“And these plans?”

“Well, first of all, when my lease on the cabin is up at the end of summer, I’m headed for Africa. I’ve never been there. I want to see as much of it as I can, but I’m planning to do two things for sure—take pictures of wildlife in the Serengeti and check out their aviation installations, see if they need any helicopter pilots. Bush pilots.”

Aiden tilted his head with a nod. “That’s not too shocking for me to handle. Not like the boys in this family haven’t been all over the world. You’re still thinking about this?”

“Nope. I have a ticket—September 1. I’m planning to give the African continent six months—I know they have safari and hunting companies that use commercial helicopters. Since a lot of their clientele are Americans, Canadians and Europeans, an American pilot might come in handy. They even have a couple of aviation ministries that regularly look for pilots, but they pretty much stick to religious guys.”

“So,” Aiden said, “six months and you’re back state-side?”

“No telling,” Colin said, shaking his head. “If I don’t find what I’m looking for in Africa, there are lots of other places to explore, to experience, and while I’m at it, places where I can look for work. Alaska, Costa Rica, Australia and New Zealand, maybe India. I’m into the animals, Aiden, not the sunsets.”

“What about the painting?”

“The painting is good—feeds something in me, but I’m not sure what. I think eventually I’ll paint full-time, and that’s one of the reasons I want to take photographs in the Serengeti and hopefully the Amazon—the pictures could keep me busy painting for a long time. But I’m not ready to give up my lifestyle to paint every day. As long as I can travel and fly, painting is good for me. As a steady diet? Just not enough.”

The expression around Aiden’s eyes was almost sad. “I get it,” he said. “It’s how you’ve always lived—I get that. What about Jillian?”

Colin smiled sentimentally. “You just can’t imagine how incredible she is. She understands and encourages me to do this. She wants me to be sure I’ve done what I have to do to get my life back. It’ll be hard to say goodbye, but I’m going to stay in touch with her. There’s email, live video feed, international cell phones. Until we get bored with the long distance, or she meets someone who is better for her, I’m not planning on just giving her up.” He shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe Jilly will get tired of her funky little tomatoes and decide to come with me? She’s a risk taker at heart—she’s not afraid of anything.”

Aiden was contemplative for a moment before he said, “Hmm. Sounds like a good plan.”

Colin sat straighter. “Seriously?”

Aiden just shrugged and smiled.

“No lecture about leaving a good woman just for travel and good times?”

Aiden chuckled. “Colin, if it turns out you love that woman,” he said, tilting his head toward Jillian, “you’ll learn a lot more if you actually leave her than you will if you give up your plans to stay with her. I just hope your instincts and timing are real, real good because if they’re not, the agony of the last year is going to seem like a picnic compared to trying to make a life without the other half of your heart.”

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.”