Wild Man Creek (Virgin River #14)(103)

“Jack’s Bar,” a gruff voice said.

“Preacher?”

“That’s me,” he said, sounding fully awake and alert.

“It’s Jillian. Listen, something very weird just happened—”

“You all right?”

“Fine. But I was sitting in the kitchen, in the dark, waiting to see the sunrise, when Denny slipped a note in the door and took off. The note says he’s leaving and asked that I give a letter to Jack for him. It’s in a sealed envelope, Preacher. Denny is sneaking away for some reason. This makes no sense.”

“Crap,” Preacher said. “Thanks, Jillian. I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.”

Preacher called Jack and Jack called Jo Ellen Fitch, Denny’s landlady, while he was pulling on jeans and boots. “Jo, sorry about the early hour…”

“I’m up, Jack. I start early.”

“I need you to check and see if Denny’s around. He left a note for Jillian saying he’s leaving town.”

“Leaving town?” she echoed. “He didn’t say anything to me. Why wouldn’t he say anything to—” She stopped talking and Jack could hear her opening her door. “What in the world…? Jack? There’s an envelope in my door and there’s… There’s money in it. It’s the balance he owed for the rest of the month. He paid by the week and— And, his truck seems to be gone. You want me to read the note, Jack?”

“Never mind. That’s all I needed to know. I’ll get back to you later.” He put the phone on its base and muttered, “Son of a bitch!”

Mel sat up in bed, her hair all a mess. “What in the world is going on?”

“Denny bolted. He left notes for Jillian, Jo Fitch and one for me. Says he’s going home.”

“And where are you going?” she asked.

“Possibly all the way to San Diego. Can you get the kids together without my help before going to the clinic?”

“Sounds like I’d better be able to,” Mel said. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know yet,” he said. He leaned down, gave her a kiss and said, “We don’t do things like this. We don’t leave notes!”

Denny figured it was all for the best, that he just head back to a life he understood and felt comfortable in. He knew people in San Diego. Maybe not a ton of people, but he still had a few friends there. And it was true—there probably were more opportunities for him, jobwise. He hated to leave Jillian’s farm, though. He’d begun to have visions of what it might become—like one of the hottest, most productive organic farms in northern California. Just listening to her talk about it day in, day out, he thought that a couple of years from now it would be incredible. Fantastic. He was sorry he’d miss it.

He trundled along down highway 36 toward 101, which would take him south. He’d drive as far as possible today, maybe all the way. He turned up the volume on the iPod and let rock music fill the cab of his truck, but the next thing he knew there were headlights from the rear blinding him, a truck horn blasting and some lunatic following too close. “Jesus,” he muttered, looking for a wide space in the road to get to one side so this idiot could pass him.

That happened pretty quick and Denny pulled over on a widened shoulder and the truck behind him shot past. But he stopped ahead of Denny and backed up, blocking him in. Mystery over, it was Jack’s truck. And Jack jumped out and stomped back to Denny’s truck.

“Oh, brother,” Denny muttered.

Jack stood in the middle of the road. He stared at Denny, hands on his hips. And Denny thought, Might as well get this over with. He got out of his truck. “I explained the best I could,” Denny said.

“I wouldn’t know about that,” Jack said. “Heard there was a letter. I haven’t seen it.”

“Then why are you chasing me down?”

Jack took a step toward him. “Because I want you to look me in the eye and tell me where I went wrong with you.”

“Huh?” Denny said, confused.

“Six months before you laid that father business on me, I was your friend. I kind of saw myself as a mentor, at least until you covered me with your body to keep me from being killed by falling liquor bottles during an earth-quake—that made me wonder who was mentoring who. I don’t remember ever putting any stipulations on the friendship, either. Far as I knew, we thought a lot alike, acted a lot alike. I thought it was the Corps. Then I thought it was just one of those things. Then I thought I was probably your father and that would explain it. Whatever it was, it was working just fine. Just a couple of guys. To tell the truth, I thought you had a similar connection with Preacher, with Jill, with Mel.”

“Look, Jack, it wasn’t your fault, okay?”

“I know it wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, Denny. It just worked out the details were not the same as we thought.”

“It was someone’s fault, just not ours! My mom! Maybe she had all the right reasons and maybe it was because she was sick, maybe it was because she was worried about me, maybe it was—”

“Maybe it was because we were close, me and your mom,” Jack interrupted. “Maybe she hoped I’d look out for you, if the worst happened. She wasn’t my girlfriend—I wasn’t her boyfriend. We weren’t lovers. We were better than the kind of lovers I had back then, when I was twenty and really couldn’t think like a man. We were good friends. I thought I told you—I knew you were there! Inside her! I said I’d do anything to help her get out of that bad situation! I’d give her money, get her a safe place to live, and because I was twenty and big and built and ready, I would’a been so happy to go over to her place and beat the living shit outta that guy who wasn’t good to her, but—” He stopped suddenly. “That wasn’t the kind of thing I’d offer to do for a stranger, for someone who meant nothing to me. Just look me in the eye and tell my why that isn’t enough for you. Why you’d take off in the dark of night.”