Her smile was alive. “It sounds wonderful. You’ll enjoy that. Maybe I’ll even see you now and then in Virgin River.”
“Or, you could come along,” he said. “You have all those military boys all over the place. We could check on them, as well. And believe me, once a couple of them get married and have children, the others fall in line. I’ve seen it a million times. As soon as I get an offer on the house—which is a good house and should bring a nice price even in a depressed economy—I’m going to start shopping for a quality RV. I’ve been looking at pictures online. Maureen, you have no idea how high tech these things have become! They now come with expandable sides, two people showers, freezers, big screens in the living room and bedroom, Whirlpool tubs—you name it! How’d you like to have a hot tub on wheels, Maureen?”
She looked over at him. He was so excited by his idea, he was actually a little flushed, and she found herself hoping it wasn’t high blood pressure. If the moment ever presented itself, she’d ask about that. But after all his rambling about his future RV, all she could say was, “Come along?”
“A perfect solution for both of us,” he said. “We’d have time together, we’d have fun together. We’d see the families, travel…”
“George, that’s outrageous. We’ve had a few lunches—”
“And we’ll have a few more! We’ll also e-mail, talk on the phone, get together occasionally—in Virgin River, but also in Phoenix and Seattle. We’ll spend the next six months figuring out if we fit as well as it seems we do.”
“Long distance? Occasional visits?” she asked doubtfully.
“It’ll give you time to look over my accounts to be sure you’re not getting conned out of your retirement.” He laughed at his own joke, slapping his knee. “Of course, with five brawny, overprotective sons you’re relatively safe from a dangerous guy like me.” He glanced at her and his expression was playful. “We’re not young, Maureen. We should be sure we’re attracted to each other and that we get along, but we shouldn’t waste a lot of time. Every day is precious.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I’m very attracted to you. I’d love to get you alone in a fancy RV for a few years.”
She laughed at him; she hated that she was behaving like such a girl. “Have you lost your mind?”
“I’ve been wondering what to do next. I’ve had a couple of fulfilling careers, but I can’t go on preaching and teaching forever—I’ll get bored. At a point I should retire again. When I lost Mary, I filled my time with activities—friends for dinner, going to the movies, attending a new play. I had a very nice life with Mary. I loved her deeply, as I’m sure you loved your Patrick. I miss her. But I also miss having a best friend to spend time with. Maureen, this is guaranteed not to sweep you off your feet, but you’re the first woman I’ve met in years who could actually be that kind of friend! We have so much in common it’s amazing!”
“You’ve slipped a cog,” she said. “We have nothing in common! I’m Catholic, you’re Presbyterian! I was almost a nun, you were a minister!”
“Almost a nun with five sons in ten years and, for your information, I’m still ordained.”
“Phhhtttt,” she emitted. “I like to play tennis, golf and bridge!”
“I jog,” he said. “I could learn tennis. I’ve always enjoyed golf but bridge bores the crap out of me.”
She burst out laughing. “Bores me, too,” she said. “But the women gather for bridge and so I play with them. But, George, I’m not about to commit to a man I’ve known such a short time and—”
“Of course not, Maureen! Here’s my proposal. Let’s carry on! How hard is that? Let’s communicate, visit, get to know each other and, even better, spend quality time together when we can. You’ll want to visit that little granddaughter, and I have to keep tabs on Noah so he doesn’t go astray! And six months down the road, we’ll be more sure of ourselves, and of our relationship. And, believe me, six months is asking a lot of a seventy-year-old guy!”
She narrowed her eyes. “How’s your health?”
“Excellent! After what happened to Mary by avoiding the doctor, I get a good physical every six months. I’m on cholesterol medicine, though. But I think it’s a waste of time. My father lived to be eighty-eight.”
“I’m on cholesterol and high-blood-pressure medicine.”
“You don’t say?”
“It’s working.” She shrugged.
“Isn’t it amazing? My doctor says, as long as we can find and treat these things, we’re going to be fairly hard to kill!”
Maureen shook her head and laughed. She would not let him get a foot in the door with this insane idea, but she knew, at once, she would have fun with him. Piles of fun. “I would have to run this idea by my priest,” she said.
“Whatever works for you,” he agreed. “But what idea are you talking about? The idea of getting to know me better, or the idea of joining me in the RV if it works out?”
She didn’t answer. She chewed her bottom lip and thought about when she’d gone to her parish priest as a young mother and said she could not keep having babies—she just wasn’t up to it! She wanted his blessing—the church’s blessing—on birth control before she lost her mind and her body. He wasn’t much help, and she’d already given natural birth control—timing her cycle, et cetera—two fair shots. They were named Sean and Patrick, Jr. She clicked her tongue without realizing it. That was more than thirty years ago and there had been progress on these matters in the church since. But she had to admit that some of the rules had been hard to take at that time.
“Forget I said that,” she answered. “What did you get for take-out lunch?”
“Wonderful, fat deli sandwiches, coleslaw, sweet tea and brownies. How does that sound?”
