A Virgin River Christmas (Virgin River #4)(38)

She pulled up her jeans quickly, not even thinking he might have caught a flash of her panties in the process until he turned away. “That would be fun—you being straight with me for once.” She ripped his shirt over her head and dug around in her duffel for her best sweater.

Without looking at her, he said, “I go in real quiet, late, sit in the back. I’m not unfriendly. I say hello and God bless and move on. People don’t remember me—I don’t show up at the same church even twice a year. I don’t want to belong to a church or anything—I just want to hear the music sometimes. I’m not a joiner—”

“Yeah, you’re a loner. I know this…”

“I like the solitude, I do—but I see people all the time. I just live alone—and I don’t belong to a church or a union or anything. That’s all. I go to listen. Maybe there’s something in it. I’m open to inspiration.”

“Fine. That’s fine. I’ll say hello and God bless,” she said, pulling her sweater over her head. She looked down at herself—all wrinkled. He turned around to find her completely changed. She sat on the sofa and pulled her boots over black socks. From the look on his face, if she took much more time in dressing, he’d be gone without her.

“No. No, it won’t work. You’re the kind of person people will want to talk to. You like making friends, getting connected and I don’t. I’ll just stay home and—”

She ran to the sink, pumped a little water to wet her hands. She ran them over her wild curls to calm them a bit. “Take me, too, Ian. I won’t even sit with you. I’ll pretend I don’t know you. You can act like I’m some poorly dressed homeless person who just happens to be there the same time as you.”

“Aw, Marcie—I wish I hadn’t even told you the truth. How about I bring you a book from the library? You tell me what you want.”

“You’re going to the library? Oh God, please please please can you take me with you? Ian, I’ve hardly been anywhere since I found your cabin! I don’t have to talk to people. Really! But for God’s sake, don’t make me read another biography or whatever you pick out for me. I won’t sit with you at the church and I’ll be quiet at the library! God, I just want to go out and do something around people—I spent a month looking for you and talked to people all day till I hated talking to them! Now if I could just be in the world for a while…I promise—I won’t make you uncomfortable. If I do one thing wrong, you can growl and roar at me all you want.” And then she coughed.

“You’re still sick. Listen to you.”

She caught her breath. “It’s because you got me worked up. Really, I’m all right. Mel said I was fine. She checked me over, said I’m not contagious and that it’s not uncommon to have that cough a while. Please. Please. Please!”

“Goddamn it,” he muttered.

She smiled at him. “Nice language for someone on his way to church.”





Ian didn’t talk the entire way into Fortuna. He stared stonily ahead and Marcie decided that since she had begged her way along, she’d better stay quiet and do exactly as she’d promised. When they pulled up to a Presbyterian church, she walked ahead of him into the building, took a program and found a seat in a pew in the back. Not surprisingly, Ian sat across the aisle from her in his own pew, acting as if he didn’t know her. Well, he wanted to be alone. And so this way he could be. She wasn’t about to let his peculiarities work her up. So she just listened to the scriptures, the choir. The sermon.

It was mid December, time to start examining the story of the birth of Christ. She usually didn’t go to church at Christmas until it was closer to the actual day and she always enjoyed the story—the stable, the birth, the shepherds and wise men…

“One of the things that interests me year-round—as a Christian, as a theologian, as a human being—is that star,” the minister said. “There’s a lot of conjecture as to whether it was an actual astronomical event or something divinely created to announce the birth of Christ. You’ll expect me to tell you that it is my belief, from scripture, that it was the latter. What’s more important to me is not whether it was nature in motion, or a Godly miracle, but what it means to us today. It’s a symbol of Christianity that reigns second only to the cross. It is a gift of light, of guidance, of leadership, of passage and understanding and illumination.

“Have you ever been driven to do something, but lacked direction? Have you ever been one of those people who didn’t pray too often but were in sudden, desperate need of help and found yourself on your knees? The star is faith. A belief that a power greater than ourselves will, given the opportunity, lead us to our destination. The star is meaning, purpose, promise that we’ll be given divine illumination. That our way will be filled with the light of understanding and keep us from stumbling. That is the miracle of the star.

“As we enter a season of loving, healing, forgiving…a season of promise…so many of us will look to the heavens for that star. I think, sometimes, that star is in our hearts as well.”

He talked a little about the wise men, the kings, and the shepherds who left their flocks. They were driven. They had a task, a goal. As men, they were so different, the simple shepherds, the kings, but it’s not only rich men who are driven or poor men who follow a calling. They simply responded to a gut reaction, to a mission that had to be fulfilled for their good, for the savior they were compelled to welcome to the world, for the well-being of all. It must have been a driving force, impossible to ignore, though to those around them, it might have seemed foolish. Or even crazy. Imagine these kings packing up and traipsing across the country on some harebrained idea that there was a special infant—coming to save the world, to heal mankind—born in a stable far away. Their servants and soldiers must have thought they had lost it.