The River Valley Series

by Tess Thompson

  “Oh, honey, I’m glad.”

  “But you know it’s not that simple. I’m so messed up, and I don’t want to destroy him like I did Moody.”

  “Things are different, though, with Stefan. I can see it in your eyes. You told him about everything. You’ve never done that with anyone, even me. You trust him.”

  “He’s different than other men. He’s been through more than most people. Like me. This morning when all this came out, he came right over, even though last night we’d parted ways. He told me he wanted more, but I didn’t think I could do it. I don’t want to hurt him like I did Moody. Then, this morning, when I told him the real story about what happened all those years ago, he shared his own past. Our connection grew deeper.”

  “Can you share it with me?” asked Mom.

  “I’m the only one he’s ever told. I don’t think he’d want me to.”

  “I understand.” She smiled. “Maybe someday, after we know one another, he will share it with me.”

  “I can’t wait for you to meet him. You’re going to love him.”

  “If you love him, I will love him.”

  After getting her mother settled into her own room, Gennie went back upstairs. It was time. She would call Sarah. With shaking hands, she punched in Sarah’s number. It rang four times before a girl answered. “This is Sarah.”

  Gennie fought tears, swallowing the painful lump in the back of her throat. “Hi, Sarah. This is Gennie Banks.”

  “Oh, wow. Thanks for calling.”

  “Yes, sure. Of course. I’m sorry for all this.” I’m sorry your father’s a monster. Both of your fathers.

  “Thanks. It’s my dad. He’s gone crazy. It’s gambling. He has a bad problem. I know you never wanted me to know who you were, so I’m sorry if this is majorly screwing with your life.”

  She’s hurt. She feels rejected. “I wanted you to have a good life with good people. I was only fifteen.”

  “My mom told me that part.”

  “Trix said you’d like to meet me.”

  “Yeah. Would you want to?” She had a husky voice and sounded very west coast. Californians claimed they had no accents, but that wasn’t true.

  “Yes, I would like to meet you. I’m in Oregon right now, and this situation with your father has made it necessary for me to stay here for a while, out of public view. I’d be willing to fly you up here if you wanted. We could meet and spend some time talking.”

  “Really? Like tomorrow?” Sarah asked.

  Tomorrow? It’s Thanksgiving. Why not tomorrow? The sooner the better.

  Sarah continued, sounding breathless. “I know it’s Thanksgiving, but since my mom died, I don’t really have anywhere to go. I’m just hanging out here in my apartment. I can’t really go out because there’s like a million photographers outside my building.”

  Gennie explained that she’d have Trix help her get out of the apartment and to the airport. “Are you willing to be a little creative?” Gennie asked.

  “I guess so.”

  “I’ll have her call you in a few minutes. If I send a plane for you, can you be ready at eight tomorrow morning?”

  “A plane? Like a private plane?”

  “I think that’s for the best,” Gennie said. “Given all the paparazzi.”

  “Okay. Cool. Weird, but cool.”

  Gennie smiled. “Wait for Trix’s call. She’ll guide you through everything. Also, my mother’s with me. She’d like to meet you as well.”

  “Really? That’d be sick.”

  “Sick?”

  “Good. Like really good.”

  Gennie laughed. “All right then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Awesome. Bye.”

  “Goodnight, Sarah.”

  It was nearly five o’clock when she knocked on Stefan’s door. He answered, freshly shaven and wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. Her stomach flipped at the sight of him. It’s ridiculous how good looking he is.

  He held out his arms, and she went to him, letting him pull her close. “You smell good,” she said.

  “Did your mother arrive?”

  “Yes. She’s resting in her room. I’m going to take her next door for dinner at seven. Will you join us? She’s dying to meet you.”

  He smiled, teasing her with his eyes. “You told her about me?”

  “Your name came up a few times, yes.”

  “Should I take that as a good sign?” he asked.

  “I think so.” She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, breathing in his scent. “I’ve decided something.”