She smiled at him. “Better than you know.”
George pulled the RV off the road at a scenic outlook beside the ocean. They sat at the table and ate their sandwiches, talking about all the places in the United States they hadn’t seen and would love to visit. Maureen lived in Arizona and had never been to the Grand Canyon; George wanted to extend his RV adventure into Canada and Alaska. It all began to sound like a fantasy, a dream trip.
“George,” she said. “What if one of us gets sick?” she asked.
“We’re not going to the wilds of Africa,” he said with a shrug. “We can stop at a hospital. We’ll see a doctor or—” But then he smiled at her. “But we should, if we feel like it.”
“Should what?”
“Go to Africa. And maybe a long cruise…”
She sat back in her chair. “Have you been dreaming this up for years?”
He shook his head. “Just the opposite. I didn’t know what I was going to do with myself. I’m not young—I have some years of travel in me, then I’ll probably have to settle down a little and be happy with the occasional trip. You have longer, I suppose. But the truth, Maureen? All these fun ideas didn’t even occur to me until I met you. Mary thought of stuff like this, but we were never able to act on them. You know what my late wife used to say? That it was her goal to have the grandchildren say, ‘Anyone seen Grandma?’” He laughed at himself. Then he sobered. “I’m so sorry. It’s probably such a faux pas, trying to tempt you with things my late wife said.”
But Maureen loved it. It had been such a long time since she’d been tempted by anything! By a man, by living, by having fun, by risk and chance and dare! She would love to sell her condo, get rid of all that precious furniture she’d polished, pampered and protected for so many years—furniture that never managed to look good in that fancy condo! She’d love to give her sons the keepsakes she’d stored for them! The old school pictures, report cards and clay handprints. And the little china and crystal bric-a-brac her mother and mother-in-law left? What was she going to do with them after she was dead? Cart them with her to heaven? The boys could have all the Christmas ornaments from their childhood, their baby pictures, their school projects; their wives could have their great-grandmother’s silver and dishes. It wasn’t as though she sat up on lonely nights caressing that stuff! She’d much rather see the Grand Canyon!
She thought about drifting from grandchild to grandchild across the country, taking them on overnights in an RV, going on shopping trips and buying them presents from Europe, Asia, Africa!
Six months, George had said. Six months to see if they were really as compatible as they seemed. She laughed suddenly. She hadn’t made Patrick, Sr., work at winning her for any longer than that!
“Funny? Did I offend you?” George asked.
She grabbed both his hands across the RV’s table. “Not at all. I think I would have loved Mary. We would have been friends. In spite of the fact that she was Presbyterian!”
“That’s what I think,” he said. “But, Maureen, don’t get the impression you’re exactly like her. You didn’t get my attention because you’re anything like my late wife! In fact, you’re very different in lots of ways. I’ll tell you all about that another day. It’s bad manners to discuss your wife with your girlfriend.” He frowned slightly. “You have an odd look on your face. Does all this talk about her bother you? Does my suggestion about an RV upset you?”
“No, not at all,” she said. She didn’t intend to give him too much information too fast, but truthfully, she was looking forward to things. Fun, exciting, fantastic things that had never occurred to her before…and someone very wonderful to do them with. She suddenly realized that while she’d been content the past several years, she hadn’t been excited about the future in a long time. In fact, she couldn’t remember when she’d last felt that way.
Fifteen
The very day that George proposed the RV idea, Maureen was invited to have dinner with Vivian and Carl. In fact, the invitation was extended to George, as well, but Maureen was not quite ready for a double date—things were just too new. She had offered to cook them a nice dinner, but Vivian demurred. “Carl is a wonderful cook and he loves it. His kids have plans tonight and he’s going to run by the grocery on his way over,” she had said. “For once, just be a guest.”
So after a couple of hours of playtime with Rosie, Maureen was back at Vivian’s for dinner. Vivian and Carl were already in the kitchen; Carl was searing something at the stove and Viv was in charge of some slicing and dicing on the cutting board.
“Mo!” she said happily, turning from her chore and wiping her hands on a towel. “Here you are. Meet Carl. Dr. Johnson.”
And as Carl turned from the stove and extended his hand, Maureen found herself face-to-face with a very tall, very handsome black man. “Carl Johnson,” he said, as though she hadn’t heard his name.
“How do you do,” she said, taking his hand and looking up at him. Her first thought was that Vivian might’ve mentioned that he was black. In that kind of quandary, she blurted, “Johnson? You’re Swedish!”
He threw back his head in a fantastic, deep, wonderful laugh. “Viv said I’d love you! African-American, Korean, Native American and Caucasian,” he said.
“It’s a pleasure. How long have you been in Eureka?” Maureen asked.
“Over twenty years. My late wife was from Fort Bragg and we ended up starting the practice here. It’s a good place to raise kids—I have a boy and a girl.”
“So Vivian told me,” she said. “Can I help with dinner?”
