Wild Man Creek

Fifteen




Denny Cutler had become a family man in a manner of speaking. He’d been “adopted” by the Sheridan family. He had dinner with the family at the Sheridan home about once a week. He’d play with the little kids, pushing them on their swings, chasing them around, helping them to get washed up for dinner and in their pajamas. From time to time he helped out at the bar, serving, bussing, hauling crates of glasses, cleaning out the ice chest. On weekends he would go out to the river with Jack for a little guy time. It wasn’t his first experience with an older male role model—there had been his mom’s onetime boyfriend, Dan Duke, also a very nice guy who seemed to genuinely care about Denny. Jack, however, was special to him. There was that blood bond.

While Jack was away checking on Rick and his grandmother, Denny worked double time. He stayed at the Sheridan house at night, minding the dog. Then he checked in with Jillian early in the day and got any particularly heavy work done around her gardens and greenhouses, but he was at the bar by noon so he could tend bar, serve and bus, making sure Preacher was covered. Jack had made sure supplies were in stock before he left, so in the afternoon when things were quiet at the bar, Denny took a run out to Jack’s house to let the dog out, did any chores that needed doing like hauling trash to the Dumpster in town. Then he was back at the bar before the dinner hour.

Mike Valenzuela helped him serve drinks and dinner and kept him company, but Denny was managing very well. His days were long and productive and he was proud of what he could do. In fact, when he thought back on his life, he thought maybe he’d reached a real high point. He was very attached to Jack and Mel, liked the town and the folks who dropped in, and he was into Jillian’s farm in a big way. The only things really missing for him were a place of his own that was a bit larger than the room above the Fitch’s garage. And a female; he’d like to have a serious girl in his life. Jack might’ve avoided commitment till he was forty but Denny didn’t necessarily want that life. He’d like a steady girl, plans for a family, the whole drill. There was nothing like that on the horizon, but Denny kept his eyes peeled.

Jack was back in the bar late Monday. “Well, stranger, welcome home,” Denny said. “You just get back?”

“At about five,” Jack said. “I got Mel and the kids settled and came to town to see how everyone was holding up.”

“I don’t think we’re ready for you to retire, but we got along all right,” Denny said.

“The dog’s alive and the house and yard have been kept real nice. Thanks, Denny. I really didn’t expect all that.”

Denny laughed. “You didn’t expect me to keep the dog alive?”

“I noticed you did a little trimming and cutting in the yard. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s the least I can do, Jack. Besides, I was glad to help out, and you know that.”

“You always do just a little more than you’re asked. You—”

“Jack, it’s the least I can do!” Denny said. “You know what I prepared myself for? For you to say, ‘Kid? I don’t want a kid, for sure not now!’ But you didn’t say that.” He smiled. “You’ve been awesome about this. And no kidding, I know I sneaked up on you with the news you’re my father.”

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s a fact.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask—you about ready to do that blood test?” Denny asked.

Jack lifted a brow. “Want a little confirmation?”

“I’m good. But I thought it might give you some peace of mind. Since you were the one who mentioned it.”

“That came from Mel, and since it came from Mel, I’ll ask her where she thinks we should go. How’s that?”

“Anytime you want,” he said. “This life? It’s pretty close to perfect. Not much missing,” Denny said.

“What’s missing, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“I could make do with a girlfriend,” he said with a handsome grin.

“You’re probably in the right place. They drop like flies around here.”

Denny laughed and said, “How’s Rick getting by?”

Jack shook his head in some bemusement. “Better than I expected. Lydie’s living with them in that little apartment and it’s working. They put her in the bedroom and Liz and Rick are on the pullout sofa. Lydie’s on some medication that’s slowing her down a little, but helping with those spells of delirium and anxiety. They have a facility lined up for her and should get her in within a couple of months—hopefully before the next semester of college starts for him. They’ve taken her to see it several times, trying to get her familiar with the place and, even though a lot of the patients are way worse off than she is, she seems to accept the idea. Lydie has always been brave about things like that. She’s always said she doesn’t want to be a burden.”

“But is she happy at all?”

