Shelter Mountain (Virgin River #2)(57)

She laughed at him. “Preacher, what’s that matter? You just miss them so much?”

“Nah, it’s all good,” he said. “Paige hasn’t seen her friend in years.”

“He’s killing me,” Mel told Jack. “Look at him—he’s miserable. He’s so in love with her he can’t think. But will he say anything? To anyone? And seeing him without that little blond angel riding his shoulders is kind of like seeing him with an amputation. He needs to call her—tell her he misses her.”

Jack lifted an eyebrow and peered at his wife. “You don’t want to get into that,” he said. “He might try to break your jaw.”

At night, after Jack had gone home and the last customer of the night had left, Preacher went up to Paige’s bedroom above the bar and went inside. That she had left so many of her things behind, including Christopher’s toys, did not encourage him. He couldn’t believe she’d come back here. To him. If she returned at all, it would probably only be for her things. He didn’t think he had anything to offer her beyond a safe harbor. Probably Jeannie and her husband could give her that, and more.

Her nightie was tossed on her bed and he lifted it to his nose. He inhaled the fresh scent of her. It brought tears to his eyes.

A major cooking event always helped Preacher take his mind off things. It would be just a small Virgin River crowd—but not a small meal. Besides Jack, Mel and Doc, there would be Hope McCrea, Connie and Ron and Liz, Rick and his grandmother, Lydie, Joy and Bruce.

On Thanksgiving Day Mel and Jack were at the bar by noon to help with the cooking. Mel rolled dough for Preacher’s pies and peeled potatoes while Jack cleaned up cooking pots. They talked about Christmas with his family in Sacramento, about next Christmas with a baby. Preacher was silent, doing his work. He had his recipe books propped up, stuffed a twenty-five-pound bird, whipped cream, filled pie shells and put them in the oven, all the while glum. When he went into the bar to put out plates and utensils, Jack said, “What’s up with Preacher? He coming down with something?”

“Yeah, he’s coming down with something!” Mel whispered back. “Paige and Chris, that’s what. It’s like he thinks she’s never coming back.”

“She’s due back Monday, right?”

“Of course! He bought her the tickets, told her to go, and it’s killing him. He looks so handsome with hair, I wish she could see him. He did it for her, I’m sure of it. Who knew there was more to his face than that big, bald head and bushy brows?”

Since Preacher was never a force of personality, his dour mood was only noticed by his best friends. When people started to arrive for dinner, the tables were pushed together into a long one, places set, and Jack started setting up drinks and glasses of wine. Preacher brought out a couple of trays of hors d’oeuvres, put the bread in the warmer and had the turkey out of the oven to sit a minute before carving. Great smells filled the bar and the fire in the hearth was bright and cozy.

Preacher found himself wishing this were over with so he could be alone. He looked forward to everyone leaving; he’d take his time with the cleanup, have a shot of whiskey and go to bed. Hopefully he would sleep.

It was minutes before five, about time to carve, when the door to the bar opened, and there, in the frame, stood Paige. She held Christopher’s hand and looked into the room, scanning the faces until she found Preacher. When she spotted him behind the bar, her eyes lit up so much, they glittered. As for that big man, shock settled over his features; his mouth actually gaped, obviously shocked.

There might as well have been no one else in the room. As she walked toward the bar, he came around it. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here in time to help,” she said.

Preacher stooped to pick up Christopher, who put his arms around his neck first, then rubbed his head. “You din’t shabe it,” he said.

Preacher kissed the little boy on the cheek. “My head was cold,” he said.

Paige wrapped her arms around his waist and, looking up at him, said, “I hope you have room for two more.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked softly.

She shrugged. “I changed the tickets. I wanted to be here. With you. I hope you missed me a little bit.”

“A little bit,” he said. And then he smiled and put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

The Thanksgiving party broke up a little earlier than planned, everyone in the room being aware of the hot gazes that Paige was sending Preacher and Preacher was clearly receiving even if he didn’t seem to be successfully interpreting them. The women all helped with the dishes, quickly, so that the couple could finally be alone.

“Maybe they had some kind of fight before she left,” Mel suggested to Jack. “Do you have any idea what’s going on with them?”

“Before or now?”

“Before,” she said.

“None whatsoever.”

“And now?”

“Right now I bet that old bar is shaking so hard it’s about to come off its moorings.”

When the last of the dishes were put up, the floor swept, the Open sign turned off and the door latched, Preacher trudged slowly up the stairs to his old room. When he got there he found Christopher was jumping on the bed while beside it Paige stood holding his pajama top, trying to get him to settle down after his bath. She threw a look over her shoulder with a wan smile that said she was coming to the end of her rope. After all, she’d been trapped in the plane and car with him much of the day.