Whispering Rock

He touched her hand gently and said, softly but earnestly, “Fight harder! I can’t lose you to this!”

Well, she couldn’t jog anymore—she was afraid to be out there alone, even in broad daylight. It couldn’t be a gym or health club—she couldn’t have men looking at her right now. She remembered with some longing how she had loved being looked at. She had a small, compact, fit little body and lots of long, silky hair that she braided for court but let swing freely down her back the rest of the time. It made her heady with power to garner the stares of attractive men. Now if a man looked at her, it threw her into panic.

But she wasn’t going down without a fight—so she joined a women’s gym and started running on the treadmill and lifting weights. If she couldn’t have a full life, she was at least going to fake one.

The joke was on her—a couple of weeks of vigorous exercise and she was sleeping better and eating better. She felt it put her into the next stage of recovery, every day a tiny bit easier than the day before.

There were times she thought that if not for Mike’s attention right now, she’d be lost. Oh, her family was amazing—the way they managed to hold strong for her, encourage her and make themselves constantly available should she want to talk. But Mike, the very man she had vowed would never get near her when she recognized his flirting last spring, was the only thing in her life that allowed her to feel like a woman. For that she would be forever grateful.

Tommy Booth was the new kid in town, just checking in for his senior year at Valley High School. His father, Walt Booth, had just retired from the Army and had given Tommy his choice—a military academy, a nonmilitary private academy or Valley High. Tommy chose to live with his dad for a couple of reasons—he’d lost his mom in a car accident a few years ago and it had just been him and his dad since, a couple of bachelors who got along fairly well for father and son. And his older sister, married and pregnant and separated from her husband by the Marine Corps, was going to come to Virgin River to live with them until Matt, his brother-in-law, got back from the Middle East. She was going to have her baby there—and Tom was secretly a little excited about that. Plus, there were his horses, which he couldn’t take to a private school.

Tom’s father, a retired three-star general, had found this property a couple of years ago; the general had a younger sister and niece a few hours south in Bodega Bay and had looked all over California for the right spot, not too far away from them. Aunt Midge was sick; she had been sick several years, bedridden the past three. She was worse than sick—she was terminal, with Lou Gehrig’s disease, and her daughter, Shelby, was her full-time caregiver. Walt Booth had been ready to settle in Bodega Bay to be there for her even though he was more of a forest and mountains than beach kind of guy. But Midge had convinced him not to choose Bodega Bay because of her presence there—she wasn’t going to last more than a couple of years. She might be gone by the time Walt retired from the Army and if she was not, he could visit. Thus, Virgin River—close enough to see Midge and Shelby as often as he could, but the kind of place Walt wanted to put down his final roots. It had begun to look as if Aunt Midge was right—she couldn’t possibly have much longer. By the time Walt and Tommy got to Virgin River, Midge needed twenty-four-hour care, and Hospice was on the scene.

While Walt finished his last assignment at the Pentagon, he’d had the house renovated via long distance and the new stable and corral constructed. Tommy had seen it only once before actually moving in, but he loved the land—the enormous trees, the rivers, the coast, the mountainsides and valleys through which he could ride.

Classes started in late August. He wasn’t that jazzed about the high school. The kids sure weren’t as sophisticated as the D.C. kids. And Tom was a little bit on the shy side until he got to know someone. This being a small-town high school, all the cliques had been established ages ago, so fitting in was going to take a while. He was a big kid, athletic, but he’d been too late for football.

He met a kid in first period right off—Jordan Whitley, a funny guy. Kind of skinny and hyper, but really friendly. He hung out with him a couple of times after school. Jordan lived pretty close to the school, while Tom had to drive his little red truck all the way from Virgin River every day. Also, Jordan’s parents were divorced, he was an only child and his mom worked—which freed up Jordan’s house until about six. As long as Tom got home before dinner, in time to take care of the horses, it was no big deal to go over there for a little while after school.

Tom also learned that there were frequent keggers at an abandoned rest stop area right at the edge of Virgin River. Weekend parties that Jordan really wanted him to attend, but Tom always had an excuse. He didn’t know anyone but Jordan. And he was quiet about the fact that he had a house to himself for a few days every other week or so while Walt went to Bodega Bay. He wasn’t about to be overrun by Jordan and his tribe—if Walt ever found out, he’d be dead meat.

Jordan somehow managed to score beer at his house. After-school beer. Tom was very careful about that because if the general smelled it on his breath he was toast. But the other thing Jordan had going on was girls. He seemed to always have a different girl. So far Tommy hadn’t seen one that got him excited—Jordan didn’t seem to draw the really pretty ones. But it was kind of fun to go over to his house and get all the flirtatious attention bestowed on him, being the new kid and not that bad looking.

“Come on over to my buddy Brendan’s Friday night,” Jordan invited. “We’re gonna get lucky.”

“Yeah?” Tommy grinned. “Who you gonna get lucky with?”

“I’ve got this girl who wants me so bad she can’t hold herself back. And she’s on the pill.”

“So you want me to come over and watch you get lucky? I might have to pass on that,” he said with a laugh.