“Well, there’s an upside for her. They have activities going on at the facility and not only is she closer to Rick and Liz, but once she’s a resident there, they’ll be able to visit her a lot more often than when she was in Virgin River. Lydie likes to stay busy—she likes playing cards and bingo and stuff. And Rick can swing by and spend a little time with her most days on his way home from school or work. He was going to go to school all summer, but he’s taken it off to see about Lydie. They’re doing real well with a batch of big adjustments—that’s the best anyone can ask.”

“Sounds like it’s gonna work out the best it can,” Denny said.

“Yeah. Sad time for Rick, but it’s not like it’s unexpected. With what Lydie’s gone through healthwise, we’re all real lucky she’s had what she considers to be a good, long life. That’s all anyone wants.”

Denny’s chin dropped briefly. He couldn’t help but think about his mom; she had always seemed strong and healthy, yet was taken from him way too soon. “Yeah.”

“Listen,” Jack said, pulling something out of his shirt pocket. “Here’s a little something for your work….” He slid a check, folded in half, across the bar toward Denny.

“Don’t even think about it,” Denny said with a laugh. “It’s a favor for a friend. You’d do the same for me.”

“Not exactly,” Jack said, trying to push it toward him again. “I’ll help out where I can, son, but if you get the flu or something, don’t expect to see me out at Jillian’s spreading chicken shit on her fancy plants.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her that,” Denny said, pushing the check back. “Get rid of it, Jack. We don’t have that kind of relationship.”

“I always paid Rick….”

“I don’t work for you, Jack. I just help out sometimes. Friend to friend.”

Jack was touched and it robbed him of words for a moment, something that didn’t often happen with Jack. “You know what, kid? The day you showed up here? That was one of my luckiest days. Thanks.”



June passed in a warm rush and by the first of July, Jillian was pulling and picking some of her earliest vegetables. The Roma tomatoes were healthy, deep red and delicious. Her miniature beets were in, as were carrots, scallions, leeks and some of her small eggplant. Together with Denny, they lifted one end of the fence and rerouted the pumpkin and melon vines so they wouldn’t overtake the garden; they could grow their large fruit outside the fence. Deer and bunnies wouldn’t bother with hard-shelled fruit.

“What does a person do with this?” Denny asked her, holding up a box of eggplant.

She smiled and said, “Kelly can make you fall in love with it. When I was little, we survived off Nana’s garden and didn’t know for years how truly rare and valuable some of the things she grew were. But this, sliced and with red gravy and cheese? Heaven. If I cooked, I’d show you. But… Tell you what—let’s put together a nice big box for Preacher and see what he can do with it.”

“How’d you survive on it? The plants are only fresh in July and August—with some September crop—that’s only two or three months of the year.”

“She canned. She reused the same jars year after year and she bought new seals for just pennies, and through the winter we ate what she’d grown in the summer. She had recipes for relishes, salsa, sauces, vegetables and so on and Kelly is the proud owner of all those recipes now. My nana’s canned carrots were to die for. Pickled asparagus—the end of the earth. Onions and peppers—astonishing. That’s exactly why I’m sending some of this stuff to Kelly—she’ll know better than anyone if I’m on the right track here.”

“The Russian Rose isn’t in…”

“It’s green and it’s heavy, almost too heavy for the stalk, as is the Purple Calabash. Give ’em three more weeks and I bet we hit the jackpot.”

“But, Jillian,” Denny said, “I don’t think we’re making it with the asparagus….”

She laughed. “It takes a good three years to get an asparagus bed, but once you achieve it, you’ve got asparagus forever. Cover it, deprive it of sunlight, and it’s white. It’s a natural companion plant for tomatoes—it repels the tomato beetles.” She smiled at him. “Check out those brussels sprouts. By the end of September—by pumpkin time—I’m going to have a lot of them.”

“But…” She eyed him and noticed he was frowning slightly. “Is it working?” he asked.

“Yes!” she said emphatically. “Yes, Denny! It’s working! Oh, I think I missed the boat on a few plants, but most of this stuff is coming in strong. And there are lots of things I haven’t tried yet.”

“But… But can you make money?”

She laughed at him. “The most important part of the equation isn’t how much money you can make right away. We already know if it’s done right there’s money in it. Right now the important thing is, can we develop the product! That takes commitment. It takes patience and determination. When I went to work for BSS we had investment seed money, some support staff and some software engineers. We had a business plan and a product in production—accounting and money management programs. Five years later we had one of the biggest IPO’s in the industry.”

