A Virgin River Christmas (Virgin River #4)(77)

“Come on—you never hold back. The truth.”

She turned wide, innocent, troubled green eyes up to his. “He…He said if I found you, I should tell you he left the house and car to the paperboy.”

Unexpectedly, Ian erupted in laughter. He threw his head back and howled. Marcie just stared at him while he laughed until his eyes watered. His lips were still curved in a smile when he got it under control.

“That is not funny,” she said. “I think it’s awful.”

“But it’s so him,” Ian said. “I wonder if he burned all my baseball cards and letter jackets, or just gave them away.”

“Well, he doesn’t deserve you,” she said in a pout, taking a sip of her beer.

“So, no talk about me going back to Chico to see him one last time before he dies?” he teased.

She looked startled. “Ian, I never wanted that. I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t see anything you didn’t see four or five years ago.”

“You deny that you wanted me to see him one last time…?”

“Ian, no! No, not that! I wanted him to see you. I wanted him to know you were all right—that no matter how mean he was, no matter how cruelly he treated you, you were good. Strong and good. Or, more specifically, I wanted you to let him know you were all that. I swear.”

“Why?” he asked, completely confused.

She put her hand over his. “Because of the kindness you have in you. He doesn’t deserve it, he’s done nothing to earn it, he’d never even thank you for it—but he’s on the decline and it would be a good thing to do—to let the old guy know that in spite of everything, you’re still a good and strong man with a heart and you’re not like him. You’ll never be like him. That’s all. I thought maybe someday down the road you’d think of that anyway, and I just didn’t want you to think of it when it was too late.” She smiled at him. “Not for him, for you.”

“You think you know me that well?”

“I do,” she said. “I’ve been watching you—with the wildlife, with the neighbors, with everything—it’s natural to you to do anything that takes heart and generosity. I bet that was the hardest thing for you to give up.”





On the morning of Christmas Eve, Ian didn’t get up to deliver wood. He could have loaded the truck and made one more sale and delivery before Christmas and get a better-than-usual price. Instead, he made the coffee and served a hot cup to Marcie. “It’s morning, sunshine. It’s a big day for you.” “You’re not selling wood?” she asked sleepily, sitting up.

“Not today. Your coffee’s hot at no risk.” He grinned at her.

“Hmm,” she said, taking the cup. “You make a very adequate Abigail.”

“Tell me what I can do to make this easier for you.”

She sipped her coffee and thought for a moment. “Two things.”

“Name them.”

“Take me to town and leave me. Say goodbye to me and just go—don’t linger, don’t watch me drive away.”

He gave a nod. “If that’s how you want to do it.”

“And can you tell me—do you feel anything for me?”

He put his big hand against her wild curls. “I feel everything for you. But that won’t change the facts. We’re strangers from two separate worlds that won’t easily merge, and I’m still a guy with what you call issues—piles of them. Not really ready to make any rapid-fire changes, though I think I made some small ones in spite of myself. I have a lot less hair, for one thing.”

“You’ve come along nicely.” She gave him a little kiss. “I think if I had more time…”

He stilled her chin in his hand, commanding her attention. “Listen. I won’t kid you—you changed everything. Come back sometime if you feel like it. But if you don’t, I won’t hold it against you. Remember what you told me—that after you did this, after you found me and thanked me, asked me some questions and told me the things you had to be sure I knew, you were going to be free to move on. It’s okay, Marcie. Even after what passed between us. Especially after what passed between us—you can move on if you want to. I expect that.”

“And what if what I want is you?” she asked him.

“The only thing in the world that could possibly make me sad is if I couldn’t make you happy. That’s what scares me the most—that you would want me, and I’d let you down.”

“Why do you even think that way?”

“Just a sorry old habit,” he said.

“I bet you could break that habit if you’d just let yourself.”

He smiled. “That’s one of the best things about you—your eternal optimism.”

“Oh, Ian, that’s not optimism. It’s faith. You should give it a try sometime.”





Sixteen



A t one o’clock Ian drove Marcie into town to where her little green VeeDub was parked. He showed her how to put the chains on her rear tires if she ran into snow. But right now the roads were clear as was the sky, and she was good to go if she left within the next couple of hours. Then he put his arms around her and gave her a long, loving kiss. He didn’t even look around to see if they were being watched. And he said, “Thank you, for matching me for stubborn.”