“She’s bringing a girlfriend,” Jordan said.

“I might come by for a beer,” Tommy said. “Let me think about it. I don’t know this Brendan guy.”

“He’s cool,” Jordan said. “He graduated a couple of years ago, and when his mom goes out of town, which she does a lot, the house is his. And if we get lucky, we can get lucky all night long, if you get my drift.”

“Oh, I get your drift,” he said. And he was thinking, you idiots. You don’t go banging the local girls who advertise they’re on the pill. He wasn’t stupid—that’s how you got stuff. Bad stuff. An image of telling his dad he had the drip sent shivers up his spine.

But he went. He popped the top on two beers, total, without finishing either one; he knew better than to drink anything out of a keg or punch bowl. There was a little pot floating around, though not everyone indulged. Tommy didn’t get near that shit. Too risky for a kid planning on West Point; too risky for a boy with a father like Walt, who would dismember him before killing him.

The girlfriend who was earmarked for Tom if he was interested was way too aggressive and ready for anything, and he just couldn’t see it. Plus, Jordan and Brendan were busy getting everyone as shit-faced as possible, as quickly as possible, and there was nothing quite as funny to watch—but inevitably boring. He finally slipped away about nine without anyone really noticing he was gone.

The next Monday morning at school Jordan excitedly asked, “Where’d you go, man?”

He shrugged. “I had to get home. My dad is pretty strict.”

“Yeah, but we had beer and girls!”

“I had a couple of beers,” he said. “And the girls. Well, I didn’t meet one I really liked.”

That made Jordan laugh almost hysterically. “Well, so what? You’re not …? You don’t still have your cherry, do you, man?”

In fact, he did. “‘Course not,” he said, because what do you say to something like that? Tom hadn’t made it with a girl, but not because he couldn’t. Because he was very careful and he and the last girlfriend back in D.C. had barely graduated to some petting before he moved away. He was in a desperate hurry to find a great girl, but she’d have to be a great girl, not just someone who’d put out. In fact, a girl who put out was kind of a put-off. And if he found a great girl, he was going to be a great guy to her, not someone out for himself.

“Come over after school,” Jordan said. “Maybe we can hook you up.”

“Listen, Jord, I know you’re just trying to be a good friend and get me laid, but how about you worry about you and I’ll take care of myself. Huh?”

“Aw, man, you don’t know what you’re missing!”

But Tom had seen the girls, the beer and pot, and he thought—actually, I think I do know what I’m missing. He hadn’t met anyone through Jordan who interested him. So far. “You take care of you—I’ll take care of me.”

Still, Jordan was one of the few friends he’d made. And Jordan loved coming out to the ranch and hanging around the horses sometimes. The general didn’t like him, but didn’t have a really good reason. Tom found himself a little torn—grateful to have a friend at all, but hopeful that someone a little more substantive would show up before too long.

A young man came into the bar and claimed a stool right in front of Jack. He was clearly under thirty. Jack eyed the polo shirt, khaki pants and loafers—not the mountain attire most commonly seen around here. This guy was not hunting, fishing or splitting logs. He gave the counter a wipe and said, “What can I get you?”

“How about a beer?”

“That’s our specialty,” Jack said, serving him up a cold draft. “Passing through?”

“No, as a matter of fact. At least I hope that’s a no—I just started teaching at Valley High School. I thought I’d get to know some of the folks around here.” He took a pull on his beer. “You have any high schoolers?”

“Brace yourself,” Jack said, lifting his coffee cup. “I have a new baby. By the time he gets to high school, I’ll have a walker.”

The young man laughed. He put out a hand. “Zach Hadley.”

“Jack Sheridan. Welcome aboard. How do you like it so far?”

“A little out of my experience, to tell you the truth. I’m used to a bigger school, city kids. But I wanted to give a rural community a try.” He grinned. “The kids find me real interesting—they laugh at my clothes.”

Jack grinned. “Lotta ranchers, farmers, vintners and that sort of thing around here. That, and hunting and fishing.” He nodded at the young man. “Not a lot of golf.”

“Is that what I look like? A golfer?” He chuckled. “Figures.”

Mel came into the bar, the baby on her hip. She passed the baby right across the bar to Jack. Jack hefted the baby and said, “Mr. Hadley, meet David, your future student.” David laughed, put a finger in his mouth and farted, bringing a big laugh out of Jack.

“Yeah, he’s just warming up. He’s going to be one of the fun ones, I can tell.”

Jack reached underneath the bar for the backpack. He very deftly slipped David into it and then the straps over his shoulders. “Mel,” he said, while getting David comfortable. “Meet Zach Hadley, new high school teacher in town.”

They shook hands and Zach explained he was renting a small place outside Clear River and was just getting around, meeting neighbors and parents of his kids. “Well, you’re here at the right time,” Mel said. “The locals will start turning out for a beer or cup of coffee.”

“Excellent,” he said. “Do you run this place with your husband?”

“No. I’m a nurse practitioner and midwife. I work across the street with Doc Mullins in his clinic.”

“Is that a fact?” he asked, intrigued.