Paradise Valley (20 page)

Cameron undressed her slowly, shed his own clothes quickly, then stretched out beside her, bringing her gently into his arms. Holding her, kissing her, caressing her, he made a study of her body with slow hands and soft lips. Just skin on skin, lips on lips, nothing but a breath separating them, brought such relief and contentment to both of them. “I’m going to have to go back to sleeping in the loft,” he whispered against her mouth.

“I would hate that,” she said. “You can’t imagine what it feels like, to finally have your hands on me again. It’s so wonderful.”

“We can’t do it. And we can’t even do this too much longer. We’ll just get carried away.”

“Mmm. Carry me away, Cam.”

“You shouldn’t fool around with orgasms. They could get you contracting.”

“Can I fool around with one?” she asked in a breathy whisper.

He chuckled low in his throat. “One long, slow, gentle one?” he asked. He slipped his fingers into her wet folds, stroking her, bringing a delicious moan from her. “Just lie back and relax, baby. Nothing wild. We’re going to have to save the wild part for later.”

“Oh God,” she whispered. “Oh, Cameron…” And then her hand was on him, tight and hot, stroking him aggressively, pulling on him.

“Uh, Abby, maybe you shouldn’t do that.”

“Or maybe I should,” she sighed.

“Honey, I can’t take that. It’s been too long, I’ve wanted you too much…. I’m going to explode all over you.”

Her eyes closed, lips parted slightly, she whispered, “Does it seem as though I don’t know what’s going to happen? To both of us?”

“God,” he groaned. He pampered her clitoris, slipping one finger just barely inside her, just enough so he could feel the spasms when she reached climax. It was only seconds before he felt exactly that. “Oh, honey,” he said, capturing her mouth in a deep, long kiss that hung on while she enjoyed every last bit of it. Imagining himself inside her, he came and came and came until a loud groan escaped him and his eyes rolled back in his head.

And then they lay there, their hands still intimately touching each other. He tried to imagine whether that could have felt better if he’d been buried deep inside her, but this intimacy with her brought such emotional and physical satisfaction, he couldn’t imagine anything better. He gently kissed her cheek, her neck. “Pregnant sex,” he laughed. “If this wasn’t a multiple pregnancy, we’d be doing it like bunnies right now. I’m not sure exactly how, but we’d find a way.”

She giggled then sighed and snuggled close.

After a while, he stirred. “Stay put,” he said. “I want you to stay down, resting. I’ll get a washcloth and towel.” He was back a moment later wearing his boxers. With a warm, wet cloth and soft towel, he cleaned her up. Then he crawled in beside her, taking her again in his arms, pulling just the sheet over them. She drowsed in his embrace and he listened to her soft, steady breathing. Abby might have drifted off, but he didn’t. He watched her, felt her belly against his, alert for any start up of Braxton Hicks contractions. In an hour, nothing was amiss. They hadn’t disturbed the uterus.

It was tempting to spend the day in bed with her, pleasing her as often as she’d like, but he knew that wasn’t a good idea. For another week or so, they might enjoy a little discretionary satisfaction if she felt inclined, but then to be safe, they should wait. This didn’t matter to him—his happiness was complete. She loved him, wanted him. And he would do anything for her.

By the age of thirty-six, Cameron had had plenty of sex, and by far much more interesting than what had just occurred with Abby. Definitely more energetic and creative sex than that. But he couldn’t remember ever feeling more whole, more fulfilled.

He hated to disturb her, but he had to get back to town eventually. He’d been gone all morning. “Abby,” he whispered. “Sweetheart.” She moaned softly and stretched. Her eyes opened and she smiled. “Feel better?” he asked.

“Much. You?”

He nodded. “I want you to know something—I want to marry you. Whenever you’re ready. But that’s not the most important thing. I’m committed, totally. No matter what you decide you want to do, I’m in this with you all the way. I’ll never leave you. I love you, and I don’t just toss out the L word. You can count on me, Abby.”

She ran a hand along his cheek. “Thank you, Cam,” she whispered. “I love you. You can count on me, too.”