  “Come sit and tell me what you’ve decided. I’m having a glass of wine. You want some?”

  “Nothing has ever sounded better.” She sat in one of the chairs by the fireplace. “Is this the first time I’ve ever been in your room?”

  He shrugged. “I guess so. We usually hang at your place, so to speak.”

  His room was identical to hers except it was considerably messier. Clothes were strewn about the bed and several scripts lay open on the coffee table, along with a half dozen coffee mugs, a baseball cap, and a candy bar wrapper. A half-empty bottle of whiskey on the desk and an open laptop completed the picture of a reclusive artist. “Weren’t you planning on leaving this morning?”

  “Yeah, why do you ask?”

  “You don’t look packed,” she said.

  “I wasn’t. I always pack last minute,” he said. “Don’t you?”

  “Sort of. But all my stuff is neatly put in drawers and hung up in the closet, so it’s easy to get out fast.” Truth be told, she’d worn the same clothes often over the past few months, surprised about how little she needed. Several pairs of jeans, a couple of sun dresses, and some t-shirts had been her wardrobe since she arrived. I love it here. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to go back to my complicated life.

  He crossed the room with her wine. “It is a bit messy, I guess.” Laughing, he handed her the glass and moved a pile of books from the other chair and sat, propping his feet up on the ottoman. He makes everything look like home. Cozy and soft.

  She sank back into the chair and placed her legs next to his on the ottoman, letting the flames warm her feet. Why did his room feel so much warmer than her own?

  He wore thick socks that bunched around his toes. She imagined him as a little boy. Small and fierce with those sad, soulful eyes.

  “I told my mom the truth this afternoon.”

  “About Murphy.”

  She nodded. “She thinks I should go after him.”

  He swirled his wine. “I do too.”

  “I know.” She sipped her wine. “And I talked to Sarah. She’s coming tomorrow.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “Yeah. Holy shit,” Gennie said.

  “You want to call Grant now before it gets too late?”

  “Let’s do it.”

  Grant was at home when Stefan called. After she told him the details of her case, he suggested she start with filing a civil suit against Murphy to prove paternity. Once it was proven that Sarah is Murphy’s daughter, Grant would file criminal charges with the District Attorney’s office. “If I hustle, I can get the motion filed today so we can get results sooner rather than later.”

  They chatted about a few other details, such as his fees and where to send paperwork. “Gennie, I’m sorry this happened to you,” Grant said at the end of the call. “But this is open and shut for statutory rape if Sarah’s his daughter. He will go to jail.”

  After she’d hung up phone, Gennie looked over at Stefan. “I guess I’d better buckle up.”

  “I believe so.” He reached across the table, running his hands through her long hair. Outside, night had come. “You’re so pretty in the firelight.”

  “You don’t look so bad yourself.” She sipped her wine, turning away for a moment, suddenly shy. I can’t look at him, or I might start to cry. He’s gentle and kind. He’s a good man, like my father was.

  “Do you ever wonder if people would like you as much
if they knew who you really are?” he asked.

  “Everyone does,” she said, turning to him.

  His eyes burned into her. “Do they? I always thought it was just me.”

  “It’s not just you. I saw the real you this morning.”

  “And you still like me?” He smiled, his eyes soft.

  “I still like you.” I want to kiss him. Really kiss him. I want to feel his body against mine. I want his hands on my skin.

  “Gennie, did you hear what I said?”

  “What? Sorry, no.”

  “I said, let’s take a walk downtown before we take your mom to dinner. There’s something I want you to see.”

  I’d go with you anywhere, anytime.

  Bundled in knit hats and heavy coats, they waved to Linus at the front desk, then walked outside to the street. A blast of frigid air stung her cheeks and nose. She pulled her hat over her ears and thrust her gloved hands into her jacket pockets. Sounds of laughter and voices spilled out from Riversong. As they passed the window of the restaurant, faces of happy diners glowed in the candlelight. Up and down Main Street, streetlamps cast a soft glow. Shopkeepers had shoveled snow from the sidewalks in front of their establishments. Christmas lights, strung around the streetlamps, trees, and storefronts, twinkled. “It’s like a picture postcard,” she said.

