“I can’t,” she said, shaking her head.

“But you can,” Susan said. “See, my ex-husband and I had to help my girls out with cars and with their insurance when they were sixteen or seventeen. They had jobs. We both worked and couldn’t chauffeur. It was a choice between helping with the transportation or no jobs. Then there were other expenses—proms, graduation, events, and the clothing and accessories became more and more expensive. So over the years, we ponied up for stuff they needed. Lindsey needed tons of college, Melanie and her young husband needed a down payment on a house. Had Jed been around when you were going through all those stages, it wouldn’t have seemed like such a windfall.” She smiled at Nora. “You’re very lucky. Your father wants to help and he doesn’t expect anything in return except for a chance to get to know you.”

Jed had Fay in his lap on the floor and Berry sitting cautiously beside him as he read the Please and Thank You Book.

“Really?” Nora said.

He glanced at her. “Nora, I have a lot to make up to you. Not the other way around.”

Chapter Nine

Luke Riordan was throwing trash from his cabins into the big Dumpster on his property when he heard a horn honking. He looked up and saw a big truck hauling a camper pull into the compound. There was no mistaking his old friend, Coop, two weeks early. Unsurprisingly, with no notice. He tossed his trash in the Dumpster, laughed and shook his head. Then he headed for the truck just as Coop was getting out.

“You get fired again?” Luke asked, sticking out a hand in welcome.

“I quit. You heard about that oil spill in the gulf?”

“Was that your company?” Luke asked.

“Was being the operative word. They were always on the edge, stupid bastards. Took way too many shortcuts and it was coming. So I quit.”

“Now what?” Luke asked.

“For now, this little town in the mountains while I regroup,” Coop said. And then he flashed that badass grin he was known for.

Henry Cooper, AKA Hank or Coop or Hank Cooper, had gone to helicopter training when Luke was an instructor at Ft. Rucker. He was known as a rebel. Also known as one of the best chopper pilots the Army had. He’d had a notable Army career, though he did butt heads with authority regularly. And for the past ten years Coop had flown a helicopter for oil companies to offshore wells. And no big surprise, he butted heads with them, also.

“And the paycheck?” Luke asked.

Coop ran a hand around the back of his neck. “Yeah, they didn’t give me a farewell package. But hey—I socked away a few bucks before I quit. And I sold stock. While they were killing people at the pumps, my options went way up. There’s no justice, right? I’m in pretty good shape. I can screw around hunting and fishing while you work—that suits me.” And then he smiled again.

Luke had to laugh. He talked a good game, but Coop always pitched in. He was a hard worker. “And Ben?” Luke asked of the third buddy scheduled to show up for this little reunion.

“Yeah, I called him. Not only can’t he come early, he might not make it when we were planning to get together. He’s got some kind of cesspool or septic tank issue up at that bait shop of his. You ever been there?”

“Never,” Luke admitted. “Well, at least you brought your own bed. Whatcha got there?”

“Toy hauler. I keep a Harley, a Yamaha Rhino—an off-road vehicle—and a wave runner. Plus it’s a pretty nice apartment. I sold the boat.”

“You been living in that thing?”

“Yup,” he said. “I’m a damn fine landlord, too.”

“Some things just don’t change,” Luke said with a laugh. “Well, you’re in luck—I have the RV park all set up with power, water and sewage and—this is big—I’m cooking tonight.”

“Why is it big that you’re cooking?” Coop asked, frowning.

“Well, this is top secret. My wife loves to cook. She’s not necessarily any good at it. You say anything about that, you die.”

“Gotcha. So, you mentioned you reproduced. Where’s the result?”

“Brett’s napping. You have time to park your trailer before he gets up. You’ll like him—he’s a tough little guy. Your slab is around back. After you handle that, I’ll give you a beer.”

“Obliged,” Coop said. He looked around appreciatively. “This isn’t ugly…”

“I don’t think there’s a place for that wave runner close by,” Luke said. “Too many rocks in the river. Beachfront is a little rough up north here. You could head for the lake, but it’s getting cold on the water. But you’re going to enjoy the Rhino and the Harley—you won’t find more beautiful country. Need a little help hooking up and unloading?”

“Just point me in the right direction,” he said. “And Luke. Great to see you, man. How long has it been?”

“I don’t know. Six years? Eight?”

“Too long,” Coop said. And then he jumped back into his truck and pulled the trailer around behind the cabins.

* * *

Coop had kept in touch enough with Luke to have the facts, that he’d come up to Virgin River after retiring from the Army to check out some old cabins he and a brother had invested in. Luke had nothing better to do, so he stayed, fixed them up, met a woman, got married, et cetera.

But there was no way for Coop to prepare himself for the new Luke, or his wife.

When these two men had met some fifteen years ago or so, Coop was a kid of twenty-three and Luke was a few years older and a helicopter instructor who was just coming off a really bad marriage. When Luke got back from Somalia he’d found his wife pregnant with another man’s child. And not just any other guy, but an officer in Luke’s command. It screwed Luke up so bad, it was legend. Almost as big a legend as Coop’s brush with disaster over a woman. But at least Coop hadn’t married her. He’d merely gone to jail over her.