He smiled. “Thank God those deer came into the yard. This could be the best day of my life.”

When he got to the clinic at around lunchtime, Mel was in the kitchen. He knew he had a special smile on his face and that there was far less tension in his posture. He couldn’t hide the feeling that his entire life had suddenly fallen into place. He tried to appear nonchalant, but he suspected he had the faraway look of a man in love. He didn’t say anything, but she looked him over and grinned. “Must have been quite a herd,” she said.

“Big herd,” he said. “Abby was very excited to see them.”

She chuckled. Then she stood and gave his shoulder a pat. “Cam, there are times Jack rounds up a poker game with some of the guys….”

“Oh?”

She shook her head and as she passed him she said, “Don’t ever play.”

“Better than falling on my ass,” Rick said. “You have no idea how hard it is to get up.”

“I can imagine.”

“Grab that duffel, would you, Jack?”

Jack hesitated before picking it up. “Good thing I didn’t leave you to catch the bus, huh?”

“No time to be the smartest one, okay?” Rick said, making his way to the truck. And of course, Jack’s truck was jacked up. Rick opened the door and just looked up at the climb.

Jack threw the duffel in the back and stood beside him. “Well, let’s figure this out right off. You can put weight on the prosthesis, right? Left hand up here, right hand on the door, left foot on the runner, and pull. I’ll get the walker.”

“Gimme a hand, huh?”

“I’ll spot you,” Jack said. “You have any trouble, I’ll catch you. Give it a go.”

“What if I don’t
want
to?”

“What if you try?” Jack replied, very proud of himself for not saying
fucking try.
Mel would be proud, too.

Rick made a face and a noise of displeasure, placed his hands and foot, gave a tug and hoisted himself up into the cab. He did it, first time. But while it made Jack so happy, it obviously gave Rick no pleasure at all. “Well, there you go.” Jack grabbed the walker and put it in the truck bed. Really, he wanted to throw it as far as it would go. He wanted his boy back; he wanted the dependence on the excuse of this disability to stop, probably long before it was reasonable.

Jack was too impatient. He knew that. He wished he could be another way. But he felt so desperate to have his Rick back, no matter how many pieces he was in. Even if it took a while, that was okay, as long as Rick wanted to get back as much as he should. It was this attitude of defeat that was killing Jack.

He should have gone down to San Diego a few times while Rick was in rehab, if only to run through fast food and feed him. He’d gotten thin. All that upper body strength he’d had before Iraq had wilted. Rick was going to need the muscle to compensate for the missing leg. A little time on Preacher’s food would help, but he had to work those muscles, and that took motivation.

“Let’s get some breakfast,” Jack said.

“I had breakfast,” Rick said.

“How about more breakfast? Looks like you could use it.”

“Get some for yourself if you want. I’m not hungry. I’ll wait in the truck.”

Jack just kept driving. It was going to be a long trip home.

Every couple of hours Jack stopped, someplace there was food if he could help it, and forced Rick out of the truck to move around. “Come on, the PT guy in Eureka said you need to move around to avoid something—I can’t remember exactly what it was….”

“Contractures,” Rick supplied. “I’m fine. But this leg has got to come off for a while.”

“Right after this stop. Let’s do it, Rick. Look around—you have your choice. Big Mac, Subway, fish ’n’ chips, whatever you see.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Christ,” Jack muttered. He hauled the walker out of the back and put it down beside Rick. “Walk around the truck at least twice. Then we’ll get the leg off.” Then he took off across the street and walked into a sandwich shop, coming back out with two big submarine sandwiches. He almost smiled to note the walker was back in the truck bed and Rick back in the cab. Not so disabled when he wanted to be done with his exercise. And Jack wasn’t sure how he’d accomplished it, but the prosthesis was in the backseat of the extended cab.

Jack tossed one of the sandwiches in Rick’s lap, put two giant colas in the cup holders and started up the truck.

Rick just stared at the food in his lap.

“Eat what you can. It’s been hours since you’ve eaten and I’ve eaten three times. When we get back, I’m going to get some of Preacher’s weights out of the storage shed for you. You should probably bulk up those arms, shoulders, chest. Give you back your advantage.”

