Kitabı oku: «Angel's Peak»
Praise for New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author
ROBYN CARR
“An intensely satisfying read. By turns humorous and gut-wrenchingly emotional, it won’t soon be forgotten.”
—RT Book Reviews on Paradise Valley
“Carr has hit her stride with this captivating series.”
—Library Journal
“The Virgin River books are so compelling—I connected instantly with the characters and just wanted more and more and more.”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber
“Robyn Carr creates strong men, fascinating women and a community you’ll want to visit again and again. Who could ask for more?”
—New York Times bestselling author Sherryl Woods
“A thrilling debut of a series that promises much to come.”
—New York Times bestselling author Clive Cussler
“A warm, wonderful book about women’s friendships, love and family. I adored it!”
—Susan Elizabeth Phillips on The House on Olive Street
Robyn Carr
Angel’s Peak
For Beki Keene, who remembers every detail.
Thank you for your lovely, committed, loyal
friendship. I treasure every e-mail and visit.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Acknowledgments
One
Once the sun went down in Virgin River there wasn’t a whole lot of entertainment for Sean Riordan, unless he wanted to sit by the fire at his brother Luke’s house. But sitting all quiet and cozy while Luke and his new wife, Shelby, snuggled and said sweet little things to each other was a special kind of torment he could do without. Sometimes they just faked being tired so they could slip off to bed at eight o’clock at night. More often than not Sean just made it easy on them—he’d head over to a larger town on the coast where he could enjoy the sights and do a little window-shopping, maybe meet a woman of his own.
Sean was a U-2 pilot stationed at Beale Air Force Base in Northern California, a few hours south of Virgin River. He had accumulated a ton of vacation and could only carry over ninety days to the next fiscal year, so he had a couple of months to kill. His brother had just gotten married and Sean had been his best man. After the wedding, Sean decided to stay on in Virgin River and use up some of his leave. Given the fact that Luke and Shelby had been together about a year, Sean didn’t feel as if he was interfering with the honeymoon by hanging around. All that loveydovey stuff was not so much about them sealing the deal, as it was about them still being hot to trot, as if they’d just met.
And there was a lot of talk about baby making, something that surprised Sean about Luke. However, Luke’s willingness to step up and try to nail that egg, night after night after night, that did not surprise Sean in the slightest.
During the daytime, Sean always had lots to do. There was plenty of upkeep on the cabins Luke and Sean had bought together as an investment and which Luke now managed and rented full-time. There was hunting and fishing—it was still deer season—and the salmon and trout were fat; the river ran practically outside the front door. Luke and his helper, Art, were catching so many fish that Luke had to buy a shed, run some wiring to it from the house and invest in a big freezer.
There was no denying the appeal of the Virgin River area for a guy with time on his hands. Sean was an outdoorsman at heart and the October colors in the mountains were awesome. It wouldn’t be all that long before the first snowfall, and soon after that he would have to get back to Beale. So, in the meantime, all he wanted to do was find a nice bar with a fireplace to relax next to—one without his brother and sister-in-law cuddling up in front of it.
“Ready for another drink, pal?” the bartender asked him.
“I’m good, thanks. I didn’t come in here to check out the architecture, but the detailed carving in this place is impressive,” Sean replied.
The bartender laughed. “Two things are obvious about you. You’re not from around here and you’re military.”
“Okay, I admit the haircut is a giveaway. But the rest—?”
“This is lumber country and this bar is wall-to-wall oak. When it was built, the wood was probably cheaper than the nails. The craftsmanship? Common around here. So, what brings you to town?”
Sean took a sip of his beer. “Burning off some leave. Visiting my brother. I have a little over six weeks of leave left. I used to hit the bars with my brother, but his running days are over.”
“War injury?” the bartender asked.
“Battle of the sexes. He just got married.”
The bartender whistled. “My condolences.”
Tonight Sean had landed in a large upscale bar and restaurant in Arcata. He occupied a spot at the end of the bar where he could get a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree view of the place. So far it appeared as if all the women were with husbands or dates, but that didn’t diminish his pleasure—Sean wasn’t always looking for a pickup. Sometimes it was nice to simply appreciate the view. Since he was going to be spending some time in this part of the world, he wasn’t opposed to the idea of getting to know a girl, take her out, maybe even get a little up close and personal.
All such thoughts were suddenly stopped and were replaced by, Ah! Looks like I just hit the jackpot.