To say they had been a scrappy pair was putting it mildly.

And here was Luke now, a changed man. Or rather, a man changing a diaper! That was a sight Coop never expected to see. Oh, Coop had married friends here and there, but not this domesticated. And when Luke’s young knockout of a wife got home from work, Coop almost passed out. Luke had said she was young; he had failed to mention she wasn’t quite thirty years old and a stunner.

“You dirty old man, you,” Coop said with a very large grin. “Where did you find this beauty?”

“Right here, my man,” Luke replied. “Twenty-five years old and ripe for the picking.”

“I thought you’d sworn off.”

“Yeah, so much for big proclamations. The minute I saw her—”

Luke was cut off by the ripple of laughter coming from his wife, Shelby. “He’s such a liar,” she said. “He fought me every step of the way.”

But Coop found this new Luke fascinating. In addition to a pretty young wife and rambunctious little kid whom he clearly adored, Luke was also the guardian to a loveable man in his thirties who had Down Syndrome—Art. While Art set the table, Luke served his wife a glass of wine and turned steaks on the grill. Brett drove his miniature quad around in the yard and the catching up on old times commenced. Then through dinner, there was more of the same. And after Brett was tucked in for the night, Luke lit a fire in the pit in front of the porch.

“What were you and Luke like in the good old days?” Shelby asked. “When you first became friends?”

Coop laughed, a tinge of embarrassment included. He was grateful Shelby wouldn’t be able to see the slight stain on his cheeks. “Nothing like this,” he said. “I was just a kid, that’s my excuse. But you wouldn’t have liked us much, I’m pretty sure. We drank too much, drove too fast, got in the occasional fight when we took a break from chasing women.”

“I have no trouble seeing Luke as a womanizer,” Shelby said.

“Yeah, he wasn’t that slick with women,” Coop told her. “One hit him over the head with a beer pitcher once. I never did find out what his offense was.”

“Breathing,” Luke muttered. “I was coming off a bad relationship. I might’ve been a little bitter… .”

Coop let go a big laugh. “Ya think? At least you never went to jail!”

Shelby sat up straighter and faced Coop. “What did you do?”

“Turned out I did nothing, but since I was passed out, I wasn’t much good in my own defense.”

“Passed out with bruised knuckles…” Luke contributed.

“Yeah, that’s the missing link, I guess. I have no idea how that happened, but there was a time I had a bad habit of losing my cool and punching a door or a wall, because, that’s how intelligent I was back then. It took a few years to occur to me that didn’t hurt anyone but me.”

“But how did you end up in jail?”

“I had this girlfriend—Imogene. She wasn’t a very good girlfriend to start with—extremely high maintenance. But beautiful, very beautiful, with a body you wouldn’t believe. She was a waitress at a dive right off Ft. Benning. I used to ask her all the time why she didn’t look for more upscale work and she said military men were the best tippers. Especially the ones who couldn’t afford it. Hopeful, that’s what I think they were—hoping for a grope or at least a phone number. We were on and off, like oil and water. But one night when we were ‘off’ I’d had an unfortunate amount to drink and passed out, Imogene got knocked around. So, she called this ass**le marine she knew from the bar, cried for him and told him her boyfriend beat her up. Fifteen years after the fact, I think she was looking for more than sympathy from the guy.”

“But you didn’t, did you?” Shelby asked. “Hit her?”

He shook his head. “I still can’t remember what happened to my hand, but no one turned up hurt or dead. No complaints from a door or wall. For a terrible few days I hoped to God I’d never hit a woman. I had a lot of flaws, but that wasn’t one of them. Even I had my limits—I’d never do something that low. And I’d only hit a man who made me. But this ass**le marine called the MP’s and they threw me in jail with a promise of Leavenworth. There are two things in the military that guarantee arrest and jail time—DUI and battery domestic.”

“I guess you got out of it,” Shelby said.

“Not fast. I was in the brig, court marshal pending when a couple of my boys from Airborne training rounded up a few witnesses who said a customer got rough with her at the bar. She was pissed at me for not being there to defend her, or being there and not able to defend her. And I think she had her eye on the marine.” He laughed sardonically. “He shipped out while I was still in the brig, so that didn’t work out for her, I guess.”

“Who was that?” Luke asked.

“I don’t know his name but I’ll never forget his face. Just some jarhead who’d been to that bar a few times. Thought he was a goddamn hero. It’s a face I better never see again. I could forget that I stopped punching people.”

“Did the woman get in trouble? For blaming you?” Shelby asked.

“Nah. She was a civilian,” Coop said. “She finally allowed that it had been dark and she might’ve been mistaken. And she didn’t point at anyone so the MP’s were out of it. However, there were boys at the bar who caught up with a guy who bragged about teaching her a lesson. Problem number one—no one saw the incident occur and he might’ve bragged in the bar but when questioned, he knew nothing about it. They said they were real sorry when they let me out of jail. They also said if I wanted to avoid situations like that in the future, I might want to cut back on the drinking and try to date less vindictive women.”