He stared at her in wonder.
“Oh, no,” she said. “Oh, God, I’ve told you something you just can’t imagine. Please don’t lose all respect for me—I plan to make it right. I’m saving every cent I can. I’ll pay the back rent, I swear I will.”
“Nora. Stop. I’m shocked all right—that he didn’t even take care of the safety of his own children.”
She shrugged. “He’s not a nice person, Tom. But before you waste any more anger on him, remember, I got myself into this mess.”
“You were vulnerable. Homeless with small children. Don’t let him off that easy.”
“At the end of the day, he’s not off easy. Last I heard, he’s going to spend a long time in prison. I wish I hadn’t told you so much… .”
He reached for her hand across the table, giving a reassuring squeeze. “I’m glad you told me. You’ve come a long way, you should be proud of yourself, not beating yourself up. Is there some way I can help with this?”
A gentle smile came to her lips. “Tom Cavanaugh, you’re such a good and generous man. Thank you, but no. I’m going to be fine. I have lots of options.”
The salad was delivered and when the waiter left, Tom said, “I have a feeling about some of those options. You aren’t going to stay here, are you?”
She thought briefly and then said, “Less than a year ago I lived in a little house that wouldn’t keep out the wind, no food in the house and two babies. I wanted so little then—I just wanted to keep us warm and safe. And now I want so much more. I can get it, too, as long as I work hard and stay positive.”
“What do you want, Nora?”
She bit her lip for a second. Then very quietly she said, “I want to be like Maxie.” He gave her hand a little squeeze. “I’m going to do whatever is best for my children. That’s what I’m going to do.”
“And that, Nora, is probably more like Maxie than any other thing.”
“What was it like? Growing up with her?”
He gave a little laugh. “Probably not as easy as you might think. She was strict. I got real tired of hearing about the virtues of hard work and sacrifice. I’d complain to my grandpa about how hard she was on me and he told me she’d mellowed by the time I came along. She could really drive a person hard. I think the only one she didn’t get after was Grandpa. He was the sweetest man who ever lived. I don’t think he ever had a bad day—not that I could tell, anyway. And Maxie adored him. But she loved me in a much tougher way—if I didn’t do my chores, I didn’t get a pass. If I didn’t eat the green stuff on the plate, I could sit there till it grew mold. When I was sixteen, all I wanted in the world was a car so I didn’t have to take the bus to school or be driven by my grandmother and you know what she said? ‘I guess you’ll be wanting more hours in the orchard, won’t you, Tom?’”
“She paid you to work in the orchard?”
“Not the first twenty hours a week—that much was considered rent and food and clothes. I used to complain constantly about how hard she worked me. I couldn’t wait to get out of Virgin River and off that tree farm. I wanted to see the world—and boy did I see it. I should’ve thought that through—I saw a lot of ocean and desert. And look at me, back home.”
“What made you come home?”
“I was done,” he said. “I went as far as I could go and I missed the damn apple trees.”
“And Maxie,” she said. “You missed Maxie.”
“I did. It must have killed her for me to join the Marines, but she never said a word except, ‘You have to do what you have to do.’ And she used to always say, ‘If it was easy, anyone could do it.’ She was never discouraged by anything. One year we had a bad early freeze—messed up a lot of our crop and you know what Maxie said? She said the apples would be doubled and better than ever the next year—that nature suffers to fill a void. And they were.
“After four years of college and a little over six in the Corps, it finally occurred to me I might not have her forever and I came home. Some days I think that was the smartest thing I ever did. Some days I wonder if I won’t die of boredom one of these years.”
“Tom,” she said, almost shocked, “are you bored?”
“It has occurred to me there might be more to life than picking apples… .”
“Oh, no… I couldn’t imagine a better life! I could live the rest of my life on that orchard! I could be happy forever in that big, warm kitchen.”
He smiled at her. “You said you wanted a lot.”
“That is a lot!”
“What makes you so sure you could be happy in that life forever?” he asked her.
