Shelter Mountain (Virgin River #2)(68)

“I’m not taking on a baby full-time,” she said. “I don’t think my health is up to it.”

“Lotta help around here, Connie. Preacher and I—we’d do anything for Rick. I think Mel and Paige fall into that category, as well. Instead of telling them what they have to do, we better start asking them what they need.” He shrugged. “Connie, if those kids need each other right now, it’s time to back off. She’s not going to get more pregnant. It might keep them from getting married before they’re old enough to vote.” He took a drink of coffee. “Unless we’re already too late.”

The phone rang and Jack went to the kitchen. He was back in seconds. “We got ’em. Henry Depardeau is holding them out on 99, changing a tire. I’ll go get them if you’ll keep an eye on the bar until Preacher gets out here. Okay?”

Jack drove down the highway for only about fifteen minutes before he saw the sheriff’s car, and right in front of that the little white truck. He pulled up in front and got out. Rick already had the old tire off and the new one on. The minute Liz saw Jack, she put her hands over her face and began to cry.

Rick put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned her face into his chest. Jack came up behind her and with strong hands on her upper arms, pulled her back from Rick and into his embrace. “Liz, honey, I want you to stop crying. Everything is going to be all right. Go sit in my truck and let us get this tire changed. Go on, it’s all right.”

Rick held the lug wrench in one hand. He looked at Jack. “You pissed?” he asked.

“Nah. What happened?”

Rick applied the wrench to one of the lugs and gave it a sharp, angry twist. Jack noticed, not for the first time, how strong the kid was. “Lizzie hit a wall—total panic. Hysteria. She’s afraid of losing the baby. Losing me.”

“Shew,” Jack said. “You must have felt like you had to do something about that.”

“Yeah, I was trying.” He tightened another nut. “I thought if I took her somewhere…Oregon. Married her. She’d settle down. She’s getting kind of close, Jack. I can’t have her all messed up like that. It worries me.” He applied the wrench again. “I should be with her as much as I can. Try to keep her calm.”

“You’re right. But you can’t run off. Take her home, sit down with Connie. Tell Connie you need to be in the driver’s seat now. You have to take care of your girl, your baby. I think maybe she’ll listen to you. I had a talk with her.”

“Yeah?”

Jack hung his thumbs on his belt and looked down. “Rick, I know you’re trying to keep everything from spinning out of control. You gotta keep your head, buddy. Before you do something as crazy as running away to marry a fifteen-year-old girl, talk to me. Will you, please? Between us, we can keep things sane.”

“Sometimes that seems impossible,” he said, tightening the final lug nut.

“I know, Rick. But—”

“I want that baby,” he said flatly.

“I would, too,” Jack admitted. “Let’s focus on getting this to come out the best we can. I’m on your team, Rick.”

“I really don’t know how you could be,” he said. “After all, I didn’t exactly listen to you in the first place.”

“I never saw it like that. We’ve been over this. You’re not the Lone Ranger on this f**kup. Okay?”

“All I ever wanted was to make you guys proud of me,” Rick said.

Jack grabbed the kid’s upper arm and gave him a little shake. “Don’t you ever think otherwise. The only thing that could make me more proud is if you were my son.”

Twelve

There were only four anglers in the river, die-hards. The weather was cold and rainy, the salmon had almost finished running for the season, snow was falling in the higher elevations and Christmas was just around the corner.

Preacher pulled in his third catch of the day, a good-size fish, and started out of the river, his head down. This was getting ridiculous. It wasn’t as though Jack and Preacher had a lot of long talks, but the glum, preoccupied silence had been stretching out. Something had Preacher on the ropes.

Jack, shaking his head, went after him. “Hey, Preacher,” he called. “Hold up.” Jack caught up with him. “We have enough fish to clean for tonight?”

Preacher nodded and turned away, moving toward the truck. Jack grabbed the sleeve of his slicker. “Preacher. I gotta ask you something. What the hell’s eating you?”

“What do you mean?” he replied, frowning.

Jack shook his head in frustration. “You have this beautiful little family under your roof. You watch over them like a papa bear. That kid adores you, you have a sweet, cuddly young beauty to knock boots with every night, and you’re depressed. I mean, you are obviously depressed!”

“I’m not depressed,” he said somewhat meanly. “And I haven’t knocked boots with anybody.”

“What?” Jack said, confused. “What?”

“You heard me. I haven’t touched her.”

“She have issues?” Jack asked. “Like the abusive ex or something?”

“No,” Preacher said. “I have issues.”

He laughed. “Yeah? You don’t want her? Because she—”