Second Chance Pass (Virgin River #5)(103)

“You both have, Rick. A diamond, huh? How’d you save enough for a diamond?”

Ricky laughed. “I’m not doing that anymore, buying things like that with my per diem—I’ll save it for something a little more practical, like a down payment on a house or a car. But Liz deserved to have something beautiful that says I love her, that I couldn’t think more of her. Don’t you think?”

It made Jack smile. “You think she stood by you while you were gone?”

“Every day,” he said. “She gets real lonesome sometimes, and she misses all the stuff the girlfriends do—homecoming dance, prom, all that stuff. I told her to go—I could deal with that. But she said she couldn’t do that. It might lead someone on. She said if she’s still with me in the end, that stuff wouldn’t even be important. She writes me letters almost every day—longer ones when everyone but her is going to prom. Damn… There are a lot of times I wish I was more like you—totally free and not caring about any woman until I’ve had a chance to really live, see the world, experience the world—and then have Liz come along later, when I’m like thirty, or forty…”

Jack chuckled. “And there are a lot of times I wish I’d met Mel a long time before she’d hooked into that first husband, started our family when we were both a lot younger, before I started getting gray. I think if you’re lucky enough to find the right person at all, you don’t have a right to complain about when, how.” He put a hand on the kid’s shoulder and gave a squeeze. “I hope it works out for the two of you, son. You buried a baby together. It would be sweet if you could bring a couple of healthy and strong ones into your lives together. But I’ll say this—I think you’re smart to tell her to take her time on that commitment. Believe me, when you make those kinds of promises to a woman, you want her to be absolutely sure.”

“That’s what I think.”

A large fish jumped across the river and they were silent; he was huge. “King,” Rick finally said. “I haven’t seen one that size in a long time.”

“He must be lost,” Jack said, casting in that direction.

Rick took a few paces downstream, changed out his fly and threw a line. They played with him a while, then Rick hooked him and yelled, “Woo-hoo!”

“Lead him, let him take out line, tire him out before you—”

Rick laughed. “I know how to catch a fish.”

“Don’t screw around, get too anxious and lose him,” Jack said.

“You milking this cow?” Ricky asked him.

For the better part of an hour Rick played him, letting out line, letting him run, pulling him back, walking up and down in the shallow part of the river when the fish ran, and all the while he had Jack in his ear. “That son of a bitch is big. Let out more line. Don’t spoil him, he’s a fighter. He’s getting too far from your control, reel him back.” And on and on and on.

Rick finally brought him in, a great big Chinook, over thirty pounds. And that was more than enough fishing; Rick’s ears were ringing from Jack’s mother-henning.

When they got back to the bar, Preacher whistled in admiration and loaded the fish on the scale. “Thirty-seven point four. You catch him all by yourself, Rick?”

Rick made a face at Jack. “Not exactly.”



When Jack took Rick to Garberville, they sat in the truck for a minute, waiting for the bus to board. “Got any last-minute advice?” Rick asked him.

“Yeah. Trust your gut. Follow your orders, but trust your instincts.”

“I want you to know that I’m not afraid of it. I’m not. In fact, I might be a little excited. It was the right thing to do, Jack. For me.”

“I believe you.”

“You take good care of Mel and the kids, huh?”

“You bet I will. I’ll write every week,” Jack said. “Nothing will happen in Virgin River that you won’t hear about.”

“Whoopee,” he said, and laughed. Jack went to tousle his hair the way he used to, but it was shaved down so short, he knuckled his scalp instead. “I’m going now,” Rick said.

Jack got out of the truck and met him around the front. He gave him a robust hug. “Take care, son. Be safe.”

“I will. Now you get outta here. Don’t hang around and stare at the bus, like you did last time.”

Jack couldn’t stop himself—he grabbed him and hugged him again. “This time next year, Rick. I’ll get the boys to come. You bring your friends.”

“Sure,” he said. Then he turned and walked to the bus, straight and tall, his duffel over his shoulder. He never turned around to look back.



June grew old and hot. Small fires dotted a mountainous landscape that had remained dry and dangerous, while in Arizona, Nevada, Colorado and Utah several big fires had threatened to run out of control and, it being early in the season, this didn’t bode well. Northern California had escaped the big ones so far, but it was a frightening prospect as the rains continued to elude them. Cal Fire and Department of Forestry was patrolling campgrounds like crazy, making sure fires were only lit in designated areas and with permits, in many cases prohibiting fires of any kind.

Mel was keeping a very close eye on her husband. The first days after Ricky left found Jack a little on the quiet side, but he was coming around. He talked about the young man a lot, read the newspapers and had a satellite TV installed in the bar so he and Preacher could keep up on CNN reports of the war. He had the Chinook mounted, taking down his big, ugly sturgeon and replacing it with Rick’s fish. He had also written about a dozen letters already, and let her read over some of them while they were in progress. “Jack,” she had said, laughing. “Do you really think Ricky cares what Preacher made for dinner, or how many temper tantrums Davie threw today?”