“Some things you just know! I mean, I was pretty disturbed to find out I was pregnant not once but twice, but would I consider life without my girls? Never! They are my life!”
“What about trips to Jamaica?” he asked her. “Front-row seats at an NBA playoff game? Lots of great restaurants ten times better than this one?”
“Could that be fun?” she asked with a shrug. “I suppose so. But would it be more important, more meaningful than home cooking, soft old quilts, warm fires, fresh fruits and vegetables every day of the year?” She shook her head. “I like that I have something to show for my hard work that really endures, I guess. Lasts longer than a trip to the islands.”
“Another argument for finishing college,” he pointed out to her.
Right at that moment their meals arrived and the waiter lingered by the table to be sure they didn’t need anything. Nora carefully cut off a tender piece of marinated chicken and popped it in her mouth. She chewed slowly. Her chin came up, her eyes softly closed and she savored it. She swallowed and opened her eyes, smiling. “And there’s an argument for good restaurants. Incredible.”
* * *
There might’ve been one or two down moments in their date, Tom thought. Especially at the onset in the quiet, nervous drive to Arcata, at the confession about owing someone money on the house she occupied, about how tough times had led her to the greater dreams of a solid, secure, stable life. But once the salads were done and the main course arrived, she was a chatterbox. She wanted to tell him everything about her experience in his grandmother’s kitchen, how the girls became more animated by the minute, all that she learned from Maxie about baking, from Maxie and her girlfriends about life.
“And this apple festival thing you’ve got going on,” she said.
“Maxie’s idea,” he admitted. “She convinced Grandpa to start it when my dad was a kid. Back then they drew up posters and printed flyers, took them around to businesses on the coast, nailed a few to telephone and light poles…”
“I was not even mildly prepared for what was going to happen, then when the people swarmed in, I was overwhelmed! It’s more than buying apples to them, Tom—they want to be a part of what you and Maxie do. Almost every room in the house was full of people visiting, catching up with neighbors, eating, juggling each other’s babies. Did I tell you I helped make about three hundred sachets with Maxie and her girls? She had dried apples, cinnamon sticks and cloves and we tied them into little bundles. And I can now bake cinnamon rolls.”
“You’ve come a long way since terrible coffee,” he said.
“I lied about how my father liked it,” she admitted, laughing.
“I know that now. Good fake, though.”
Although she was stuffed and he really didn’t need to eat another bite, he insisted on ordering coffee and dessert. He loved the way she relished every new taste, every luxurious bite of something that for her was indulgent. One dessert of cheesecake, two forks.
“You know what I hope? I hope you always have that sense of wonder for simple things.”
She just laughed at him. “Oh, I’m sure we’re safe there. I’m kind of hoping to have some wonder over extraordinary things someday.”
He dipped his fork into the cheesecake and held it toward her mouth. She shook her head and said, “Oh, I can’t…” But he persisted until she let her lips close over the fork. Her eyes closed again, that luxury of excellence on her tongue, and he almost got aroused. His heart pumped and so many emotions swept through him—possession, adoration, titillation, excitement. Feeding her seemed to do something for him. He tried to reason with his feelings—it was a silly bite of cheesecake! But he couldn’t wait to share that fork, to put his lips where hers had been.
He’d never felt like this before.
Soon they were walking across the square to his truck and he grabbed her hand, holding it. It was almost as though she hadn’t noticed—she was doing a recap of the meal, the ambiance of the restaurant, the added delight of a dessert she absolutely did not need. He listened with a smile; he found listening to her comforting. She had no idea how cute she was. And as they walked, he leaned down enough so that he could catch a whiff of her hair—sweet, flowery, clean.
There weren’t too many people on the square and sidewalks, but they were hardly deserted. Still, when they got to the truck, he pulled on her hand until she faced him. She looked up at him. He put one large hand on her hip and with the other, he traced her jawline with a knuckle until it was under her chin. Then he lifted her chin, lowered his head and placed a very cautious kiss on those full lips.
