Shelter Mountain (18 page)

She hemmed and hawed about the trip, but in the end she went. She drove herself over to Eureka, left her car at the airport and flew with Chris to her friend. She called when she got there, called a couple of days later to say the city was lovely and Jeannie’s shop was great. They had a dog, a big, friendly Lab, and Chris was in love.

Preacher concentrated on planning Thanksgiving dinner, a custom at the bar. He was grateful to have a big cooking job ahead to take his mind off things. He was making his lists, getting out his recipes. And he stopped shaving his head the day she left. Within four days a cap of short black hair covered his dome.

“What’s going on with this?” Mel laughed, reaching up and rubbing a hand over his bristly, dark head.

“Head’s cold,” he said.

“I like it. Do you grow it in every winter?”

“Head hasn’t been this cold on other winters,” he said.
And he hadn’t been infatuated with a woman who had cut hair for a living other winters, either.

“Have you told Paige you have hair on your head?”

“Why would I do that?” he asked her.

She shrugged. “I guess things that pass as news to women are not quite as interesting to men,” she said. “Have you heard from her this week?” she asked.

“She called. She says they’re having a nice visit. Her friend has a dog and Chris is crazy about the dog.” He wiped down the counter. “You think a dog would get in the way around here?”

She laughed at him. “Preacher, what’s that matter? You just miss them so much?”

“Nah, it’s all good,” he said. “Paige hasn’t seen her friend in years.”

“He’s killing me,” Mel told Jack. “Look at him—he’s miserable. He’s so in love with her he can’t think. But will he say anything? To anyone? And seeing him without that little blond angel riding his shoulders is kind of like seeing him with an amputation. He needs to call her—tell her he misses her.”

Jack lifted an eyebrow and peered at his wife. “You don’t want to get into that,” he said. “He might try to break your jaw.”

At night, after Jack had gone home and the last customer of the night had left, Preacher went up to Paige’s bedroom above the bar and went inside. That she had left so many of her things behind, including Christopher’s toys, did not encourage him. He couldn’t believe she’d come back here. To him. If she returned at all, it would probably only be for her things. He didn’t think he had anything to offer her beyond a safe harbor. Probably Jeannie and her husband could give her that, and more.

Her nightie was tossed on her bed and he lifted it to his nose. He inhaled the fresh scent of her. It brought tears to his eyes.

A major cooking event always helped Preacher take his mind off things. It would be just a small Virgin River crowd—but not a small meal. Besides Jack, Mel and Doc, there would be Hope McCrea, Connie and Ron and Liz, Rick and his grandmother, Lydie, Joy and Bruce.

On Thanksgiving Day Mel and Jack were at the bar by noon to help with the cooking. Mel rolled dough for Preacher’s pies and peeled potatoes while Jack cleaned up cooking pots. They talked about Christmas with his family in Sacramento, about next Christmas with a baby. Preacher was silent, doing his work. He had his recipe books propped up, stuffed a twenty-five-pound bird, whipped cream, filled pie shells and put them in the oven, all the while glum. When he went into the bar to put out plates and utensils, Jack said, “What’s up with Preacher? He coming down with something?”

“Yeah, he’s coming down with something!” Mel whispered back. “Paige and Chris, that’s what. It’s like he thinks she’s never coming back.”

“She’s due back Monday, right?”

“Of course! He bought her the tickets, told her to go, and it’s killing him. He looks so handsome with hair, I wish she could see him. He did it for her, I’m sure of it. Who knew there was more to his face than that big, bald head and bushy brows?”

Since Preacher was never a force of personality, his dour mood was only noticed by his best friends. When people started to arrive for dinner, the tables were pushed together into a long one, places set, and Jack started setting up drinks and glasses of wine. Preacher brought out a couple of trays of hors d’oeuvres, put the bread in the warmer and had the turkey out of the oven to sit a minute before carving. Great smells filled the bar and the fire in the hearth was bright and cozy.

Preacher found himself wishing this were over with so he could be alone. He looked forward to everyone leaving; he’d take his time with the cleanup, have a shot of whiskey and go to bed. Hopefully he would sleep.

It was minutes before five, about time to carve, when the door to the bar opened, and there, in the frame, stood Paige. She held Christopher’s hand and looked into the room, scanning the faces until she found Preacher. When she spotted him behind the bar, her eyes lit up so much, they glittered. As for that big man, shock settled over his features; his mouth actually gaped, obviously shocked.

There might as well have been no one else in the room. As she walked toward the bar, he came around it. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here in time to help,” she said.

Preacher stooped to pick up Christopher, who put his arms around his neck first, then rubbed his head. “You din’t shabe it,” he said.

Preacher kissed the little boy on the cheek. “My head was cold,” he said.

Paige wrapped her arms around his waist and, looking up at him, said, “I hope you have room for two more.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked softly.

She shrugged. “I changed the tickets. I wanted to be here. With you. I hope you missed me a little bit.”

“A little bit,” he said. And then he smiled and put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

The Thanksgiving party broke up a little earlier than planned, everyone in the room being aware of the hot gazes that Paige was sending Preacher and Preacher was clearly receiving even if he didn’t seem to be successfully interpreting them. The women all helped with the dishes, quickly, so that the couple could finally be alone.

