Forbidden Falls (Virgin River #9)(56)

She’d coveted br**sts like Ellie’s. She’d often talked about buying herself a pair. And one night she said to Noah, “I’m thinking of getting a tattoo….” So he drew one on her belly with a felt-tip pen and then they laughed themselves stupid.

What he liked best about her was her wicked and irreverent sense of humor. And her lack of inhibition with him. He never had to coax her to let go in their bed—she was a free spirit. She believed everything that happened between a man and woman who loved each other was virtuous, and also believed what took place between husband and wife was sacred, no matter how wild and daring.

And while Merry wasn’t shy about voicing her opinion when she sensed an injustice, she seemed to be able to find the inherent goodness in the most unlikely characters. Noah hiring a stripper? Merry probably would have liked that.

“I have to come up with vows,” he muttered to himself. “Unique but not sappy vows…” He pushed back from his desk and wandered into the sanctuary, gazing up at the stained-glass window. It came to him suddenly, something he would try out on Shelby and Luke.

And then he heard a loud shriek from downstairs, a bark from the usually quiet Lucy, and Noah clamored down the stairs at top speed. He found Ellie on the floor clear across the hall, her back up against the wall, hugging her knees. She looked up at him. “A rat,” she said, breathless. “Behind that box. It’s four feet long.”

Lucy wasn’t trying to get at anything in the closet. “I think you scared my dog,” he said.

“The rat scared her, I bet.”

Noah entered the closet cautiously, kicked the box, and when nothing rustled, he pulled it out a bit. Ah. Behind the box was a dead mouse. Probably four inches long at best. It was very dead, dried out, kaput. He lifted it by the tail and held it toward her. “Is this the rat?”

“No. My rat is much bigger. That must be its baby.”

“Maybe you just got scared and it looked much bigger.”

“No,” she said. “There’s a rat the size of a Volkswagen in there.”

“Was it a dead rat, Ellie?”

“Possibly. It wasn’t moving.”

He went into the downstairs bathroom and dropped the thing in the trash.

“Why did you do that?” she yelled, getting to her feet. “What if he gets out of there and attacks me?”

“He’s petrified. It’s over,” Noah said. Then he smiled at her. “I’ll protect you.”

“Right,” she said. “So far you don’t even have the real rat! What good are you?” She stomped away from him in the direction of the kitchen and came back wearing work gloves. “I hate rats,” she said, pulling the box out of the closet into the hallway. She opened it slowly, cautiously pulling out what looked like wrapped bundles. She folded back some plastic, some towels. And said, “Oh my God.” She lifted and turned an elaborate gold candelabrum toward Noah.

“Oh my God,” he echoed, taking it. He was lifting it, weighing it. It was heavy. And while he was doing this, Ellie was opening another towel-wrapped package for its mate. “This is valuable,” he said.

“It’s Christmas,” she said, holding up the second one, beaming.

They got busy opening boxes and found things Noah hadn’t bothered to look for—even though the church building and contents were part of the sale, they weren’t listed as inventory of the property. He’d assumed everything of value was gone. Yet here were valuable altar accoutrements, from candelabra to chalices to communion trays. Everything was packed carefully in plastic and linens, clerics’ vestments and choir robes, neither dusty nor moth-eaten. Dishes for the kitchen, for community gatherings—over a hundred sets of plates, cups, saucers, bowls, flatware, punch bowls and glass cups. More crosses, some wooden, some gold. Hymnals, Bibles, altar linens. Tablecloths and napkins. There were boxes of candles that, thanks to the cool mountain temperatures, hadn’t melted in God knew how many years. Boxes and boxes of things the church could use. They unearthed a thirty-year-old IBM electric typewriter that actually still worked. “Except there will be no replacement ribbons on this earth,” Noah said. The space under the stairs was a good eight feet long and four feet wide and Noah had virtually ignored it because the first boxes contained useless paper and the rest looked water damaged, dirty and crushed—he couldn’t imagine there was anything of value there.

“But this is incredible,” she said, dragging a big box of dishes out of the hall and across the basement floor.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to put these in the kitchen so I can wash them and put them away!” she said, all excited.

Rather than paying bills or writing wedding vows, Noah and Ellie worked all day at emptying boxes. Noah took a big load of vestments, robes, altar and table linens to the dry cleaner’s in Fortuna and picked up tarnish remover for the candelabra and cross. They shook dust off Bibles and hymnals and put them in clean boxes, washed dishes and put them away.

And the sun began to set, the eyes of the stained-glass image of Christ shining into the sanctuary. Noah looked at his watch. “We’ve been at it all day without stopping for lunch.”

“I got into it,” she said.

“You know what we’re going to do? We’re going to have a big meal at Jack’s. It’s time for Lucy’s dinner anyway.”