A Virgin River Christmas (Virgin River #4)(45)

“It’s truly amazing.”

The oohs and ahhs subsided and people started to sing. The first carol was “Silent Night,” and then “Away in a Manger.” Marcie glanced toward the bar, missing Ian, wanting him to be with her to see the star. She smiled to see him standing on the porch of the bar, hands in his pants pockets, looking up to the top of the tree. And she thought—what will be will be. I promise, I won’t get in the way of it.

People started drifting away about a half hour later, having been through a repertoire of about ten well-known songs. Mel took her baby into the bar, and it wasn’t all that long before Marcie stood in the street with only a few people remaining, all of them looking closely at the tree as Ian continued to watch from the porch. He finally walked down the steps toward the tree and went right up to it, taking a close look at the ornaments and the unit badges. She knew what he would see—a remembrance. A tribute.





Ian didn’t poke around at the tree for too long, but he could see in a moment that these military unit patches came from everywhere and there might have been hundreds reaching up to the top of that enormous tree. It made him feel something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a very long time. Pride. His reverie was broken when he heard Marcie cough; it came out like a bark. He turned and went to her, taking her hand in his, leading her to the truck. “Did you bring your cough medicine with you?”

“No,” she said, coughing again. “Stupid, I know. But I was in a real hurry to get in your truck before you realized that I’d tricked you into letting me come—” She quickly jumped in the truck and when he was behind the wheel, she broke into another spasm. Then she said, “Sorry.”

“For what, exactly? For hacking all the way home or for forcing yourself on me all day long?”

She glanced at his profile. Without being able to see his eyes and with all that hair on his face, she couldn’t tell if he was amused or angry. “Both.”

“I don’t think you’re coughing on purpose. And I’m not annoyed about the day anymore. It was a good day.”

“Really?” she said. “Really? Did you have kind of a good time?”

“Kind of,” he relented. “My favorite part was when you told the librarian I was an idiot savant. You think on your feet.”

She smiled to herself.

“I think it turned out to be too much of a day for you,” he said. “You’ve been doing so much better, we both ignored the fact that you were real sick there for a few days. You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

“I don’t have to rest or anything. But I am supposed to take that cough medicine a few times a day, and I let it go all day. Like I said, I wasn’t thinking. I’ll be fine.” She coughed a little more. “I’ll take the medicine as soon as we get home. Ian—do you ever get lonely? Up on the mountain?”

The first thought that came to his mind was, I never used to. But what he said was, “It’s kind of strange how fast you can get used to something, like quiet. Like being alone. I didn’t think it would end up being this long.”

“Does that mean you planned to come back? Like to Chico? At least out of hiding?”

He turned and looked at her. “Marcie—I haven’t been hiding.” He looked a little surprised. He looked back to the road. “I mean, when I first got up this way, I didn’t tell anyone where I was headed because I didn’t know, and didn’t tell anyone where I ended up. But I haven’t been hiding. I have a driver’s license and a registered vehicle. I pay taxes on the property. I do business—even if it’s not very official. But I’m not that hard to find. You might have to get used to the idea that no one wanted to find me. No one was looking for me. But you.”

“But I checked—I’ve been to the police and everything. Someone checked to see if you had a registered vehicle, though they said they couldn’t give me any information about you if—”

“Did you check in Humboldt County? Because that cabin is over the line—it’s in Trinity.”

“Oh,” she said. “Oh.” She coughed a little more; this is what happens when you’re fighting the last remnants of a bug, don’t take your medicine and get a little tired out. “Can I ask something?” she said carefully. “Why’d you come up here?”

“I remembered the place. I’d come up here fishing with my dad when I was a kid. Before my mom died; before he lost interest. I first came when I was young, then as a teenager. I just remembered it as a place you could hear yourself think. I needed something like that—something low stress. And you admitted yourself, it’s really beautiful.”

“And it just turned into over four years?”

“It just did,” he said. “Something I learned in the Marines—it works for me to challenge myself physically. Push myself. It gives me a look at who I am, what I can do. I was living off the land, roughing it. And I was starting to think clearly. I came up in late summer. I had a bedroll and backpack. Back then, I thought it might be best if I stayed away from people for the most part—thought some things through, tried to get a handle on the ways my life was changed since the Marine Corps. Then all of a sudden, it was snowing and I wasn’t quite ready to take the next step. There were options—the GI bill and school, a job, whatever. But I wasn’t ready, and the old man, Raleigh, kicked me back to life. Before I knew it, I’d lived with him for months—like two old bachelors going their own way, doing their own thing. Then I was taking care of him, then he was dead. By then, I had a routine and a lifestyle. It was working for me.”