Second Chance Pass (Virgin River #5)(34)

At eighteen Ricky had signed up. What was the young protégé of a bunch of tough old Marines going to do but sign up? And Semper Fi suited him. Ricky had excelled. He’d gone from Basic to Airborne to Sniper training to Reconnaissance training to SERE—Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape training. In every program he’d been the best. He was nineteen years old and at least six feet of proud, muscled, skilled Marine. He just phoned to say he had ten days of leave coming up in a couple of months.

And then he had orders for Iraq.

“No sniveling, Jack,” Rick said. “I want you to remember when you were going—you didn’t want your parents and your sisters acting like you were walking into a grave, right? So—we’ll have a drink. Maybe smoke one of those nasty cigars you and Preach like so much. Tell some dirty jokes. I might even let you cheat me out of some money at poker…”

“You got it, kid. It’ll be great. I’ll even call some of the boys…”

“Aw, they don’t have to come. They’re your boys, not mine. And there’s no hunting now anyway.”

“We’ll see. Virgin River’s going to want to celebrate you a little bit. We only send our best.”

“Thanks. I can’t wait to see you.”

Jack straightened his spine, took a deep breath and told himself they were going to have to make his leave in Virgin River memorable and positive—there’d be no whining and worrying. After all, Jack had gone into war five times and the only really bad injury he’d sustained was a pretty miserable shot in the ass. Not everyone who went to war came out crippled. Or dead. Rick was sharp. And this was what Rick wanted.

Ricky had grown up too fast. He lost his parents in an accident when he was so young, he didn’t even remember them. At sixteen he’d fallen ass over teakettle in love with a girl two years younger than him and they’d had a baby together, a baby that hadn’t lived.

Mel came into the kitchen to find Jack leaning on the counter, looking down. He lifted his gaze. “Ricky’s coming home in a couple of months,” he said. “He’s got ten days.”

“Oh-oh,” she said, knowing something was bad about this.

“Then he’s going to Iraq.”

She was quiet for a moment. Her eyes misted over. She pursed her lips and then said, “Damn it!”





Five




Paul stopped off for dinner on his way into Grants Pass, took a run by his office to check messages and any paperwork that might be left on his desk. There were a couple messages from Terri asking him to call. When he finally got home, it was after seven and he found a few messages from Terri on his home phone, left over the weekend, asking him to call her. Then the last one—all upset, full of tears and little gasping breaths, saying she couldn’t stand feeling so ignored, so alone. She mumbled something about maybe it just wasn’t worth it. The time of the last call on the caller ID showed the call came in only an hour ago. He dialed her number and there was no answer, so he flew out the door and drove to her apartment. Aw, Jesus, don’t do this, he was thinking all the way there. Don’t go crazy on me.

She opened the door to his knock; her eyes and nose were red, her cheeks chapped, like maybe she’d been crying all day. She took one look at him and turned, walking back into her apartment, leaving the door open with him standing there. He followed her and stood in her small living room as she whirled around, flopped on the couch, drew her feet up and cried into a tissue.

“Terri, what’s going on? Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“I turned it off,” she said.

“Why would you leave me a message like that and then turn off your phone?”

“Because,” she said, blowing her nose. “I left a lot of messages—and you ignored them all. I just couldn’t take it anymore, waiting for the phone to ring. It was agony. What’s the point in giving me all your phone numbers if you weren’t going to take my calls?”

He sat down beside her on the couch, but he didn’t get too close. “We had lunch last week,” he said. “Everything was okay. Are you having problems with the pregnancy?”

“Yeah, I’m having problems! As in, I have no one to talk to and it gets damn lonely!”

“I was out of town,” he said. “I didn’t call in for messages.”

“And your cell phone was turned off?” she asked hotly.

“There’s no signal where I went—I didn’t even carry it with me. I left it in the truck all weekend. I was in Virgin River, in the mountains. I’m sorry—I didn’t know you’d need me. And I still don’t know why you thought you needed me.”

“I was upset! Didn’t you say you were in this with me? I needed someone who was on my side to talk to. What if something worse was wrong? How long would it take you to notice? Maybe I should just get rid of it—it would be less trouble for you.”

He reached over and touched her knee. He gave it a squeeze. “Don’t do that,” he said.

“You want me to have it?” she asked him. “Because you don’t exactly act like it.”

Paul felt an angry heat rise up his neck to his face. “If you had wanted an abortion, you would have done that already. I’d never have known. Don’t threaten it now to keep me in line.”