“IPO?”

“We were selling our software products at a profit and took the company public—Initial Public Offering. We’d been in business long enough to turn a consistent profit and did that with a skeleton crew and inventors. Now, for this garden, look at it this way—we need to know what we can grow, whether it’s desirable and delicious, who wants it, how much it brings the company, and then we concentrate on the most profitable crop. You know why we can afford to do that? Because it’s me and you and we’re concentrating on a good balance between generic and the rare, exotic stuff. And because we understand that this takes time and dedication.”

“Right…” he said.

“Ultimately, this farm will have to expand. But that’s something to worry about when we’ve perfected the product.”

“Expand to where?”

She tilted her head. “First we’ll clear the back meadow, then the land to the east, then we might terrace down the hill to the west. One thing at a time. Come on—let’s cut open some Sugar Baby watermelons and see where we stand.”

“Sure,” he said, going outside the fence to pluck one. “Largest or smallest?”

“Hmm. Grab one right in the middle. We’re going to collect a couple from each plant type for tasting—then we’ll put together a large box for Preacher to work on. Maybe for the Fourth of July picnic in town. Damn, I wish I was a baker like Kelly—the rhubarb is coming up and my great-grandmother’s rhubarb pie was to die for.”

Denny chuckled. “Well, I think I’m glad you’re the farmer. It never once crossed my mind to do something like this and now I keep hoping those other jobs I applied for don’t come through anytime soon. At least not while we still have harvesting to do.”

“We’ll be harvesting straight into October, young man. And in September it’s time to plan the winter garden. We’re going to see what we can produce in greenhouses. These small, portable eight-by-twelves are functional and cheap, and if they serve our purposes, I can invest in large custom shelters like you would see in an established commercial farm. But, one thing at a time.”



One of the first things Jack had added to his bar when the building was complete was a large brick barbecue. It allowed Preacher to turn steaks and hamburgers outside and host summer gatherings in the big yard behind the bar. He and Preacher had initiated the annual Fourth of July barbecue just a couple of years ago. They had added some picnic tables and had plenty of space, especially with the bar, porch and churchyard next door. They filled a couple of big plastic trash cans with ice and added canned sodas, beer and bottled water. There were several vintners in the area and some would bring wine, uncork the red and let it breathe on picnic tables; uncork the white and chill it in the ice. If they moved a few tables from inside the bar and set up a buffet outside, people filled them with pot-luck items. As for Jack and Preacher, their job was to turn burgers and dogs on the grill. All day long.

Even though they had the picnic tables, people tended to bring their lawn chairs and blankets—there would never be enough seating. And it didn’t take any time at all for events like this and like Buck Anderson’s end-of-summer picnic to become traditions. “I could use your help around the grill, if you’re not too busy,” Jack told Denny. “Especially since Rick isn’t going to be here this year.”

“I bet you really get to missing him,” Denny said.

“I sometimes miss his company, but he’s in a good place in his life. It’s a lot easier on me than getting a phone call from Iraq that he’s in a hospital in Germany and might not make it. Right now he’s healthy and happy, even with Lydie declining. I can live with that easy.”

So Denny was posted at the grill with Preacher and Jack, sometimes running back and forth to the kitchen for more buns and meat to grill. And Jack was grateful to have him there, helping out. Jack figured he’d been damn lucky with the people in his life. He had good, solid extended family in his dad and sisters, he had his Marine brothers, he had Mel and the little ones, he’d discovered Rick when the boy was only thirteen and now—Denny.

Jack kept an eye on the gathering crowd—even Aiden and Erin Riordan had decided to make the drive up from Chico for a mini reunion. It made him grin to see Colin and Jillian arrive holding hands—that guy must be down for the count. All the usual suspects were present—Paul Haggarty and his family; the town minister and his family; his sister Brie and her husband and daughter; Cameron and Abby Michaels with their twins….

And then the couple he’d been watching for. Darla and Phil Prentiss came walking from down the street; Phil was carrying their little son, Jake. Jack’s glance shot to his wife and watched as Mel slowly rose from a picnic table and moved toward them. Her back had been to the road and it was as if some kind of maternal radar had tipped her. She was smiling as her arms reached out for Darla and after the women hugged, Mel automatically reached for that baby.