“For?”

Jack was stupefied. He shook his head. “For getting through life?” he said by way of a question.

“For?” Rick said again.

And Jack thought, you can’t slug him. You have to keep your mouth shut and be patient, that’s what Mike said, what Mel said. So Jack talked to himself.
Okay, I’m not the best person to deal with this. I never had it this bad, and sure not when I was this young. Mike, he’s been through a terrifying, life-threatening injury. Mike might be able to step in.
Mel had done as she promised and lined up a counselor through the VA. He couldn’t make Rick help himself, but he could throw him in the truck, drive him there and sit outside till the hour was up.

Eventually Jack said, in his sensitive and mellow voice, “Eat the goddamn fucking sandwich. And I mean it.”

A few seconds later, Rick peeled off the wrapping paper and took a bite, then another bite.

But Jack had lost his appetite. He was glad Rick was eating something, but this didn’t feel victorious at all. The drive had to come from inside Rick, not from the bully in the seat next to him.

Jack forced down about half his sandwich, wrapped up what was left and managed to keep heading north. After Rick had eaten what was presumably his fill, he leaned back in the seat and dozed, his own wrapped half sandwich on his lap. Jack lifted it carefully; he put it in the sack for later. Rick’s nap gave him a little time to think.

He remembered what Mel had said, that Jack needed his boy back so bad, he was pushing on him. He remembered when Mike Valenzuela picked Virgin River as a place to recover when he’d been critically wounded on the job at LAPD—because his family and friends needed him well again so badly they were suffocating him. And he remembered that he’d never loved a kid as powerfully as he loved this one, except maybe David and Emma, and his love was strong. Sometimes it caused him to act in desperate ways. He could end up doing more harm than good.

It was a good couple of hours before Rick woke with a painful cramp in his thigh, his stump. He groaned in pain and started rubbing.

“We’ll come up on a rest stop real soon here. Hang in there,” Jack said.

Rick just kept rubbing, gritting his teeth. He pushed back in the seat, lifted his butt and fished a pill bottle out of his pocket. He swallowed a pill with a gulp of old, watered-down cola.

“Whatcha got there, pal?” Jack asked.

“Not the good stuff,” he answered. “Just some anti-inflammatory laced with a little codeine. It gets me by.”

“Ready for a pit stop?” Jack asked, driving into a good-looking rest stop.

“Yeah,” Rick said, a little breathless from discomfort.

“Want the leg?” Jack asked, pulling up to a handicapped spot right in front of the men’s room.

“Nah,” Rick said, drawing up the leg of his jeans and tucking it in the waistband. “Just the walker.”

“Sit tight.” Jack got out, grabbed the walker, and instead of insisting Rick do some wild gymnastics getting himself out of the truck without the help of a prosthetic limb, he just slipped a strong arm around his waist and pulled him out, lowering him gently to the ground. Then he followed Rick as he made his way slowly into the bathroom.

Rick turned around once. Over his shoulder he said, “I’m good.”

“I’m right behind you,” Jack said.

Head down, hands braced on the walker, he moved slowly into the john, took his place up against a urinal, braced himself, balancing precariously on one leg, hand against the wall, and got the job done. He was wobbly, especially getting his zipper back up. He moved slowly to the sink and washed his hands. Seeing the potential for disaster if Rick put his wet hands on the metal walker, Jack handed him some paper towels while he was still braced up against the sink. When Rick moved away from the sink, his jeans were wet in front from the dripping sink. “Fuck,” he said.

“Learning curve is kinda high,” Jack remarked. “Yet another reason to work on the leg, huh?”

Rick moved slowly out of the bathroom. Without looking at Jack he muttered, “One of the guys said it was easier to figure out how to have sex than how to take a shower.”

Jack laughed. “Good to know.”

“I doubt it’ll come up.”

When they got to the truck, Jack braced him under the arms and said, “Swing on up there, buddy.” When they were again under way, Jack just gave it some time. They were another half hour on the road after a long day, and now well into Mendocino County, when he asked, “How’s the pain now, Rick?”

