let him kiss the taste from her lips. He shared his most secret recipes with her; she made some of her great-grandmother’s best for him. For chefs, this was almost as intimate as foreplay.

He praised her talent and promised to help her get her own kitchen, perhaps her own restaurant—something she’d lived for and worked toward for years. If anyone could make that happen, it was Luca; he was very influential and very rich.

She dreamed about what the sex would be like. They would surely come together like mating cyclones. She wanted him with all her heart. They seemed completely compatible.

But there was one glitch. He was married.

Now was a good time for Kelly to be away. It was to be a busy week in the Brazzi household. Luca’s children, who were either married or had been away at school, would all be at home and Luca would be completely unavailable. They wouldn’t even have a phone chat, much less a cooking session.

Kelly had heard all about Colin, but she’d kept Luca to herself. Kelly had never once mentioned his full name or the details of their professional friendship. Chances were good Jillian would have heard of him or even seen his name on the side of a deli container.

It wasn’t quite four in the afternoon when Kelly pulled up to the front of the Victorian. She parked and followed the drive around to the back where she thought she might find her sister—and she was right. She could see her prowling around a huge garden inside a five-foot cyclone fence with a large gate at each end. Kelly watched. Jillian would walk a few feet, crouch and examine a plant, pinch a bud or flower, stand to walk a few more feet, crouch again, and so on.

As she neared, Kelly saw that the garden flourished; some of the plants were growing tall, full and dark green. There were vines winding up parts of the fence and small trellises. Some plants were staked to hold them up, some had strong stalks, some were covered with porous cheesecloth, some were bushy. The rows were immaculate and the color rich.

“It actually looks like you know what you’re doing,” Kelly said.

Jillian jumped and whirled. “Kell!” Jillian ran down the row in her red rubber boots and cargo pants, out through the gate and threw herself on her sister, hugging her hard.

Kelly laughed and returned the hug. Then she held her sister away from her eyeing her gardening clothes. “Not exactly what I expected,” Kelly said, “but close. When was the last time you wore a bra or panty hose?”

“Panty hose—once. And a bra now and then. I have this sports thing on. It does the trick.”

Kelly just laughed. Then she turned full circle to take in the yard—things had certainly changed since she’d first seen it almost a year ago while out here on vacation with Jillian and their girlfriends. The house was beautifully groomed, for one thing—freshly painted and sparkling in the late-afternoon sun. There were two new aluminum storage sheds nestled between big trees and a road cut through the trees out back. Just then, she saw a young man on the road driving a golf cart toward them.

When he pulled up to Jillian and jumped out she said, “Denny, meet my sister, Kelly. Kelly, my assistant, Denny Cutler.”

Kelly put out her hand, but he just stared down at his. “Um,” he said, wiping it on his pant leg. “Sorry, I’m kinda dusty. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Kelly said with a laugh.

“Grab those flats off the bed, Denny,” Jillian said. “Jump in, Kell, and I’ll give you a tour. This is my garden-mobile.”

“This is quite the operation,” Kelly said as she climbed in beside her sister.

Jillian drove them through the trees to the back meadow. There were two freestanding greenhouses and just past them, someone had begun clearing another garden plot. “We put up these greenhouses a couple of months ago and are using lights and irrigation to start plants. We’ve been moving half of them into the outdoor garden and leaving half inside so we can monitor the difference in growth, gestation and quality. I have another shelter ready to put up when that plot is cleared, tilled and fertilized—but the new one is made of screen with retractable panels, and it’s very large. We might be trying it with smudge pots as the weather cools. Everything is experimental right now—but so far it’s working exactly as I’d hoped. We have some heartier early vegetables coming through and I’m cutting lettuce, pulling a few carrots and scallions, but the special heirloom starts are another month from appearing.”

Kelly gazed at her little sister in wonder. “Okay, I already know this, but tell me again how this all started.”

“I remembered being here last autumn with you and when I arrived here I just wanted to come over and see the back porch and garden, which was looking a little neglected. I was literally crying into the mud, crying over my losses in San Jose….”

“Kurt…?”

Jillian shook her head. “When you get down to it, it wasn’t about Kurt. I was upset over the demise of my career, my loss of innocence, missing my mentor—all the things I had put sixty to eighty hours a week into. I was so hurt and angry, and instinctively I started digging. Next thing I knew I was sitting at Jack’s bar having a glass of wine, talking about the stuff Nana used to grow and a guy at the bar asked me why I didn’t grow that stuff here. He said they grow pot year-round up here—using grow lights run on a generator. He said the special plant seeds I was talking about had to be available somewhere. I found them online, I ordered many varieties and I got moving.” She smiled. “I hired Denny so I could catch up with the planting season and I’m keeping him as long as I can.”

“And Colin?” she asked.

“Oh, I found him painting out back here. I was sitting up on the widow’s walk trying to figure out how to access this area through the thick trees when I noticed a guy had driven up here and was painting. He liked this meadow because it was large and there were no shadows from the trees. I clawed my way through to find out what he was doing here. And, little by little… Well, he’s the most wonderful man I’ve ever known.”

“When do I meet him?” Kelly asked.

“Now, if you’re ready. He’s here. Painting upstairs in the sunroom. Waiting for you to get here.”