A Virgin River Christmas (Virgin River #4)(50)



“I came to see this place, this man. You can’t possibly believe I’m just going to let you continue this insanity without knowing what we’re dealing with? And it’s a good thing I came to get you! Dear God—did he beat you?”

“Beat me? Of course not! And we’re not dealing with anything because this is not your deal! You’re going to spoil everything!”

Erin came closer, bringing the rich scent of Chanel’s Allure with her. She was decked in a tan leather jacket and matching boots with heels—probably Cole Haan, her favorite—and perfectly creased, expensive, chocolate-brown wool pants. She wore thin driving gloves and her strawberry-blond hair fell in perfect waves to her shoulders. There was, of course, gold jewelry and a colorful red, orange and purple Hermes scarf looped around her neck. “What happened to your face?”

Marcie’s hand rose to her cheek. It didn’t hurt so she had all but forgotten. “Oh. I had a little accident with the stove. It was entirely my fault. But I’m fine.”

“Have you been to the emergency room?”

“The what?” She started to laugh. “There’s an emergency room a couple of hours from here, but I have some stuff on it. A really good salve they use on horses.”

“Oh, for the love of God! You’ve completely lost your mind!”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Marcie said, feeling ten years old.

“But your hair. Your beautiful hair! And your…your…eyebrows!”

“I noticed,” Marcie said. “Really, Erin—why can’t you just leave me alone? I did what you asked—I called every couple of days, at least every few or had someone call you, I was careful, I—”

Erin’s lips firmed into that implacable “mother expression.” “Right. Finding him was one thing, staying with him in an isolated place without a phone and a—Dear God, is that what I think it is?” she said, pointing a finger toward the outhouse.

“The loo,” Marcie said, a tad amused. “No bidet.”

“I’m going to faint.”

“We have a little porcelain pot inside if you can’t weather the trek to the head.” She decided not to mention it would do well to carry a weapon when one ventured out there.

Erin actually swayed on her feet, her eyes closing briefly. Marcie had to hold in her laughter. If she thought her introduction to this cabin in the woods was interesting, the very thought of Erin slipping on her Cole Haans and trudging out in the morning to the facilities was enough to make her burst into hysterical laughter. “You should see how we manage on bath day,” Marcie said, finding it irresistible to bait her a little.

Erin’s eyes popped open. “Bath day suggests it’s not every day and it’s not convenient.”

“That would be a true statement.”

“And not particularly comfortable…” Erin went on.

“Well, since the only heat is a wood-burning stove, it’s quite quick.”

“Lord. Get your things.”

“No. No, you can look around and lift your prissy little nose and meet Ian if you insist, though you won’t like the look of him, I can assure you. And then you can depart before it becomes necessary for you to use the facilities. That’s as far as I go.”

“At least you’ll let me take you to the doctor,” Erin said.

“I’ve seen the doctor,” Marcie said before she could stop herself.

“And what did he say about you using horse medicine on your face?”

“Liniments. Horse liniments of some kind that work surprisingly well. But, actually, I didn’t need a doctor for that. Turns out the minute I got here and found Ian, I got sick. Flu. He went for the doctor, and the doctor and his nurse practitioner came out to the cabin, gave me a shot and Ian took very good care of me. He made chicken soup and everything.”

Erin put her fingers to her temples. She gave a little rub, then recovered herself, giving her head a shake. She glanced at the igloo-shaped mound right beside her big SUV with narrowed eyes.

“My little VeeDub. Not going anywhere for a while, I’m afraid. It wouldn’t handle the mountain roads in snow and ice. Things need to dry out a little. If you won’t just go away, come inside, Erin.” Marcie turned and entered the cabin, leaving the door open for her sister.

As Marcie could have predicted, Erin wasn’t impressed. She looked around and though she was quiet, she shuddered. “Where are the beds?”

“As a matter of fact, there aren’t beds. I sleep on the couch and Ian sleeps on a pallet on the floor near the stove. I haven’t taken his couch—he says he’s always used the pallet. It’s comfortable for him. The couch is too short.”

“There seems to be just the one room,” Erin said.

“It’s a cabin. It’s been inhabited by one man. Not at all unlike the cabins Dad and Drew rented for hunting and fishing.”

“This is entirely different, as you well know,” Erin said pleadingly. “Marcie, I can’t leave you here. I can’t.”

Another engine ground its way to the top of the mountain and Marcie stepped toward her sister with a look of desperation on her face. “Listen to me—really listen. We haven’t talked about what happened to Bobby, about any of that time in Ian’s life. We were just barely sneaking up on it, so you are to say nothing, do you hear me?” She went to the couch to sit, take off her boots and grab up her jeans to pull them quickly on. “Nothing! Mind your manners, don’t insult him and use that sharp lawyer’s brain of yours to be political. And I mean it!”

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