Wild Man Creek (7 page)

“You could run into areas you don’t understand, like permits, licensing, agricultural restrictions, that sort of thing. I’d never buy exotic, organic fruits or vegetables from a grower who hadn’t passed all the agricultural inspections.”

“Kelly, lighten up. No one knows how to hire a consultant like I do—I’ve done it a hundred times in an industry
I didn’t understand nearly as well as I do this one. Can’t you be a little more positive?”

“Maybe when I stop shaking…”

“Oh, brother. I’d better get this up and running before you buy your own restaurant. You’ll go through so many lists and checkpoints, the place will never open. You’ll never get it open without me.”

“Seriously, I might have to come up there, make sure you’re not totally crazy.”

“You’re certainly welcome, but you’ll have to bring your own recliner.”

Colin parked his Jeep near the turnoff into Jill’s driveway so the motor wouldn’t frighten off early morning wildlife. He walked up the drive and before getting far he noticed a few things. The drive was a muddy mess for one thing, marked with the tire tracks of large equipment. As he neared the house he saw there was a forklift, wood chipper and a little Bobcat backhoe all parked in a row along the tree line east of the house. As he walked around the house he saw a wide path had been cut through the copse of trees to the back meadow, all the huge, felled trees stacked and ready to be taken away.

“Morning,” she said.

He whirled around in surprise to see Jillian sitting on the back porch steps wearing purple furry slippers, draped in a quilt and holding a steaming cup of coffee in both hands. It wasn’t even 6:00 a.m.

“Morning. What’s going on here?”

“A little excavation. I needed access to that back meadow. And we’ve just about got the garden fenced. I’m afraid we scared off the wildlife for the time being, but I’m sure they’ll be back when things quiet down.”

“Are things going to quiet down?”

“Sure. Gardening is a serene occupation. But for now there’s been some noise. I’m putting up a couple of greenhouses back there behind the trees. Everything should be finished in a week, unless Denny can’t figure out how to erect the greenhouses. If we have to get more help, it could take longer. Want a cup of coffee, since you’ve come all this way?”

He held his camera out to the side, glancing at it. Useless now, he thought. “Sure.”

“I’ll get it for you and bring it out. There’s no place to sit in the house. How do you take it?”

“A little cream.”

“Will two percent milk do?” she asked.

He gave her a slight smile. “Yeah. That’ll work fine.”

She pulled the quilt around her and shuffled into the house, into the kitchen. She poured and dressed his coffee.

“There’s no furniture in here,” he said from behind her. He had followed her inside.

She turned around while stirring. “Sure there is. I have a recliner and all my important stuff—computer, printer, TV. I had to ask Jack to throw a stovetop and refrigerator in here, even though I’m sure the eventual owner will want custom stuff that actually fits the space the builder provided. There’s room for lots of large, high-end kitchen appliances—stuff with all the bells and whistles. I just needed the occasional flame and a small refrigerator. I mostly use the microwave.”

“Do you have a bed somewhere?”

“Is that important? I’m very comfortable in the recliner and, since I’m not expecting any company it’ll do just fine for now…unless my sister comes to be sure I haven’t completely lost my mind.” She smiled and said, “I told her she’d have to bring her own recliner.”

He reached for the coffee. “Why is she worried about that? Because you’re living in the kitchen and are planting the back forty?”

Jill chuckled. “You have no idea how perfect this is. When I turn out the lights and the TV I can see the stars from that chair. If it’s clear, that is. And it’s going to be clear a lot more often in summer. I stand guard, trying to train the deer and bunnies to move along to the next farm. In the early morning, just as the mist and fog are lifting, I can watch the land come to life. I don’t usually go outside before seven, but it was such a nice morning today. Actually, I half expected you to show up.”

He sipped his coffee. “Where are your clothes?”

She pulled the quilt around her. Her hair was still mussed from sleep and her cheeks kind of rosy and he wanted to pull her into his arms for just a little touch. A little taste. “I’ll get dressed in a while,” she said.