There was a ripple of female laughter as the door swung open and a group of women, who were obviously having a good time, entered. Even across the large restaurant, he could appreciate their assets. The first one was short, dark, a little on the round side and deliciously so. She appeared lush and soft and brought a smile to Sean’s lips. The second one was tall, thin, athletic looking, with straight, silky, unfussy blond hair. Obviously a gymnast or runner—a fine-looking woman. Next came a medium-sized redhead with a curvaceous figure, twinkling eyes and a bright smile. A feminine smorgasbord, he thought appreciatively. Sean did not discriminate—he was attracted to all kinds of women, not just one type. Next was—
Franci?
Nah, couldn’t be, he told himself. He was just hallucinating again. He thought he’d seen her many times before but it was never her. Besides, Franci wore her hair long and straight and this woman’s mahogany hair was in one of those hyper-short cuts that, on anyone else, might look butch, but on her? Oh, man, it just couldn’t get any sexier. It made her dark eyes look huge. The woman shed her coat and she was thinner than Franci, but not by that much. But her eyebrows were exactly the same as Franci’s—a nice, thin, provocative arch over those big, heavily lashed eyes. It got him missing Franci all over again.
She slid out of her coat and revealed a filmy dress. Maybe not filmy, but certainly silky. It was dark purple and fell loosely from her shoulders and was belted at the waist, then flowed again to her knees. The dress accentuated her perfect breasts, narrow waist, slim hips and long legs. Franci had rarely worn dresses but Sean hadn’t minded—her long legs and tight butt in a pair of fitted slacks used to blow his mind. But this dress was good. Very good.
The four women took a table near the front of the restaurant by the window. They were carrying boxes, shopping bags and party bags—a birthday dinner out? The one who looked like his old girlfriend crossed her legs and revealed a slit in the skirt of that dress that exposed a scrumptious thigh. Whoa. His eyes were glued to that shapely leg. His groin tightened.
Then she laughed. God, it was Franci. If that wasn’t Franci, it was her twin. The way she tilted her head back and let go was a laugh with passion. Franci had always laughed from deep inside her. That was how she cried, too.
Sean was suddenly infused with mixed emotions—remembering the wonderful laughs they’d shared in bed after their typically great sex counterbalanced with how he remembered making her cry, and he was sorry he had ever made Franci cry.
Well, hell, he might have made her cry, but hadn’t she infuriated him until he wanted to punch a hole in the wall? She could be maddening. Why was that again? He’d think of it, given a minute. That had been almost four years ago. What was she doing here in Arcata? After the breakup—which had been ugly—he’d looked for her. But he had let too much time slip by before doing so and she wasn’t where he expected her to be. They’d met in Iraq when he was deployed in the F-16 and she was an air force flight nurse who regularly appeared to take the injured out of the theater. Later, when he’d been transferred to Luke Air Force Base in Phoenix as an instructor in the same jet, she was there, assigned as a nurse in the base hospital. They had dated exclusively for two years when a big shift occurred in their individual lives—her service commitment was up and she was planning to separate from the air force and return to civilian life. He was going to cross-train in the U-2 high-altitude reconnaissance aircraft—the spy plane. He didn’t see how either of those events should effect any change. He told her he’d be relocating to Beale AFB in Northern California. He thought she could probably find work there if she was interested.
That had been the beginning of the end. After dating for two years, she, at twenty-six, was ready for a commitment. She wanted marriage and a family, and he didn’t. Well, there was nothing new there—she’d been honest about that since the beginning of their relationship. Franci had always hoped to marry and have children. And that wasn’t something he needed more time to consider—he really didn’t see himself settling into that sweet little domestic trap. Ever. She’d been good about not pushing that too hard, but she’d never backed down, either. For Sean’s part, he was monogamous. He told her he loved her because he did. If he occasionally glanced at and appreciated a pretty girl, it went no further. Even though they each maintained their own home, they spent every night together unless one of them was away from the base. But when it came to marriage and children, she was in, and he, at twenty-eight, was out.
She had said something like, “It’s time to take this relationship to the next level or end it completely.”
You don’t want to be drawing a line in the sand in front of a young fighter pilot. Jet jockeys didn’t take orders from girlfriends. Of course, it was no surprise that they fought and he made her cry with senseless, stupid comments like, “Not in this lifetime, babe. If I were interested in getting married, we’d be married,” and, “Look, I’m just flat-ass not doing the rug-rats thing, all right? Even with you.” Oh, yeah, he was brilliant.
She had said things, also in anger, probably things she didn’t mean. Well, that wasn’t exactly correct, as he recalled now, looking across a crowded room at her as she laughed and talked with her girlfriends. “Sean, if you let me go now I’ll be so gone—you’ll never see me again. I need a committed partner or I’m taking the walk.”
