The drive made a Y, veering off to the left to wind around the house to the back or to the right, ending in the front of the house. She could see a portion of the guesthouse in the back, just beyond a play area for kids with swings, a slide, a basketball hoop and a putting green. On the porch at the front of the house, a woman sat braiding a little girl’s hair. That would be Jack’s wife. And daughter?
Kaylee didn’t even have to think about it. She didn’t drive around to the casita but up to the front, parking and getting out.
“Mrs. Sheridan?” she asked.
“I’m Mel,” she said. “And you must be Kaylee.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Come up here and sit with me. All right, Emma. Go take your bath and I’ll be in shortly. Come, Kaylee. The sky is wonderful tonight—a million stars. That moon is like a lamp, lighting up the whole valley. It’s almost my favorite time of day. Jack tells me you’ve had a stressful day.”
There was just something about Mel from the second Kaylee met her. She was like a warm blanket. Welcoming and nurturing and completely accessible.
“It was a shocker, that’s for sure,” Kaylee said.
“He said you were going to be renting the Templeton house, but he didn’t tell me why you came to Virgin River,” Mel said. “Have you been here before?”
“Yes, a few times. The first time I was just a child and came with my mother. But the most recent was about ten years ago. I think the bar was a new addition then and I remember being glad to see it. Up till then I can’t remember there being any place to eat. The Templetons are very old friends and they offered me the house for a getaway.”
“Ah,” Mel said. “A very polite person would just let that go, but I’m cursed with rabid curiosity. Tell me it’s none of my business if it’s too personal, but what are you getting away from?”
“It’s kind of a long story,” she said.
“I’m not at all tired,” Mel said, smiling. “I certainly understand if you are—”
“Well, I think it boils down to running away from grief. I’m a writer. Fiction. Suspense, to be more specific. I’ve had some modest success and I have a contract. In fact, I have one book left on my contract, but I’ve had the worst time writing. I just can’t focus. It was almost exactly a year ago that my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer. Everyone was so optimistic, including the doctors. And yet, my mom got sicker and sicker and she passed away in December last year. I was living in her house. Of course, I stayed with her when she got sick and later when Hospice came. And then after she died and I was alone in her house, I was lucky if I managed a sentence a day. I really couldn’t think of anything but my mom. I needed to change my scenery, so I decided to look around for some place to go for six months, if only to finish this last book on the contract. Then,” she said with a shrug, “then I don’t know what happens. Maybe I look around for a teaching job. I taught for a while after college, writing at night and on weekends and vacations. But I might be done writing.”
“I’m so sorry, Kaylee. You must miss your mother so much.”
“Unbearably,” she said. “We were so close. I’m an only child. We were best friends. Her friends were my friends and my friends were also her friends. She read every book I wrote before I even sent it to an editor. I’m lost without her. I knew I would be for a while, but sometimes I feel like I’m getting worse, not better.”
“Do you have to finish that book? I mean, do you have other options?”
“I could give the advance back. I’m just not ready to give up yet. My storytelling always swept me away. Saved me. Till now.”
“Well, it’s not surprising. You suffered an enormous loss. But I think you were smart to come here. A change like this can be good. You know what I learned about grief? It’s always there and it’s always at the center of your life and then one day you realize with some surprise that you had a fairly good day and you wonder if grief left. Or if it got smaller. It didn’t,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s the same size. Your mother will always be that important. But your world will get a little bigger. And when your world gets bigger it feels like your grief gets smaller. You took a very brave step in coming here—the change alone will make your world a little bigger.”
“I will always miss my mom,” Kaylee said, and the damn tears gathered in her eyes.