“No,” he said with a laugh. “Your wardrobe. Your luggage. You obviously don’t keep them in the kitchen.”

“Oh, that—there’s a closet in that bedroom—one of two closets in the whole house. Maid’s quarters, we think.”

“Ah,” he said. “So, I guess this means you’re going full speed ahead?”

“With the growing? Oh, yes. I’m so charged up I can hardly sleep at night. Want to go outside? Sit on the porch? I mean, there could be a totally crazy deer out there that hasn’t been completely intimidated by the excavation noise.”

“Sure,” he said. “And you can tell me about your greatest expectation for this exercise.”

“I think,” she said as they went back out the door, “that I’m trying my hand at becoming a commercial farmer. I don’t know if it’ll work until I know if I can grow the stuff, but I could farm exotic, rare, heirloom fruits and
vegetables. The kind that are hard to produce. I would sell them to high-end restaurants that are looking for new and unique, fabulous foods.”

He sipped again. “Going to buy a fleet of trucks to deliver them to big cities?”

She laughed. “Nope. Going to call UPS or FedEx and send them overnight. They’re delicate—none of them have a long shelf life. And they’re not used in mass quantities, usually as side dishes or garnishes.”

“How do you make money doing that?”

She shrugged. “You become the best, with the best marketing campaign. And, of course, you start small and regionally. I’ve already identified target cities with five-star restaurants. I wouldn’t ship to New York—it’s too far. But shipping to Portland, Sun Valley, Seattle, Vancouver, San Francisco and the surrounding areas would not be a problem.”

He chuckled. “I have to admit, it’s gutsy and it actually sounds reasonable.”

“It’s completely reasonable! There is one ‘x’ factor…and that’s whether I can grow these rare, old seeds. I bought product from several different seed companies and I’ll check them out. My great-grandmother canned some, sold some fresh off the porch—we had a hard time getting by back then and she had lots of ways to supplement her income. This is a whole different story. If it works, buyers will order ahead of season, so I have to know I can deliver. It’ll take me six to eighteen months to figure that out.”

“But how long are you renting…?”

“Through summer. But things like moves and leases can be worked out. The one thing I can’t control is whether or not I can grow the stuff.”

“So, you’ll have fruit trees, too?” he asked.

“No trees,” she said, shaking her head. “There are a few apple trees on the property, but I’m not planting trees…”

“But you said fruits…”

“Tomatoes, tomatillo, melons, et cetera—are all considered fruits.” She smiled.

He felt a little pang of something. A jolt of some kind. She was awful cute. Incredibly smart and very cute.

Colin was a little startled.
Cute
was not in his vernacular. He felt those sizzling jolts when he was with women he would describe as
hot
or
sexy
or
edible,
but he had never before felt a single nerve-tingle for
cute.
He was too jaded for that. He reasoned this was probably only because he hadn’t been with a woman for so long and, further, because he assumed he probably wouldn’t be again, at least not for a very long time. And certainly not this one—although she was smart as a whip, she was too “girl next door.” He was attracted to women in low-cut tops with generous cleavages, microscopic skirts and four-inch heels. The kind of women you wouldn’t want your mother to meet.

“Is the eagle painting done?” she asked him.

“Done? Oh, no,” he said. “That won’t be done for a while. Maybe another few weeks.”

“Wow. Don’t you get bored, spending so much time on one painting?”

“I have several going at one time. I keep going back, improving, changing, fixing, getting them right. It’s hard to know when it’s really done. And sometimes when you think they’re finished, they’re not. More often, when you think they’re
not
finished, they really are. Sometimes knowing when to stop is more important than knowing when to keep working on it.”

“And then you sell them?”

He shook his head. “Haven’t ever sold one.”

She sat up straighter and her quilt slipped off one shoulder exposing her striped pajamas. They were almost little-girl pajamas. “Never sold one? How do you make a living?”