Mel was smiling, laughing, cuddling the baby. He let out his breath in a long, even sigh. This was the way she acted with every baby. She loved babies.

Almost a year ago Mel had it in her head she needed another baby. It was quite a trial for them, a real strain on their marriage. First she wanted one of their own with a surrogate, then she met a young couple looking for adoptive parents for their baby and Mel was all over that. It took her a while to get things into perspective—they had a good marriage and a couple of kids. And her good friends, Darla and Phil, had been trying to adopt and here was this very special young couple, Marley and Jake, needing parents for the baby that was coming while they were unmarried, too broke and too young.

Mel had seen the new baby before today, but Jack had to admit he held his breath each time Mel came in contact with the baby she more or less passed over to Darla and Phil. He hoped they’d survived that passage and Mel was now content with life as it was for them. He thought so, but he’d learned not to take things like women’s emotions or whims for granted.

He reached into one of the big buckets, fished out a beer, held it up and gestured toward Phil. Phil spotted him, smiled, gave his wife a kiss on the cheek and headed toward Jack. Phil took the beer with one hand, reached out to shake Jack’s with the other. “Gotta love a mind reader,” Phil said.

“I’m a bartender,” Jack answered. “I figure you either need to drink or talk. So, how’s parenthood treating you these days?”

“Well, let’s see. Jake wakes up about five times a night and neither one of us has it in us to let him cry himself to sleep. I guess that means it’s going pretty well. For him, anyway.” He took a slug of beer. “Let me ask you something, you being an experienced father. Is this going to pass before he goes off to college?”

“Couldn’t tell you. Now that both my kids are out of cribs and in their big beds, they don’t cry so much, but they wander into our room and sneak in with us. Sometimes Emma has a nighttime accident…almost always on my side.”

Phil laughed loudly at that.

“Something I’ve been wondering, Phil. That young couple, Jake’s biological parents, do you know if they’re doing all right?”

“We haven’t heard from them in a few months. They’re in Oregon working and going to school as far as I know, unless they’re back in California for the summer. I’ll tell you this—it was real hard for them to go after the baby was born, until I said something like, ‘I reckon there’s no law that says the boy has to be eighteen before he knows about his biological parents. It should be whenever he asks, provided he’s old enough to understand the answer.’ That seemed to ease things up for ’em.”

Jack pondered this for a moment. “That was a generous thing to say,” he said. “And naming the kid after his biological father—that had to have made the boy proud.”

“We liked the name. And it was Darla who said it might help the young father trust us a little more. Trust that we’d keep our word and be sure they’re informed about their child.”

“I’m glad this worked out, Phil. I hate to think I’m going through the rigors of fatherhood alone.” He grinned. “Misery loves company.”

“Well, get this—we still have our application for adoption out there. I don’t know if it’ll bring anything—these things tend to happen if they’re supposed to. But if we get another one or two, we won’t complain.”

“Good for you, man. I hope you get a bunch of ’em.”

“Thanks.” Then he shook his head sentimentally. “That Darla—she’s so fantastic with little Jake. Any kid who gets her for a mom has it made. Darla always says the best thing you can give a child you love is happy memories and a foundation they can be proud of.”

Something like a bugle started to sound inside Jack’s brain. He barely heard as Phil continued to brag about his wife.

“We were young when we got married—God must’ve given her to me because I guarantee you I wasn’t smart enough to know what I was doing.”

“Right,” Jack said absently. “I mean, you’re still not all that smart,” he added with a smile. Then he dug into that big can and pulled out his own beer. Suddenly he remembered her. He remembered Susan. Like it was yesterday.



Colin Riordan was standing around with his brothers Aiden and Luke in a little group that included Brett on his father’s hip, talking about the fact that Maureen and George had taken the motor coach north to Vancouver, looking for some cooler temperatures in July.

“So—Erin wants you all to come out to the cabin for dinner tomorrow if you can get away—we’ll grill some salmon. We’re staying until next Sunday. Marcie and Ian might come up for a long weekend—it’s still up in the air for them. And Erin wants to see this big house of Jillian’s.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Colin said. “Her gardens are flush right now. Some of the early stuff is in and I swear, it ripens as you watch. Maybe you can talk her out of some vegetables.”

