Bring Me Home for Christmas (Virgin River #16)(57)

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. Mel talked about leaving Virgin River from the day she got here. One thing or another held her here for a while. Six months later, I had her knocked up—”

Denny’s eyebrows shot up. He didn’t know that.

Jack cleared his throat. “Yeah, she was pregnant, and I wasn’t letting her leave me behind, so I told her I’d go anywhere she needed to go, but I had to be with her.”

“How’d you get her to stay?”

“There’s the thing—I didn’t. She made the decision by herself. I didn’t have anything to do with it. Seriously, I would have been disappointed to leave, but I would have gone anywhere I had to go. There was a lot at stake. Kid, much as I hate to see you go, you have to put your life together the way it works best for you. For you and Becca, if she’s what you want.”

“No question about that, Jack. I love her,” he said. “But I kind of saw myself growing that farm with Jillian and growing a family in a safe, quiet place like this.”

“Remember, son, the safest place for a family is under the umbrella of a happy marriage. That’s going to take compromise.” He smiled. “You’ll visit. This is a great place to visit. My whole family, except Brie, are city people. I can hardly keep them away.”

“I’m going to visit,” Denny promised.

“When are you out of here?”

“I hate to do this to you, Jack. I’m going to tell Jillian tomorrow, offer her some suggestions for help, but she won’t be in a real fix till spring. Then I’m going to pack up my stuff and my girl and head south. We’ll leave first thing Tuesday morning. I thought about taking her home for Christmas and then coming back to tie up my loose ends, but I don’t have that much. Better to come back in spring if I can, to visit and check out the farm. But I’m leaving you high and dry during a busy time and I’m sorry. I know you were counting on me.”

Jack was shaking his head. “Nothing to worry about, son. We can always get a little help around here.” He laughed a little. “Cheaper than you, as a matter of fact.”

“Hey,” Denny said, smiling back. “I didn’t set any salary! You did that all on your own.”

He chuckled. “If we get a crowd, I can always call Mike V., Walt Booth, Paul Haggerty. As for Jillian, she’s got Colin and Luke if she needs anything in a hurry. And plenty of time to look over prospective assistants before spring planting. Does Becca know this? That you’re taking her home?”

“Sure,” he said. “We talked about it last week and I said I’d get her home in time for Christmas.”

“Hmm,” Jack hummed, scratching his chin. “Shouldn’t she be a lot happier about it? If that’s what she wants?”

“That could be my fault,” Denny said. “I’m pretty sure she still doubts me. When I asked her to give Virgin River a try, she asked me, what if all she had here was me and I decided we should break up. ’Course, I know I’d never be that stupid twice, but you can’t blame her for wondering if I’d let her down again. So I told her I’d get her home before Christmas. Suppose she wonders if I’ll keep my word?”

“Then I guess the best thing to do is get on down the street, boy. Reassure your girl that if she throws her lot in with you, she’s gonna be safe.” He stuck out his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow sometime. I’ll tell Preacher to cook up something you like.”

“That would be great.”

“And, Denny? If the idea of leaving this little town gets you down, just stop and think about why you’re leaving. It’s worth it, son, if you found the woman you love. You’re lucky. You found her young. Got a lot of years to look forward to.”

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “Thanks, Jack.”

Denny turned and left the bar.

Jack poured himself another shot, though it was early for him to do that. He lifted his glass to the closed bar door and said, “No. Thank you.”

There was a soft and gentle snow falling when Denny walked back to his apartment. The town Christmas tree was going to look fantastic with the lights twinkling behind a fresh layer of lacy snow. Last year, they had to knock the snow off the branches to make sure they retrieved all the unit patches when they were ready to take the tree down. Mel counted and cataloged them afterward; to miss one felt almost personal.

He kicked the snow off his boots on the top step, then took them off before stepping into the room.

Becca was sitting up in the bed, leaning back against the pillows, one knee drawn up and circled with her arms. He leaned against the closed door, still holding his boots. She was so beautiful. Her face was shiny from being scrubbed free of makeup before bed—she was squeaky clean and would smell of soap and lotion and taste minty fresh from her toothpaste. Though they’d been intimate when they were together years ago and had managed a night together here and there, they’d never actually lived together before. He was surprised by how much he loved sharing these little rituals with her; their routine brought him such a feeling of comfort and stability.

He couldn’t figure out how he got so lucky, to have her love him. It was even harder to figure out how he’d been insane enough to let her get away once.

He put his boots down on the towel just inside the door and took off his jacket, hung it on the peg and headed for the bathroom. “Be right with you, honey.”