Oh, let’s see, Luke thought to himself. He’d been in three Black Hawk accidents in his career, the first one in Mogadishu and it had been pretty serious. He had been young then and had come home to his pregnant wife only to learn the baby she was having wasn’t his. So long ago. Suicidal tendencies had followed that…. Years of living on the edge to avoid living an authentic life. And later, after finding Shelby, almost losing her out of the sheer stupidity of believing he couldn’t deserve her. “He’s such an idiot,” Luke muttered. “I thought I had the franchise on that.”

“You must promise you won’t ever tell him you found me like this,” she said. “I don’t want him to come home because I need him, because I’m pathetic. I want him to come home because this is where he wants to be. Do you promise?”

He wiped a tear off her cheek. “I promise. Have you heard from him?”

“Just the emails. The same ones you got. And there was one short one just for me. Two weeks ago.”

“No phone calls?” Luke asked.

“He’s in the jungle, Luke.”

“Don’t they have some kind of communications?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “He told everyone not to be worried if he was out of touch. I just wish… It would have been nice to hear his voice before he went into the wild. You know.”

“Do the two of you have some kind of plans for after this? Like when he comes back? Because…”

But she was shaking her head. “He said he’d keep looking for a good flying job, an exciting flying job. Something that can compete with flying for the Army, I guess. If not Africa, maybe New Zealand or Alaska. And he said he’d paint, but he couldn’t be happy just painting. I think I’m smart enough to know he couldn’t be happy on a farm where the most exciting thing that happens is the first Russian Rose tomato comes in.”

“He had no idea what’s next for him? Because he never suggested to the rest of us that this was just the beginning… He said six months….”

She shook her head. “Unless he found that flying job he’s looking for,” she said. “He said he told you all that if he found something he liked, it could be longer than six months.”

“Yeah, I guess he said something like that.”

“Maybe that’s what’s so hard now. He might find he does just fine without me, that it’s time to move on….”

Luke started to laugh.

“Funny?” she asked.

“Yeah, it’s funny. I really thought I was the biggest blockhead in the family. Good of Colin to outshine me in this area. Remind me to thank him.”

“Sure,” she said. “Can I show you something private?”

Luke frowned. “I don’t know if I want to see anything private. Could be embarrassing…”

“You’ll get over it, Luke. You might not know all about your brother. Come with me,” she said, getting off his lap. She let the quilt drop in the other porch chair and walked through the kitchen and up the stairs.

As Luke followed her, he was vaguely aware that she’d grown thin. Well, she didn’t have much to spare to begin with, but it seemed she’d been more solid before Colin’s departure. He followed her into the bedroom and there, over the bed, were two large oils. Nudes. A woman in a big straw hat that hid most of her face. Only the curve of a breast or roundness of her butt were visible, but just the line of the jaw and tilt of the smile made these portraits out to be Jillian. And the Jillian in the paintings was much rounder, fuller, more muscular than the one who stood before him, her pajamas hanging off her trim frame.

“He gave me these before he left. They were a complete surprise.”

“My brother painted these?” Luke asked, though he knew the answer.

She nodded.

Luke shook his head. He whistled. “I was never exactly jealous of this, that he could do this. I don’t have any interest. But damn. I wonder if that pain-in-the-ass brother of mine has any idea how much he has to be grateful for.” He turned to look at Jillian. “I kind of doubt it. He’s got a gift, but he’s not all that bright.”

Jillian laughed in spite of herself. “Stop. He’s very smart.”

“Aw, you and Shelby, always sticking up for him. I don’t get it.”

“You’re both good guys. I don’t know why you don’t get along better.”

“Because he’s a blockhead and a pain in the ass,” Luke said. “Now you get a shower and get on some jeans. I’m taking you home to dinner and don’t argue. We’re not going to say anything to Colin, should we ever hear from that lowlife idiot again, but you’re obviously not eating. Probably not sleeping much, either. Waste of your time, crying over that as**ole if you ask me, but this is gonna get fixed. Don’t tell Shelby I said this, but she’s not a great cook—but tonight is pot roast and she hardly ever makes it inedible. There will be plentiful wine with it and dessert which, thank God, she bought. The food and wine will go a long way to helping you sleep. I’m going to make sure you eat and sleep until you get back to your old self.”

“You don’t have to do this, Luke….”

“But I am. You think you’re the first person whose heart hurt? Aw, hell, Jillian—the Riordans are famous for it. Since we can’t change Colin, we’re gonna have to get you on your feet.”

“It’s pretty embarrassing,” she said. “I didn’t want anyone to—”

“To care about you?” he asked. He took a step toward her. “I think my brother made a mistake. I think he’s going to regret it—taking off like that. I think it’s possible he’s an idiot savant and this is just something he got, this painting thing. But he should have planned ahead better, made sure you were willing to wait for him while he did whatever it is he thinks he has to do. There should have been an expiration date on this ego-feeding thing he has going on. But the man who painted those,” he said, glancing over his shoulder, growing serious and even respectful. “That man worships you. It’s obvious.”

Jillian smiled sentimentally. She knew that. Colin loved her. But would that ever bring him back to her?

“Now let’s concentrate on getting you back on your feet. You have a farm to run. My wife loves getting your vegetables. She hardly ever screws up salad.”

Nineteen

Luke brought Jillian to his house, fed her, plied her with good red wine, dessert and left her in Shelby’s expert hands. For three days Shelby carried food and understanding to Jillian at the Victorian, or forced Jillian to come to her house. Jillian might not have eaten otherwise. They talked about their men and experiences with them, about how much they loved them and how much it could hurt while waiting for them to figure out their heads. In that time Jillian began to sleep better at night, regain her appetite and cry less often. She also became very close to Shelby.