  “Or a movie set.” Stefan looped his arm through hers.

  They stood for a moment. She gathered the images, folding them into the recesses of her mind. If only I could stay forever in this moment.

  “Come on, let’s walk,” Stefan said. They strolled north toward the end of town. The sky had cleared and billions of stars as bright as the holiday lights blanketed the black night. A sliver of moon hung low, like a lone ornament on a tree. Various storefronts cast yellow light onto the sidewalks. “When I was a kid, one of the highlights of the season was the annual lighting of the tree in my little town,” Stefan said. “My mom took me every year and afterward she made spaghetti and meatballs. My favorite.”

  “Spaghetti and meatballs. That happens to be one of the meals I can cook, as long as the meatballs are the frozen kind that comes in a plastic bag.”

  “I don’t worship you because of your culinary skills.”

  She laughed. “I can rest easier now.”

  They passed the diner. It was closed for the night, the lights dimmed over the counter and tables. Next door, the toy store was also closed. Taking the lead from Riversong, the owner had named it Rivertoys, all one word. A giant dollhouse and a train set had equal property in the storefront window. Did children still yearn for these gifts or had technology taken their place?

  Rivertoys had opened after Gennie and Stefan’s arrival to River Valley, owned by a transplant from San Francisco named Willa Wilde. Bella, who made it her business to know everyone else’s business, said it had been Willa’s dream to own an old-fashioned toy store like the ones from years past. “Does the name Willa Wilde make you think of a porn star?” she asked.

  He laughed. “Kind of.”

  “My dad loved Christmas.” Gennie let out a long breath, remembering the way his eyes sparkled on Christmas morning. “He was the guy in the neighborhood with the over-the-top lights.” Until he died, and then the lights went out, in their yard and in her mother’s eyes.

  “Multi-colored or white?” Stefan asked.

  “The giant color lights. Remember those?”

  “Sure.”

  She touched the window with her gloved fingers. “My dad built a dollhouse for me when I was six. I went crazy when I saw it under the tree. My mother made all these tiny clothes for the dolls. It was a family, like ours, only with two girls instead of one. What was your favorite gift ever?”

  “I got a sled the year I was eight,” he said. “I used it so much the bottom became completely slick. We’d get going upwards of twenty miles an hour.”

  “Twenty? How did you know how fast you were going?”

  He grinned. “I’m not sure.”

  “This sounds like one of those fishing stories.”

  “No, this was legit,” he said.

  They walked a little further, then crossed the street, walking back toward the center of town. They stopped when they reached the town square. Located directly across the street from Riversong, it was a glorious centerpiece to the little town. Snowmen and snowwomen, decorated with hats and scarves, hung out in various corners of the park. The gazebo, adorned with the same white lights as the rest of the town, shone brightly in the middle of the square. Gennie sighed. If only I could stay here and not have to face my real life. What if this were my real life instead of the one I’m currently living? What would it feel like to live here, to be part of this community?

  “I wanted you to see it all lit up,” Stefan said, gesturing toward the lights. “Mike turned them on this morning. Don’t you love them?”

  “I do.” He’s like a kid. He makes me feel like a kid.

  “It seemed like such a shame the town didn’t have a town square. Now look at it.”

  “You did this?” Gennie marveled at the design. It was simple but elegant; traditional yet fresh. An old-fashioned gazebo was the star of the square. Brick paths, benches, and various types of foliage were the supporting characters. Images of weddings, picnics, and concerts in the summer flashed through her mind. This is a symbol of community. “It’s almost too perfect to be real.”

  “I’m just showing off, but yeah. I bought the lot and had that ratty building torn down.” They walked over to the small fir tree at the edge of the park. “It was Mike’s idea to plant the fir tree. He said every town should have a tree to light the day after Thanksgiving.” Only three feet tall now, someday it would be tall enough to string lights upon it.

