A Virgin River Christmas (20 page)

“My little VeeDub. Not going anywhere for a while, I’m afraid. It wouldn’t handle the mountain roads in snow and ice. Things need to dry out a little. If you won’t just go away, come inside, Erin.” Marcie turned and entered the cabin, leaving the door open for her sister.

As Marcie could have predicted, Erin wasn’t impressed. She looked around and though she was quiet, she shuddered. “Where are the beds?”

“As a matter of fact, there aren’t beds. I sleep on the couch and Ian sleeps on a pallet on the floor near the stove. I haven’t taken his couch—he says he’s always used the pallet. It’s comfortable for him. The couch is too short.”

“There seems to be just the one room,” Erin said.

“It’s a cabin. It’s been inhabited by one man. Not at all unlike the cabins Dad and Drew rented for hunting and fishing.”

“This is entirely different, as you well know,” Erin said pleadingly. “Marcie, I can’t leave you here. I can’t.”

Another engine ground its way to the top of the mountain and Marcie stepped toward her sister with a look of desperation on her face. “Listen to me—really listen. We haven’t talked about what happened to Bobby, about any of that time in Ian’s life. We were just barely sneaking up on it, so you are to say
nothing,
do you hear me?” She went to the couch to sit, take off her boots and grab up her jeans to pull them quickly on. “Nothing! Mind your manners, don’t insult him and use that sharp lawyer’s brain of yours to be political. And I mean it!”

“Really!” Erin said, stiffening.

“You’re goddamn right, really!” Marcie sat again and pulled on her boots. By the time she accomplished this, Ian was coming in the door.

He filled the frame. His eyes narrowed. Marcie heard her sister’s sharp intake of breath.

Marcie knew it was Erin’s presence in the cabin that made his dirty tan jacket look shabbier, his beard wilder. His eyes glittered. He wasn’t happy. “The sister, I presume,” he said.

Erin stretched her neck proudly and put out a hand. “Erin Foley, how do you do?”

“Doin’ just fine, thanks. You?” he said, ignoring the hand.

“Well, thank you. It’s nice to meet you. I was just coming for Marcie…”

“I see,” he said.

“But I’m not quite ready to go,” Marcie said. “Erin just wanted to meet you before she leaves. I didn’t call her to come, Ian.”

“Don’t know how you could,” he said, putting his sack of groceries on his small table. “Smoke signals, I guess.”

“All right, listen the two of you,” Erin said. “I didn’t like this idea from the start, Marcie coming up here alone in search of you, especially now—this time of year, the holidays, and almost exactly a year since Bobby’s—”

“Erin!”

She cleared her throat. “Well, as you’ve no doubt discovered, my younger sister is very stubborn and will have her way.”

“Can’t hardly miss that,” he said.

“Finding you and talking to you was one thing—but this is beyond the pale. She can’t stay here, Mr. Buchanan. There’s only one room, nowhere for sleeping, no indoor facilities, and it appears she’s not entirely well. She’s sick and burned and…It was very good of you to put her up, take care of her, et cetera, but enough is enough. Marcie should come home to her family. It’s almost Christmas. We’ve all been through enough.” She looked pointedly at her sister. “Marcie, really, it’s not just me who’s anxious to have you home—the Sullivan family is worried about you, too. Maybe you and Mr. Buchanan can stay in touch, meet again after Christmas, somewhere where there’s a phone and an indoor—”

“Erin!”
If possible, Marcie’s face got a little redder.

“Your sister’s right,” Ian said. “You should be with your family now. We’ll be in touch sometime down the road.”

“If I’d been ready to go, I would have left! If I’d been determined to leave, I would’ve hitchhiked—I could have done that,” she said firmly. “I was planning to stay as long as you—We were just getting to know each other!”

“You’ve been here long enough,” he said. “And I’m not used to having people around. Good that she’s here. You can’t get out of here in your car, anyway.”

“But, Ian—”

“She’s right. Enough is enough. Get your things together.”

“But, Ian,” she said, taking a step toward him, a pleading expression on her face, “I thought—”

“I think we did just fine together, trapped here by your flu and all. But now she’s here to take you home, and I’m ready to have my house back. I’m not used to so many people. You know that.” He took a breath. “You’ll be in good hands with your sister. She looks extremely…” He gave Erin a glance that was an impolite once-over. “Competent.”

“Good,” Erin said, rubbing her hands together. “Shall we?”

Marcie looked up into his eyes. Hers were soft and pleading; his were hard. “You don’t mean that,” she said. “Are you saying you
want
me to go?”

