A Virgin River Christmas (Virgin River #4)(35)

“Doesn’t exactly sound great, Marcie. Are you sleeping in a heated house?”

“Of course.” She laughed. “And he made me chicken soup and everything. Are you in class? Can I tell you about him without you freaking out?”

“I stepped out of class—the guy’s just reading the syllabus anyway. Why would you worry about me freaking out? What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing. He’s a good person. Kind and tenderhearted, but a little grumpy if the conversation gets too close to the war. So…we stay away from that for now. But, Drew, he’s something else! No wonder I couldn’t find him—he has a ponytail and a huge, bushy beard that grew in red. Not as red as me, but his hair is brown and his beard is more red than brown. He’s been up here all alone for a long time now—since he got out of the Marines. He has a couple of jobs, hunts and fishes, chops wood. I’m getting to know him and I like him.”

And then the thought came suddenly: I do. I really like him.

“So,” Drew said slowly. “You’re out of town, isolated, staying with this guy who has no phone, this guy who gets a little grumpy if—”

“We’re having a good time together and there’s nothing weird about him, unless you count an awful lot of hair. But around here, that’s not so unusual. And in this town there are a lot of marines. They kind of all look out for me in a way, checking to be sure everything is okay.” That was a white lie—Mel did the checking, but clearly all the men were interested and cared. “And everything is fine.”

Drew took a breath. “And you’re coming home?”

“Soon,” she said. “I haven’t had a chance to tell him some things I want to tell him—you know, about the letter, the baseball cards. And I want to know…” She wanted to know why he ran off like that, leaving everything he loved behind. “I want to know some things.”

Drew’s voice became fatherly. “And if he doesn’t want to tell you the things you want to know? You’ll thank him politely and come home?”

She should’ve answered more quickly. It took her two long seconds before she said, “Of course, Drew. He’s a good person. I don’t want to hurt him. I’d just like it if he told me some things about my husband, about his situation. But if he won’t, I’ll leave him alone.”

“Erin’s going nuts,” Drew said. “She’s on the verge of frantic. If she weren’t so controlled all the time, she’d be biting her nails and tearing at her hair.”

“I tried to call her. Tell her that—I tried to call her, but she’s in court so I called you.” She smiled to herself—great family negotiating! She hadn’t really called Drew because Erin was in court, but because talking to Drew would feel good. “You can tell her everything—and that I’ll call again in a couple of days. Okay?”

“Something about this isn’t really—”

“Everything is better than I imagined,” she broke in. “I’ll be back in touch and, in the meantime, try to get Erin on some medication. Really, I hate carrying around the burden of her worry. I want to get done what I want to get done. It’s why I came up here.”

Drew sighed. “I know,” he said. “I understand, even if I don’t love it.”

She laughed softly. “Go back to class. I’ll talk to you again soon.”

“Love you, pet,” he said.

“Love you, baby brother.” And she hung up the phone.

She sat quietly for a moment, relaxed in the soft tan leather of the chair. They didn’t really understand what this had to do with her, but God they loved her enough to care what was happening, to be a little afraid she was making a mistake in putting herself in this strange man’s care. Erin’s love could be sometimes overbearing, based as it had so often been with concern, but balanced with Drew’s boyish good humor she knew how lucky she was to have them. Without their love, she would be so empty inside.

They had no idea how much she missed them, how much she wished she could be home with them just sailing through the holidays as though nothing was missing. And this Christmas, it wasn’t just that Bobby was missing; she’d already had her first Christmas without Bobby. Ian was missing, too—and she had to put all that together.

The bar was full of women, at least twenty of them, when Marcie stepped through the kitchen door. They had baskets, boxes, tins and large platters covered in plastic wrap laid out on the tables. They held mugs of coffee and tea and chattered happily. Marcie stood in the doorway looking into the room. This would be the women’s thing that had been spoken of; this would preclude her sitting in the bar until Ian could return for her. She’d have to find something to do.

“There you are,” Paige said. “You must have had a nice chat with your sister.”

“Um, I couldn’t reach my sister so I called my brother,” Marcie said.

“You have a brother, too? Oh—you’re so lucky. Are you close with them?”

She willed herself not to get teary. “Very,” she said, giving a nod.

“How wonderful.” Paige reached for her hand. “Come and meet some of the women,” she said, pulling her along into the room. “This is their Christmas cookie exchange. Some of these women are world-class bakers—but don’t tell John. He thinks no one can outbake him, but believe me, they’re incredible.”