Again he chuckled. “I’m independently wealthy.”

“How nice for you. Do you plan to ever sell any or are you doing this for fun?”

“Right now painting them is more important than selling them,” he said.

“What kind of market is there for a…an
eagle?
”

He smiled at her. Straight to the point, wasn’t she? “Huge,” he said. “I didn’t realize that when I got hooked on animals. Wild animals, not kittens or puppies. I liked them better than bowls of fruit….”

She got a teasing grin on her face. “Better than nudes?”

He matched her grin. “I’ve never painted any nudes.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Was that an offer?”

She burst out laughing and he found the sound was perfectly charming.
Charming?
Yet another word Colin had never used before, but it suited her. And son of a bitch if it didn’t
charm
him!

“Oh, believe me, you can do way better than me! Maybe I could strip, wear my garden gloves, straw hat and rubber boots—that should get you a big
Playboy
commission!” And she laughed some more while he got an irresistible image in his head that he wanted to paint. “But seriously, who buys paintings of animals?”

“Wildlife art,” he said. “Look it up on Google sometime. It surprised the hell out of me.”

“So,” she said, sipping the coffee, “you’ve been at this for a while?”

What the hell, he thought. Everyone else probably
knew, given his brother lived here. “I was in the Army. I was a pilot and crashed in a helicopter. I broke a bunch of bones, got some burns, was in therapy for six months trying to get back on my feet, and I painted.” He shrugged. “I’ve always done some drawing and painting, but it kinda looks like this is how I’m going to spend my time, at least for now. The Army retired me. So,” he said with a nod of his chin, “I’m trying to get good.”

“Oh,” she said, serious. “Sorry about the crash. You all right now?”

“Getting there. I get a little stiff and sore, but otherwise, pretty good.”

“And you’re here because…?”

“Because my brother is here and there’s also an abundance of wildlife. I have another brother in Chico, but no deer or fox or eagles around his house. I rented a cabin till hunting season opens in September. I should be ready to hit the road by then. Meantime, I can paint. My cabin is in a valley by a stream, very isolated. I’m already getting some good pictures of animals there.”

She sat up a little straighter. “What happens when hunting season starts?”

“I’ll be moving on. Oh, I’m sure I’ll visit sometimes. But before I decide where I’ll live next I’m planning to spend six months in Africa. The Serengeti. Maybe even head over to the Amazon.”

“Big game,” she said. Her eyes gently closed and he wondered if she could be visualizing it in her head the way he was—large canvases of elephants, lions, tigers, wildebeests….

“Big game for me—tiny, weird little vegetables for you. How do you think we’re going to do?”

“I don’t know how you’re going to do, Colin, but I’m going to kick some ass. I’m a marketing and public
relations expert and I was taught to grow by the best—my nana. She could throw a diamond in the ground and grow a diamond vine.” She grinned. “You don’t know me but, trust me, I haven’t been this excited in a long, long time.”

C
olin tried to limit dinner at Luke’s to once a week. He was accustomed to being on his own. It bothered him that he actually enjoyed it and it made him wonder if he was losing some of his independent edge. He was fond of Shelby; that sweet young thing was a treasure whom Luke surely couldn’t deserve. He got the biggest kick out of Brett. The baby was crawling now and trying to pull himself up on the furniture. Colin still had a problem with Luke and probably always would. Maybe because he was the oldest of the Riordian boys, Luke always took a patriarchal attitude—at least with Colin—acting as if he was the parent and this got on Colin’s last nerve.

There should be a statute of limitations on big brothering. They were only two years apart in age and Luke was not smarter or more experienced. Colin felt that after the age of thirty, brothers of all ages should become equals.

When he got to Luke’s, his brother met him on the porch. “Good, you’re here a little early. I need to talk to you. Let me get you a cola.”

“Skip it,” Colin said. “What’s on your mind?”

Luke took a deep breath. “Jack mentioned you stopped
by for a beer. I asked him if he was sure that was a beer and he said he was sure.”

