“Hmm?” Mel said, looking up from the computer. “What’s up?”
“Is there some old guy living in the boarded-up church?”
“What?”
“Come and look,” Shelby said.
Mel walked out on the porch and looked across the street. Slumped in the doorway wearing a ragged coat, baggy men’s pants and boots, Cheryl Chreighton. “My God…”
“What?” Shelby asked.
“She’s back.”
“Who?”
“When I first got to town, I met Cheryl. She’s an alcoholic and young, only about thirty years old. I was determined to find a way to get her into some kind of treatment, but she disappeared. We haven’t seen her in about a year. I could have asked around more, but… Well, I didn’t pursue her because she wasn’t my patient. And I was pregnant, then pregnant, then…” She sighed. Then had two babies and a hysterectomy, she thought. It was hard enough to keep up with the patients in her actual care. Cheryl might not be a patient, but still, a resident of the town. And Mel couldn’t stand the idea of a thirty-year-old woman being the town drunk. It ate at her. She should get a second chance.
And she was back.
Luke stayed away from Jack’s for a while; stayed away from Shelby. He hoped he’d forget about her, but lust has a life of its own. He thought about her, then damned himself for being an idiot. But, nonetheless, she preoccupied his thoughts. And while she rested in a sweet place in his mind, he made progress on his house and cabins and drank his own beer.
The army delivered his household goods, things that had spent almost as much time in storage while he was in barracks or out of the country as in a home.
Luke had owned a duplex in El Paso, renting the other half to another G.I., which he sold upon discharge from the army. He didn’t have a lot of furniture, which turned out to be a good thing, but what he had was quality stuff. He had decided to put his big, old-ash bedroom furniture in one of the upstairs rooms. He had a plush velour L-shaped sectional, an extra-large chair and an upholstered piece that doubled as a coffee table or bench—a little something to put your feet up on. He kept a tray on the ottoman to rest a glass or cup on. He put everything in the living room and covered the furniture with sheets until the sanding, painting and staining could be completed.
There was a nice Pottery Barn dining set that was perfect in the dining area; a dark, square table and eight chairs—a real good poker table. He could get matching bar stools, but he planned to rebuild the breakfast bar first. The kitchen looked a lot better with new appliances, but it would really shape up when the countertops and cupboards were replaced. He made a trip to Home Depot in Redding to place his order—he could install everything himself. While he was there, he bought the stain, varnish and large area rugs for the hardwood floors.
Among his household goods were kitchenware, linens, stereo, large-screen TV for which he had a satellite dish on order, tons of tapes, DVDs, books, CDs. Not many clothes; he’d been in uniform a long time. His closet had always been pretty lean and functional, which suited him fine.
He was ready to venture back to Jack’s. There was a part of him that hoped she wouldn’t be there so he could be at peace with his decision to stay away from her. Another part wanted her there, within reach, because the decision just didn’t seem final.
She did something to him. At first he figured the attraction stemmed from being in this little town with so few options, but then he remembered Luanne and that bar in another town and realized it wasn’t quite that. Even if Luanne hadn’t appealed, it was very likely a more alluring woman would come along. Usually if he got the hots for a woman he shouldn’t be around, it didn’t exactly take an act of Congress for him to move on to someone who didn’t jam him up so bad. Whatever it was about Shelby, he was having a damn hard time letting go of it.
But he just wasn’t done with her. Not hardly.
Luke was just coming out of the shower at the end of a long workday when he happened to see a figure pass too closely to the house. The river was far enough away so that people walking, fishing or jogging there should not come so close. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he looked out the bedroom window. Nothing. He went through the living room to the kitchen and looked out the dining-room window. There was a large boy or man digging through his Dumpster. He was heavy and slightly humped. He’d heard there were transients living in the forest. He could have yelled at him to get out of there, but what did it hurt, him digging through the trash? He wasn’t making a mess or anything. Besides, with the threat of bears, he didn’t leave food scraps out there.