Paradise Valley (Virgin River #7)(90)

They didn’t have to get much beyond that second Sunday lunch before laughter was as natural for them to share as the stories of their hard times, their daily lives, their gossip.

Really, he didn’t care if it was only Sundays for a long time. He found himself looking forward to them. And he kept it his secret that he was growing more attracted to her. She was so vulnerable, he decided right away that he’d give her any opportunity to move closer, but he wouldn’t rush her at all. There was no question, she’d run for her life.

There was something about a Friday-night dinner at the bar that called to Dan, even though he was on the job bright and early every Saturday morning. Paul had deadlines and Dan was giving his best effort to helping meet them.

Maybe it was memories of his younger years when he’d either meet with the crews he worked construction with or maybe the Marines he’d served with, but he rarely missed a Friday night at Jack’s. He’d have a cold one before dinner, often with Jack and Paul at the bar. Hope almost always made an appearance, looking pretty ratty and cranky. After a whole five days of physical therapy and counseling, Rick Sudder had a real need for that Friday-night wind-down. And Jack let him have a beer. One.

And there was another development in the bar.

Every Friday night since the unfortunate fleeing incident, Liz would come in by herself, right around five o’clock. She’d ask Jack for a giant cola to go. Dan had learned that Liz came to Virgin River every Friday after school, stayed the weekend to help her aunt out in the store and went home to Eureka Sunday evening.

And Rick was always there. It wasn’t like Liz wouldn’t know that.

Liz always stared straight ahead while she waited for her cola; Rick glanced at her without saying hello, without acknowledging her. She never looked at him either, but when her cola was delivered, she flashed that beautiful smile of hers right at Jack, put her money down and left the bar, ignoring Rick.

Dan didn’t have to wonder long if that was eating at Rick. He was sitting two stools down from the kid. Paul stood at the bar beside Dan and they were talking about one of the houses under construction. Dan saw the whole routine go down. And he knew that just that smile alone, let alone that face that could stop traffic, must have been driving Rick crazy. He had to be one messed-up dude to let her go. To her back as she was leaving, Rick said, “Can’t you even say hello?”

She slowly turned, regarded him coldly and said, “To you? Not till you grow up.” And then she left.

Dead silence hung over the bar as Rick returned to his beer. He stared into it for a while, then he pushed it back and stood up. He used a cane, but didn’t really need it. He had a very slight limp, but it was getting better.

“I’ll walk you home,” Jack said.

“Jack—I got it! I’m fine!” Rick barked.

Jack stopped. He stayed behind the bar. “Great,” he said to Rick’s back.

It was a long moment before Dan said, “That’s a powder keg.”

“Tell me about it.”

“You see any improvement in his attitude? He getting along any better at all?”

“Not one drop,” Jack said. “He’s got the good prosthesis now—no more preparatory limb. He could be doing a lot better than he is. Attitude is holding him up. He’s just plain pissed off.”

“Obviously,” Dan said. “And the girl—”

“He decided she could do better and broke it off with her. For a while there I was more worried about her. I thought it would half kill her. But now what we got is a different situation. She’s obviously done taking his shit. He dumped her when, not only does he need her, she needs him. And now what we have are two pissed-off, hurting kids who have been through way too much.”

“You know, I’ve been looking for just the right moment,” Dan began. “I could maybe talk to him. I took a bad load of shrapnel in the leg and got medically retired from the Corps. I went through a lot of painful PT and can’t ever trust the leg again.”

Jack frowned. “I thought maybe I saw a limp sometimes….”

“Now and then,” Dan said. “And I don’t do rooftops or ladders, as I informed the boss here,” he said, lifting an eyebrow to Paul. “One minute I’m upright, the next I can be on my ass. You learn to live with it. But I remember having a very bad time getting there.”

“What do you think turned you around? If you don’t mind my asking,” Jack said.

“I don’t know, man. I had about twenty things that were no good going on all at once,” he replied, shaking his head. “I had a young wife. She left me while I was in country. There was illness in the family. I was screwed up on so many levels. And it didn’t help that my leg hurt all the time. I think after a while I got tired of being on a constant downward spiral.”

“I got a question. It’s real personal, but there’s a reason I have to know the answer.”

“Go.”

“Were you suicidal?”

“As far as I can tell you, no. I whimpered for a long time, then I got fighting mad. But then, I didn’t exactly take the most law-abiding route to fighting back. Not a good choice for me, but there you have it. You worried he’s suicidal?”

“I don’t even know when to worry about something like that,” Jack said. “He hasn’t said anything to me that makes me think that. But Jesus, he hasn’t said much of anything at all. The kid’s just tough as hell to read.”