And he laughed.
“This is funny to you?” she asked.
“Not at all. Coincidental, that’s all. Who would think we’d share something so bizarre—like screwed-up family?”
“I know Maxie a little bit and she is amazing,” Nora said.
“You bet she is. When I was born my dad was a test pilot in the Air Force, out in the high desert, Edwards Air Force Base. He flew spooky new jets. My mother was at the end of her rope with the living conditions, the lifestyle, all that went with his job, plus she was really young and I guess I wasn’t exactly planned. So, when I was a month old she brought me to Maxie and said, ‘Here. You take care of him. This was all a mistake.’ And off she went. I might know more about her except my dad was killed in a crash a couple of months later. I have no memory of either of them. So, there you go—we both have some unusual family histories. I hear my dad was a normal guy, but who knows what’s in the other gene pool. I don’t know anything at all about my mother.” He took a pause. “But I’ll tell you this—if she showed up all of a sudden, I’d have some questions.”
She was speechless. Why was it that everyone else’s life always seemed so easy, so flawless?
He pulled onto the road, heading for the orchard. Nora watched his profile. He was smiling. This was a hard man to read—he could be so kind, so generous and thoughtful, but she had also seen him glower as if just seconds from an outburst. Perhaps, she thought, being raised by Therese left her fearful of a frown. Surely not everyone came apart at the seams if something displeased them—that certainly wasn’t the case with her.
Tom pulled up to the barn and parked. He jumped out and she followed more slowly. When he got to the door to his office, he turned and looked at her. “You okay?” he asked.
She took a breath. “That was nice of you, to tell me that. It made me feel a little less…I don’t know…a little less like a loser.”
He actually laughed. “How long have you lived here?”
“Eight months.”
“If I hadn’t told you, someone else would have. Everyone knows. And everyone talks.”
“Right,” she said.
He turned to walk away and she said to his back, “So what would you ask her? Your mother? If she turned up suddenly?”
He pivoted. “I guess I’d ask her if she had any regrets.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Makes sense.”
“How about you?” he fired at her.
“What?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Any regrets? About finding yourself a single, twenty-three-year-old apple-picking mother?”
Remarkably, coming from him, she took no offense. After all, they shared some difficult history. And she was going to have to get used to that very thing he said—that everyone knew and everyone talked. “About having my daughters?” She shook her head. “I could never regret having them. They’re miracles. About not having them after being married to a handsome, rich investment banker for about six years? Yeah, that’s regrettable.”
That brought out his grin and she realized he had a very attractive dimple. Left cheek. “Investment banker, huh?”
“Okay, neurosurgeon. Astronaut. Computer genius. CEO of a Fortune 500 company.”
He laughed. In fact, he tilted his head back and guffawed, hands on his hips. “Damn, kid—an ordinary old apple grower wouldn’t stand a chance!”
She stared at him, watching him laugh at her for a long second. Then she headed for the office door. “I’ll make the coffee,” she said.
Well. If he’d been looking for something to take her mind off her current challenges, he’d certainly done it with that statement. He probably had no idea what a luxury it seemed to someone like her to raise a family in the healthy and pristine beauty of these mountains, in a great big house right in the middle of a delicious orchard. Or the fantasies it could inspire to think about being wanted by a man like Tom Cavanaugh.
He drove her back to the road to Virgin River after her shift. “You can’t do this every day,” she said. “It’s too much.”
“It’s two miles,” he replied. “And when you get a ride, you pick more fruit.”
“Well, I have to admire a man who knows what he wants,” she said. Then she jumped out of the truck and headed for home. Even though Adie was expecting her, she stopped at the church, looking for Reverend Kincaid.
She stood in his office doorway and waited until he looked up. “If that offer is still open, I’d like to set up a meeting with my father. If you’ll contact him and go with me.”
“Be happy to,” he said. “Any particular day?”
“Doesn’t matter to me. Weekend, if he’s available and if you’re available. Saturday? I could take a day off I think, but I don’t want to do that to the Cavanaughs—work weekend overtime and take off on a regular pay day. But if that’s the only option, I think Tom Cavanaugh would give me a break.”
“I’ll call him,” Noah said. “Jed Crane, not Tom.”
“Tell him I want some kind of evidence—that he’s my father, that my mother is dead, that he’s employed… . I don’t know what to ask. I just want to be sure he’s not a fraud. Or a creep who’s just after something. I’m not sure I can remember his face.”
Noah stood from behind his desk. “I’m glad you’re doing this. No matter where it goes from here, you deserve some answers. I’ll ask Ellie to help with your girls.”
* * *
They chose a public park in Santa Rosa as a meeting place and Nora was so stressed out, she barely spoke all the way there. She did say, “Please don’t leave me alone with him and don’t mention that I have children.” Once Noah had to pull over because she was afraid she was going to throw up. When they got to the park at noon, Nora knew Jed immediately. The memory of him came back instantly—he was the same, though older. He was very tall, his brown hair was thin over a shiny crown with a lumpy shape, his eyes kind of sad, crinkling and sagging at the corners. He had thick, graying brows, had a bit of a soft center—a paunch—and wore his pants too high. And he wore a very unfashionable short-sleeved plaid shirt with a button-down collar that she thought she recognized from the last time she saw him.
Apparently he knew her right away because he immediately took a few anxious steps toward her. And then he opened his arms to her and she instinctively stepped back, out of his reach. That just did him in—he almost broke down. A huff of air escaped him and she thought he teared up. “I’m sorry,” he said. He carried a large padded envelope which he held out toward her. He swiped at invisible tears, embarrassed by this display. “I apologize, Nora,” he said. “I was afraid I’d never see you again.”
And what were her first words to her long-lost father? “Did you ever take me bowling? When I was too little to even think about bowling?”
Sudden laughter joined his tears. “I had no idea what a weekend father was supposed to do—so yes, I took you bowling. It was a disaster, but you seemed to have a fun time. Your ball never once made it to the pins. Here,” he said, pressing the big envelope on her. “Copies of all the papers Reverend Kincaid said you’d like to have.” Then he stuck out his hand to Noah. “Thank you for helping with this. Thank you so much.”
But Nora said, “Weekend father?”
“Let’s sit down somewhere,” Jed suggested. “There’s so much to catch up on.”
As he turned in the direction of a picnic table, Nora put out a hand to his forearm and stopped him. “Do you…”