Who would figure Luke could be capable of knowing how to help heal a woman’s broken heart? But in an abstract way, he’d been responsible.

“It’s strange that Luke, such a clumsy romantic, came to you to help,” Shelby said. “But these Riordan men. They have so much conflict between them and yet they do all they can for each other. Aiden came to me. He flew all the way to Hawaii to find me, dry my tears, prop me up. His mission was to try to explain why Luke was so impossible to reach.”

“And did he?” Jillian asked.

“He did. But you’ve met Aiden. It doesn’t take long to figure out how wise and sensitive he is—I guess he has to be as a woman’s doctor. Who would guess Luke could be sensitive enough to do the same thing?” She smiled. “I’m glad you got to see that, Jill. I’m glad someone besides me knows how really special my Luke is.”

In no time Shelby was harvesting right alongside Jillian, taking home great quantities of delicious and precious vegetables and melons.

And Jillian was feeling stronger and more confident. She wasn’t missing Colin any less, but she realized she had to fill her life with more than grief and worry. There were people in her life who would be friends. And there was her work—she vowed to focus on her own ambitions while Colin experimented with his.

She took pictures of some of the crop and she fired off a few emails for Colin to receive whenever he was able to next make an internet connection.

She was no longer sobbing and losing weight, thanks to Luke and Shelby. But she still thought about Colin constantly. She slept on his pillow, inhaling that special scent that grew fainter by the day, and she dreamed about him. She had taken to lying down in the afternoon for a while to make up for the sleep she lost at night. But she was on the mend. For the first time since he left almost four weeks ago, she believed she would survive no matter what came next.

Jillian was ready for some semblance of normalcy, but it was not to come quickly. On the morning she would have expected Denny to return to work with her, he crept silently up her drive, tiptoed onto the back porch and slipped an envelope in the crack of the back door. It wasn’t even 6:00 a.m. but she happened to be up. She’d been awake since five, on the heels of another vivid dream about Colin, and since she was awake she wanted to see the sun rise over the tall trees that surrounded the house and gardens. Because of that, the only light on in the big Victorian was the little red light on the coffeepot. Denny would have assumed she was still in bed.

She thought about snatching open the door and calling out to him, but instead she simply slid the envelope inside, opened it and looked at the contents. There was a handwritten, folded piece of paper for her and a sealed envelop upon which Jack’s name was written. Her note said,

Dear Jillian, I’m sorry to be leaving you without notice, but after giving it a lot of thought, I’ve decided to go back to San Diego. I enjoyed working with you, but I think I’ll find more opportunities in the city where I grew up. Thank you for everything and I hope you’re very successful. And if you would please give the enclosed letter to Jack, I’d appreciate it. Thank you. Denny

That’s it? she asked herself. After all we’ve done? This was all wrong, she thought. That Denny would leave her like this, knowing how much he liked the gardens and how alone she was at the moment, that was bad enough. But sneaking his letter of resignation in the predawn hours? Leaving a letter for Jack rather than talking with him? Slipping away before anyone could say goodbye?

She picked up the phone and called the bar, hoping that line would ring into the house. She supposed if no one picked up she could find Jack or Mel’s number by calling around, though it was awful early for that.

“Jack’s Bar,” a gruff voice said.

“Preacher?”

“That’s me,” he said, sounding fully awake and alert.

“It’s Jillian. Listen, something very weird just happened—”

“You all right?”

“Fine. But I was sitting in the kitchen, in the dark, waiting to see the sunrise, when Denny slipped a note in the door and took off. The note says he’s leaving and asked that I give a letter to Jack for him. It’s in a sealed envelope, Preacher. Denny is sneaking away for some reason. This makes no sense.”

“Crap,” Preacher said. “Thanks, Jillian. I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.”

Preacher called Jack and Jack called Jo Ellen Fitch, Denny’s landlady, while he was pulling on jeans and boots. “Jo, sorry about the early hour…”

“I’m up, Jack. I start early.”

“I need you to check and see if Denny’s around. He left a note for Jillian saying he’s leaving town.”

“Leaving town?” she echoed. “He didn’t say anything to me. Why wouldn’t he say anything to—” She stopped talking and Jack could hear her opening her door. “What in the world…? Jack? There’s an envelope in my door and there’s… There’s money in it. It’s the balance he owed for the rest of the month. He paid by the week and— And, his truck seems to be gone. You want me to read the note, Jack?”

“Never mind. That’s all I needed to know. I’ll get back to you later.” He put the phone on its base and muttered, “Son of a bitch!”

Mel sat up in bed, her hair all a mess. “What in the world is going on?”

“Denny bolted. He left notes for Jillian, Jo Fitch and one for me. Says he’s going home.”

“And where are you going?” she asked.

“Possibly all the way to San Diego. Can you get the kids together without my help before going to the clinic?”

“Sounds like I’d better be able to,” Mel said. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know yet,” he said. He leaned down, gave her a kiss and said, “We don’t do things like this. We don’t leave notes!”

Denny figured it was all for the best, that he just head back to a life he understood and felt comfortable in. He knew people in San Diego. Maybe not a ton of people, but he still had a few friends there. And it was true—there probably were more opportunities for him, jobwise. He hated to leave Jillian’s farm, though. He’d begun to have visions of what it might become—like one of the hottest, most productive organic farms in northern California. Just listening to her talk about it day in, day out, he thought that a couple of years from now it would be incredible. Fantastic. He was sorry he’d miss it.

He trundled along down highway 36 toward 101, which would take him south. He’d drive as far as possible today, maybe all the way. He turned up the volume on the iPod and let rock music fill the cab of his truck, but the next thing he knew there were headlights from the rear blinding him, a truck horn blasting and some lunatic following too close. “Jesus,” he muttered, looking for a wide space in the road to get to one side so this idiot could pass him.