Forbidden Falls (Virgin River #9)(70)

After dinner at Jack’s, they indulged in an evening brandy at the bar. “Did you enjoy your tour the past couple of days?” Noah asked George.

“I think you’re onto something here, Noah. I like this place. My only disappointment so far is that we didn’t gather up Ellie to join us for dinner tonight.”

“She deserves a day off, don’t you think?”

“I think you like her. And that it’s about time,” George said.

“Let’s not start all that again. I’ve been around plenty of women,” Noah said. His eyes twinkled. “George, who are you seeing these days?”

“Well, let’s see. I’ve been dating around, you might call it. There’s a visiting professor at the college I see when she’s in town. She travels quite a lot. And a neighbor lady and I like to have dinner in the city. She writes an ‘about town’ column for the paper and we enjoy some of the best restaurants, all on her tab, but that’s not the best part about her. There’s a waitress in Tacoma I like, a music teacher out on Bainbridge Island and a professor of veterinary medicine. She’s the most trouble and I think I like her best.”

Noah’s eyes were round. He swallowed. “You’re seeing five women?”

“Well, on and off. Each one of them is completely irresistible in her own way.”

“Don’t any of them want more of you than an occasional date? Like a serious relationship?”

George sighed and looked upward. “I’m not opposed to the idea of marrying again, Noah. But, as of this moment, the only woman I’m seeing I would consider is the vet, Sharon. But she’s forty-four. I think that might be a tad risky, don’t you?” Then he grinned. “Although we do jog together on Sunday mornings. She’s keeping up very well.”

Noah burst out laughing. This was what he loved about George and always had—he was so unafraid to live life. He held nothing back. “They used to call men like you rogues,” Noah said.

“Not men like me,” he protested. “I care very much for these ladies. They are, each one, wonderful women. I treat them with genuine affection and respect.”

Noah suspected George was sleeping with at least one of them, but he’d never ask. In Noah’s younger years, he’d been frivolous where women were concerned and had been intimate with quite a few. When he was about to be ordained, he’d struggled with the chastity issue. He wasn’t big on chastity. He didn’t think it was so much a sin as a recommendation, and in most cases there was a strong argument for the recommendation. Youth, for example. And there was no argument to support sex with partners you weren’t committed to; he could admit he’d been impetuous there. And he couldn’t find anything to support adultery—you didn’t need a commandment to see how bad that could turn.

For that matter, the Bible was riddled with suggestions that by modern standards were ridiculous. Isolation for menstruating women. No eating of fish without scales or fins; no wearing of linen and wool in the same garment. And there was a lot of stoning. Some were ageless rules that made perfect moral sense even today, others were cultural manifestos of the period.

Still, he had wanted George’s take on it, especially if he was about to encourage members of a congregation to stand firm on something that bothered him hardly at all.

George was blasé. “No one knows the Bible better than you, Noah. And you have an impressive knowledge of related studies. There are obvious reasons why things like chastity are enforced even today. To keep women safe, for one thing. To keep men from acting like rutting beasts. To discourage promiscuity, to honor the sanctity of marriage. To keep the act of love holy and virtuous. And to keep children from coming into unblessed unions before the man and woman were prepared to parent them, to feed and protect them.”

Noah knew this too well. The reasons for most of the Bible’s rules were practical as opposed to arbitrary proof of one’s discipline.

“But I suggest making use of the Eleventh Commandment. Moses ran out of stone, but its wisdom has survived the ages. Take responsibility for your actions.”

Noah had grinned largely and said, “Now, that, I get.”

Twelve

On Monday, George and Noah took a hint when they realized they were simply a bother to the workers who were trying to get some real work done in the church. They decided to drive over to Arcata to look at the bird sanctuaries, then they had a nice dinner in Old Town.

By the time they got back to Virgin River it was getting late so George took a book to bed while Noah sat up. He was on the couch with his laptop, trading late-night e-mails with a university friend who had moved to Los Angeles. It was after ten when there was a knock at the RV door. A soft knock. Noah typed, Gotta go. Company.

Noah answered the door and standing there, below him, was Ellie. She was upset; all color was drained from her face.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s late and you were probably asleep and I’m sorry, but I’m so scared and I don’t know what to do.”

“I wasn’t asleep. Come in,” he said, putting out a hand. “What in the world happened?”

“Someone visited Arnie from Child Welfare today, talked to him, interviewed the kids, and he’s furious! He says he knows I’m behind it and he’s gonna make me pay. Oh, God, Noah! What if he does something terrible to the kids?”