Redwood Bend

by Robyn Carr

  “Totally by chance,” he said. “But I’m glad I did because I wanted to ask you something. Should I apologize for…you know…earlier?”

  “Oh, please don’t,” she said, giving her head a shake. “That would make it seem like you regretted it. We are thinking of the same thing, right? The kiss on my porch?”

  He nodded his head. “Oh, man, you’re going to get me in so much trouble…”

  “Why?” she asked, stepping toward him. “You said you weren’t married. Oh, no, is there a girlfriend? A fiancée?”

  “No…”

  She grabbed a piece of his shirtsleeve and, lowering her voice slightly, asked, “Are you gay?”

  “No! Jesus, did I seem gay?”

  “I’m no judge of that,” she said.

  “There’s no one,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s just that…” He straightened and tightened his hands on the bike grips. It made him very nervous to pretend to be normal. “Listen, how’d you like to go out for ice cream?”

  “I can’t,” she said. “I have the boys.”

  “We’ll take them.”

  “What are you going to do? Put me on the back of the bike with one under each arm?” she asked.

  “Sounds like fun, but maybe we should just drive. You have a car.”

  “Where?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Fortuna? It’s an adventure. What about it? You don’t have to recalibrate an engine or anything, do you?”

  She made a face; it wasn’t unusual for people to tease her about her mechanical skills, especially men. “I suppose we could meet somewhere, if you had any idea where you wanted to go,” she said.

  “How about if we really get crazy and go in one car?” he returned.

  She looked at her watch. “I don’t know, Dylan. It might be a little too close to dinner to give them ice cream. I try to get a couple of nutrients in them before they pack on the sugar.”

  He was stumped about what to do for a minute, looking at his own watch. “Well, how about pizza or burgers and then ice cream…?”

  She frowned. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

  “Katie! Stop making me work so hard!”

  She laughed at him. “All right, park the bike and come with me.”

  “I’ll drive,” he said, running his bike up alongside the school, turning it off and following her. And didn’t she get right in the driver’s side. He held the door for her and tried again, saying, “Come on, I’ll drive.”

  “No, thank you,” she sweetly answered. And in a whisper, she added, “My car.”

  He gritted his teeth into a smile and said, “I’m a pilot, let me drive.”

  “No. Boys, this is Dylan. Do you remember Dylan? I don’t think you met him, but he helped change the flat tire. Dylan, jump in the car.” She smiled again. “Go ahead.”

  With a grrrr under his breath, Dylan walked around the front of the car and got in the passenger side.

  Katie twisted around and peered into the backseat. “This is Andy,” she said, pointing left, “and that’s Mitch behind you. Dylan suggested we go out for burgers or something and if you eat a nice dinner, there will be dessert.”

  Dylan looked between the boys and Katie a couple of times. Without being asked she said, “You’ll figure it out.”

  Dylan could not tell them apart. “There’s not even a stray freckle,” he said. “Seriously!”

  “It’s subtle,” she said, putting the big SUV in Drive. Then she looked over at Dylan and said, “Seat belt.”

  He did as he was told.

  Even though Dylan had spent many hours with Lang and his family, often with kids aged two to ten climbing all over him, he still marveled at Katie’s ability to multitask. She drove that big SUV down the mountain with its winding roads while keeping her boys relatively manageable and trying to carry on a conversation with Dylan. It went something like this:

  “Andy, seat belt stays on or I stop the car. So, Dylan, this is how you want to spend your time—by yourself in a town of six hundred, just riding around on your motorcycle? Mitch, window up, please. Huh, Dylan?”

  It was kind of hard to know when to jump in with an answer. He gave the short one. “We don’t have any charters right now, so I thought I’d spend the time visiting local airports.”

  “That must be a little uncertain on the pocketbook,” she said. And then she peered into the backseat and added, “Andy, if you don’t stop bouncing around, you won’t get ice cream. No, Mitch, I didn’t bring movies. Well, Dylan?”

  “Sheesh,” he said, running a hand over his head. “We should’ve put harnesses on ’em and run ’em behind the car.” He turned to face into the backseat. “What did you do at school all day? Color? Nap?”

  “It’s not school,” Mitch informed him.

  “It’s summer program,” Andy explained. “So we don’t have to be really quiet or spell things.”

  “It’s like babysitting,” Mitch said.

  “And there’s some little kids who are like two!” Andy added with some disgust. “One of ’em bit another one today and everybody freaked out.”

  “We definitely need a little more running and jumping in that program,” Katie muttered. “Well, Dylan? You didn’t answer me.”

  He looked at her and, shaking his head, said, “I don’t remember the question!”

  And she shot him a grin just as she reached one hand over the seat to snatch a plastic gun that made a very annoying racket out of Andy’s hand while she was maneuvering a curve in the road. “We’re not having that right now,” she said, bringing the weapon to the front seat and cradling it in her lap.

