A Virgin River Christmas (Virgin River #4)(30)

But she was getting lonely. She wondered if she could wait out his silence.

One afternoon, she witnessed a most remarkable thing. He had been whistling while piling his wood in the truck and had finally started to sing, quietly at first and then louder, that incredible voice just making her heart flutter. Suddenly all sound stopped; no more logs, no more singing. And yet the door didn’t open. At first, she thought he’d made a pass by the outhouse, but time stretched out. Finally, she stepped out the front door and quietly looked around the side of the cabin. She saw Ian out by the shed. He was standing in front of a very large buck with a huge, beautiful rack that must span over three feet. His hand was out and the buck seemed to be eating out of it; Ian was talking softly to the deer, stroking its jaw with the other hand.

She was frozen in the moment, silently watching as Ian and the deer, like best friends, spent this quiet, companionable time together. There was a kindness in this man that calmed the most skittish of wildlife. Would she ever be in touch with that side of his nature, she wondered? Did he only roar at people who frightened him?

She had frightened him with the past when she arrived. She’d been very careful not to do that again. A little time, a little more trust, and she would sneak up on those old issues carefully. The last thing she wanted was to hurt him. She knew that he was a good person.

How could a father have turned a cold shoulder to this man? she asked herself. How?

The deer took a couple of steps back, turned, and pranced back into the trees. Ian turned back to his work and caught sight of her standing there. He walked over to her.

“You saw my buddy, Buck,” he said. “I keep an apple in my pocket when I work outside. Sometimes he shows up. If the apple starts to get soft before he comes, I eat it.”

“How do you do that?” Marcie asked, entranced.

“It’s not a trick. I found him when he was young. He was nicked by a hunter’s bullet, separated from his mother, all spooked and confused and bleeding. So I kind of caught him. The old man, Raleigh, he said his eyes weren’t any good anymore and he couldn’t do anything, but I could do something about that wound, take care of him, give him a couple of apples and let him go. Which is what I did. I closed him in the shed, fed and watered him, gave him apples and when he was fine, I turned him loose. That’s all.”

“And he comes back?”

“Not regularly. I’m just happy he hasn’t told his friends.”

Marcie put her hand against her chest, touched. “Ian, that’s incredible.”

“Don’t get sloppy, Marcie. If I had a freezer, I might shoot him.”

“You wouldn’t!”

He smiled at her. “I like venison. Don’t you?”

She thought about that chili Jack had given her, how it melted in her mouth. But she said, “Not that much!” And she whirled and went into the house, his amused laughter at her back.

Midmorning, Marcie heard an engine and knew it wasn’t Ian; the motor was too smooth. She opened the cabin door and saw the nurse, Mel, get out of a big Hummer with her bag in hand. “Well, hello,” Mel said. “You must be feeling better.”

“Much, thanks,” Marcie said. “Alone this time?”

Mel came up to the door. “I thought I’d just drop by, see how you’re doing.”

Marcie laughed at her. “You don’t just stop in here. I remember how hard this place was to find. Come in. I’m afraid I can’t fix tea and cookies.”

“Marcie—I talked with your sister. I thought maybe I should tell you about it.”

“Oh, God. Was she mean as a badger about this? Did she totally freak out?”

Mel chuckled a little. “Totally? No. But she has some strong opinions where this visit is concerned. I’ll tell you how it went.”

Marcie threw her arm toward the table with the two chairs and Mel took one. She got right to the point. “I think I did what you asked. I told her you had found Ian Buchanan, you were visiting with him, planned to stay a while and would call her when you were in town next. I honestly don’t think I got out much more than that. She wanted to know why, if you found him and talked to him, you’re not on your way home.”

“Oh, holy cow. No—holy sister.” Marcie put her head in her hand. “Well, because I got sick, but I wouldn’t want her to know that. She might come up here with an ambulance. She can move mountains when she wants to. Mobilizing the National Guard wouldn’t be impossible for Erin.”

“I kind of got that impression.”

“But this flu turns out to be a blessing. Because Ian’s very slow to get close, and he’s awful used to not having anyone to talk to. Just being here for a few days has gotten him used to me a little. We’ve nibbled around the edges of our individual lives without talking about things like the war, my late husband Bobby, what drove him to leave the Marines, his hometown, all that. But I’m getting closer. Because he’s stuck with me, we’ve been getting acquainted. Reacquainted really—we were in touch right after Bobby was hurt—briefly. So, I’m trying to build trust and friendship. One of these days he’s going to really talk to me.”

“And?”

Marcie shrugged. “Mel, I don’t know why I had to do this—come here like this. It was just something I couldn’t live without doing. When I understand the man who saved my husband’s life—”