Promise Canyon (Virgin River #13)(77)

"Nathaniel, I apologize. If I'd dealt with Isabel a long time ago none of this would be happening. I carried on with Isabel for a long time after our divorce. I was married to her, after all. There was no one else in my life and I didn't see the harm.... Isabel was here when Lilly came to deliver feed the other day and somehow she knew. She knew Lilly was my--" He took a breath. "Isabel made sure Lilly knew that even though I'd been divorced a couple of years, we'd continued on until recently."

Nate had a shocked look for a moment. "That's what you meant," he said. "When you said you were divorced but not that much had changed." He ran a hand around the back of his neck. "Jesus."

"This is all my fault, all of it. I apologize. I brought unhappiness to all my favorite people. Maybe if I'd truly ended it with Isabel, or at least been more honest with Lilly before Isabel showed up..." He shook his head. "I'll do whatever I can, Nathaniel, but in the meantime, I'm sorry. I take full responsibility."

Nate looked at him for a long moment. "Oh, boy, do you have your work cut out for you."

"Tell me about it."

Jack was getting pretty used to the bar being quieter than usual at around the dinner hour. In fact, if some of his close friends didn't drop in, if hunters didn't come by, there wasn't very much to do. Mel kept trying to reassure him that he'd done the right thing by refusing to buckle under to the obviously selfish wants of individuals. "And I know these people almost as well as you do, Jack--they're going to come around. You were true to what we all believe Hope would want. She has always wanted to improve the town, not improve a few personal fortunes."

He believed in the town, too. But he had believed they'd come around a little faster.

When a young man walked into the bar, Jack thought he probably grinned foolishly. He was a little too glad for the company. "Hey there, how you doing?"

The guy dragged his hat off his head and actually looked around, as if to be sure Jack was talking to him. He was tall, had short brown hair, dark eyes and a shadow of a beard. He wore a khaki jacket, jeans and lace-up boots. He smiled at Jack and cocked his head. "Good," he said. "How about yourself?"

"Excellent," Jack said, giving the counter a swipe. "What can I get you?"

"How about a beer? Whatever's on tap."

The beer on tap was stale from under use. Jack reached into the cooler and pulled out a Heineken in a bottle. "I'm ready to change out the keg--try this at on-tap price."

The guy chuckled. Kid, he was just a kid. Jack would put him at about twenty-three, twenty-four. "Can't argue with a deal like that."

"If you like Heineken, that is," Jack said. "If that's not your brew, just say so, I'll get you something else."

"You're the most accommodating bartender I've run into in a long time."

Jack just gave his head a shake and realized he was so damn happy for a nonjudgmental customer, this was a little embarrassing. "Yeah, we aim to please. So what brings you to town?"

The kid took a long pull from his beer and put it down on the counter. "That's nice," he said, admiring the beer. "I heard about this place from a buddy who likes to hunt up here. I was gonna come hunting with him, but he couldn't get a kitchen pass from his wife, so I came up just to look around. That's all," he said with a shrug.

"It's deer season," Jack said. "You decide not to hunt?"

"Not this time, but I wanted to look the place over."

"We get quite a few hunters in here, but not usually till after nightfall. Dusk is a good time of day for hunting and they wait it out. In fact, most of them stop here on the way out of town, when they've done their hunting and want to enjoy a good meal." He frowned slightly. "You look kind of familiar. Have you been around here before?"

"No," he said with a laugh. "I've been a long way from here. Afghanistan. I just got discharged."

"What branch?" Jack asked.

"Marines."

"Ooo-rah," Jack said, putting out a meaty fist. "Lotta us around. Welcome aboard. So, when you're not in Afghanistan?"

"I grew up around San Diego. I was born there. Not far from Camp Pendleton, as a matter of fact. So what else was I gonna do? I didn't want to join the Marines, but it was the law." Then he grinned handsomely.

Jack laughed at the boy. "I guess you look like every kid I ever took into a training program, exercise or war. I must be getting old. Thanks for serving and welcome home." He put out his hand. "Jack Sheridan."

The young man stuck out his own. "Denny. Denny Cutler."

"I think I might've had a Cutler serve under me. Did you have brothers in the Corps?"

"Nope," he said with a laugh. "Just me."

"I guess they're all starting to run together--the names, the faces. Sorry about that," he said. "But I'm glad to make your acquaintance, son. Wish you were gonna be around here a little longer."

"I think that may happen, as a matter of fact. Just how nasty does this place get in winter?"

Jack shrugged. "Not terrible. We're low enough elevation that we almost never get snowed in, but the roads, well... Just let me say, four-wheel drive comes in handy."