Home > Books > Return to Virgin River (Virgin River #19)(107)

Return to Virgin River (Virgin River #19)(107)

Author:Robyn Carr

Yet it was a happy time. He was achieving all his goals, was deeply bonded with his friends and fellow students, his life felt challenging but very stable. And he met Lynne.

Lynne Aimee Baxter was the smartest, kindest, strongest, funniest person he’d ever known. They weren’t headed in the same direction, not really. They both wanted to work in the legal system. He wanted to make a good living, put down roots, build a house that could hold him till he died and with space to accommodate a growing family. Lynne wanted to help people. He might end up in criminal law…maybe tax law…same thing, they would joke. She might end up a public defender or, better still, a storefront operation for the underprivileged in need of legal counsel. What was so comical—he came from nothing while she was a trust-fund baby.

Maybe that explained it. He longed for security; she wanted to shed the excesses of her life.

“You’re better at this than I am,” Sully said behind him.

He turned around with a grin. “I’ve done this before.”

“I’ll say it again—I just don’t pay you enough. Listen, Maggie’s gone over to town to pick up my seeds and starters and maybe to get away from me. Want to join me for a hot dog?”

Cal smiled. “You eat a hot dog, you’re going to pay. That’s for sure.”

“You thinking I’ll get caught?” Sully asked.

“Someone is bound to talk,” Cal said. “But I was thinking more along the lines of indigestion. You’ve been on a pretty bland diet, haven’t you? I’d work up to a hot dog if I were you. And then there’s the high sodium, fat, et cetera.”

“That mean you don’t want one?”

“Oh, I want one,” Cal said. “You should have something a little more easy on the stomach. If you ever want to have sex again in your life.”

“Hell, I gave up on that a long time ago. Don’t tell Maggie. I’d like to think of her having nightmares about it.”

When he was done with the shelf stocking and his hot dog, Cal went to the area Sully had mentioned was his garden. It was easily identifiable. It was behind the house, kind of hidden from the campgrounds. Cal wondered if that was sometimes an issue—a thriving garden being tempting to campers. Did they occasionally help themselves to the tomatoes?

It wasn’t too big, maybe sixteen by sixteen feet. He could see the rows from last year. He went to the shed that stood back from the property, tucked in the trees. There was a lot of equipment, from snowblower to plow attachment, lawn-grooming equipment, riding mower, wheelbarrow and gardening supplies.

Snowblower. He kept reminding himself to head south. Maybe southwest. It was just all that smog and sand and those hot rocks they called mountains…

He’d gone to school in Michigan, the state that invented winter. He was from everywhere, usually moderate climates, while Lynne was from New York. Westchester, to be exact.

He chose the wheelbarrow, spade, shovel and rake, and started clearing away the winter debris. He hadn’t asked what Sully meant to do with the stuff so he made two piles—one of fallen leaves that could constitute fertilizer and the other rocks, winter trash and weeds. You wouldn’t want to use weeds in mulch; that would just invite them back.

He’d been at it a couple of hours when he heard her approach. He knew she’d get around to it. He leaned on his spade and waited.

“You let my father eat a hot dog? Does that sound heart healthy to you?”

He just shook his head. “You know he’s a liar and he’s having fun with your close medical scrutiny. What do you think?”

“He got me, didn’t he?”

“He ate a sandwich—lean turkey, tomato, lettuce on wheat bread. He asked for doughy white bread and lost out to Enid, who obviously knows him better than you do. He wanted chips—he got slaw—made with vinegar, not mayo. Really, Maggie?” He laughed and shook his head.

“He’s antagonizing me, is that what you’re saying?”

“Over and over. But you can stop pressing the panic button. He’s doing great.”

“Have you seen his incision?” she asked.

“Oh, about ten times. I offered to sell tickets for him. He’s running out of people to show. But no worries. He tells me the camp is going to attract people like crazy any second now. Spring break, then weekends, then summer. I just hope he doesn’t scare the children.”

She thought about that for a moment. “It’s impolite to act like you know more about my closest relative than I do.”