Whispering Rock (Virgin River #3)(103)

“I don’t know about that….”

“Give her time, Paul. It’s still a little raw, but that’s going to change.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, looking at him in the dark.

“Oh, Jesus, I wondered. You don’t remember. You got a little drunk and— No, you got a lot drunk and kind of let it slip about how you saw her first.”

“No. I couldn’t have.”

“Take it easy. Just to me. You had the discretion to pass out before you told anyone else. So listen to me for once, okay? Because this is important. You already know this, but right now you think you’re the only man who’s ever been in this position. I married a widow. Remember? It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t quick—getting over that long, ugly hump of wondering where I fit in. It was goddamn humbling, if you want the truth. But, Paul, it was worth every sleepless night I invested. It’s just that it takes whatever time it takes.”

Paul thought a minute. He fixed his lips tight, as if he were struggling. “I have to get back to Grants Pass.”

“But you come back here before long,” Jack said. “Come back regular. I’m telling you, if you don’t, you’ll regret it.”

“But I can’t stay much longer, Jack. It’s eating me up. I gotta get out of here. He was my best friend, and he’s dead, and I helped his baby into the world, and—”

“And you want his woman. I know this is a rough patch, Paul, but if you’re the kind of guy who cuts and runs, oh man, you’re going to hate yourself.” Paul hung his head. “Come on,” Jack said. “People want to say good-night. They want to pat you on the back one more time.”

“Can’t you just leave me out here?”

“Nah,” he said, turning Paul away from the grave with a hand behind his neck. “The general wants to tell you—Matt picked a name. They’ve made a few adjustments on account of his death—adjustments that were Vanessa’s idea. Matt wanted to name him Paul. But they’ve settled on Matthew Paul. I think you should drink to it. And think to it.”

Sixteen

Tom was quiet while he brushed down the horses with Brenda, but it didn’t matter because she was talking a mile a minute. He’d invited her out to see the new baby, just a week old, and she was all jazzed about that. Then they took a quick ride and he listened to her go on and on about the cheerleading tryouts for her senior year that were coming up. He had already agreed to take her to the prom, though it was only February, and she had a million things to say about that. When the horses were put away, he grabbed her hand and led her into the tack room. He sat on the bench, pulled her onto his lap and kissed her deeply, lovingly. And he said, “I have to tell you something.”

“What?”

“I love you. I know you believe that. And I want you like mad, which you can’t help but believe. But I’m going to do something—even though it might cost me everything. You and whatever I have with you.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I talked to the police,” he said.

She jumped right off his lap. “What?” she asked in disbelief, shaking her head to try to make it go away. “No.”

He tried to pull her back onto his lap, but she skittered out of his reach, the look on her face one of sheer horror. So he stood up and faced her. “Not just Mike. Other police. A special detective unit, as it turns out. I’m going to help them get the guy who gave you the drug—because there was a guy and there was a drug.”

“No,” she said again, shaking her head. “You can’t know that any more than I do.”

“Yeah, we both know. It might even come back on you, but I’m not sure how. You might be asked what you know about it, and you’ll say whatever you want. Maybe you won’t say anything. But I had to, Brenda.”

Tears immediately ran down her cheeks and she stepped back another step. “No, you didn’t have to!”

“Yeah, I did, and I’ll tell you why. Because I want to sleep at night. Because I don’t want to try to imagine that sometime this summer or next year some poor slob like me is holding the girl he loves while she cries her heart out over being raped. I don’t want to think of some poor girl—a good girl who’s saving herself—waking up pregnant when she probably wouldn’t have even scored a hangover! I’m not going to lie awake at night and wonder if there are a couple of kids like me and you, in love and playing it so carefully, so straight, getting ripped up by this ass**le. I’m going to try to stop him even if you never speak to me again.”

“But I told you, I don’t know what happened! There’s nothing I can do! And even if I could, I don’t want to! God, Tommy, I don’t want anyone to know!”

“I don’t blame you. I didn’t tell the police about you, but that’s going to be irrelevant. Eventually they’re going to want to hear from every kid who went to every one of those keggers and parties, to know what happened to them. And I’m sorry for that—you’ll handle it however you want to. But I’m not letting this guy do it to anyone else’s girl. I’m sorry you’re mad, but I’m not sorry I did it.”

“I hate you!”

“I had to.”