“You still have your cabin?” Aiden asked.

“Sure,” he said. “I’m mostly at Jillian’s, though. Two reasons—she has a dynamite sunroom on the second floor—a great place to paint. And she’s busy with the farm all day long, especially now that they’re watching every plant to see if it’s ready. Well,” he added, “three reasons—that’s where Jill is.” Then he smiled. “Oh, by the way, Luke, I already mentioned this to Aiden but haven’t told you yet—in a couple of months I’m taking off for Africa.”

Luke actually spewed a mouthful of beer and started choking. “Africa?” he finally got out when he recovered.

“Yep. I’m all booked on a couple of safaris in the Serengeti—mainly to photograph big game for models. But I’m also going to check out some of their air cargo and touring companies.” He shrugged. “I might get in some flying time over there.”

“Jesus, how long are you staying?”

“About six months.”

“And then?”

“Depends. If I have a flying job I like, it could be longer. Or I could go somewhere else. I’m going to have to get something on the résumé that looks a little better than rehab if I ever want to work in this country. I’m thinking they don’t look too closely when hiring bush pilots.”

“Man, aren’t you just full of surprises,” Luke said.

“And that gallery owner I told you about? The one I left my paintings with? I gave him your address. I don’t expect a check, but hey. You never know. When I figure out where I’m going to be, I’ll get you an address.”

“You’re not coming back?” Luke asked, astonished.

“I’m sure I’ll visit. But I’m not planning to live around here. You knew that.”

“Yeah, but does Jillian know that?”

“Sure. She understands. I need to fly. I need to do things like go to Africa. I’m not ready to retire.”

“You sure she understands?” Luke asked. “You two look pretty tight.”

“I’m crazy about her, but… Look, I didn’t say anything about Africa because even though I had the ticket I was still limping and I know you, Luke. You were going to give me a lot of shit about it, about not being ready. I’m ready. And I really need a little action.”

“Have you seen a doctor?”

“More or less,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve been getting my shots. For travel, you know.”

Luke looked at Aiden. “And you knew about this?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” he said without answering the question. “Colin wants to see if there’s something left from before that accident—something he can still recover. Flying for one thing. Not just flying, but exciting flying. I feel better about Africa than Afghanistan when you get down to it.”

“And everyone knew but me?” Luke asked.

Colin smiled at his brother. “Only you and Aiden know. I should call Mom, Paddy and Sean. But there’s plenty of time—I leave September first.”

“Aw, Colin, you can’t really be leaving Jillian,” Luke said. “Listen, that might be your biggest mistake right there. You’re a whole new man since you found her.”

“We’ll be in touch,” he said. “In fact, she even got me the newest iPhone just in case I have trouble with email in some places. She wants to see whatever pictures I get. And I haven’t figured it out yet, but I think there’s a live video feed between cell phones. And the travel agent I used said they have disposable international cell phones—like we used in Iraq and Afghanistan. Who knows—maybe she’ll visit me, I’ll visit her. But I agree with you—she’s good people.” He turned to look at Aiden. “When do you want to bring Erin over to see the house and gardens?”

“In a couple of days. After we have dinner at the cabin?”

“Great. I’ll see what I can do to pilfer some of her homegrown stuff to add to the dinner. She’s starting to pull salad out of the ground most nights. I’ll go tell her.”

When Colin walked over to where the women sat on a blanket and talked, Luke turned to Aiden and said. “Big mistake. Big.”

Aiden just smiled. “Me knowing that and you knowing that doesn’t mean a thing. The person who’s going to have to find that out is Colin. And trust me, there’s no telling him.”

“I’m going to have a talk with him,” Luke said.

“Ah, listen, Luke. Let it be. It’s not going to matter. Especially coming from you.”

“The hell!”

Aiden lifted one dark, expressive brow. “You’re the guy who almost let Shelby get away. Don’t act like you know what you’re doing now. If she hadn’t come back from Hawaii and wrestled you to the ground, you’d probably still be one sick, messed-up, half-suicidal son of a bitch. I’m saying let him do what he’s going to do. If you’re going to be there for anyone, consider being there for Jillian. If she cares about him half as much as it appears she does, his leaving isn’t going to feel too good.”