Colin put his hands on his hips. “So, let me guess. You informed him he shouldn’t sell me a beer?”

Luke shook his head. “No, but I’m counting on you making a decision not to order one.”

“Why don’t you just stay out of it, Luke? I’m capable of managing my own life.”

Luke shook his head. “Colin, you can’t be doing that—you know that. Alcohol is a drug!”

Colin ground his teeth. “I didn’t come here so you could micromanage me. Believe me, I learned more in treatment than you’ll ever know. I want you to let me make my own decisions. I’ll be fine.”

“Listen,” Luke said, clearly trying to be patient. “I know you’re still coping with a lot of stuff. I’m just trying to keep an eye on things so I can help and—”

“That’s what I don’t want, don’t you get that? I don’t want you keeping an eye on a lot of things!”

“Beer is not the answer!” Luke nearly shouted.

“Believe me, three beers in six months is not me looking for answers! You gotta back off before you really piss me off!” Colin shouted back.

“I know you’ve had some challenges, but—”

“Some
challenges?
” Colin asked hotly. “I lost my
life!
I lost my career, the one thing I really lived for—flying! I lost my body and, for a while, my brain! You gotta stay off what’s left of my fucking back!”

“Yeah, I just don’t want you to lose it all again! Christ, man, you got your painting! You’re getting along!”

“You call this getting along? You think this is what I
want?
”

“Colin, it’ll get better, you just have to—”

“I have to try to stay steady!” Colin yelled. “
You
have to back off!”

And with that he turned, nearly jumped down the porch stairs, got into his Jeep and got the hell out of there before he got any hotter. Any more stupid. Luke had always gotten to him, or he’d always gotten to Luke; he wasn’t sure which. But he’d wanted to throw a punch. Nothing could be more ridiculous than that—Luke would’ve swung back, and while his body was so much better, it was not ready for a fight. Five years ago he’d have whipped Luke’s ass, but now? He was still healing; brittle and off balance. He’d probably just end up rebreaking some things.

He went home. Where he
wished
he did have a beer!

He was no longer hungry. He turned on his bright lighting, brought out the four-by-four canvas of the buck. He attached two photos to the top of the canvas—one of the animal he’d caught on camera at the river and a second of a nicer-looking background. He was usually able to get a little lost in the painting, but not this time. And when he heard a car or truck engine about a half hour later, he steamed up all over again. How like Luke to follow him with the fight!

But it wasn’t Luke.

“We’d better have a talk,” Shelby said from behind him. She’d let herself in.

He turned, palette and brush in hand. “I thought you were Luke.”

Shelby closed the door and walked into his brightly lit cabin. “Some advice,” she said. “If you want to keep Luke out, it would be best to try the door locks.”

He put down the palette and brush. She was such a beautiful, tiny thing in her boots and jeans, suede jacket, hair down to her butt. She was twenty-seven, but she
looked even younger. “Aren’t you afraid of a typical Riordan screaming match?” he asked her.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said. “Riordan men have a lot of flaws, but they’re always civil to women. Let’s talk. This has to stop.”

“Shelby, Luke had no reason to jump on me. I wasn’t using drugs of any kind. I just had a couple of beers, a few weeks apart….”

“Not that, I don’t care about that. This is about the conflict you have with Luke and he with you. He claims not to know how it all started, but that doesn’t matter. He’s your brother. He cares about you. Somehow you and Luke have to come to terms. There’s no reason to tear up the rest of the family over whatever it is.”

“The rest of the family learned to live with it by the time we were eight and ten,” he said.

“I didn’t,” she replied. “Brett didn’t.”

He was stunned silent for a moment. Briefly ashamed. “Aw, Shelby…”

“I can understand how it gets on your nerves to feel like someone’s always watching you. If we hadn’t nearly lost you, maybe Luke would go a little lighter…”

“Doubtful,” Colin said. “He has a tendency to take charge. Taking charge is fun for him. Not so much for me.”

