Paradise Valley (Virgin River #7)(64)

“Are you sure?” she asked him, frowning.

Be welcomed home like a one-legged hero to this little town? Ha, not on your life, he thought. “I’m sure,” he said. “But if you want to go see the neighbors, I’m sure Jack will take you.”

“No, no,” she said. “We’ll stay home. Thing is, I didn’t cook anything, Ricky. Thinking we’d be at Jack’s…”

“No problem,” he said. “We’ll pull something together.” He gave her crepey, soft cheek a stroke, wiping away a tear. “We have to get up our strength, huh? And you need your insulin and food.”

Jack brushed past them, taking Rick’s duffel to his old room, the one he grew up in, the one he had briefly shared with Liz when their baby was almost due. “I’ll bring you something from the bar. Can’t have you trying to cook your first night home,” he said as he passed.

“That’s okay, Jack—” Rick began.

“Not a problem, Rick,” Jack said. He was back quickly; the house was small—just five rooms and a bath. He met Rick’s eyes and said, “I’ll pass on your regrets and get a batch of barbecue, bring it down. You rest.”

In a brief attack of humility for being such a giant ass**le all day while Jack tried his best, Rick said, “Thanks, Jack. I appreciate that. A lot.”

“Sure,” Jack said, clearly still miffed at him, disappointed in him.

Rick got over the guilt right away. Jack, maybe most of all, would be better off if Rick just wasn’t around to bring disaster after disaster into his life.

He got the prosthesis back on. He had a quiet meal with his grandma, she took her insulin and he popped a pain pill, and it was barely eight o’clock when she was nodding off in the chair and he sent her to bed. Then he dimmed all the lights so if anyone passed the house they would think he was asleep.

Rick was aware that there were lots of people at Jack’s bar, just down the street. In fact, he could hear engines and voices even though the front door was closed. It brought back memories of all the good times there, the times he’d come home on leave, the visits from Jack’s boys who all treated him like a little brother. He went back further in his mind to when he worked there, all through high school. It was like a second home—hanging out with Preacher and Jack, bussing tables, loading stock, going to Eureka for supply runs.

That job was his life for a while. Jack always made sure Rick’s school sports and homework came first, fit his work at the bar around those things, like a dad would do. And when Lizzie got pregnant, Jack and Preach did everything they could to give him work while freeing him up to take good care of his girl, the mother of his baby. Here he’d gotten himself in this giant mess and they were totally there for him, holding him up, keeping him sane.

It brought tears to his eyes, thinking about those days. Some of them, like when the baby was stillborn, were the worst days of his life. But remembering that day—Jack and Preach, Mel delivering the baby when she herself was pregnant and due any minute, Lizzie somehow getting through it and still loving him…. How was it possible he could remember such a terrible day with such fondness?

His grandmother almost always left the front porch light on at night, but Rick turned it off. He just sat on the couch in the darkened living room and thought back to all those times, sorry but simultaneously relieved he wasn’t down at the bar being welcomed home by the town.

In spite of himself, he felt bad about it. He knew Preacher would have put out his favorites and women from town would have brought their own special dishes to add to the party. He knew they meant well. He just didn’t think he could stand the scrutiny.

At ten o’clock, Rick knew the party was long since over; farmers and ranchers didn’t stay out late. Livestock and crops got them up real early. When he heard a light tapping at the front door, he thought it would be Jack, mother-henning again, checking on him. Maybe the guy wanted to tuck him in.

He opened the door and found himself face-to-face with Liz.

Ten

Rick’s very first thought was, how can she be even more beautiful? Her eyes bluer and hair thicker, silkier, making his hands ache to run through the strands. She didn’t look like a girl anymore; Liz could pass for twenty-one, easy. She was a knockout with a body that cost him sleep. His very next thought came right out of his mouth. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I got the message, Rick. You’re not going to take my calls, not going to call me back, not going to get in touch even when you’re right across the street from my aunt Connie’s store, where I work every single weekend.” She shrugged. “So, I’m here to see you. To talk to you. To find out exactly what your problem is.”

He laughed a little cruelly. “Well… Let’s see,” he said, scratching his chin. “What could it be?”

“Stop it, Rick. Eventually you’re going to be honest with me. The leg doesn’t have anything to do with us. I don’t care about a goddamn leg and you know it.”

He just stared into her eyes. This was a whole new Liz from the one he’d left. Well, that wasn’t entirely true—she’d been on her way to becoming this Liz for a couple of years at least. He’d put her through an awful lot and instead of crumbling into a mushy pile of little-girl tears, she’d gotten tough. Confident. Her back was straight and her eyes glittered. “Let’s put this off a while, all right?” he said. “Not tonight.”