Wild Man Creek. Робин Карр
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odd angles. They were clearly just passing the time. She pulled up alongside. “Hi, guys,” she said. “There’s a little town back in here somewhere. I had dinner at a place called Jack’s—I think—and there are some cabins along a river run by a guy named—”
One of the men pulled his hat off his head and smoothed his thinning hair over his freckled scalp. “Luke Riordan owns those cabins in Virgin River. Luke and Shelby.”
“Yeah!” she said. “That’s it! Virgin River! I must’ve missed the turn, never saw the sign.”
The other guy laughed. “Ain’t no sign. You didn’t miss it by much,” he said. “Up 36 a quarter mile. It’s a left. But to get to Luke’s you’re gonna wanna go another left after ’bout another mile and a half up that hill. Then you’ll go down again, then around a curve at the bottom of the mountain. Your second left ain’t marked, but there’s a dead sequoia stretched out by the side of the road right where you turn. Big mother. Then you’ll prolly see the river. Take that road along the river to the cabins. Ain’t far.”
She laughed. It might’ve been one of her first belly laughs in a couple of weeks! Yeah, she remembered the dead tree, the up, down and around of the road. “I remember now—I remember the dead tree. Thanks. Thanks so much!”
Off she drove in the direction of the first left and then the dead tree, laughing as she went. She was laughing at how different it was! She might as well have traveled to a different country—these people were as removed from iPhones and iPads and daily stock reports and board of director meetings as she was from fly-fishing and camping. And now that she’d seized on this idea and spontaneously found herself in Virgin River, of all places, she realized hardly anything in her baggage was going to be right for this kind of break. Thinking she might end up at some hotel resort in a place like Sun Valley she’d packed her country club casual—clothes she had on hand for corporate events or company picnics. She had linen slacks, a couple of stylish but casual dresses, wraparound skirts, sweater sets, that sort of thing. Low heels; lots of low heels. She had exactly one pair of Nike walking shoes and two sweat suits, and they both had designer labels.
As she recalled, Virgin River was very rugged, not to mention cooler. And boy, was it wet! It was early March; it had been drizzling on and off all day. It was a little bleak—except for the new green growth on the trees and the eruptions of plant life all along the side of the road.
Also muddy! Her pretty little Lexus Hybrid was splattered and filthy.
Jill followed the road along the river and when she came into the cabin compound she saw that Luke was on top of one of the cabins doing a little roof repair. He turned toward her as she pulled in. She stopped the car, got out and waved at him.
He smiled before climbing down his ladder. “Hi,” he said when he got to the bottom. He grabbed a rag out of his back pocket to wipe off his hands.
“Any chance you remember me, Luke?” she asked him. “I came up here last fall with my sister and girlfriends. We spent a couple of days in one of your cabins. You invited us to the estate sale—that old woman’s house.”
He laughed. “Sure I remember you, but I don’t remember your name.”
“Oh—sorry. I’m Jill. Jillian Matlock. I apologize. I didn’t even call ahead. I just thought if you had a vacancy …”
“This is a lucky time of year for vacancies,” he said, grinning. “Lucky for you, anyway. Good time of year for me to make repairs anytime the rain lets up. You have your choice of cabins. The key’s hanging on a hook inside the door.”
“Thanks, I remember. Hey, if I stayed a few days, would that be okay?”
“No hunters, very few fishermen and the summer folks don’t show up until June. June through January are busy for me, but early spring is a light load. What are you going to do around here for a few days?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Rest, sleep in, explore … It is safe to explore, right?”
“If you stay away from marijuana grows, but they’re usually hidden. Bear aren’t all the way awake yet. Fish? You fish?”
“Not since I was about seven or eight,” she said.
“Art will teach you,” Luke said. “There’s an extra rod and reel in the shed. Art knows where. In fact, anything you might need, we probably have an extra one. Just remember—the river is up—snow from the mountains is melting. And the weather is wet two out of three days. Just let us know what you need.” He looked her up and down. She was wearing jeans, heels, a silk blouse and suede blazer. “Um, Shelby’s got some waders she’d let you borrow. Those shoes will be wrecked in no time.”
“That’s so nice of you, Luke.”
“Just want you to enjoy yourself and be comfortable, Jillian.”
Jillian knew she would have to buy some knocking-around clothes; stuff that could hold up for long walks, fishing or sitting under a tree with a book. The next day she drove to a bigger town and texted her sister from the parking lot of the Target in Eureka.
You’ll never guess where I ended up! Virgin River! Remember Virgin River?
Jillian was trying on jeans before a response came back. Kelly’s text said, Why?
To relax and unwind and think, was Jillian’s reply.
Jill bought some lace-up boots for possible hiking, jeans, cargo pants, sweatshirts and sweatpants without designer labels, a rain slicker and a hoodie, some warm pajamas and a bunch of socks. She was going to just decompress in the natural, cold, wet beauty. She wasn’t giving up civilization altogether—she had her laptop, portable DVD player, iPad, iPhone and several DVDs she’d been meaning to watch.
But relaxation was easier said than done. Jill had fantasized for years about taking time off, having a break, but after a few years of such fantasies she had to admit that wasn’t what she wanted at all. She wanted to work! Perform! Compete! Knock herself out! Win! She thrived on success, on the praise of her staff, her boss.
Jillian had been fresh out of college with a brand-new marketing degree and a bunch of credits toward her MBA when Harry Benedict offered her a low-paying job in a start-up firm. His start- up capital was limited, but he needed a few key people—a CPA, a software engineer and someone to pull together marketing demographics for his software products. Jillian could be that marketing person if she was willing and able to take a gamble. Harry had a good track record; he’d successfully started several companies, all of which he subsequently sold. What he offered her was an opportunity—to learn from him, get in on the ground floor of a new, high-tech manufacturing business and grow professionally.
Kelly was right about her—she was impulsive. She’d jumped at the chance. She had not been in a hurry to land the biggest job on the planet but the one with the most challenge and excitement. Plus, she liked Harry; liked his gruff, no-nonsense ways; liked his confidence and experience. His drive was addictive. She remembered one late night when they were still working at four in the morning, he’d said, “When we stop having fun, we’re outta here, right?” She bet on him just as he bet on her. And she missed him so much.
There was nothing more fun than helping to build a company. She became close to the Benedict family, rose in Harry’s software development and manufacturing business and, in fact, helped to formulate the company from its start-up to the day it went public. At the age of twenty-nine she had been made the vice president of Corporate Communications with a full staff and had become one of Harry’s inner circle execs. Along the way she’d collected bonuses, stock options and her salary grew along with her responsibilities. Careful investments meant that she had a significant portfolio that was well diversified.
Over the past ten years the only vacations she was successfully able to indulge in were those with her sister and their two best friends from high school. They were four women of diverse occupational interests who were all hardworking, ambitious, competitive and single. They managed to get away once a year for a week to ten days. Other