Shelter Mountain (10 page)

“Come on,” he said, opening his door.

They got out and stood on this grassy knoll, looking out across the foothills and valley below. Off in the far distance what appeared to be clouds rolled in from the Pacific Coast. Jack put an arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him. “Jack, this is beautiful. I didn’t even know this place was here.”

“Me, neither. Mel, what if this spot, right where we’re standing—what if this spot was your front porch?”

She snapped her head up to look at him, her mouth open slightly, her eyes wide. She said his name in a breath. “Jack!”

“I think I can get it. It’s the Bristols’ land—too craggy for planting, too far from their pastures and too much forest for grazing. And we don’t need much—just a couple of acres, maybe.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Jack,” she said again. “You’ve been looking for land.”

He laughed. “I’ve been sneaking around the back acreage of neighbors’ properties, looking for a good piece someone might be talked out of. A view, a good yard, somewhere where the deer might wander right up to the house, destroy your vegetable garden…”

“I’ve never had a vegetable garden.”

“You like it?”

“I love it,” she said. “I love you.”

He moved behind her and slipped his arms around her. His hands went under her jacket, under her sweater to where the jeans she could no longer close were gaping open. He put his large hands over her tummy and she put her hands over his, leaning back against him. They stood and looked out across the beautiful land, and then there was a little movement within her. These tiny flutters had just begun. “I’m sorry you can’t feel that yet,” she whispered. “The baby just fluttered.”

He bent to kiss her neck. “She likes it.”

“How can you not? Oh, Jack, you shouldn’t have shown it to me. Now if you can’t get Fish and Carrie Bristol to part with it, my heart will break.” She pressed down on his hands.

“Think positive,” he said. He gently massaged her tummy. “I thought men were supposed to get all freaked out when their wives were pregnant. Not want to touch them. Not want to have sex.”

“Not all men,” she said.

“God, I want you more than ever,” he said, kissing her neck again.

“That—” she laughed “—is simply impossible.”

“Want to christen the new home site?”

She laughed at him. “I’m not going back to Doc’s with grass stains on my butt. Control yourself.”

“I’m going to build you a house here,” he said. “First thing I’m going to do is get the road graded and widened,
then have the land excavated. I can’t do that myself. While that’s happening, we’re going to have some plans drawn up. I’ll need help with the foundation, but after that—”

“Jack, stop. You have to buy the land first.”

He turned her around. “I’m going to build you a house here, Mel.”

“Okay,” she said. “You just do that.”

Eventually, they went back to the truck, but they sat there a long while, silent, looking out over the valley. Mel was remembering last March when she arrived, a recent widow looking for a fresh start, and the first thing she thought was that she’d made a terrible mistake in coming to this washedout little town. She wasn’t made to live in the woods—she was a city girl. Now she looked out at the most glorious landscape in America and knew she would never leave it.

Next March, their baby would arrive, a baby John Stone, her OB, said would be a girl. How far she had traveled, emotionally and physically. From a woman who thought she’d never love again, to a woman in the most intense romantic relationship she could imagine. From a woman who thought she’d never have a child to mother.

“You’re very quiet,” she said to her husband.

“Yeah. I think too much,” he said. “Mel. Talk to me about something. Help me with something.”

“Oh, you didn’t bring me out here to show me the view. No—you would have surprised me with this later, when you were sure you had it locked up. You wanted some privacy,” she said. “What’s bothering you?”

“I’ve been watching Preacher,” he said.

“Ah. Lots of people have.”

“What’s up with that?”

“Well, it seems pretty apparent. He’s growing very attached to his houseguests.”

“Yeah. That’s what I think, too. I have a feeling he doesn’t know what hit him.”

She reached for Jack’s hand. “He’ll work it out.”

“Mel, I’m not sure the looks Paige gives him mean anything but thank you. I mean, Preacher—he’s the kind of guy you want around when someone’s about to take you out.”

“Turns out feeling safe for once is a big item,” Mel said. “That was one of the things you gave me that meant the most.”

“But she’s been hurt bad, Mel. Real bad. When the damage heals and she isn’t afraid anymore—”

“Jack, stop. I was damaged. You never let it discourage you for a second.”