“He loves you. He cares.”

“He’s a control freak,” Colin said.

“Also true,” she said. “And so are you or you’d just answer his concerns without a fight every time.”

Colin was suddenly deflated and he sat down in the nearest chair, hanging his head. When he lifted it, his eyes were sad. “Please,” he said to Shelby. “Sit down for a second.”

She sat in the chair nearest him, leaning toward him, her hands on her knees.

Colin took a deep breath. “I have been alerted about problems with cross-addiction. For several months I didn’t even gargle with mouthwash that contained microscopic amounts of alcohol. I’ve never been a big drinker. Oh, there were times I could overdo it with my boys, but I wasn’t irresponsible—no DUIs in my history, no bar fights, no issues. I don’t think a beer once a week or month is going to be a problem for me. But still—there isn’t any liquor of any kind in this cabin. Go ahead,” he said. “Check.”

“I’m not going to check.”

“I never had a drug or drinking problem, but over a month of lots of Oxycontin right after the crash is a whole different animal. It’s powerful stuff and I was having a lot of pain. I think it’s possible if I’d had my medicine flipped to a nonnarcotic after a week or two I wouldn’t have faced this problem, but that’s hindsight. I have to go forward with the knowledge that I tried to buy it on the street, I was that panicked at the thought of running out. That’s addict thinking. Trust me, I’m aware.”

“Why couldn’t you just talk to Luke about it?” she asked.

“It’s complicated,” he said. “First of all, Luke never listens. He never minds his own goddamn business. He’s real judgmental, which happens when you know everything. And I have bigger problems—I’m trying like hell to get some kind of life! This isn’t what I had in mind.”

“The paintings, Colin,” she said, letting her hand wave at the room, gesturing at all the paintings nearly done, leaning against the walls or up on easels. “They’re so good. Just amazing.”

“But this is not what I planned. I like to draw, paint, build… But I
love
to fly! I wasn’t going to stop—I was
going to fly until the FAA stopped me. I knew the Army would force me out eventually, but I planned on doing civilian rescue chopper flying or news chopper or corporate flying. But now, with a history of drug treatment and hospitalization for depression, that’s out of the picture. Even I wouldn’t hire me.”

“I’m sorry, Colin. But I think it was the right decision. Treatment.”

“No argument there. I was only on the oxy merry-go-round for a month—I was in the pen with people who’d been addicted for years. To that and to even worse stuff. Multiple stuff. Now I might be just kidding myself, and we’ll see, but those folks coming out of long-term addiction to multiple drugs probably shouldn’t risk the occasional beer. I used oxy for thirty days and don’t really know how long my addiction was and, by the grace of God, I got caught the
first time
I tried to buy it on the street. My chances of getting beyond that? I’d say they’re good! To tell you the truth, that’s the least of my problems—I don’t even want a painkiller. I have aches and pains, but a life I didn’t choose was left to me. And I have a big brother who can’t back off and let me figure things out.”

“The lifestyle change must be so hard for you.”

“You have no idea,” he said. “If it’s not bad enough that I’m starting over, I’m forty with a sketchy record of rehab and other stuff, and a whole crop of twenty-five-year-old hotshots ready to fill my slot. Now look, I’m not going to go off the deep end. I’m not going to complain or take drugs or drink myself into a blind stupor, but if Luke doesn’t stop riding me and taking my temperature all the time, I might just go completely crazy. Or deck him. Or move. After all—most of this is his fault.”

Shelby sat up a bit straighter. “Luke’s fault?”

“I struggled to keep up with him my whole life. I admired him so much, I watched every move he made. But I wanted to be a helicopter pilot from the first time I saw one banking across the sky. Then Luke stumbled into a chopper pilot slot in the Army and made it look fun and easy. He made it look like it was his idea. For me, it was way more than that.” He leaned toward her. “Shelby, it was the best thing I ever did in my life. It became my passion, my lover, my best friend. I know Luke hates this, but I was good. I was a natural. If Luke was good, and he was, then I was
incredible.
That machine was made for me. I love flying.”

