by Robyn Carr
He remembered how shell-shocked he’d been when Adele had yanked him out of his mother’s eight-thousand-square-foot house and toted him off to parts unknown. Adele had had a maid help pack two suitcases… Dylan had never traveled with so little. Adele had said to Cherise, “The boy’s in trouble. My son is deceased, you’re filming in Sri Lanka for the next six months, there’s no one but staff to look after him and his best friend is dead…do yourself a favor—don’t argue with me. Give me a chance. I failed his father, maybe I won’t fail him…”
Cherise had replied, “I should call my lawyer…”
And Adele had said, “Have your lawyer call my lawyer. You know I only want Dylan. Whatever you want is undoubtedly easier.”
He remembered like it was yesterday.
Dylan was pulled out of his concrete world where everything was about him and taken to what seemed, at first glance, a jungle. An amazing, beautiful, astonishing wilderness, but still… Nothing in those suitcases worked for him so some grizzled old ranch hand who worked on the property drove him in an old pickup truck to the next big town to buy Wranglers, what he called a proper belt, some boots and most important, underwear that wouldn’t embarrass him in the high school boy’s locker room.
Dylan chuckled silently. In Los Angeles he had to have designer boxers, silk. In Payne he couldn’t drop his drawers unless he wore tightie whities. Really cheap tightie whities.
Ham washed his new clothes a dozen times so they wouldn’t look new. “One pair o’ new ain’t a bad thing,” he had said. “All new’ll prolly get you beat up. Get out in the barn with those boots—work ’em over. And while you’re scuffing ’em up, muck them stalls.”
“Great,” Dylan remembered saying. And he had caressed his face. Get beat up? His primary job was to keep himself ready for the camera. If he was always ready to perform, he could have any other thing he wanted. In. The. World.
He’d been an actor since the age of six, starting with commercials, so he acted like a Montana kid in worn jeans, scuffed boots and really bad underwear. And while he was acting, he blended. While he blended, he started to like where he was—but he kept that to himself for as long as possible.
He had noticed things, however. It had been early spring when Adele snatched him and before he’d been in Montana long his shoulders had grown bulky from pitching hay and mucking stalls in the barn; his face had tanned and his hair was streaked from the sun, his Wranglers were worn in the knees and butt and he’d seen the shy appearance of new babies around his property—fawns, lambs, one foal, a couple of calves, cubs.
And old concrete jungle superstar Dylan Childress began to fall in love with the country, with nature.
The fawn at the edge of the clearing came into full view; the doe behind him was still half-hidden in the trees. And Dylan heard rustling in the kitchen. He put his coffee on the porch floor beside his chair and, moving slowly and quietly, peeked in the cabin. Andy was rooting around in the refrigerator.
“Psst,” Dylan whispered. When Andy looked at him he put a finger to his lips, warning him to be quiet. Then he crooked a finger for Andy to come to him. He very quietly led Andy to the porch. He sat down and brought Andy to stand between his legs and pointed toward the deer. “Look,” he whispered.
Andy let out a little excited gasp.
“Mother and child,” Dylan whispered. “The kid’s getting pretty big. You should see ’em when they’re brand-new, when they can hardly stand up.”
“He looks little to me…”
Dylan chuckled softly. “He’s doubled in size since he was born, probably last spring. He’ll be on his own before long, but they’ll have to move down the mountain where it’s warmer before the snow comes. I used to love the spring at home—not just because the weather got nicer but because… Look,” he said as more deer became visible. “There are more.”
“Home?” Andy asked.
“I live in Montana,” Dylan said. “It’s kind of like here—mountains, woods, wildlife. I have a couple of horses, some chickens, some cows and goats, a mean old bull. You’d like it.”
“I never been on a horse,” Andy said.
“You’re kidding me!”
Andy shook his head. “Or on a cow,” he added.
“Well, we don’t ride cows, we just milk ’em. I only have a couple milk cows and I don’t even know exactly why. Because they’re breeders, I guess.” Andy gave Dylan a totally perplexed look and Dylan laughed. “They have calves. I sell the calves.”
“Why?” Andy asked.
He delayed his answer. “We don’t want to talk about that… The chickens lay eggs—that’s fun. I eat a few, sell the rest. They’re trouble, though. Wildlife want to eat the chickens and keeping them safe can be a pain. So, I have a couple of barn dogs.”
“I never had a dog,” Andy said.
“Kid, I think you’ve been deprived,” he said with a laugh.
“You going home, Dylan?”
“You ready for me to go home?” he asked, giving the twin a little squeeze.
Andy shook his head. “Wish’t I could ride a horse,” he said.
“You ever been on a plane?” Dylan asked.
Andy nodded vigorously. “Two times. Moving away, moving back. It was big. And we had to be still and quiet.”
“Never been on a little plane, huh?”