  Dylan closed his eyes.

  When they got to Fortuna, she was leaning over the steering wheel to look around as she drove and finally she said, “Aha! McDonald’s! You’ll thank me later.”

  Dylan had no idea what she meant. They wandered in like a family of four, except that Katie took the lead and did the ordering for the three of them, getting her opened wallet in her hand. She looked over her shoulder and said, “Dylan? What would you like?”

  He wasn’t having it. He nudged her aside with a hip, closed his hand over her open wallet to prevent her from pulling out her money, placed his order and paid the bill. “Thank you,” she said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I invited you,” he reminded her.

  “Yeah, but I get the impression you had no idea what you were getting yourself into.”

  It was pretty close to what he expected, but he didn’t share that. He’d had the McDonald’s experience a number of times, but they were his best friend’s kids. Never the kids of some woman who had him doing crazy things!

  When their food came, Katie sat on one side of the booth, sandwiched between her boys while Dylan sat on the other side alone. While Dylan worked on his Big Mac and fries he watched with admiration as Katie managed her boys. When Andy laid out and aimed a ketchup packet toward Mitch, raising his fist high to bring it slamming down to fire on his brother, she caught his arm in midair while she was telling Mitch he had to eat at least half of his McNuggets to get dessert. When Mitch pulled a fistful of straws out of his pocket and began firing the paper covers into the air like rockets, she confiscated them while disarming Andy of more concealed ketchup packets. As she did these things, she kept them from blowing bubbles in their drinks, made sure they were eating and explained to Dylan how the town put together and assembled the schoolhouse—men taking time off from work and volunteering their services. And then…

  “I have to pee.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Okay,” Katie said. “Let’s go.”

  “Aww, I don’t wanna go in the girls’!”

  “Please, I don’t wanna go in the girls’, either!”

  “In public places, you cannot use restrooms without an adult you know with you,” Katie said calmly. “It’s a rule and it’s for safety.”

  “So no one gets us,” Andy blurted, far too loudly.


  “Well, if they’d had dinner with you, they wouldn’t want you, but still…”

  “I’ll go,” Dylan said. He shrugged. “I need the restroom anyway. And I used to hate going in the girls’.”

  “Sucks, huh?” Mitch asked.

  “Anything special I should know?” he asked as he was sliding out of the booth. “Like, should I watch for cherry bombs in toilets?”

  “Just watch for water sports,” she said. “Of all kinds.”

  “Gotcha,” he said. “Come on.”

  But they weren’t coming with him, they were way ahead of him, running through McDonald’s to the men’s room, slamming into said facility, so that he had to pick it up a notch to keep up with them. When he got into the bathroom, they were standing there, waiting. He just stared at them for a second. “I thought we had to pee,” he said. “Let’s do it.” And he held open a stall door because these guys were big for five-year-olds, but not quite tall enough for the urinals. “Seats up, please.”

  And, being twins, they gathered around the same bowl together rather than taking separate stalls. He just shook his head and laughed.

  Andy looked over his shoulder at Dylan. “You gonna watch?”

  “S’cuse me,” Dylan said. He made his way to the urinal and prepared. In just seconds the toilet in the stall flushed and there were two little boys, one on each side of him, which went a long way to creating an embarrassed bladder. He lifted a brow and peered at them. “Are you? Gonna watch?”

  And they nodded.

  Dylan leaned a hand against the wall and kept his groan inside. He sought composure. Finally he peered at the one he thought was Andy. “Could I have a little space, please?”

  Though he’d only spoken to one, they stepped back as they both got the message. Then turning as one, they bolted out of the lavatory. “Hey!” And there he was, stuck with his dick in his hand, doing absolutely nothing. “Crap,” he muttered, zipping up.

  When he got back to their booth, there was only Katie. “Everything go all right?” she asked.

  “Curious little buggers, aren’t they?”

  “Oh, no,” she said, color rising to her cheeks on a laugh.

  “No biggie,” Dylan said. “Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, indicating her half of a Big Mac.

  “Hmm,” she said, lifting it and taking a small bite. After she chewed and swallowed, she said, “My meal usually waits until they’re done with theirs. I was a little busy.”

  “Where are they? Were they taken into custody?”

  “Playground.” She leaned to the left to look past Dylan. “My secret weapon. I can keep an eye on them from here. I try to choose restaurants for their distraction devices. They’re like littermates—they listen to each other more than me, sometimes. A place to burn off some energy works to my advantage.” She popped a French fry. “Are you a little uncomfortable around kids, Dylan?”

  “Me? Not at all. I like kids.”

  “And yet, you’ll never marry?”