And Sean, being the cocky genius he was, said, “Oh, yeah? Don’t let the door hit you in the ass.” He winced at the memory.
They had gone their separate ways, bitterly. He went to Beale because it looked as if getting a promotion and command position in the U-2 was more likely than in the highly competitive F-16. He was an Air Force Academy graduate; becoming a general was in his sites if he made the right moves. Franci had exited the air force.
Sean assumed, incorrectly, that he’d be able to find her at her mother’s, or at least near her mother’s, in Santa Rosa. A few months later, when his training in the new aircraft was complete and he was ready to talk about their situation, sanely and calmly, she was long gone. So was her mother. And there appeared to be no forwarding address.
So, flash-forward four years. Arcata, California? It really didn’t make sense, but that woman across the room was definitely Franci Duncan. He could tell it was her by the way his heart pounded and he felt hot all over. And by the way he was fighting an erection just looking across the room at her.
She and her friends had all ordered frothy after-dinner drinks, and were joking with the young waitress. They leaned toward one another to whisper, sitting back to laugh—they were gossiping and having fun. One member of the group pulled a silky wrap out of a colorful bag and put it around her shoulders, admiringly. The birthday girl? There weren’t any men around them and he could only pick out one wedding ring in the group, and it wasn’t on Franci’s hand. Not that it meant anything; people didn’t necessarily wear wedding rings all the time these days.
“You still okay on that drink, pal?” the bartender asked to no avail.
As Sean watched the proceedings he missed her so bad he ached with it. Letting her get away was one of the great tactical errors of his adult life. He should have found a way to convince her they’d be fine together without marriage, without a bunch of ankle-biters. But at twenty-eight, pumped up on his fighter-pilot prowess, he’d been overconfident. He had especially not been ready for some woman to be calling the shots. Now, at thirty-two, he realized how stupid he’d been at twenty-eight. In those four years there had been other women, and not one of them had come close to what he’d felt for Franci. For what he’d felt with Franci. And he was willing to bet she hadn’t found anyone as good, either.
He was hoping that. He probably shouldn’t bet on it. Franci was incredible; there had probably been a long line of able-bodied, good-looking, more-than-willing men lined up at her front door—wherever that was.
“You still on my planet, pal?” the bartender asked.
“Huh?”
“Seems like something besides my skill at pouring a drink has your attention.”
“Yeah,” he said, looking back at Franci. “I think maybe I know one of them,” he said, tilting his head toward the table of women.
“How’s your drink?”
“I’m good,” Sean said, his eyes uncontrollably drawn to the woman across the room.
The women had a second order of frothy coffees. There was a lot more laughing, talking, rummaging through the gifts, and they were oblivious to anything else happening in that bar. They certainly weren’t trolling for guys. They never even glanced toward the bar.
If she looked his way, even once, he’d have to think of something clever to say. He’d have to smile, walk confidently across the room to their table, say hello and get friendly. He’d have to make them laugh and like him, because he couldn’t let her get out of here without finding out where she lived. She might be visiting one of those women, which meant that after she left, she’d be totally gone again. He couldn’t let that happen. He needed to see her, talk to her. Touch her. Hold her.
“Why don’t you go over there? Say hello?” the bartender asked.
He looked up at his new friend. “Yeah…well…The last time we talked, I wasn’t her favorite person.”
The bartender laughed. “Hard to imagine,” he said.
Sean had been staring at that table of women for a long time and the bartender was probably watching that, in case he turned out to be some kind of pervert. Sean turned on the charm; he cheered up real fast so he didn’t look so intense. “Hey, I should settle up and get going, even if the scenery in here is incredible.” He put some money on the bar, including a nice tip, and left without finishing his drink. He walked out with his head down, trying not to attract any attention.
It was colder than usual on the coast this October night. He wandered across the street, where he could keep an eye on the front door. He hoped they quit the bar before he froze to death. It made him sick to think she might get away from him.
He made up his mind and it took him less than fifteen seconds to decide—he really needed to see if he could get things straightened out with Franci. They should be together. He just hoped she would see it that way.
He actually said a prayer. There had to be a patron saint to ignorant, immature playboys, right? Saint Hugh? Saint Don Juan? Whomever…give me a break here and I’ll change my ways. I swear. I won’t be overconfident; I’ll be sensitive. We’ll negotiate and get back to what we had before…And then it happened. The four women came out the front door of the restaurant, one of them toting her presents. They lingered, laughed some more, hugged and then they went their separate ways. Two went left, two went right. At the end of the block, Franci and her friend went in opposite directions, and Sean, feeling as if this was the one chance in his lifetime, hotfooted it after her.
