Paradise Valley (Virgin River #7)(28)

It made her giggle. “I can see you almost anywhere.”

In only a couple of days, Rick’s pain management was greatly improved. As long as he didn’t get behind on the drugs, he’d be relatively comfortable. And while he wouldn’t get his final prosthetic leg for two to three months, he’d begin rehab immediately and have a temporary limb he could work with in a few weeks. They were going to ship him out to the Naval Medical Center in San Diego to at least start his rehab until they could find a facility closer to home. But he didn’t necessarily want to be closer to home.

“If it can be worked out,” Jack said, “I’d like to bring you home to Virgin River to stay with me and Mel. We can get you to rehab several times a week—”

Rick looked down into his lap. Every time he did that, the stump shocked him. “Listen,” he said quietly. “I appreciate it, I do, but I already told the caseworker I didn’t care where they sent me for rehab. Because I don’t want to go home with a walker or crutches. Without a leg.”

Jack was mute for a second, staring at him. This was the first he’d heard of this. He grabbed a chair from across the room and pulled it right up to Rick’s bed and spoke quietly so as not to be overheard by the other patients. “That’s not necessary, Rick. It’s not as if you can keep this a secret. I called Mel, told her your condition so she could tell all those people waiting to hear. It had to be done.”

“I know. I’m not trying to keep it a secret. I’m alive, that’s enough. But if there’s going to be a struggle, I don’t need everyone watching.”

“You sure you want to take that route?” Jack asked. “Because I don’t see a lot of watching, but maybe a lot of supporting. We’re on your team. You can’t be as happy to be alive as we all are to have you alive.”

“Listen, can I just do this my way? This isn’t going to be simple. Do you know how much is involved in getting a leg? Learning to use it? I just heard a little about it this morning and it sounds like— It takes a long time, it hurts, it’s hard to manage, do you realize that?”

“I absolutely do,” Jack said. “Me and Liz, we’ve been reading up. Talking to people. Learning the ropes. So we can do whatever you need us to do.”

Rick looked away. “I need you to leave me alone.”

Jack was speechless for a second. Then he gathered himself up and spoke. “Okay, I’m done screwing with this. You have to see Liz now. Today. A couple of days ago you—”

“I know,” he said, not making eye contact. “It was the pain. I know I overreacted. I’ll see her. I’ll tell her I’m sorry about how I acted.”

“Look at me,” Jack said sternly. When Rick met his eyes, Jack said, “I know you’re not in a good place right now, but this will pass. I’m going to send Liz in. At the least, tell her you didn’t realize you were being mean and that you appreciate her coming all this way and sitting in a hospital lobby all alone, scared to death to show her face around you.”

“Listen, Jack,” he said, meeting his eyes. “Don’t you get it? I’m bad luck. I’m not good for people.”

Jack’s head jerked to attention. “What?”

“Bad things happen to me, around me. Things don’t go right when I’m around. It started when I was two.”

Jack was astonished. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Rick shook his head. “My parents died. My grandma got real sick. One strike and I got my girl pregnant. Her baby died. I went into the Marines and the squad clearing the street for us died. I got blown up. Come on. I’m a walking disaster.” He laughed unkindly. “No, I’m a disaster who can’t even walk.”

Jack leaned toward him. “You’ll get a new leg that will work almost as good as the one you lost and you can get on with your life. It’s the stuff of life, we have some shit to deal with and we move ahead. You’ll move ahead, too.”

“Did your parents die when you were barely two? Did your first baby die? Did you get blown up in the war?”

Jack had a tempting moment. He never focused on the things that had gone terribly wrong—it was hard enough to put them away when you didn’t think about them all the time. It was a horrible trap, letting yourself list the stuff in the negative column. He’d always stayed away from that. But Rick’s questions were like a challenge and he wanted to stand up, bear down on him with a glare and shout, Yeah, I held more than one Marine while he was f**king dying and there was no way to save him—it gets me screwed up sometimes. I couldn’t find a woman to bond with till I was forty! My mother died too young! My baby sister was raped and beaten! My wife, my heart, almost died of a hemorrhage! My boy Rick got blown up in the war. It wasn’t the same stuff, but it was nasty stuff that made me weep. Instead, Jack calmly looked at Rick and said, “A lot of what happened to you—it happened to me, too. Because I was there with you. Someday you’re going to find out that when someone you care about suffers, you suffer right along with him.”

“That’s why,” Rick said. “That’s why I want to be left alone. So you don’t have to. Suffer.”

Jack stood up. “Not that simple. Sending me away isn’t going to make me feel a lot better, but I’m not getting into that with you till you have some time to adjust. I’m going to tell Liz to come in now. Be nice to her. I’m going to take her back to California and I don’t want her crying all the way home.”