  How many years until the planted tree is big enough to enjoy? I will be an old lady by then. Where will I be? Will I be all alone?

  A path to the gazebo had been cleared of snow. “While you were visiting with your mom earlier, Mike and I got some exercise clearing the walkway and the gazebo.” He led her up the steps. “It might be slippery, though, so be careful.”

  “It makes me want to dance like Cinderella at the ball.” She twirled in a circle until the lights blurred and she felt breathless.

  “You want to dance, we shall dance.” He took his phone from his pocket. “No nineties music. How about country?”

  “That seems appropriate.”

  A country ballad started. He set his phone on the railing. After bowing, he offered his hand. “Would you care for a dance, Ms. Banks?”

  She went into his arms, their thick jackets like marshmallows between them.

  Neither of them said anything for a few minutes as they danced. “I couldn’t dance a step when I got my first period-role,” she said. “They had to bring a professional on set to train me for the one dance scene.”

  “Well, it must have worked. You’re like a feather,” he said.

  “It’s much easier without a corset squeezing the life out of you.”

  She rested her cheek against the soft material of his jacket. What would it feel like to kiss him here, under a billion stars and the sliver of the moon and all these lights that sparkled? I’m not afraid here. This is what it feels like to be normal. An ordinary woman on a date with a man she loves.

  The song ended and another began. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that several people walking by had stopped to watch them.

  “Hey, you two.” It was Mike and his wife, Sharon. Gennie hadn’t recognized them all bundled up in coats and hats. They traipsed through the snow until they reached the gazebo.

  “We’re dancing,” Stefan said. “Care to join us?”

  “We’d be delighted,” Mike said. “As a matter of fact, we have a few others wanting to join the party.” Lee often said Mike reminded her of one of the men in the old Marlboro cigarette ads. Gennie agreed. He was rugged with sinewy muscles and a face that could make a cowgirl swoon, even in his sixties. His piercing blue eyes hin
ted at his zest for life. His wife, Sharon, on the other hand, looked like she’d just walked out of a Beverly Hills salon. She was tall, slender, and graceful—the epitome of sophistication. Tonight, she wore a knit cap over her smooth, blond hair and a purple coat.

  “Party?” Gennie asked.

  No one answered her. Tommy and Lee spilled out of Riversong with Cindi behind them, carrying pitchers of beer and plastic cups. Ben and Bella drove up and parked on the street. When they exited the car, Bella shouted to them, “Hey now, let’s get this party started.” She wore a hat lit with red lights and carried a bottle of booze. She started to run, but was no match for the deep snow and slowed to a trudge, then tripped and fell. “Don’t worry, the bottle’s fine.” Like a flag, she raised her arm out of the snow, bottle intact.

  Ben carried a card table under one arm. When he reached Bella, he offered his hand. “Come on, baby.”

  Grinning and back on her feet, Bella brushed snow from her jacket as she made her way to the gazebo. When she reached them, she grabbed Gennie in a bear hug. “I was going insane trapped inside the house, but Drake sent the snowplow guy over to clear our driveway.”

  “I’m glad to see you,” Gennie said. How did Drake order a snowplow to a private residence? She knew the answer, of course. This was River Valley. Things like that happened all the time.

  When Ben reached the bottom of the gazebo steps, he straightened the legs of the table, setting it in the snow. Lee and Bella covered it with a tablecloth. Suddenly, Linus was there, with her mother on his arm. “Mom, what’re you doing here?” Gennie asked.

  “Linus knocked on my door and said we were to meet you here. So here I am.” Her mom’s eyes sparkled in the lights. “Isn’t it lovely, Gennie?”

  “Yes, Mom, it is.” She took Stefan’s hand. “Mom, this is Stefan.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Stefan. I’m Joan Banks.” She smiled and held out her hand encased in a pink mitten.

  Stefan kissed her hand. “The pleasure’s all mine, Mrs. Banks. I’ve heard a lot about you.”