“Maybe this is different….”

“You’re worried that he’s going to get hurt,” she said.

“Yeah, I might be.”

She laughed, but she squeezed his hand. “You’re a mother hen,” she said. “He’s a big boy. Let him be. Let her be.”

“I saw the way that woman was beat up. You know the guy who did that to her is obsessed. Mean as the devil himself. She’s going to have some crazy bastard after her and I’d hate to have Preacher caught in the crossfire.”

“Jack, you’d better listen to me—this isn’t up to you.”

“I’ve been watching out for that guy for years now,” he said. “This just surprises the hell out of me. Preacher never had much traffic with women. I’m not sure he knows the score.”

“He doesn’t have to know the score, but I bet you’re wrong about that, too,” she said, laughing. “He just has to know how he feels and what he wants. This isn’t your bone, Jack—don’t chew on it. And if you try to warn him off, he’s going to break your jaw.”

“Yeah,” he said sullenly. “Yeah.”

He started the truck and drove them back to town. When he let Mel off and went back to the bar, he found
Preacher behind the bar and Paige sitting up on a stool in front of him. The boy must have been napping; it was only the two of them. And Preacher was holding her hand.

“Good, you’re back. We need a minute with you.”

“Sure,” Jack said.

“I need a day, if you can spare me.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow or the next day. Soon.”

“Tomorrow’s okay.”

“I want you to know what we’re doing. We’re going down to GraceValley to see Judge Forrest. I hope you don’t mind, but I called Brie. I asked her about getting a lawyer for Paige in L.A. in case she needs one. But what she’s after from Judge Forrest is a restraining order, custody—at least temporary. From her husband, who beat her up. A lot.”

Jack looked from Paige to Preacher. “Is that what you want to do?”

“Yeah, Jack. I’m backing Paige up so she can get out of this mess and keep her kid and her baby safe.” Paige looked down as if ashamed. Preacher saw that and nudged her, then with a finger, lifted her chin and said to her, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Paige.” Then to Jack he said, “I told Paige we’d all back her up. Not let anything bad happen.”

“Bad happen?” Jack repeated.

“Paige is pregnant. She needs our help.”

“Sure,” Jack said.

“Thing is—here’s something about that restraining order. The husband—he can find out where she is.”

“Whoa,” Jack said. He hadn’t known that. “You sure that’s the best way to go? I mean, what are the odds someone’s going to find her here, if you just stay quiet?”

“Can’t really get around it,” Preacher said with a shrug. “The husband—he’s reported her missing. And Chris, missing. If anyone does sniff her out here, even worse things are going to happen. We’re just going to have to face it.”

“Just remember, if you do this, these domestic things can be dicey. Real dangerous.”

Preacher glowered at Jack. “Looks like it already was. That shit’s gotta stop. And Paige needs us to help put a stop to it.”

“Okay, yeah. I’m there. Anyone comes around and makes trouble, you know we can handle that. But—you sure you want to dive into this? It might not come out the way you want,” Jack said. “Have you looked at alternatives?”

“He’s right, John,” Paige said. “It could be a mistake. You could get hurt.”

“I’m not getting hurt. No one’s getting hurt. Except, best-case scenario, him.”

“At least think about it, Preacher,” Jack said.

Preacher’s expression darkened and his eyes narrowed. “We’re doing this, Jack,” he said.

Jack took a breath. “Okay, Preach. Okay, whatever you want.”

Preacher sensed that Paige had a bad case of nerves, and he didn’t blame her. He blamed Jack. It was wrong of him to raise questions, put Paige on the defensive as he had. The very night of that discussion with Jack, right after Christopher was put to bed, while there were still a couple of guys at the bar, Paige quietly said, “I think we should reconsider this plan.”

“There’s no need to be afraid, Paige. There’s only one real danger—losing Christopher in the court. And I may be just a big dope, but I can’t see that happening. Not after what’s been done to you. He has a record, Paige. It’s not like it’s your word against his. They’d be putting Chris in danger. I can’t believe any judge would let that happen.”

