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“That’s what I thought too. I bought it off an old farmer who retired here. He was going to put in a vineyard, but his wife passed away. He never got around to it and finally decided he couldn’t live here anymore without her, so he sold it to me. He told me I would find myself a better person by living here.”
“But you work in Coronado. You work on the Teams, right?”
They had discussed this before. “Yes. My father and mother lived downtown in Santa Rosa, and I was raised here in my high school years. I’ve been all over the world, of course, and most of my friends live down in Coronado. When I’m home, I come back up here to visit my dad. It’s a nice place to come back to—no battleships like some of the houses and apartments down there. No Navy jets. No men running on the beach. Party central downtown, bonfires in Coronado. I just like it here. And this is good for his dementia. Up until a few months ago, he lived with me here. Two cranky bachelors. Now I’ve got him in the Vets. It’s a great place.”
“I’ve heard good things about it.” She stopped and studied everything again. “Well, it’s just awesome. How many acres do you have?”
“Just shy of thirty acres. I’m having a hard time deciding what to do with it. I’m not really a farmer, but I do like to garden a little bit for my own food when I can. I’ve got some neighbors down the driveway. Sally, down about a half mile away, takes care of Venom when I’m gone. Today, he’s at the vet. They’ll be here shortly. He got a little cut on his paw.”
“Venom?” she asked.
“My dog. He’s a champion European black Doberman. He looks fierce as hell, but he’s a sweetheart really. I think he’ll like you.”
“I’m sure he will. I love dogs, and they can tell. I’ve never been around Doberman, so you’ll have to teach me.”
He walked over to her slowly and, with the gentle breeze blowing through her hair, laced his fingers through it, noting all the red highlights in her dark brown color, her strands so shiny he could almost see his face in it. He leaned down very carefully and lifted her up with both arms around her so that she could encircle his waist, her arms tucked around his neck.
He bent down and kissed her. Then he kissed her down the side of her neck and nuzzled between the buttons of the front of her shirt.
Holding her gently, he slowly walked her inside, closing the door behind them and taking her to the bedroom. He stopped in front of the bed.
“This is my sanctuary. I have never had a woman here. I’ve never entertained anyone in the bedroom. My neighbor has been in the house, of course, but I’ve never ever had anyone here. You’re the first.”
Her body slipped down his frontside, over his hardness until her feet touched the floor. She stayed pressed against him, her arms still crisscrossed behind his neck.
“The first, huh? Somehow, I thought you’d be way more experienced.” She smiled.
“Well, I guess it doesn’t show, does it? Yeah, I’m experienced all right, but not when it comes to this.”
She studied his face carefully. “And whatisthis?”
“I don’t know, Lydia. But whatever it is, I don’t want it to end. Ever.”
And that was how it had been. That first day. Those first few precious steamy hours in the middle of the late morning. The first time he tried to convince her through the movements of his body that she was home, he would protect her, and he never wanted her to leave. He would devote his entire life to making her happy.
But, of course, those words could not be spoken yet. That was yet to come.
Chapter 2
Harper gave Sallya call to let her know he’d made it to Sonoma County but was going to visit his dad first. He’d stop by and pick up Venom afterward.
“I can just leave him in the house, if you want me to,” Sally answered. “You know I have a key.”
“Thank you, but I don’t know how long it’s going to be, and unless you object to me getting there after midnight, I prefer he stay with you.”
“Fine by me. He’s sitting right in front of me, patiently waiting. He’s listening and hearing your voice. Anxiously waiting. I’m sure he’s happy about that. He’s such a good boy, but he missed you this time.”
Harper was used to spending hours staring into the soulful eyes of his best friend, the one who was always happier to see him the later he was. Unlike human friends, who might feel slighted, he was just delighted with every bit of attention Harper could give him. And there were some days when Harper was so wrought with pain, he hardly paid attention to the world at all.
The veterans home was always lit impressively, having been built in the early 1900s. It was of Spanish Rococo design with fake urns and cherubs, which adorned the large archway entrance to the administration center where he had to check in. The building was huge. The two-story dorms on the sides were a later addition, more modern and built in the 1950s. Built for function, they were extremely ugly and “cake-box” looking.
The old part of the hospital was surrounded by little cottages that had housed teams of doctors who’d lived on campus while they ministered to the mentally ill population, mostly deaf and Down’s syndrome patients. This had been considered a perk that made it possible to find some of the very best doctors in the country. All that changed as their patients aged out. Then the facility was shut down and lay dormant for a time. The Veterans Administration purchased the property around the year 2000 and began fixing the disrepair, building by building, as money was raised.
The color of the plaster reminded Harper of Spanish Revival buildings in the San Diego area or places he’d seen in Arizona. The light warm sandstone color contrasted beautifully with the bright blue California sky during the day, with arched windows and walkways, ornate trim, and oversized tall ceilings that stretched up more than twenty feet on the ground floor. Tonight, floodlights illuminated the façade like an old Hollywood studio.
Money was always an issue, Harper remembered as he recalled the history of the property. It was expensive to maintain with all the little things always going wrong. The interior of the administration center was furnished with older leather furniture, antique tables, and hand-me-downs brought by families of veterans who stayed there. It reminded him of an old Boy Scout retreat he’d seen somewhere.
In the old days, the facility itself had a petting zoo, a farm for raising meat, a big garden, and an orchard where the patients used to work. They raised all their own food and for many, many years were self-sustaining.