“You should go with your sister, Marcie. She’s right. You don’t want to worry the family. Sometime later we’ll meet up again if you want. But I’m a hermit. And I like it that way.”

“You’re not a hermit. You sell wood, go to truck stops, churches, the library…I don’t believe you want me to go,” she said in a near whisper.

“Yeah. You do. But I’m glad you found me. And I’m sorry about Bobby.” He dropped his chin. “You’ll never know how sorry…” Then he lifted his eyes and met hers. “Go on now. Go home. Where you belong.”

“I was starting to feel like I belonged here,” she said. He held silent while their eyes were locked. Finally, beaten, she turned from him and gathered up her things. It didn’t take long—she kept her clothes in her duffel, along with a few things like shampoo and makeup. In her backpack were maps and notes, and the baseball cards she hadn’t yet given him. And she had a purse. She rolled up her sleeping bag. In no time at all, she was done and began to fold the quilt that had kept her warm on the couch.

“I’ll take care of that,” Ian said.

But she continued. When it was in a nice little square, she stacked her library books on the table. “I didn’t finish,” she said. “I was just getting to the good part, too. The page is marked. Thanks for everything. I mean, you’ve done so much for me.”

“I didn’t do hardly anything at all,” he said. “I didn’t change anything.”

“Yeah, you did. You cooked for me, took care of me, gave me medicine, protected me…But, well, I know I’ve been a lot of trouble…”

“It wasn’t a big deal” was all he said.

“To me it was.”

And he didn’t respond.

She hefted her duffel, backpack and purse and went out the door, leaving Erin to grab the sleeping bag. She threw her things in the backseat of Erin’s car and got in the passenger seat.

She wished he’d roared at Erin and scared her away. But Erin would’ve come back with the whole sheriff’s department unlike Marcie, who just ate a sandwich and nearly froze to death.

“Go into the town—I want to say goodbye to my friends.”

“Virgin River?” Erin asked.

“Yes.”

“Listen, Marcie…”

“And don’t
talk
to me. Don’t even
look
at me.”

Eleven

E
rin pulled up in front of Jack’s bar and said, “Don’t be long. We’ll be driving at night as it is.”

Marcie didn’t respond, she just stomped inside. Obviously not trusting her, Erin was right behind her.

Jack started to smile, then his smile froze as he took in Marcie’s scorched face and fried hair. “Whoa,” he said.

She jumped up on a stool. “Broken propane stove. Don’t ask.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said.

“Beer.”

“Coming right up.”

He poured a draft and greeted Erin. “Hello again. I guess you found the place, no problem.”

“Thank God,” she said. “Do you have any idea of the living conditions out there?”

He chuckled. “I’m sure it’s not that unusual for the mountains. I lived pretty lean while I was building the bar.”

“There’s no indoor bathroom!”

“Also not too unusual. You have to redig that outhouse every few years, too. And I suppose you know—we don’t have sewer lines that reach that far up and out. It would have to be a septic system, but a man all alone might just brave the cold in winter. Same with cable and electric—you need a satellite dish and generator. There are probably hundreds of cabins just like that out there.”

“Then what’s the point?”

“Oh, if you’d looked around, you wouldn’t ask.”

The door opened and Mel came into the bar, David on her hip. She jumped up beside Marcie and passed the baby across the bar to her husband. Then she gave him a little kiss and turned a smile to Marcie. She jumped in surprise.

“I got a little burn,” Marcie said.

“Boy howdy. What are you putting on it?”

“Some kind of horse liniment Ian had. It relieved it immediately.”

“Ah. Methylsulphonymethane. People around here use it for damn near everything. It’s famous for cell repair. I guess Doc’s right—you’re in good hands.”

“Well, not anymore. Mel, meet my sister, Erin. Erin, meet Mel Sheridan. I believe you spoke.”

“Yes, of course. How do you do. Nice of you to call for Marcie.”

“It was my pleasure. I’ve enjoyed getting to know your sister.”

“And you tended her while she had the flu?”

“With Doc, yes. She seems to be doing just fine—don’t worry about that.”

Jack had situated David in his backpack so he could serve and handle his son at the same time. Preacher brought out a rack of clean flatware to place under the bar, nodded hello to everyone, lifted curious brows toward Marcie, but then disappeared. Mike Valenzuela came in the back door, went behind the bar to help himself to a draft and was introduced to Erin. When he looked at Marcie, his face froze in surprise.