Yeah, he liked that.
He tried that again, and again.
She put a hand against his chest and said, “Look, I don’t want to upset Darla…”
“This has nothing to do with Darla. This is just you and me…”
“Okay, let me put this another way. I don’t want to get in Darla’s territory.”
“I am not her territory. We’re friends. Her husband…my squad…that whole thing. I’m just being supportive… .” And he leaned toward her mouth again.
“Wait! You know all the things I’ve gone through the past few years—I don’t want to just get deeper in trouble.”
“Huh? What?”
“I don’t want to get mixed up in a situation that would hurt me…like, you know, before.”
His eyes became slits. “You can’t really be suggesting that I could ever do to you and your children what he did to you. You know I’m not that kind of person.”
“You’re not,” she whispered. “I know.”
“It’s a kiss,” he said. “With any luck, a good kiss. I want it. You want it.”
She nodded weakly. After all, she’d made that deal with God… .
“Then can you shut up and kiss me?”
Her lips were already parted, just in case she had something more to say. To her own great relief, she didn’t. He came down on her mouth gently but it took only a second for it to become serious. Demanding and powerful and by the way she received it, it was very much to her liking. She’d been holding her breath and let it out slowly just as her arms slid up and around his neck. He tilted, moved, tongued open her lips, played around with her tongue. Then he lifted her a little bit, bringing her mouth up even with his and, incidentally, pinning her against his truck.
He should really care if people were walking by but he didn’t. All he could think about was her small body flush against his, the taste of her mouth and the fact that after all that hedging, all those excuses, she met him with passion. He heard her whimper slightly and he took it as a little victory—she wanted him, too.
“Oh, man,” he whispered.
He went back for more, covering her mouth with almost dangerous intentions. If he didn’t get a handle on this, he’d be a little out of control and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had that feeling with a woman. Knowing this was where it was going to end, he forced himself to let go of her, to let her slide back onto her feet, to find some stupid thing to say to excuse it all. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he came up with.
“Oh, no,” she said. “Oh, God, I’ve told you something you just can’t imagine. Please don’t lose all respect for me—I plan to make it right. I’m saving every cent I can. I’ll pay the back rent, I swear I will.”
“Nora. Stop. I’m shocked all right—that he didn’t even take care of the safety of his own children.”
She shrugged. “He’s not a nice person, Tom. But before you waste any more anger on him, remember, I got myself into this mess.”
“You were vulnerable. Homeless with small children. Don’t let him off that easy.”
“At the end of the day, he’s not off easy. Last I heard, he’s going to spend a long time in prison. I wish I hadn’t told you so much… .”
He reached for her hand across the table, giving a reassuring squeeze. “I’m glad you told me. You’ve come a long way, you should be proud of yourself, not beating yourself up. Is there some way I can help with this?”
A gentle smile came to her lips. “Tom Cavanaugh, you’re such a good and generous man. Thank you, but no. I’m going to be fine. I have lots of options.”
The salad was delivered and when the waiter left, Tom said, “I have a feeling about some of those options. You aren’t going to stay here, are you?”
She thought briefly and then said, “Less than a year ago I lived in a little house that wouldn’t keep out the wind, no food in the house and two babies. I wanted so little then—I just wanted to keep us warm and safe. And now I want so much more. I can get it, too, as long as I work hard and stay positive.”
“What do you want, Nora?”
She bit her lip for a second. Then very quietly she said, “I want to be like Maxie.” He gave her hand a little squeeze. “I’m going to do whatever is best for my children. That’s what I’m going to do.”
“And that, Nora, is probably more like Maxie than any other thing.”
“What was it like? Growing up with her?”
