A Virgin River Christmas (Virgin River #4)(53)

“Mel,” Marcie said. “I need a lift back to Ian’s.”

Both women turned to look at her. “Marcie, I won’t let you do this!” Erin insisted. “It’s primitive! He’s primitive! He looks like a total nutcase. A wild man.”

“He’s actually very docile. Kind.”

“There are no beds!”

“I slept on a pallet on the floor for two years while I was remodeling this bar,” Jack put in. He scratched his chin. “Didn’t shave much either. Used Doc’s shower about once every three days or so. We’re kind of homespun around here.”

“But…But we’re not,” Erin said.

“Jack,” Marcie said. “Call the sheriff. I’m being kidnapped.”

“That wild-man look,” Jack told Erin. “Not unusual around here. Lotta farmers, loggers and ranchers don’t shave in winter. And they don’t usually wear Sunday best to chop wood or feed sheep. Ian Buchanan fits right in, and seems like a civil man. I wouldn’t worry.”

Marcie put her hand over Erin’s. “I’m going back and I want you to go home. I’ll call and check in, I promise. But I was just barely over being sick, just barely getting him to talk. I’m not done here.”

“Marcie—I don’t mean to sound cruel, baby, but you’re not the only one who lost Bobby. His family, me and Drew…”

“I know, I know. I’m not ignoring that, I promise. We’ll be together for Christmas. Please, Erin, don’t fight me. Let me do what I came to do. Then it’ll be done and I can move on.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Honest, I just have to feel like this is complete.”

“What?” Erin asked pleadingly, her voice a strained whisper. “What do you think you’re going to accomplish?”

Marcie shot a pleading glance at Mel.

Mel and Marcie connected eyes for a moment. Then Mel looked at her husband. “Jack, take Marcie back to Ian’s. Take David with you. I’ll tend the bar if anyone comes in, or I can call Preacher or Mike. I think Erin and I should talk a minute.”

Jack lifted one brow. “You sure?”

She just nodded and smiled. He leaned slowly across the bar and gave her a little kiss. “I’ll be back before the dinner crowd shows up.”

When Jack and Marcie had left, Mel went around behind the bar and poured two cups of coffee. “Cream or sugar?” she asked Erin.

“Both. Please. And I don’t think you even come close to realizing just how—”

“Almost three years ago, my first husband was murdered,” Mel said. With that, Erin stopped explaining herself any further. Mel cleared her throat. “I was a nurse practitioner and midwife in an urban trauma center—central L.A. Mark was an E.R. doc there. He was stopping off at a convenience store for milk for his cornflakes after pulling a thirty-six-hour call and there was a robbery in progress. He was shot. Killed.”

“I’m sorry,” Erin said softly.

“Thank you. At the time I really wanted my life to end with his. After several months passed and I couldn’t seem to get on with my life, I did the craziest thing—I took a job in this one-horse town for almost no money just because I had an instinct that it was different enough to jolt me into some kind of change. I have an older sister,” she added, smiling. “She thought I was completely nuts and was ready to kidnap me, drag me to her house to recover. Her way.”

Mel leaned toward Erin. “I’m kind of an expert at struggling to move on. It’s not easy and it’s almost never a clear path. But I can tell you this much—I believe it’s necessary to blaze your own trail. And I’m sure Marcie’s safe. I don’t know if Marcie will work it all out, but I don’t recommend getting in the way of a woman trying to settle her life into some kind of order. There are things she wants to understand. We’ll try to look out for her, as well.”

Erin sipped her coffee slowly. “I know there’s a message here, and I appreciate you being so candid, but with Marcie—”

“Yes, Erin—the message is—whatever she feels she has to do to get to that next stage might not make sense, might not work out, might not be practical or wise, but it’s what she thinks she has to do. I know you’re hurting, too—losing your brother-in-law, having Marcie out of reach right now—I’m so sorry. I remember my sister suffering so much when my husband died—she loved him like a brother. But at the end of the day, Marcie has to feel like she did what she had to do. For whatever reason, working something out with Ian seems to be it. Apparently it’s necessary for her. She’s been incredibly determined.”

“That’s true enough,” Erin said.

“I wouldn’t be having this talk with you if I thought there was any chance Marcie was even slightly at risk. Believe me, I serve the women of this town. I look out for them. Marcie hasn’t been real specific, but you and I both know what she’s after. She needs to understand why the man who saved her husband’s life would run away. Abandon him. Abandon her.”

“But what if he’s only going to do that to her again?” Erin asked, a very sad and concerned look crossing her features.

“That’s what she came to find out,” Mel said, and she reached across the bar and squeezed Erin’s hand. “Let her get to the last page on this story, sweetheart. It’s what she’s been needing, or she wouldn’t have gone through so much.”