“Jack’s right—you shouldn’t be getting yourself into this mess. We can still get away, me and Christopher. I can get to that address in Washington, get things in order.
Get into that underground that gives women and children new identities…”

“Don’t be afraid,” he said again. “It’s going to be okay. I talked to Judge Forrest and he’s optimistic about working this out.”

“There are alternatives to taking this kind of chance, is all I’m saying….”

“Paige, if it comes to that, I’ll take you away myself. Stay with you until you get into some safe place.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I made a promise, Paige.”

“I’m not going to hold you to that.”

“I made a promise to
myself.
”

When Preacher proved intractable, Paige just said good-night and went up the back stairs. But, worried about her, after he closed the bar and locked the door, he crept up those stairs and tapped lightly at the door. When she opened it, he could see she’d been crying. Her eyes were red and her face pink from the tears.

The little suitcase was open on the bureau, clothes neatly folded inside.

“Aw, Paige,” he said, pulling on her hand, drawing her out of the room so that Christopher wouldn’t be awakened.

She leaned against him and wept onto his chest. He put his arms around her and held her for a little while, gently stroking her back. Finally he said, “Come on. Come with me.”

He took her downstairs, his arm around her shoulders, and led her into his room, leaving the door open so they could hear Christopher if he woke. Taking her hand, he directed her to the sofa in the living area, now crowded with the weight set he’d taken out of his old bedroom. He sat in the big leather chair at a right angle to her. He scooted forward and reached for her hands. Holding
them, looking into her eyes, he asked, “Are you so scared you were going to run?”

She nodded, and he ran a finger along the line of her jaw.

“Let’s try to get through this,” he said.

“Even if it works, there’s no way I can ever repay you,” Paige said.

He just shook his head. “I don’t want anything from you, Paige. Except that no one ever hits you again. Ever.”

Paige just had to touch his face. She put her small palm against his cheek and whispered, “You are such an angel.”

“Naw. I’m just an average guy.” He laughed a little. “A below-average guy.”

She shook her head and a tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. Preacher carefully wiped it away. “It doesn’t make any sense to me,” he said. “If a man has a family like this—you and Christopher and a new baby coming—why? It seems like he’d do anything in the world to keep you safe, not hurt you. I wish…” He shook his head sadly.

“What do you wish, John?”

“You deserve to have a man who loves you and never lets you forget it. Someone who wants to raise Christopher into a solid and strong man, a good man who respects women.” He put his hand against her hair, grabbing a silky fistful. “If I had a woman like you, I’d be so careful,” he said in a whisper.

She looked into his tender eyes and smiled, but it was tinged with fear and sadness.

“Come here, let me hold you,” he said, pulling her to him. She slipped onto his lap, pulled up her legs and curled against him, her head on his shoulder, his arm around her back. She nestled like a little kitten against his broad chest.

Preacher leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, his arms around her, holding her against him. All I have to offer is this, he thought. Help. Safety. We’ll get this
bastard out of her life, she’ll grow strong and confident again. And then she’ll go. Somewhere down the line there will be a man—one who treats her right. But until then, sometimes she might need someone to hold her for a little while. And if it gets to be me, those few times, I’ll make the most of it.

He sat like that until the small clock on the wall said that it was midnight. Paige had not moved in hours; she slept in his arms. He could stay there until dawn, just feeling her small body against his. With a deep sigh, he kissed the top of her head. Then he stood, carefully lifting her in his arms. She roused briefly, looking up at his face. “Shh,” he said. “Let’s get you to bed. We have a big day tomorrow.”

He carried her up the back stairs and into his old room. Preacher lowered her to the bed, next to her son, and brushed the hair away from her brow. “Thank you, John,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “I’m doing what I want to do.”

Jack was splitting logs at 7:00 a.m. when Preacher came out of the back door of his living quarters and walked toward him. Jack leaned the ax against the tree stump and turned toward his friend. Then, noting the menacing look on Preacher’s face, tipped his head slightly and frowned, wondering what was wrong.

Before he could wonder for long, Preacher landed a shattering blow to Jack’s face, knocking him backward about three feet and flat on his ass. It felt like a bomb going off in his head. “Jesus—”