He gave a little laugh. “Probably not as easy as you might think. She was strict. I got real tired of hearing about the virtues of hard work and sacrifice. I’d complain to my grandpa about how hard she was on me and he told me she’d mellowed by the time I came along. She could really drive a person hard. I think the only one she didn’t get after was Grandpa. He was the sweetest man who ever lived. I don’t think he ever had a bad day—not that I could tell, anyway. And Maxie adored him. But she loved me in a much tougher way—if I didn’t do my chores, I didn’t get a pass. If I didn’t eat the green stuff on the plate, I could sit there till it grew mold. When I was sixteen, all I wanted in the world was a car so I didn’t have to take the bus to school or be driven by my grandmother and you know what she said? ‘I guess you’ll be wanting more hours in the orchard, won’t you, Tom?’”
“She paid you to work in the orchard?”
“Not the first twenty hours a week—that much was considered rent and food and clothes. I used to complain constantly about how hard she worked me. I couldn’t wait to get out of Virgin River and off that tree farm. I wanted to see the world—and boy did I see it. I should’ve thought that through—I saw a lot of ocean and desert. And look at me, back home.”
“What made you come home?”
“I was done,” he said. “I went as far as I could go and I missed the damn apple trees.”
“And Maxie,” she said. “You missed Maxie.”
“I did. It must have killed her for me to join the Marines, but she never said a word except, ‘You have to do what you have to do.’ And she used to always say, ‘If it was easy, anyone could do it.’ She was never discouraged by anything. One year we had a bad early freeze—messed up a lot of our crop and you know what Maxie said? She said the apples would be doubled and better than ever the next year—that nature suffers to fill a void. And they were.
“After four years of college and a little over six in the Corps, it finally occurred to me I might not have her forever and I came home. Some days I think that was the smartest thing I ever did. Some days I wonder if I won’t die of boredom one of these years.”
“Tom,” she said, almost shocked, “are you bored?”
“It has occurred to me there might be more to life than picking apples… .”
“Oh, no… I couldn’t imagine a better life! I could live the rest of my life on that orchard! I could be happy forever in that big, warm kitchen.”
He smiled at her. “You said you wanted a lot.”
“That is a lot!”
“What makes you so sure you could be happy in that life forever?” he asked her.
“Some things you just know! I mean, I was pretty disturbed to find out I was pregnant not once but twice, but would I consider life without my girls? Never! They are my life!”
“What about trips to Jamaica?” he asked her. “Front-row seats at an NBA playoff game? Lots of great restaurants ten times better than this one?”
“Could that be fun?” she asked with a shrug. “I suppose so. But would it be more important, more meaningful than home cooking, soft old quilts, warm fires, fresh fruits and vegetables every day of the year?” She shook her head. “I like that I have something to show for my hard work that really endures, I guess. Lasts longer than a trip to the islands.”
“Another argument for finishing college,” he pointed out to her.
Right at that moment their meals arrived and the waiter lingered by the table to be sure they didn’t need anything. Nora carefully cut off a tender piece of marinated chicken and popped it in her mouth. She chewed slowly. Her chin came up, her eyes softly closed and she savored it. She swallowed and opened her eyes, smiling. “And there’s an argument for good restaurants. Incredible.”
* * *
There might’ve been one or two down moments in their date, Tom thought. Especially at the onset in the quiet, nervous drive to Arcata, at the confession about owing someone money on the house she occupied, about how tough times had led her to the greater dreams of a solid, secure, stable life. But once the salads were done and the main course arrived, she was a chatterbox. She wanted to tell him everything about her experience in his grandmother’s kitchen, how the girls became more animated by the minute, all that she learned from Maxie about baking, from Maxie and her girlfriends about life.
“And this apple festival thing you’ve got going on,” she said.
“Maxie’s idea,” he admitted. “She convinced Grandpa to start it when my dad was a kid. Back then they drew up posters and printed flyers, took them around to businesses on the coast, nailed a few to telephone and light poles…”
“I was not even mildly prepared for what was going to happen, then when the people swarmed in, I was overwhelmed! It’s more than buying apples to them, Tom—they want to be a part of what you and Maxie do. Almost every room in the house was full of people visiting, catching up with neighbors, eating, juggling each other’s babies. Did I tell you I helped make about three hundred sachets with Maxie and her girls? She had dried apples, cinnamon sticks and cloves and we tied them into little bundles. And I can now bake cinnamon rolls.”
