Paradise Valley (Virgin River #7)(23)

“A real job?” she asked, eyes wide. “Where they take taxes out of your check and everything?”

“And everything,” he said, smiling.

“You live around here?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Exactly. I’m staying in a camper until something comes up for rent. If you hear of anything…”

“Sure,” she said. “If I hear of something, I’ll let Paul know.”

“Thanks. You take care.” He turned to go.

“I never did get a name.”

He turned back. “Dan,” he said. “Dan Brady.”

Four

Rick was just about twenty-four hours post surgical when he was allowed a visitor. Jack and Liz had to negotiate. “Let me go,” Jack said firmly. “Let me see what we’re dealing with. He’s hurting, he’s drugged, the prognosis is good from our perspective, but he lost a limb and that’s gonna be hard.”

“I just want to see him, touch him, that’s all,” she said. “I don’t care about anything but that he’s alive.”

“Please,” Jack said. “I know how you’re feeling right now, but I’ve been down this road before and wounded Marines are unpredictable. Sometimes they’re just grateful to be alive, sometimes they can be real loose canons. If he’s unstable and angry, let him unload that on me first.”

“Will you tell him I love him?”

“Sure, honey. I’ve only got ten minutes with him. Let me get the lay of the land. If he’s mentally stable, you’ll go in next.”

She bit her lip and nodded reluctantly; he could just imagine how crappy that made her feel, but Jack couldn’t be sure how Rick was going to take to either one of them being here. Logically, he should want his closest people near him. But getting blown up and waking up in a hospital ward could skew someone’s sense of logic something fierce.

It was a small ward, only six beds. But six where there should only be four. Hospitals catering to the war-wounded were crowded, even with the number of wounded decreased. He spotted Rick right off—a white bandage wrapped around his head, his face cut and scraped, a bandaged stump where there had been a right leg. He wore green scrub pants, the right leg cut off, no shirt and his sheet was kicked away. There was a surgical bandage on his side; the spleenectomy, Jack assumed. An IV dangled above him; Jack hoped there was plenty of morphine in it.

He looked around; green walls, white linoleum floors, that hospital smell of disinfectant and medicine. There was a guy in a circular bed with pins in his skull, a guy with a thigh-high cast on one leg, another sitting up in bed who looked for all the world to be uninjured, though there was a wheelchair beside his bed, a young man with his arm in an elevated cast level with his shoulder and a man flat on his back, in traction. And Rick. It was clearly an orthopedics ward. Jack nodded at the other patients as he entered and they returned the nod, grim-faced. Right away he knew, they weren’t angry—it was that Rick was the newest patient and they were waiting to see what happened next.

He stared down at the boy and saw the tears on his cheeks and his mouth parted in a dark slit as he took breaths slowly and deeply.

“Rick?” he said softly.

Rick’s eyes opened. “Jack,” he said in a whisper.

“You have a lot of pain, son?”

He winced and nodded, squeezing out another tear.

“Did they tell you about your condition?” Jack asked him.

He nodded. “When did it happen?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

“’Bout a day ago. They got you right up here. You’re out of Iraq, you’re in Germany. You know where you are, son?”

Rick gritted his teeth and nodded.

“Remember anything?” Jack asked.

“I… Ah… I remember someone screaming at me. He kept saying don’t you give up, don’t you quit. Fucker. I ever see him again, I’m going to kill him.”

Jack felt himself almost laugh; at least he had fight in him.

“I brought Liz.”

Rick’s eyes came open instantly. “No,” he said in a breath. “No.”

“If I hadn’t brought her, she was going to try to make it on her own. She needs to see you’re okay, Rick.”

“I don’t want her here! Just get her out of here!”

“Listen,” Jack said, leaning over the bed. “I could no more leave her behind than—”

As Jack put a hand down on the mattress beside Rick, Rick let go a howl of pain that nearly shook the walls. Jack jumped back in shock and fear, but Rick just kept screaming and flailing around. The nurse was beside the bed instantly. “I didn’t touch anything,” Jack said apologetically.

The nurse ignored him and just talked to Rick. “Deep breaths, I’m upping the drip a little. Deep breaths, hang on, it’ll kick in right away. Come on now, just breathe.” Still, it took a moment for Rick to calm down. The howling ended with some soft whimpering that finally gave way to a couple of moans.

The nurse turned toward Jack. “Did you sit on the bed?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “I leaned a hand on the bed, but I wasn’t anywhere near him.”

“Phantom pain,” she said. “You probably leaned your hand where the leg used to be. It’s spooky, but it’s the real deal. He felt it and it hurt.”