“The propane stove,” she explained wearily. “I turned on the gas first, lit the match second.”

“Bet you get that in the right order next time,” he said, taking a drink of his beer before going back to the kitchen.

Mel happened to glance down and noted Erin’s boots. “Holy smoke, I used to own a pair of those,” she said. “I kind of miss them, too. I killed them the first spring I was in this town, traipsing around the ranches and vineyards.”

“Is that so?” Erin asked.

“This is rough country. Man’s country, I guess, much as it kills me to call it that. I wasn’t quite ready for it.”

“Well, the men in here are very…”

“I know,” Mel said, laughing. “Very pretty, aren’t they? But dangerous. Watch out.”

“Dangerous?” Erin questioned, wide-eyed.

Mel leaned close. “They shoot deer, play poker, smoke big nasty cigars. And as it turns out—have pretty high sperm counts. You can trust me—I’m the local midwife…”

Jack chuckled, drawing a glance from Erin.

“Where are you from?” Erin asked Mel.

“Most recently, Los Angeles,” Mel said. “I was looking for a change.”

“A
change?
” Erin asked, stunned.

Mel smiled sweetly. “It snuck up on me. The power of this beauty, the natural phenomenon of unspoiled landscape. What I saw on my first morning—trees that touched the sky, eagles soaring, deer in the yard…Then there are the people here—they’re just plain decent folk. I fell in love.” She gave her tummy a rub. “Then I fell in love with Jack, who is entirely too fertile for my taste, but still…he has his good points.”

“Mel,” Marcie said. “I need a lift back to Ian’s.”

Both women turned to look at her. “Marcie, I won’t let you do this!” Erin insisted. “It’s primitive! He’s primitive! He looks like a total nutcase. A wild man.”

“He’s actually very docile. Kind.”

“There are no beds!”

“I slept on a pallet on the floor for two years while I was remodeling this bar,” Jack put in. He scratched his chin. “Didn’t shave much either. Used Doc’s shower about once every three days or so. We’re kind of homespun around here.”

“But…But we’re not,” Erin said.

“Jack,” Marcie said. “Call the sheriff. I’m being kidnapped.”

“That wild-man look,” Jack told Erin. “Not unusual around here. Lotta farmers, loggers and ranchers don’t shave in winter. And they don’t usually wear Sunday best to chop wood or feed sheep. Ian Buchanan fits right in, and seems like a civil man. I wouldn’t worry.”

Marcie put her hand over Erin’s. “I’m going back and I want you to go home. I’ll call and check in, I promise. But I was just barely over being sick, just barely getting him to talk. I’m not done here.”

“Marcie—I don’t mean to sound cruel, baby, but you’re not the only one who lost Bobby. His family, me and Drew…”

“I know, I know. I’m not ignoring that, I promise. We’ll be together for Christmas. Please, Erin, don’t fight me. Let me do what I came to do. Then it’ll be done and I can move on.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Honest, I just have to feel like this is complete.”

“What?” Erin asked pleadingly, her voice a strained whisper. “What do you think you’re going to accomplish?”

Marcie shot a pleading glance at Mel.

Mel and Marcie connected eyes for a moment. Then Mel looked at her husband. “Jack, take Marcie back to Ian’s. Take David with you. I’ll tend the bar if anyone comes in, or I can call Preacher or Mike. I think Erin and I should talk a minute.”

Jack lifted one brow. “You sure?”

She just nodded and smiled. He leaned slowly across the bar and gave her a little kiss. “I’ll be back before the dinner crowd shows up.”

When Jack and Marcie had left, Mel went around behind the bar and poured two cups of coffee. “Cream or sugar?” she asked Erin.

“Both. Please. And I don’t think you even come close to realizing just how—”

“Almost three years ago, my first husband was murdered,” Mel said. With that, Erin stopped explaining herself any further. Mel cleared her throat. “I was a nurse practitioner and midwife in an urban trauma center—central L.A. Mark was an E.R. doc there. He was stopping off at a convenience store for milk for his cornflakes after pulling a thirty-six-hour call and there was a robbery in progress. He was shot. Killed.”

“I’m sorry,” Erin said softly.

“Thank you. At the time I really wanted my life to end with his. After several months passed and I couldn’t seem to get on with my life, I did the craziest thing—I took a job in this one-horse town for almost no money just because I had an instinct that it was different enough to jolt me into some kind of change. I have an older sister,” she added, smiling. “She thought I was completely nuts and was ready to kidnap me, drag me to her house to recover. Her way.”