Angel's Peak (Virgin River #10)(94)

“I don’t want to spend the night,” Art said, his voice still gruff from the strain of coughing and choking.

“I’ll stay here with you,” Luke said.

“But I want Thanksgiving, Luke!”

“I’ll make sure—”

Shelby popped her head in the room. She carried a covered tray. “Now, Art, would I let you miss Thanksgiving?” she asked. “Don’t I know you like to eat better than anything?”

He grinned at her and she came into the room. She put the tray on his bedside stand. “I drove it over on a hot-water bottle, but if it’s not warm enough, the nurses might let us borrow their microwave.” She pulled the aluminum foil off the dishes. “Oh, I think you’re going to like this!”

He dipped a fork in the mashed potatoes first and grinned. “It’s good. Are you going to spend the night, too?” he asked her.

“Probably not,” she said with a laugh. “If Luke is here with you, I can stretch out at home and have the whole bed.” She leaned forward and gave Art a kiss on the head. “Be more careful,” she said. “I can’t stand the thought you might be hurt!”

Art glowed scarlet from the kiss.

“Knock, knock,” someone said from the door. Sean came into the room with Rosie on his hip. “Some Wide Iwish Rose can’t go to sleep tonight without seeing you. She’s never been in a hospital before.”

Right behind them Franci entered the room, saying, “And we brought…” Her voice trailed off as she saw Art with a generous Thanksgiving meal in front of him. “Pie.” Within five minutes, Rosie was sitting on the bed beside Art, helping him eat his dinner, which he didn’t seem to mind sharing with her.

Then Walt Booth’s voice boomed from the hospital room doorway. “Aw, hell, I thought this was an original idea!” He brought in his own collection of leftovers and behind him Muriel laughed, holding a large serving of pie.

Next came Paul with still more pie. “Vanni sent this over,” he said.

And right behind him, Preacher. “Heard there was a little excitement at the Riordan Thanksgiving dinner,” he said, bearing a couple of take-out cartons from the bar.

And, finally, Aiden and Maureen crowded into the small room. “I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t bring food,” she said. “We just wanted to check on you and make sure you had company, Art. But look at this—you have so many friends.”

“I have very many friends,” Art said. “Very many.”

The day after Thanksgiving was bright and sunny, though very cold. Maureen told Vivian she had errands to run, but would be back in plenty of time to help with dinner at Franci’s house. Tonight Shelby, Luke, Art and Aiden were all coming over for a family dinner before they scattered to the winds in a great exodus out of Virgin River and Eureka.

Maureen drove to Ferndale and back to the cemetery. She saw George’s car parked by the side of the road and pulled up behind it. He was halfway up the hill, apparently reading a headstone. She walked up the winding stone stairs till she met him.

He turned and opened his arms and she walked right into his embrace. “Do you think it’s a bad omen to meet in a cemetery?” she asked him.

“I have a special fondness for this place,” he said. “This is exactly where you completely lost control, threw yourself at me and passionately kissed me. I like it here.”

“I think I surprised myself more than you,” she said.

“Impossible. I thought I’d have to chase you for years before I got a kiss.” He stroked her hair back over her ear. “Are you ready to go?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be. You?”

“I’d rather not,” he admitted. “But I have responsibilities. The upside is, I’m going to get those things taken care of quickly so I can get the next part of my life under way. I’m looking forward to this next stage.”

“And you’ll be back here for Christmas?” Maureen asked.

“Didn’t I promise you?”

“I suppose I can trust you to keep a promise,” she said. Then she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. “Are you still planning to leave tomorrow?”

He nodded. “I’ll drive for a day and have Sunday to get myself organized before classes. I think I might drum up the hardest end-of-term exams in the history of the world. I want to be remembered for something.”

“George, you’ll be remembered. Who could forget you?”

“Hopefully not you!” He kissed her forehead. “Will you please give me a call when you get home? Just so I know you’re safe?” They had spent one of their lunches plugging numbers into each other’s iPhones. She had numbers for him on his cell phone, at the university and at home.

“Of course. Once I get rid of Aiden.”

“Don’t be grumpy,” he said, giving her a squeeze. “You’ll have a very pleasant drive with him. It’s nice of him to look after his mother.”

“He’s not being nice, George, he’s being over protective and nosy. He’s got this idea we have to have a heart-to-heart talk about the fact I haven’t been dating! He brought it up, you know—apparently, my sons have been concerned about me being alone. More to the point, they’re all concerned that I’m determined to be alone!”