Paradise Valley (Virgin River #7)(73)

Jerry smiled a little, tilting his head. “If you’ll remember, we worked through some of that.”

“We did, huh?” she said, suddenly reminded. She straightened. “Yeah, we did. I did blame myself before. I thought I’d done something wrong to make the baby die. Like I ate the wrong things or didn’t eat the right things. Or slept on my back or something. Yeah.” She actually smiled, though it was a weak and sad smile. “That’s right. But I never broke up with Rick because I thought I wasn’t good enough for him.”

“We went over some of this, too,” Jerry reminded her. “Everyone has an individual response to crisis, grief, et cetera. I don’t say this to you to influence the direction you take in your situation, Liz, but you do have to keep that in mind. He has many adjustments to make that might not make sense to you. Just like if you’d told him you were guilty, as if you’d hurt the baby, it might not have made sense to him. The important thing is that you understand yourself.”

She made a face, lowered her gaze. “Having a little trouble there,” she said.

“Hmm?”

“My feelings are so hurt. And I drove out of town, parked and cried. But before I even got done crying, I was so mad. I’m still so mad. Instead of studying like I should be, I just go into these mental arguments with him, yelling at him in my head.”

“Can you play some of those tapes for me?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“What are you yelling in your head?”

“Oh, things like, Who do you think you are? You think you’re the only one who ever felt terrible and scared and alone? Who felt loss? Who felt you weren’t good enough? Don’t you think I’d have given up both legs if it could have saved the baby’s life? Things like that. I mean, I went through a real bad time with the baby, you know.”

“I do know. Did he help you with that at the time?” Jerry asked.

She was quiet a moment. Finally she said, “Totally. He did everything he could think of. Even though it hurt him just as much. I know it did. After the baby was born, when he was holding me and the baby together, he was touching his little-bitty hand and tears were falling on my hair and the baby’s head. But he held me. He came to Eureka almost every day. He called to see how I was twice a day…. And now…he won’t let me be there for him,” she added quietly. “He wants to do this alone. And he can’t.”

“Can’t?”

“When we went out to talk, we made love…. Well, not like we used to. He was a little nuts, grabbing me. I tried to slow him down a little, shushing him, kissing him softly, but he was just gone. That’s what makes me confused—he doesn’t want us to be together anymore, but he can’t control himself when he’s with me. Explain that to me.”

Jerry deferred. Instead, he said, “Did he hurt you, Liz?”

“Physically? Of course not,” she said, shaking her head. “He even said he was sorry while he was trying to get my jeans off. Like he was sorry he was so desperate or something. Because he didn’t stop.”

“And you didn’t stop him?”

“No, I didn’t care. He’s been away a long time, he’s been through so much, and I was missing him, too. I wanted him—that wasn’t the problem. The problem came after when he said, ‘See? We can’t be together.’ And I thought—what was that? That was together. I understand it—I read all the stuff. He’s pushing me away. But at the same time, I don’t understand it.”

“Now what?” Jerry asked.

“Now? Now nothing. From me, anyway.”

“Can you explain that, please?”

“I took him back to his grandmother’s house and told him to get out of my car. I reminded him that he knew how to find me. I’ve spent months reaching out to him. I don’t think it would be good for either one of us if I pushed on it anymore.”

“Think you’re going to be able to follow through on that?” Jerry asked.

Her lips pursed, her eyes watered, a trembling hand rose up to her chest and just as a giant tear rolled down her cheek, in a voice so soft Jerry had to strain to hear her, she whispered, “My heart hurts. Hurts so bad. I…I just don’t want him to see me cry anymore….” She hiccuped and blinked until her cheeks were wet. Jerry didn’t hand her a tissue; she knew where they were. She’d used up his supply several times. “If I didn’t love him so much, I’d hate him.” She swallowed and reached for a tissue. “My heart hurts so bad….”

By the time May was full on the land, the afternoons were almost always sunny and warm. The forest animals were out of hiding, often with new babies, along the meadows and river at dawn and again at dusk. Spring wildflowers were in full glory along roadsides, up the mountainsides and through the meadows. Virgin River was at its most beautiful in spring.

And Dan Brady was glad he’d made the decision to come here. He’d given it a lot of thought. Indeed, there’d been lots of time to think about where he’d settle while he cooled his heels in Folsom Prison. He was a low-profile prisoner—just a pot grower. He didn’t even take a hit for dealing—he’d only been caught growing, but the assumption was, he grew it to sell it. It was the pedophiles and ra**sts who were in constant danger from other inmates. And there was fighting among the gangs. Dan just did his time quietly. And thought.