“Nope. At Disney I was on a elephant…”
“Was it pink? Because if you were on a pink elephant, maybe you should keep that to yourself.”
“You ain’t going home, are you, Dylan?”
“I’m in no big hurry,” Dylan said. “I get a kick out of you and Mitch. And I bet you get a kick out of me.”
There were now five deer in the clearing. Dylan pulled Andy onto his lap. “I do have to think about getting home one of these days,” he said, half to Andy and half to himself.
He considered how awkward the situation he found himself in was. He was here because of Katie and he was not ready to leave her. But she was all that kept him here. There was no denying the beauty of the Virgin River area and the town appealed to him, but he wasn’t one for sitting around on a porch, someone else’s porch at that, whittling and counting deer. He had a home, one he’d been living in for twenty years, in a town he happened to love.
“There’s seven,” Andy whispered. “Look at ’em.”
“You ever live around so many wild animals before?” Dylan asked. Andy just shook his head. “When I was a kid and moved to Montana, I didn’t know anything about wild animals. I’d never been on a horse. But a friend of mine who worked on the property, he taught me to ride, took me off on a trail ride, showed me how to camp, how to shoot a shotgun, then a rifle, how to make it from the house to the barn in a blizzard, how to—”
“Huh?” Andy asked, twisting his head around.
Dylan chuckled softly. “Sometimes we had blizzards so fierce in Montana you wouldn’t want to set out for the barn to check on the animals without a rope tied to the house—you could get lost just hiking across the yard. My friend Ham showed me all kinds of survival things. You ever been in a blizzard, Andy?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
“The answer is no, no blizzards,” Katie said from the door. She came onto the porch with her glass of juice. “Look at the deer!”
“That’s what we’re doing,” Dylan said. “We started with one youngster, obviously a scout for the group. Keep your voice down. Where’s Mitch? I don’t want him to miss this.”
Katie smiled at him. “Andy, go get your brother. Very quietly, don’t bang the door or the deer will run.” When Andy was inside Katie sat down on the porch steps and looked up at Dylan. “Are you talking about going home?” she asked him.
“I was telling Andy about Montana. Everything I have is back there. But, Katie, I’m not going to bail out on you. I gave you my word. I’m going to find a way to prove to you that you can trust me.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I have to run some errands and make some phone calls to
day. I can drop the boys at summer school for you. Will you promise not to go a round with the bear while I’m gone?”
“Promise,” she said.
Mitch came flying out the door, eyes wide, Andy on his heels. “Whoa!” he said. “How long have they been there?”
“A few minutes,” Dylan said. “Come here, let me tell you about my horses. I have two—did you know that? And a few cows.”
“And a bull and chickens,” Andy added.
“And goats and a couple of barn dogs,” Dylan said. “It’s a lot like this place, except I live in a valley and look out at the mountains instead of living in the mountains and looking down at the valley....” And by the time he was telling them about blizzards in Montana he had one twin on each knee.
And he knew exactly what he had to do.
Dylan hadn’t been to his grassy hill alone since leaving those texts that he’d be out of touch for a while. He turned on the phone somewhat reluctantly and saw what he expected—a ton of voice mails, emails and texts. Of course there were quite a few from Hollywood and while he was curious, he didn’t want to waste a lot of time going through them.
He called the one person who hadn’t left him a ton of messages.
“Yo,” Lang answered.
“Hey. You real busy?” Dylan asked.
Lang laughed. “You have reached Childress Aviation—busy is the one thing we’re not. What’s on your mind? Take your time.”
That made him wince, that the company was far from busy. But he pushed through the worry. “I haven’t told you anything about Katie Malone,” he said to his best friend. “You probably saw the kids in the car when we stopped to change her flat—twins. Five-year-old twin boys.”
Lang groaned. “You know, that’s one thing I’ve always been grateful for—that we had ours one at a time. They’re hard enough that way.”
“She had them and raised them almost entirely alone. Well, her brother has always supported her where he could—good male role model for a couple of little boys. Her husband was killed in the war before they were born. He was a highly decorated Green Beret, a hero, a Medal of Honor recipient.”
Lang just whistled.
“I said something about how hard that must have been to bury her husband while her twins were about to pop,” Dylan said. “And I asked her if she had any regrets about falling for this risk-taking soldier and you know what she said, man? She said she was grateful for every second.”
Lang was quiet for a moment before he said, “So, you found her. The one.”
“I found her. There is no one like her in the world. And she’s pregnant.”
There was a chuckle that came all the way from Montana. “You always did get ahead of yourself.”
“I have a lot to prove,” Dylan said. “You probably know this already, but I don’t have one freaking medal to my name. I have a lot to prove to her. To myself.”
“It’s going to come naturally, you’ll see.”
“The boys have never been on a horse or in a small plane. They’ve never reached under a hen for an egg, and they don’t know what a blizzard is.”
