A Virgin River Christmas (Virgin River #4)(76)

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Very.” He pressed his lips against her forehead.

They went by Jack’s to find it was his last night in town before taking the family back to Sacramento for the holidays, so Mel was there, as was Jack’s sister, Brie, and her partner Mike Valenzuela. The mood was festive. Jack’s son, David, was asleep in Preacher’s quarters behind the bar and there was a lot of excitement about traveling for Christmas. Ian and Marcie ordered up beer and were pulled into the upbeat mood.

Doc didn’t seem to be around, so while Marcie used the kitchen phone to check in with her sister, Ian took a moment to speak to Mel about his neighbor and suggested he might not be doing well. She just smiled and said, “Thanks, Ian. Before I leave in the morning, I’ll speak to Doc and he’ll check on things out there. If he needs assistance, Doc will do what he can. But be warned—some of these old-timers don’t change their ways. They’re pigheaded about things like help, medical intervention, that sort of thing.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Ian said. “I was with old Raleigh when he went.”

“Then you already know.” She smiled. “Have a nice Christmas, Ian.”

“You, too,” he said.

He hadn’t celebrated Christmas in a long time. The last time had been with Shelly before he left for Iraq. He’d given her a ring and suddenly the holiday became all about getting engaged.

His father had never been much about Christmas. It was Ian’s mother who made the holiday real, decorating, baking, fixing up gift baskets for everyone she knew, buying gifts that she’d given a lot of thought to. His dad always came up with something lame for his wife—a subscription to a women’s magazine, a sweater too ugly for words that she’d gush over, a couple of cookbooks. He was famous for caving in to something the house needed like a washer or vacuum cleaner and saying, “All right then, it’s an early Christmas present.” After his mother died, Christmas disappeared entirely. The tree didn’t come out, the lights didn’t go on the house, there was no special dinner. Ian was glad not to be around.

But on the Christmas Ian had given Shelly the ring, he’d also given her a necklace and a beautiful peignoir. He remembered the details now—that was when he decided he was not going to be like his father. He was going to be thoughtful.

For Ian, there still wouldn’t be a real Christmas this year, yet his spirits were higher than they had been in years. He didn’t have any decorations and would probably end up opening a can of Dinty Moore for his dinner. He was sorry he didn’t have a present for Marcie and relieved she’d had no opportunity or means to get one for him. But he liked that the town was not only getting into it, they were honoring the men and women who stood the watch. That in itself made it a joyous holiday.

To his surprise, he was starting to think in terms of things changing for him. Because I’ve had these unusual, unexpected, illuminating weeks of Marcie. She opened his eyes in so many ways. And then he started to laugh to himself, because his mind turned to septic tanks. What would it take to buy and have a septic tank installed, a hot water heater, an indoor bathroom? It would start with money—real money and not the hit and miss income of selling firewood in winter and moving furniture part-time in summer.

The guy who owned the moving company had offered him full-time work a couple of times because Ian was strong and fast, but he’d said no thank you. He now considered getting in touch with that guy and getting his name on the list for full-time. Maybe he’d even look around, see if there were other interested employers—he was fit and not afraid of work.

Then a little voice reminded him that he hadn’t filed a tax return in four years because he just didn’t care. He had slipped out of the functional world; could he really expect to slip back in?

For the right reasons, he thought. She’d taught him to laugh again. Just that alone warranted getting a full-time job and buying a septic tank, not because it would matter to Marcie. Because it would be good to improve, to live rather than exist. And hell—it had been a long time since an honest-to-God shower.

At that moment, she came out of the kitchen and hopped up on the bar stool beside Ian, and she wasn’t wearing her happy face. “Erin Elizabeth is getting a little pissy. She’s ready for me to get home. She’s past ready.”

“You can’t be surprised,” Ian said. “You did promise her.”

“I kind of put off telling her I’m staying here till Christmas Eve. It’s just a four-hour drive, or so.”

He slipped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. “It’s the right thing to do, Marcie. Your family loves you, needs you. You don’t want to take that for granted.”

“I know. Right now I just have too many right things to do. Heat your bath water, plow your fields…”

“Make me laugh…”

“Make you roar.” She smiled at him.

“No matter what you think right now, you’ll be glad once you’re home,” he said. “Familiar and comfortable and…Listen, when you told my father you were going to look for me, what did he say?”

“I told you,” she said, focusing on her beer. “He said I was probably wasting my time.”

“I know him too well—what else did he say?”

“Really, he was just a crotchety old—”