He had just about caught up to her when she was unlocking the door of a small silver sedan. “Franci?” he called out.
She jumped, turned and stared at him, wide-eyed.
“It is you,” he said, taking a few steps nearer to her. “Your hair—wow. Threw me off for a minute.”
She looked almost frightened at first. But then she seemed to compose herself, though she shivered from the cold and pulled her coat tighter around her. “Sean?”
“Yeah,” he said, laughing. “I can’t believe I’m running into you here, of all places.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked, not looking thrilled to see him.
“Remember Luke? Remember, I told you we bought some old cabins together a long time ago? Long before I met you. Well, he got out of the army and came up here to work on ’em.”
“Here?” she asked, aghast. She pulled her coat tighter. “Those cabins are here?”
“Back in the mountains, along the Virgin River,” he said. “I was just burning some leave, visiting him. I came over here for dinner.”
She looked around. “Where’s Luke?” she asked. “Is he with you?”
“No.” He laughed. “Married. Recently married. I try to get out of their hair in the evening because they…” He stopped and laughed silently, shaking his head. Then he looked at her face. “You look great. How long have you been here? In Arcata?”
“I, ah, I don’t actually live in Arcata. I was just meeting some friends for dinner. Everything all right with you? With your family?”
“Everyone is good,” he said. He took another step toward her. “Franci, let me buy you a cup of coffee. Let’s catch up a little.”
“Ah…No, I don’t think so, Sean,” she said, shaking her head. “I’d better get—”
“I looked for you,” he said impulsively. “To say it was a mistake, the way we broke up. We should talk. There might be things we can work out that we were both too stubborn to—”
“Listen, don’t even go there, Sean. It’s all in the past. No hard feelings,” she said. “So good luck and good—”
“Are you married or something?” he asked.
She was startled. “No. But I’m not looking to go back to the discussion that ended us. Maybe you were able to just blow it off, but I—”
“I didn’t blow it off, Franci,” he said. “I looked for you and couldn’t find you anywhere. That’s why I want to talk.”
“Well, I don’t,” she said. She opened her car door. “I think you’ve probably said enough on that subject.”
“Franci, what the fuck?” he asked, confused and a little angry by her immediate rebuff. “God, can’t we have a conversation? We were together for two years! It was good, me and you. We never had anyone else, either one of us, and—”
“And you said it wasn’t going any further.” She stiffened her back. “In fact, that was one of the nicer things you said. I’m glad you’re doing fine—you look just the same, happy as can be. Say hello to your mother and brothers. And really, don’t push this. We decided. We’re over.”
“Come on. I don’t believe you mean that,” he said.
“Believe it,” she shot back. “You made a decision—you didn’t want a commitment to me. And here you are—you don’t have one. Bye. Take care.”
She got in her car and slammed the door. He took two giant steps forward and heard the door locks click into place. She backed out of her parking space quickly and drove away. He memorized the license number, but the most important thing he noticed was that it was a California plate. She might not live in Arcata, but she lived close enough to drive over for dinner.
Now that he’d seen her, he knew what he’d long suspected. He was far from over her.
Franci’s hands trembled so much, she found it hard to drive. She always knew there was a chance she would bump into him someday, though she carefully avoided the most obvious places where that could happen. But she had never, never expected him to want to talk about it, to talk about them!
And when she thought of the months she had prayed for that talk to happen, it caused her vision to blur with gathering tears. Angry tears! She pursed her lips and thought, No! She’d cried enough over him; he wouldn’t get the benefit of one more tear.
Franci left Phoenix after their breakup and went home to Santa Rosa to work as a civilian nurse in a hospital. She had lived with her mother. Almost a year later, she got a good job that fed her addiction to adrenaline—a flight nurse position with a helicopter transport unit. Less demanding work hours, good benefits, more opportunities—but it meant a move. Because she had her bachelor of science in nursing, she was able to teach a couple of courses at Humboldt U in Arcata, perhaps building a future in academia.
Her mom, a family-medicine physician’s assistant, had been ready for a change. Vivian found a position in a family-medicine clinic in Eureka. An excellent position. Vivian’s hours were more demanding—full-time, in fact. So the two of them moved north together, closer to Vivian’s job than Franci’s, and twice a week, Franci drove over the mountains to Redding to pull a twenty-four-hour shift as a flight nurse. Most of her flights were routine patient transport via helicopter—getting a heart or C-section patient out of a small-town hospital to a larger facility where special surgery could be performed. But occasionally she was on board for an emergency—victims of a wildfire, car accidents in isolated parts of the mountain terrain, injuries requiring emergency surgery. She had loved in-flight nursing in the air force and had missed it. This new job fit the bill. She bought a cute little house on the outskirts of Eureka in the kind of quiet, lovely neighborhood she most enjoyed and, until tonight, she thought her life was nearly perfect.
