A Virgin River Christmas (Virgin River #4)(41)

“I knew you’d like it. I can never finish everything. Help yourself.”

“Thank you, Ian,” she said quietly.





When they pulled into the Eureka Public Library, she asked, “Can we browse a little? Or are we in a hurry?” “How are you feeling? You coughed some.”

“I feel so much better doing something. I’d like to pick up a couple of books to keep me busy while you sell firewood. And I’m not sure what I want.”

“Take your time. I like to read the papers,” he said.

And she did take her time, luxuriously. Roaming the stacks, picking up novels with pretty covers, reading the cover copy and then the first page, having a real hard time choosing. She sat on the floor in the crowded aisles, so happy to be in the midst of entertainment again. She’d been reading classics to Bobby, more for herself than him, but her own tastes ran to newer romances. Deep, emotional romances with happy endings. Where things worked out. Whatever book she chose would have to be the right one; it was the only diversion she had. She had no idea how much time had passed when he said, “You just about ready?”

“Oh! Sure. Can I please have these three?”

“You think you’ll read that many before you leave?”

She just smiled at him. “Yes,” she said, knowing that was half an answer. Or less.

While Ian was checking out the books and then waiting by the door, Marcie was chatting it up with one of the librarians. They started off talking softly but very soon they were laughing, touching each other’s arms as they whispered close. He cleared his throat once and both women looked at him. He treated them to a glower, then they just resumed their conversation, interspersed with soft laughter. It looked as though they’d become best friends in just a short time.

Finally Marcie tore herself away from a hug and followed Ian to the truck. When they were inside, he was sulky. “You weren’t going to get all involved. Hook up with people. All that.”

“I didn’t,” she said.

“Well, that looked pretty cozy, back there. I told you—you’re the kind of person people want to get to know, talk to—”

“Don’t worry, Ian. I totally protected your anonymity. I told her you were my brother.”

“Great,” he pouted. “Now she’s going to ask me about you. And I told you—I’m friendly and pleasant and then I move on.”

“You can do that. She’ll find it perfectly understandable.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“Well, she wondered about you. Said you ask for some heavy reading sometimes, but that you didn’t make much conversation.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes,” Marcie explained. “I said you were brilliant, but not a very social animal. I said she shouldn’t expect a lot of chitchat from you, but you were perfectly nice, and there was no reason to be shy around you—you’re safer than you look.”

“Is that so? And how did you convince her of that?”

“Easy. I said you were an idiot savant—brilliant in literature and many other things, but socially you weren’t on your game.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ!”

She noted the late-afternoon sky, the sun beginning to lower. “Ian, when was the last time you went out for a beer?”

“Been a while,” he grumbled miserably.

“I’d so love to see that Christmas tree in Virgin River at night. Could we pass through there for a beer? By the time we’ve had a beer, it might be dark. I should try calling my sister again before she comes hunting me down—and there’s that nice little bar there, with a phone I can use.”

“Aw, Marcie…”

“Come on. It’s been such a perfect day. Let’s end it on a positive note. Let me buy you a beer and maybe some of Preacher’s dinner—he cooks like a dream.”

“Preacher?”

“The cook in that little bar.”

“I don’t really like big crowds.”

She laughed at him. “Ian, if the whole town turns out, there will be fewer people there than in that truck stop or in the church. Besides, you told me that you’re around people all the time, you’re just not a joiner. So come on. Man up.”





It was barely five o’clock when Marcie and Ian entered Jack’s bar, and there were about twenty people there. Ian stood by the door and surveyed the new surroundings warily. He noted hunting and fishing trophies on the walls, the dim lighting, the welcoming fire. It didn’t look threatening. While there were a couple of tables of people engaged in friendly conversation and laughter, there were also a couple of solitary men having a drink or a meal apart from the crowd. One he recognized as the old doctor, seated up at the bar and hovering over a drink, left entirely alone. Marcie went right up to the bar, leaning on it, talking with the bartender. Ian spied an empty spot at the far end of the bar in the corner where he thought he’d be comfortable. He approached Marcie’s back, meaning to steer her there. As if she felt him come near, she turned and said, “Ian, meet Jack Sheridan. Jack, Ian.”

“Pleasure,” Jack said. “What can I get you?”

“Beer?”

“Bottle or tap?”