“I can’t count the number of times I wished I didn’t know what a blizzard was. They make me wonder how you talked me into this place,” Lang said.
“And times like spring in the mountains when you thank me. We have to flip for who gets to chase wildlife off the runway, it’s so much fun. I’ve heard you say you’d never raise your family anywhere else.”
“That’s what the snowplow is for, chasing the wildlife. Those twins ever ride in a snowplow and chase a big, mean old moose off a runway so a plane can land?”
Dylan laughed. “I think that’s a no. Here’s what I want to do. I want to bring them to Payne, just to show them where we live. How we live. I want them all to know what it’s like there because when a woman with kids is having your baby, you don’t ask one person to marry you—you ask a family to marry you. But here’s the thing you need to know up front—if she can’t see her way to living in Payne, I’ll live wherever she lives.”
“Absolutely,” Lang said.
“She might just say no to everything,” Dylan said. “If she does, then I pull up stakes and live wherever she lives because…” He let his voice trail off.
“Because you’re going to have to be a part of that.” Lang finished that sentence for Dylan.
“Yep. That’s how it is,” Dylan repeated. “That puts our company kind of up in the air, ha-ha. But first things first.”
“Want me to bring a Bonanza down to pick you up? You and the family?” Lang asked.
“Nah, Katie can’t handle it. I took her up in a little Cherokee and she got sick, so it’s going to have to be something bigger—I’m pretty sure if she isn’t drinking coffee she’s not taking Dramamine. I’ll talk to her and let you know when we’re headed that way. If we’re headed that way.”
“How is Adele handling the news about the baby?” Lang asked.
“Oh, so you know she’s here, huh? Did you encourage this idea of her surprising me in Virgin River?”
“I swear to God, I did not!” Lang insisted. “I did laugh about it, but I didn’t cause it to happen.”
“Well, Adele doesn’t know yet. This isn’t the kind of thing you want to tell your elderly grandmother until you have plans, and my plan is to do anything Katie wants, not anything Adele wants. Help me out a little and don’t tell Adele yet.”
“I can do that for you, bud. And, D? Something you haven’t given me a chance to say.”
“What’s that?”
“Congratulations.”
Katie was sitting on the porch when the town car pulled into her clearing. Randy parked beside Katie’s SUV. He jumped out to open the door for his passenger.
“Well, good morning,” Katie said. “How are you this morning?”
“Lovely, thank you,” Adele said. “And you?”
“It’s a beautiful morning. I’m afraid Dylan isn’t here.”
“Where has he gone off to?”
“He said something about errands, but I have no idea what errands. Can I pour you a cup of coffee?”
Adele stopped at the steps to the porch. “What are the chances you have tea? Any tea will do.”
“You’re in luck if you can tolerate Earl Grey. Randy?” she called. “I have a pot of coffee. Or there’s tea or juice.”
“Not to worry, ma’am. I’m taken care of.”
Katie laughed and looked at Adele. “I love him. What does it take to get one of him?”
“Well, millions. And a very strong disposition—he sometimes annoys the sanity out of me. He’s full of sass.”
“Is that so?” came from the yard.
“I’ll have trouble with the millions, but I have twin sons—putting up with sass happens to be my specialty. Have a seat, Mrs. Childress. I’ll heat water.”
“Please, call me Adele. And Earl Grey will be splendid.”
“Well, have a seat, Adele. I’ll be right back.”
Katie shook her head and smiled as she busied herself making tea. It was hard for her to imagine this grand dame twenty years ago. There was something about her… She liked to appear difficult while really, she seemed to end up being quite accommodating.
Five minutes later Katie took Adele a tray with her tea. “I’m sorry, there are no proper teacups in the cabin so you have a mug, saucer, a spoon, a little cream and sugar…”
“Perfect,” Adele said. She took a sip before doctoring her tea. “Ah, nicely done. I never minded a tea bag,” she said, as though she did. “It’s absolutely fine.” She took another sip. “I think I’m glad Dylan is busy elsewhere. It gives us a chance to get to know each other.”
Katie chuckled. “Should I prepare to be grilled?”
“Isn’t he a brat? I thought maybe I’d tell you about Dylan. What do you suppose you’d like to know?”
Katie shrugged. “I’m not sure.” She thought for a second. “He gave me this long explanation about growing up a
ll Hollywood and I wondered…is it possible he’s never before dated a woman with children?”
“I suppose it is,” Adele said. “It’s a fact that his parents changed partners so often it left him convinced no one in his family was capable of long, stable relationships. And it must be said, before his father’s death, my son, Dean, wasn’t the best parent. After all, I wasn’t a crackerjack mother! But when Dylan’s friend died, I panicked. I gave thanks that I hadn’t lost Dylan, then snatched him away from his contract, his series, his family. I took a legal beating for it, too, but it was money well spent. We were very lucky. Living in Payne called on Dylan’s strengths and he came around, though it was miserable at first.”