  He tilted his head, looking at her, and made a snap decision. No reason they shouldn’t have cards on the table. He had kissed her, after all, even if it was a completely impetuous and probably foolish move. That he’d never, ever done this with a woman before didn’t cross his mind. He followed another one of those instincts that were beginning to take over his life. “Well, I come from a broken home,” he said. “A very broken one. Many failed marriages among my immediate and extended family.”

  She lifted a curious brow and took a small bite of her burger.

  “My mother has been married four times, my father was married three times before his death, which was premature. That gives me lots of half brothers and sisters and stepbrothers and -sisters, many of whom have been married a couple of times or more. It probably has us all screwed up, but the thing that really works on me is what it does to kids—it can make kids feel so bad about themselves. I totally understand there are times it just can’t be avoided and the separated parents have to work really hard to be sure their kids get through the rough patch of divorce, but my parents weren’t real concerned about the kids. They were always worried about who they’d end up with next. And we always wondered, too. There’s just no reason to put kids through that.”

  She leaned left to check the boys on the play stuff, then leaned back and tilted her head at him, listening. He took that to mean he should continue.

  “I was my mother’s third child by her third husband, my dad’s first and only child by his second wife. Do the math, by the time I came along my folks had five marriages between them. If they can’t hold a marriage together, make relationships work, I can’t figure out why they kept having kids, but they did. Or maybe they could have concentrated on parenting the ones they already had before moving on, be sure they’re not completely traumatized? Makes sense to me…because it wasn’t just new stepmothers and stepfathers, but also quite a few potential stepmothers and stepfathers who lived with us, then disappeared.

  “Now my best friend, Lang, he’s been married eleven years and has five kids and you can tell when you look at those kids that he and Sue Ann have it together, that they have a solid marriage and the kids feel safe. The kids are normal—smart, happy, fun kids.”

  She took another bite. A sip of her drink.

  “What I think is behind that is that they know their strengths and weaknesses, and if I come from a family with relationship and commitment problems, long-term problems, and if I know how much it can potentially upset the kids, I shouldn’t walk that path. I’m crazy about kids, but this might be some DNA thing in our family—maybe we just can’t help it. Maybe it’s a curse—like eons ago some Childress pissed off a witch. Who knows why? My buddy Lang reminded me that I told him a long time ago, when we were in college, that most of the people in my family were so self-centered and short-sighted that when they get a little hungry they buy a restaurant.”

  She took another sip.

  He chuckled. “It’s only in the marriage and family arena where I think I might have the curse. I have good work and business relationships. Lang has been my best friend for over fifteen years. But the kind of background I have—it just doesn’t seem worth the risk to attempt the marriage and family thing. So, you should understand, Katie—that’s why I never date women with children.”

  She lifted her chin and both brows, as if surprised to hear that. She took a small bite and retired the last quarter of her Big Mac, apparently thinking of all he had said while she chewed and swallowed. And then she leaned toward him, looked him in the eye and said, “You call this a date?”

  And Dylan laughed so suddenly, he almost choked on his cola.

  When Katie pulled up to the school where Dylan’s bike waited, she recognized her brother’s truck. He was with his boss, Paul, unloading what looked like logs. “Huh, wonder what he’s doing.”

  “You going to ask?” Dylan wondered.

  “Nah. I’ll call him later. Jump out so I can get these heathens home and in the shower.”

  “Done,” he said, opening the door.

  “Tell Dylan thank you, boys!”

  “We’ll do it again sometime,” Dylan said, leaping out of her big SUV. She hadn’t even let him drive back to Virgin River. He chuckled. She might have some control issues. It reminded him of Sue Ann…

  After he’d watched Katie’s SUV disappear out of town, he turned to see that Paul and Conner were standing there, staring at him. “Hey,” Dylan said by way of greeting. “What’s doing?”

  “Play set,” Paul said, dropping a post onto a pile of wood. “Bars, swing, slide, jungle gym, that sort of stuff. We went over to Eureka to pick it up, but we’re going to be out of daylight soon so we’ll assemble it in the morning, before work. Early.”

  “What’s early?” Dylan asked.

  “Five or so. We like to get to the real job by seven, if possible.”

  “I can help with that,” Dylan said.

  “That’s nice, but we understand, you have no stake in
it,” Paul said.

  “I also have nothing more important to do. I’m not on the clock right now. Besides, that’s the way things work in my town, too. You know.”

  Paul dragged off his hat, one of his gloves, and ran a hand over the top of his head. “What kind of work do you do, Dylan?” After Dylan explained, Paul said, “Too bad. I have some part-time work available in building. But experience is required.”

  “I built my grandmother a coffee table in high school,” Dylan said. “A really ugly coffee table,” he added with a laugh. “But I’m great with an engine. I’ll show up here early and you can check out my building ability. You’ll probably be sorry I offered to help.”