A Virgin River Christmas (Virgin River #4)(32)

Marcie waited until dinner to broach the subject of going into town. She wanted to time it perfectly—not too early in their meal, but not at the last spoonful when he could get up with his empty plate and turn his back on her. Halfway through dinner she asked, “Is Virgin River out of your way when you go to sell wood?” He looked up from his plate, meeting her eyes quizzically, lifting his good eyebrow. “Why?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I’d like a ride into town. I should call my sister. I had that nurse, Mel, call her and tell her I was here with you and there was no phone, and that I’d call her myself when I got to town. I should do that, so she doesn’t worry.”

“This would be the sister who thinks you’re reckless and crazy?” he asked.

She smiled at him. “The same.”

He leaned against the back of his chair, leaving his spoon to rest on his plate of stew over rice. “If you’re feeling better, you should think about going home. You found me, you told me what you wanted to tell me.”

She chewed her lip for a minute. Then she lifted her bright green eyes to his face. “Ian, I need your help here. I’m not saying this so you feel sorry for me—it’s not necessary. But I was losing Bobby for a long time and I really thought that by the time he passed, I’d be ready for the next stage in my life. For three years I wondered what I’d do when he was gone. I thought about the possibilities—school, travel, maybe dating. Have my mornings and evenings free for…For whatever. But it’s not working for me. He’s been gone a year and I’m totally stuck. I don’t want to do any of the things I considered. I can’t seem to move on, and it’s not just grief. It’s like there’s unfinished business. Being here with you—it’s the right thing—”

“You’re still here because you were sick!” he said in a very annoyed tone.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t been too sick to appreciate getting to know you again. It’s like getting reacquainted. It feels like it’s helping.”

“Reacquainted? What are you talking about?”

She looked down. “I knew you. Not like Bobby did—but in his letters he talked about you, and then we had a few letters, you and me. I felt like we knew each other. Like we were friends. You’re the link—”

The palms of his hands came down on the tabletop hard enough to make her jump. “But I don’t want to go over all that!”

“I know!” she shouted back at him. “Jesus, have I asked you to do that? You can be so damned obstinate sometimes! How the hell did you get by all this time without having anyone to fight with, huh? I know you have issues—but do you suppose you could think of someone besides yourself for five seconds? We talk and it’s helping me put some stuff in perspective. If you want me to go, I’ll go. But if you’ll just let me stay a little while, till I feel—Shit.” She ran a hand through her wild, fiery tresses. “Till I don’t know when! Till I feel this part of my unfinished business is finished. I’ll be glad to buy the food or help with chores or whatever—I just can’t drive into town to call my sister because the bug doesn’t have chains or snow tires.” She took a breath. She swallowed. “That’s all I have to say.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Are you sure that’s all you have to say?”

She leaned back and eyed him warily. “For now.”

The other corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “You’re one stubborn little broad, aren’t you?”

“Told you,” she said, lifting her chin. And she thought, It’s probably what got me through the worst of it.

“You don’t have to buy food or do chores. I just can’t figure out how a grumpy old guy like me helps you with anything.”

“Well,” she said, a little mollified and somewhat confused, “it’s because of the way—”

“Tomorrow I deliver wood. I’ll go early with a load, come back empty and reload. I can take you to town then. It’ll take me a couple hours to deliver that load, then I’ll pick you up in town. You’ll be okay in town for that long? Where will you go?”

“I’ll sit in Jack’s bar and drink coffee.”

“Take your medicine first. That cough gets scary.”

She smiled very happily. “Thank you, Ian.” And that’s when she knew. He might fight it, but he needed to go over the details of the past as much as she did. The more he acted out against it, the more obvious it became—he had a lot to get off his chest. They’d get to that in time. Then she’d show him Bobby’s letter, give him the silly baseball cards and go home feeling lighter. Better.





Seven



I an pulled into Virgin River and stopped in front of the tree. My God, what a tree, he thought. Decorated for the troops, obviously. And while it looked as if the trimming was complete, the cherry picker still stood behind it.

“Look for me in two and a half hours,” he said to Marcie. “I don’t want to have to try to find you.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ll be waiting,” she said. “Thank you.”

He just nodded. But he watched her walk up the steps to the porch of the bar and then pulled slowly out of town.