Paradise Valley (Virgin River #7)(71)

“Will your ride be waiting?” Jerry asked.

“He’ll wait!”

“Well, okay then. I was camping with a couple of friends. We were in Arizona, way out in the middle of nowhere. We’d been in Sedona, but we moved out into the desert. When my friends woke up in the morning, I was gone. I woke up—I don’t know when—inside this spaceship. I had no memory of being snatched. It was like silver glass on the inside and the people—the aliens—had on suits that covered them from head to toe, breathing like Darth Vader, and I was stripped bare and lying out on a silver table. They were studying me and poking at me and talking in what sounded like high-pitched squeaks. Like dolphins.

“My friends got a search party going back in Arizona, but after two weeks of not being able to find me, they all gave up the search. They assumed I’d wandered off and died in the desert. But at some point, again in a total blackout, I found myself back in the desert of Arizona—alone. A park ranger found me and picked me up. The story goes that I wandered off from our camp and hallucinated due to dehydration, but that isn’t what happened.”

“Maybe it did,” Rick said.

Jerry shook his head. “I wasn’t dehydrated. And after weeks of being missing in the desert, my clothes weren’t damaged. Not torn or dirty or anything.” He looked at his watch. “I’ve researched—mine is not the lone account of such a thing. I’ll be glad to give you what other details I can remember at the end of our next session, if you’re interested.”

Rick sat back in his chair and just stared at the guy. “How often does this spaceship trick work for you?”

Jerry grinned. “Every time.”

Jack didn’t ask about the counseling session. He didn’t even bother with something as benign as, “Was it as bad as you thought it would be?” He just left it alone, so there was no talking. When they got back to the bar, Jack said, “Tomorrow morning is PT. See you at 9:00 a.m.”

“You’re going to get real tired of this,” Rick said.

“Get? I’m already tired of it. ’Course I wouldn’t be if you weren’t so angry with me for God knows what.”

“I’m not angry with you, Jack. It’s the situation.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” Jack said. “Tomorrow—9:00 a.m.”

“Actually, I need to come in now. Talk to Preacher.”

“By all means,” Jack said. And he thought—why the hell can’t you talk to me?

The big man was working in the kitchen. Paige was sitting at the workstation, holding Dana, now nine months old. “Well, hey,” she said, grinning broadly when she saw Rick enter. With baby in her arms, she went to him, embracing him. “I wondered when I was going to see you. How are you feeling?”

Rick’s hand automatically wandered to little Dana’s head, smoothing over her thin cap of brown hair. “I’m okay, Paige. I wanted to apologize for the other night. To you and Preach.”

Preacher lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “No problem, man. Jack said you were worn out and the leg was hurting.”

“I have to double apologize,” Rick said. “That wasn’t it. I just couldn’t take on the town, Preach. I’m sorry. Maybe I can run into them one at a time. But a big gang like that—I didn’t feel like I could do it. I wasn’t sure how I’d act.”

“Oh?” Preacher asked.

“Ah, how can I explain? Nah, I can’t explain. It’s like I’m not always in charge of how I behave. Sometimes I say mean things, ungrateful things. Do things it isn’t like me to do. And sometimes I break down and it’s embarrassing. That’s the best I can do for an explanation.”

“Got it,” Preacher said. “Still real rocky, getting on with things. Yeah, I been there.”

“Huh?”

He lifted a bushy brow. “Jack ever tell you about how I got hurt in Iraq and cried like a baby, calling for my mother?” He shook his head. “Wasn’t like me either, and my injury was minor.”

“It was major enough that I had to carry you over my shoulder for a long damn stretch,” Jack said.

“I wasn’t even in the hospital after,” Preacher said. “So, I know the best way to fix your situation. Marines back from war are always comped around here. ’Course, you’d be comped even if you hadn’t gone to war, but since you did, you eat and drink on the house here, just like cops, doctors, firefighters. You know—like we’ve always done. You serve the town, Jack serves you. You must be getting some serious cabin fever sitting around your grandma’s. Walk down here sometimes, just to say hello. That’ll get you back in touch. One at a time, like you want.”

“Maybe,” he said. “I gotta warn you—I’m not great company. Ask Jack.”

They all looked at Jack. “I’m hoping it gets better. After some adjustment. Maybe we should go out to the river….” He grinned yet his eyebrows frowned in a menacing way, as though he was thinking of drowning Rick rather than catching fish.

Rick almost smiled. Jack was a real good guy, but he wasn’t good at taking shit, and Rick had given him a real load of it. “See?” he said, looking back at Preacher and Paige.

“Well, try this,” Paige said, pushing the baby on him. “She puts everyone in a good mood.”