“Luke said your first words when you became conscious after the wreck were that you were going to fly again.”

“I wasn’t able to pull that off,” he said.

“I’m not sure you have to give it up,” Shelby said. “Maybe for a while, while you heal body and soul, but not forever. Let’s not fall off that bridge yet.”

“Aw, skip it. There are plenty of ex-Army chopper pilots out there looking for work, Shelby. Shake a tree and ten of ’em fall out.”

“So? Then?”

“Down the road I might find a flying job of some kind that’s a little out there—something the average family man wouldn’t take. To and from oil rigs, wilderness stuff, I don’t know. That’s in the future. Right now I’m going to see how it works to paint for a while. I don’t hate it. I never hated it. My mom and all my high school teachers wanted me to go to college and study art, but art was just too tame for me. But now I’m a little slower, so… I just don’t know if it’s going to be enough. The reason I came up here instead of going to Montgomery where Sean lives or Chico where Aiden is—there’s some wildlife here. I
need a little more time to get stronger. I’m working with some weights. I’m making an effort. But this isn’t permanent, me being here. This is temporary.”

“We know that.”

“I’ll visit more often than I have in the past,” he said. “That little guy, I think he needs me to offset his father….”

“Be nice now,” Shelby said with a smile. “That’s the man I love.”

“Imagine,” he said with a laugh. “I don’t know how he caught you.”

Shelby stood. “I caught him. He fought me all the way.”

Colin stood. “See? He’s an inferior being.”

“Now that I know you’re fine, even if you are missing a good dinner, I’m taking off.”

“Tell him what we talked about. Tell him I’m sorry I lost it. I don’t hate him. I just need him to give me space.”

She looked over her shoulder at Colin. “I’ll tell him what we talked about.
You
tell him you’re sorry and what you need. You’re grown-up men. By now you should be able to do this.”

“We can’t ever seem to get there,” Colin said.

“Try harder,” she suggested.

“Did you give Luke this lecture?” Colin asked.

“Not this one,” she said. “He didn’t get the gentle one.” And then she was out the door.

An hour later there was a knock at the cabin door and Colin swore. He yanked open the door and Luke was standing there, a brown paper bag in his hand. “I hope we’re about done with the Luke and Shelby show now,” Colin said.

Luke didn’t respond to that. He said, “Shelby’s not that much of a cook…. Don’t tell her I said that, either. But she’s got a few things she never screws up, like this meat loaf. It’s Preacher’s recipe, I think. You wouldn’t want to miss it.”

“I already had something to eat,” Colin lied.

“Put it in the refrigerator for tomorrow night. And I’m going to stay out of your business.”

Colin lifted a brow. “Was that an apology?”

“Nope. I don’t think I’m up to that yet because, although I take some responsibility, you are a huge pain in the ass. Here,” he said, pushing the bag toward him.

Colin took the bag. “She chewed your ass, didn’t she?”

Luke shook his head. “Worse. She cried.”

“Shelby cried?” Colin asked. “Aw, Jesus. Come in here.”

“I don’t feel like it. You didn’t make her cry. I did. And I’m not going to ever do that again. I really can’t take it when she’s unhappy. I know that makes me just a real wimp in your very manly eyes, but that woman…” He shrugged lamely. “My life was pretty much an empty barrel till she came along and slapped me into shape. So there—now you know I’m not tough….”

“What the hell did you say to make her cry?” Colin asked a bit meanly.

“It wasn’t what I said to her, you idiot. It’s what I said to
you!
”

Colin shook his head. “I’m a little lost here, pal.”

“Yeah, because you’re not that bright. We had yet another argument, me and you, and right after Shelby told me I was a stupid asshole, she said if I do one more thing to alienate you or cause you to move away before you plan to, I was going to be pretty hard to forgive.”