He just looked into her eyes, silent.

"I should pick apples," she said.

He came out of his trance. "Right," he said, putting his truck in gear.

She was so young, Tom thought, to have had to learn so much. And this worldly education in life had not only been achieved with complete lack of support, at least to this point, but with a couple of helpless little kids. And he'd already known she had a messy past, but the story she told only made it sound worse than he imagined.

Throughout the day, while he tended the trees and crop, he thought about that, comparing her to himself. He was almost thirty and had just realized he was ready to settle on the orchard, take on a wife and family, and this decision that was both emotional and practical, had taken a lot of consideration. He hadn't been even near ready two years ago and five years ago it was a possibility that terrified him. But he'd left the Marine Corps knowing that was the next stage of his life.

And had come back to Virgin River? Where the hell did he think he was going to find a wife here? All the girls he thought were hot in high school were spoken for, as were most of the young women in his age range in the coastal towns. In fact, a lot of them had already been married and divorced with a kid or two. No, that wasn't what he was looking for at all. The whole kid thing scared him enough without taking on someone else's kids.

He was so preoccupied that he was relieved when Junior told him that no extra hands were needed over the weekend. And when he gave Nora her ride home, she seemed cheerful when she jumped out of the truck. "Well," she said, "I'm having a family reunion this weekend. Do you have any big plans?"

"Nothing for me," he said. But he thought maybe he should try to get out of town for a day, maybe a weekend. "Enjoy yourself. Pick you up Monday morning."

Tom sat at the kitchen table in the house, cup of coffee in front of him and his laptop open to his schedule. But rather than scrolling or typing or figuring, he tapped his finger idly. A lot of what ran through his head was asking himself how Nora could be different enough so that she'd be more right for him. No kids, for one thing. No doper ex, for another. I mean a few beers, a joint, that was one thing-but hooked up to a guy who went to prison for felony possession? A little too far into the deep and dark underworld. Yeah. And then there was her youth. Twenty-three was young, but twenty-three and been around the block a few times? He didn't expect a virgin, but for God's sake.

No one had seemed to notice his thoughtful mood.

"You're awfully quiet," Maxie said.

He smirked and looked up at his grandmother. Except her, of course. He grumbled something about having things on his mind.

"And cranky," she said. "Trees talk back today?"

"I know you think you're very funny... ."

"Maybe this will perk you up," she said, pulling a slip of paper out of her pocket. She unfolded it and tried to smooth it out. "A girl called you. She'd like you to call her."

His mouth dropped open. He wasn't working on anything with any girl anywhere. He stared dumbly at his grandmother.

"Well, it didn't cheer you up but it did get your attention," she said, handing him the paper.

"Aw, this isn't a girl, this is Darla-the woman who was married to Pritchard. Bob Pritchard, a guy from the Corps who was killed in Afghanistan. She's the woman I stopped off to visit on my way home." He ran a hand over his head. "God, I hope she's all right... ."

"She sounded just fine," Maxie said. "Very happy, very friendly. She told me you'd said very nice things about me."

"But what does she want?" he asked.

Maxie leaned toward him. "She'd like you to call her," she repeated softly.

He just stared at her.

"I could leave the room," she said, "But I can't make dinner anywhere else, so why don't you just go upstairs or out to the office."

He still sat there for a moment, looking up at a silver-haired grandmother who was much shorter and always seemed much taller. "Right," he finally said, picking up his laptop and heading for the office in the barn. And on the way he thought, How do I expect to hook up with a woman when I'm so dense?

And yet, he sat at the desk for a while before picking up the phone because the truth was, if Darla was in a place of grief and pain, he really didn't feel up to it. He still had those moments over Pritchard that clouded his eyes and closed his throat. There had been about six marines trying to get him to the helicopter when he was holding on to life by a breath.

That was a year ago. She might be lots better by now even if he wasn't. So he dialed.

"Tom!" she said excitedly.

"How did you know it was me?"

She laughed into the phone. "Caller ID, Tom. I assumed it was you and not your grandmother who was calling me. What a sweet woman, by the way."

"Sweet," he said.

"How have you been?"

"Fine. Good. Well, at least reasonable. You?" he asked with trepidation.

"Much better," she said. "Much, much better than when you were here. I think seeing you and hearing about Bob and about the war and all that-I might've been a little emotional and maybe gave the impression I was going to be a wreck forever. Bob wouldn't want that. I'm getting along very well, actually. In fact, I'm going to be in your part of the world-I'm taking a post-grad course at UC Davis, not all that far from your little town. I'll be there for about eight weeks."

"Post-grad?"

"A pharmacy course. It's full-time and I'll have studying to do, but I don't have labs or classes on weekends and I figured while you're picking apples, I could get a little reading done. That is, if you feel like getting together. I don't want to impose."

"That's right," he said. "You're into pharmaceuticals."

She laughed. "In a good way. I have a town house lined up-my company has been sending sales reps through this course for years and has a lease on a town house I hear is nice. I'll be going back to Denver when the course is over, of course. But, I'll be there next week and don't have much going on. Want to come down? There are some nice restaurants around there."

"Aw, we're picking apples, Darla."

"Well, gee. I knew that-I searched apple harvest in Humboldt County on Google. I could always come to see you. I'm sure there's a motel nearby... ."

Yeah, he thought, I'm going to get right on the list of smoothest bachelors in the U.S. "Darla-we have more room than we need and Maxie loves having company. Just let us know when you'll be here. It's not fancy, but it's homey. We don't have a lot of restaurants, however. No nightlife here at all, in fact, but there are some really good views and the apple pie is top-notch."

She laughed, a very musical sound, a very happy sound. No, he decided, she wasn't coming to Virgin River to grieve and cry. She was coming to visit a friend. And Darla might be widowed, but widowed from one of the best guys he knew. And there hadn't been kids yet. And she was older-twenty-eight or so. Smart, pretty, self-sufficient.

"I love apple pie," she said.

"Do you like mountain vistas? Ocean views? Redwoods?" he asked, finding himself getting a little excited.

"I've never seen the redwoods."