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.
The man turned and Luke nearly jumped back in surprise. He couldn’t be sure of his age, but two things were glaringly obvious. He had Down syndrome. And a big, nasty black eye.
Luke stayed out of sight. He didn’t want to frighten him.
An hour later he was leaving the house for an early-evening beer at Jack’s and as he went down the driveway to the road, he saw the door to cabin six slowly swing closed. The farthest cabin from the house.
So. He had a tenant.
Luke had been putting in some real long, solitary days. Nothing was going to fix him up better than a cold beer and a little company. When he walked in, Jack welcomed him like an old friend. “Hey, man. Haven’t seen much of you lately. How’s it going?”
“Dirty and ugly.” Luke grinned. “But I’m making incredible progress.”
“Beer?”
“Oh yeah. What’s Preacher got cooking tonight?” Luke asked.
“He’s got some venison stew going back there,” Jack said. “It’s about the best I’ve ever tasted. You staying for dinner?”
“I’m going to have to now,” Luke said.
By the time Luke was halfway through his beer, Paul walked in, still dirty in his work clothes. He looked down at one upturned boot and walked back outside. The banging that could be heard in the bar was Paul kicking the porch steps, knocking the dried mud off his boots. Then he was back, up on a stool beside Luke.
“How you doing, Luke?” Paul asked.
“Pretty good. I was planning to give you a call. Can I get you to send someone out to look at a couple of things? I need to have a professional examine the roofing on the house and cabins and check wiring for me.”
“Be glad to. In fact, I’ll do it myself. Jack,” he said, lifting a finger. A cold beer instantly appeared in front of him. “How’s tomorrow afternoon? Say, around five, when I’m wrapping it up out at the houses and we still have light?”
“Perfect.” Luke glanced over his shoulder a couple of times. He hadn’t seen her in too long. He hoped she’d stay away, prayed she’d be there soon. “You staying for dinner?” he asked Paul.
“Nah,” he said, taking a deep drink. “A beautiful redhead’s cooking for me tonight. And if there’s a God, the general has other plans.”
The bar filled up, some neighbors, a few fishermen and a small gang of young hunters wandered in. Luke had a second beer, opting to wait on the stew a while, and then it happened. She finally came in. He had just about convinced himself he was going to escape temptation tonight. But no, it was going to be worse than usual. Tight jeans, silky blouse under a denim vest, all that hair unbound and flowing free, begging to be crumpled up in his hands.
She came right up to the bar. Paul dropped an arm around her shoulders immediately. “What’s up, kiddo?”
“Not so much,” she said. “Hey, Luke.”
“Hey, yourself,” Luke said.
“Getting any better out at your cabins?” Shelby asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “A lot better.”
“I’m heading home,” Paul said, draining his beer. “Coming home for dinner?” he asked Shelby.
“Uncle Walt’s out for the evening,” she said. “Why don’t I have dinner right here. Luke looks lonely,” she said with an impish smile. “I’ll be home later.”
Paul kissed her forehead and said, “God bless