Looked for her, had he? Not very hard. Once six months had passed, she thought she’d come to terms with the fact that they were not meant to be. They wanted different things from life; he wanted to play and have fun till he was a grizzled old man and she wanted to put down roots and grow a family.
What wasn’t fair about it was that she’d been attracted to the very thing that seemed to prevent him from wanting to settle down. He was handsome and daring and reckless, as good at snow and water skiing as he was at snuggling up on the couch to watch a movie. Of course, it was one chick flick to every five action-adventures, but that was okay with Franci—she liked action herself. She thought their relationship could exist within a marriage just as easily as it did outside marriage. Half the couples they had camped and traveled and played with were married with kids. Kids didn’t bother Sean; he seemed to like them. But he was adamant; he didn’t need any official contract to show how he felt and he wasn’t interested in being tied down by the needs of children.
The fifteen-minute drive south to Eureka from Arcata hadn’t been enough to settle Franci’s nerves, so she drove around town another fifteen minutes before heading to her little neighborhood. She wanted to be completely composed when she got home. She should have known she had only been kidding herself about being at peace with her decision to leave him. That myth was disproved the second she saw him. God, he still made her heart race. One look at his face and she felt the blood surge through her veins; she could feel the heat on her cheeks. She couldn’t have a cup of coffee with him. She’d probably lunge across the table at Starbucks and tear his clothes off his body. She would have to be strong. Firm. Get herself bolstered and ready; she was weak. She might hate him, but she still loved him. And he still turned her on. All that meant he could hurt her again.
She finally parked in her little one-and-a-half-car garage, pulled down the door and walked into the house and through the kitchen. She could hear the TV in the living room and there she found her mother, sleeping while sitting up, and her daughter, Rosie, curled up on the couch beside her. The only one who looked up when she walked into the room was Harry, their blond-and-white cocker spaniel.
“Hi, Harry,” she said.
He wagged a couple of times and rolled over on his back, just in case anyone wanted to rub his belly.
“Mom?” she said, giving her mother a little jostle. “Mom? I’m home.”
Vivian stirred and straightened. “Hm, hi. I must have dozed off.” She stretched. “Did you have fun?”
“Sure. Those girls are always fun. I’ll catch you up on the gossip tomorrow after you’ve had a good night’s sleep.”
Vivian stood. “Let me put Rosie—”
“I’ll take her to bed, Mom,” Franci said. “Tucking her in is the best part of the day. How long has she been asleep?”
“She probably stayed awake longer than I did,” Vivian said with a laugh. She gave Franci a pat on one cheek and a kiss on the other. “Day off tomorrow. Call when you’re up. We’ll have coffee or something.”
“Sure. Thanks, Mom.” Franci grabbed Vivian’s coat from the back of the chair and helped her slip it on. “I’ll watch you walk home,” Franci said.
“I’m sure I won’t fall in the street. Or get mugged.”
“I’ll watch you just the same.”
Franci, Vivian and Rosie had lived together in this little two-bedroom house for a couple of years, Franci sharing her bed with Rosie. About a year ago Vivian had purchased a similar house at the end of the block. They’d always planned to have their own residences, both of them being independent, single women, but Rosie’s arrival was the impetus for them to remain close enough so they could join forces to take care of her. When Franci worked those twenty-four-hour shifts, or went out on that rare late-night date, Rosie spent the night at Grandma’s. If it wasn’t going to be a late night or an overnight for Franci, Grandma came to Rosie’s house so Rosie could fall asleep in her own bed. Now that Rosie was in preschool and day care, both her mother and grandmother could easily juggle child care and manage their jobs.
Franci watched her mom walk down the street and up the flower-lined walk that led to her own door. Once Vivian was inside, she flashed her porch light a few times to signal that she was all right, then Franci went in and closed her own front door.
Franci hung up her coat, scooped her redheaded daughter off the couch and carried her to bed. Her arms flopped; she was out cold. Her comforter was turned down and her bedside lamp glowed. Grandma had clearly been optimistic that Rosie would slip right into bed when it was time, rather than fall asleep on the couch, as she preferred. Franci tucked her daughter in, pressed the comforter around her and kissed her forehead. Rosie let out a sleepy snort.
“I saw your daddy tonight,” Franci whispered. “There’s a reason you’re so beautiful.”
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