Paradise Valley (Virgin River #7)(29)

Rick made a face that was most definitely a grimace. As he looked up and saw the determined set to Jack’s jaw and his narrowing eyes, he knew there was no way out of this. It terrified him. If he couldn’t hang on to the anger, he was going to break down and cry like a girl. He would not cry in front of Liz; he would not cry in front of these wounded soldiers. “Fine,” he said to Jack. “Tell her to come in.”

Rick took a lot of deep, fortifying breaths while he waited. Then he looked over his shoulder and saw her standing uncertainly in the doorway to the ward. God, she looked more beautiful than he’d remembered, than the vision of her in his dreams, of which he had far too many. He scowled. He wasn’t sure he could do this. He stared at her and crooked a finger, bidding her to come closer. She walked slowly across the room until she stood in front of him.

For a second he almost hated her; at least he hated the look of pain in her eyes. He wanted to shout, You think it hurts to get yelled at? Try this!

He attempted a small smile and said, “Be careful, Lizzie. Don’t get too close. If you rub up against the wrong place, I’ll go through the roof.”

“Can I kiss you? If I don’t touch any other part of you?”

Bad idea, he thought. But he was stuck—everyone in the room was watching. Without even looking he knew Jack was standing in the doorway, making sure Liz was safe from him. “Lean over toward me. Real careful.”

“I know about the phantom pain,” she said. “I read all about it. I’m staying far away from where the leg was.”

He tilted his head and studied her for a minute. This was going to be harder than ever because she wasn’t put off by the sight of the bandaged stump. There was no question about it—nothing in her feelings had been changed by this. And that was such a big mistake on her part.

He put out his hand, on his left side away from the amputation, and pulled her closer to that side. She leaned toward him and he met her lips for a short, unsatisfying peck of a kiss. Behind eyes he briefly closed he remembered making love to her, before and after the baby they’d lost. Wonderful, beautiful, fantastic love that could sustain him for a lifetime. It all came back to him in a colorful, sensual flash; he could smell her skin, taste her sweet body. And then in an equally quick flash, he tried to picture making love to her without his leg.

He opened his eyes and pulled back. “I’m sorry I was mean to you, Liz. I was kind of out of it.”

“It’s all right. I’m sorry that my being here didn’t help you as much as I thought it would. But when I heard you were hurt, I just had to—”

“Did anyone tell you what’s going to happen next?” he asked her unemotionally.

“Sort of. You’ll have rehab.”

“I’ll be transferred to Balboa, the Naval Medical Center. Some people go to other places once they’re healed up a little, but some stay there, live in barracks. Two to three months. Then I’ll be medically discharged or medically retired. After I learn to walk on a fake leg.”

“Prosthesis,” she corrected, pushing her long hair over her ear.

“Yes. Fine. While I’m doing that, you get ready to graduate. Right?”

“I’m ready now, except for a couple of papers and finals,” she said. “I’ve been getting all As.”

He almost smiled but caught himself. “Listen, I know you want to help me, but the best thing you can do for me right now is understand—rehab is going to be a big job. Full-time. I’m not coming home until I’m through that.”

“But we’ll be in touch,” she said, nodding, smiling tremulously. “We can finally have phone calls again.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Rick?” she asked, tilting her head, tears gathering in her eyes. “Will we have phone calls?”

“Sure,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Don’t start crying, Liz. I can’t take care of you right now, you have to get that. You have to be strong because I can’t take care of you. Taking care of this is enough work.” He waved at the stump with his free hand. “I can’t be worrying that something I did or said made you cry. Cut it out.”

She sniffed back the threat of tears and held her mouth in a rigid line so her pinkened lips wouldn’t tremble. “I’ll be fine. It won’t take that long. And at least it’s not Iraq.” She sniffed again. “It’s just hard to say goodbye to you again, that’s all.”

“It probably wasn’t a good idea for you to come all this way. If I hadn’t given up a spleen, I’d have been out of here in forty-eight hours. On a medical transport to the States. Kind of hard to catch up with.” He saw the stricken look in her eyes and quickly said, “But hey, it was real nice of you to come and I appreciate it. I’m sorry I was so mean—I had no idea what I was doing, saying.”

“I know. It’s okay. I love you, Ricky.”

Say it back, he told himself. You can’t not say it back, that would be cruel. But he didn’t want her to know he still loved her, it wasn’t good for her to be bound by that. And then he reminded himself, he wasn’t going to break it off with her here, like this. That would come later. So he took too long but he finally said, “I love you, too, baby.” Maybe adding baby would lessen the blow of his hesitation. “Sorry, my brain is like mud. All these drugs, you know.”