“Okay. Pill kicked in, mostly.”

“We’ll be home in less than a couple of hours,” Jack said. “I’m sorry about back there, about the sandwich. The way I acted. We aren’t going to get too far if I try the bully approach. I apologize.”

“Forget it,” he said.

“You understand, I just want to find the best way to help you get on your feet.”

“Foot,” Rick said, not looking at him. “You want me to get on my
foot.
”

Jack ground his teeth and told himself,
Let it go. Rick won’t be angry forever. Will he?
“Listen, there are a couple of things we should talk about.”

“Like?”

“Rehab, for one. You’re set up at a clinic in Eureka. It’s supposed to be a good little shop and I’ll take you. Vets from around this county use it a lot. And there’s some counseling…”

“No counseling.”

“Gimme a break, huh? You hear yourself? You wanna feel like this the rest of your life?”

“Listen, we did that whole group-hug thing at Balboa. It was a waste of time. I felt worse, not better.”

“This will be one-on-one and you don’t have to hug anyone.”

“This one have two legs?” Rick asked sarcastically. “Because I just love it when some joker with all his parts tries to help me cope with what’s left of mine.”

“He could have two fucking heads for all I know,” Jack said. “Sorry. That was frustration. I’m just frustrated.”

Rick laughed humorlessly. “Is that a fact?”

“Moving on. I’d like you to stay with me and Mel. Once you get up the porch, the house is flat. The shower is a flat walk-in. You don’t have to negotiate a tub. I can get you around till you’re driving again, which will be as soon as you’re ready. You can spend as much time with your grandma as you like and I’ll even drive her out to our place, but her house is a challenge and she shouldn’t be taking care of you.”

“We’ll be fine,” he said. “She won’t have to take care of me.”

“Rick, try to be reasonable. Mel and I can help, but Lydie has enough challenge taking care of herself.”

“She won’t be taking care of me. We’ll manage.”

“Are you totally opposed to making this as simple as possible? Are you going to let me help at all?”

“I let you drive me home, didn’t I? And aren’t you glad for the good company?”

“Yeah. It was a slice of heaven….”

“Next item? Or is that it?”

“Liz,” Jack said.

“Nothing to talk about there.”

Now it was Jack’s turn to laugh without humor. “Buddy, on this we’re gonna talk. I know you didn’t take her calls, didn’t return them. I don’t know what’s up with that, but we’re going to be back in town and she works for her aunt Connie every week. You can’t avoid her. She’s scared to death of how you’re going to act toward her.”

“She doesn’t have to be scared,” Rick said quietly.

Jack sighed. At least that last lacked the edge of hostility. “I’m sure she can’t help it. You’ve been ignoring her. I gotta say, I don’t get that.”

“I know you don’t. Don’t worry. I’ll talk to her. I’ll be nice as I can.”

“Rick, what the hell’s going on with that?”

He took a deep breath. “Jack, it’s going to be all right. Lizzie’s young. Young and beautiful. She’s sweet. And strong. She’ll be fine.”

“Something about what you just said sounds real bad.”

“Nah, it’ll be okay. Might take a little getting used to, that’s all. She doesn’t need a guy like me weighing her down.”

Jack had to concentrate to keep from driving off the road. “What the hell? Is this about the leg?”

“It’s not about the leg, but face it, that’s not a great asset. It’s about everything. Ever since Liz ran into me, her life has been messed up. I’m not good for her. She can do a lot better and deserves to.”

“She’s not going to agree with that. She’s going to fight that idea.”

“Well, not too hard, because that’s how it is. Jesus, don’t you think the girl’s been through enough?”

“I don’t know what to say,” Jack said, but what he really meant was he didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t include a lot of frustrated swearing. He just wanted to shake Rick until all the marbles in his head fell back into place.

“What a break,” Rick said. “Don’t worry. I’ll be nice.”

“You’ll be nice while you’re dumping her? After all she’s gone through for you? Don’t you think if she felt she’d been through enough,
she’d
cut
you
loose?”