“You’ve come a long way since terrible coffee,” he said.
“I lied about how my father liked it,” she admitted, laughing.
“I know that now. Good fake, though.”
Although she was stuffed and he really didn’t need to eat another bite, he insisted on ordering coffee and dessert. He loved the way she relished every new taste, every luxurious bite of something that for her was indulgent. One dessert of cheesecake, two forks.
“You know what I hope? I hope you always have that sense of wonder for simple things.”
She just laughed at him. “Oh, I’m sure we’re safe there. I’m kind of hoping to have some wonder over extraordinary things someday.”
He dipped his fork into the cheesecake and held it toward her mouth. She shook her head and said, “Oh, I can’t…” But he persisted until she let her lips close over the fork. Her eyes closed again, that luxury of excellence on her tongue, and he almost got aroused. His heart pumped and so many emotions swept through him—possession, adoration, titillation, excitement. Feeding her seemed to do something for him. He tried to reason with his feelings—it was a silly bite of cheesecake! But he couldn’t wait to share that fork, to put his lips where hers had been.
He’d never felt like this before.
Soon they were walking across the square to his truck and he grabbed her hand, holding it. It was almost as though she hadn’t noticed—she was doing a recap of the meal, the ambiance of the restaurant, the added delight of a dessert she absolutely did not need. He listened with a smile; he found listening to her comforting. She had no idea how cute she was. And as they walked, he leaned down enough so that he could catch a whiff of her hair—sweet, flowery, clean.
There weren’t too many people on the square and sidewalks, but they were hardly deserted. Still, when they got to the truck, he pulled on her hand until she faced him. She looked up at him. He put one large hand on her hip and with the other, he traced her jawline with a knuckle until it was under her chin. Then he lifted her chin, lowered his head and placed a very cautious kiss on those full lips.
Yeah, he liked that.
He tried that again, and again.
She put a hand against his chest and said, “Look, I don’t want to upset Darla…”
“This has nothing to do with Darla. This is just you and me…”
“Okay, let me put this another way. I don’t want to get in Darla’s territory.”
“I am not her territory. We’re friends. Her husband…my squad…that whole thing. I’m just being supportive… .” And he leaned toward her mouth again.
“Wait! You know all the things I’ve gone through the past few years—I don’t want to just get deeper in trouble.”
“Huh? What?”
“I don’t want to get mixed up in a situation that would hurt me…like, you know, before.”
His eyes became slits. “You can’t really be suggesting that I could ever do to you and your children what he did to you. You know I’m not that kind of person.”
“You’re not,” she whispered. “I know.”
“It’s a kiss,” he said. “With any luck, a good kiss. I want it. You want it.”
She nodded weakly. After all, she’d made that deal with God… .
“Then can you shut up and kiss me?”
Her lips were already parted, just in case she had something more to say. To her own great relief, she didn’t. He came down on her mouth gently but it took only a second for it to become serious. Demanding and powerful and by the way she received it, it was very much to her liking. She’d been holding her breath and let it out slowly just as her arms slid up and around his neck. He tilted, moved, tongued open her lips, played around with her tongue. Then he lifted her a little bit, bringing her mouth up even with his and, incidentally, pinning her against his truck.
He should really care if people were walking by but he didn’t. All he could think about was her small body flush against his, the taste of her mouth and the fact that after all that hedging, all those excuses, she met him with passion. He heard her whimper slightly and he took it as a little victory—she wanted him, too.
“Oh, man,” he whispered.
He went back for more, covering her mouth with almost dangerous intentions. If he didn’t get a handle on this, he’d be a little out of control and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had that feeling with a woman. Knowing this was where it was going to end, he forced himself to let go of her, to let her slide back onto her feet, to find some stupid thing to say to excuse it all. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he came up with.