“Maybe they had some kind of fight before she left,”
Mel suggested to Jack. “Do you have any idea what’s going on with them?”

“Before or now?”

“Before,” she said.

“None whatsoever.”

“And now?”

“Right now I bet that old bar is shaking so hard it’s about to come off its moorings.”

When the last of the dishes were put up, the floor swept, the Open sign turned off and the door latched, Preacher trudged slowly up the stairs to his old room. When he got there he found Christopher was jumping on the bed while beside it Paige stood holding his pajama top, trying to get him to settle down after his bath. She threw a look over her shoulder with a wan smile that said she was coming to the end of her rope. After all, she’d been trapped in the plane and car with him much of the day.

“Okay, cowboy,” Preacher said, coming forward. He took the top out of Paige’s hands and held it for the boy. Christopher slipped his arms in and turned around so that Preacher could snap it up the back. “That a boy,” he said.

Paige put a hand on Preacher’s forearm and said, “Please tuck in the cowboy and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Christopher lunged at Preacher, jumping on him, arms around his neck and legs around his waist, hugging him tight. “Wanna kiss Mommy good-night?” Preacher asked.

Christopher leaned around Preacher a little, puckering, but didn’t let go. He got his kiss and Paige left them alone. “In you go,” Preacher said.

“Read,” he said.

“Aw, c’mon. It’s been a long day.”

“Read,” he said. “One page.”

“Okay, one page.” Preacher sat on the bed beside him
and accepted the book. He read three pages. “Now you have to settle down.”

He started whining and wiggling around.

“Did someone give you sugar?” Preacher asked him. “Get into bed. Enough of this.” He tucked the covers around him and kissed his head. “See you happy in the morning.”

“G’night,” Christopher said, snuggling down in the bed.

When Preacher got downstairs he found Paige in the bar, at the table by the fire, and she had poured him a shot and herself a glass of wine. A new log had been added, an unspoken signal they would sit there together for a while. Her silky, light-brown hair caught a shine off the flame; her cheeks were pink and her curved lips soft and inviting. An ache of longing he couldn’t suppress spread through him.

“I poured your shot. And helped myself.”

“Thanks,” he said. “He’s a little wound up tonight. I asked him if anyone gave him sugar and then realized, it was me. Pie and ice cream, two helpings. And I think he had a cola, too.”

“Well, he’s exhausted, so as soon as he detoxes, he should be out like a light. It was a wonderful dinner, John. I think you outdid yourself.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to come back early.” He pulled out the chair and sat down with her. “Did something happen?”

She shook her head. “It was a fantastic visit. Jeannie’s husband is a great guy, great with Chris. She’s working like a dog in that shop of hers, but it’s going to be successful and she’s so proud of herself. Thank you again for doing that.”

“You missed her,” he said.

“And guess what?” she said, smiling. “After a few days, I missed you. I missed Mel and Jack, some of the others.” She laughed. “I missed the kitchen.”

“Did she offer you that job?” he asked tentatively.

“She did. I told her I’d keep it in mind, but I didn’t think I’d end up doing that.”

He was pretty sure he hadn’t heard right. “You have a better idea?” he asked.

She lifted one eyebrow. “You think a string of shops would make it in Virgin River?” she asked him. “Right now, I’m fine. Chris is fine. I’ve asked you before and I’m trusting you, John, to tell me the truth—you say it’s okay I’m here. And when it’s not really what’s good for you, for the bar, I hope you’ll tell me.”

“Paige, I wouldn’t lie to you. Have I ever lied to you?”

She laughed. “No, not really. But you have been known to delay the information.”

“Aw, not so much,” he said. “Paige, does he—does Christopher ask about him? His dad?”

She shook her head. “He asked about his Big Wheel.” She looked down. “I’m really worried about something, John. Between my brother, who is a copy of my scrappy dad, and Wes, I’m afraid Chris could get cursed with some nasty DNA thing that causes him to be angry, to hit, to hurt people. I’m really scared about it. Maybe you could look it up?”

“I could,” he said. “But I think you can see, he’s sweet and happy every day. It’s probably a good idea to keep an eye on that, though. I would.” He took a small sip of his drink. “Wes,” he said. “Does he have people somewhere? Family?”

“No one,” she said. “He grew up real rough. Foster homes, group homes. A lot of bouncing around.” She laughed ruefully. “I thought it was pretty admirable that someone who came up hard made something of himself. I was looking at the outside, ignoring the inside. He didn’t come through it—he brought it with him.”

He was silent, thinking. “I served with a guy who grew
up in foster homes,” he finally said. “Had a really hard time as a kid. Sweetest guy you ever met. His childhood made him want a nicer life. You can never tell about that. Which way it’s gonna go. You just have to try your hardest to raise him right.” He grinned at her suddenly. “I can show you that ear-twist of my mom’s….”

Paige smiled at him, sipped her wine. She’d had a lot of late-night talks with Jeannie about John, about Virgin River. Jeannie put in real long days at her shop and Paige had tried to help out by cleaning up the house and starting dinner. But her old best friend, though she may have been tired, sat up and listened to the saga of meeting John, of John’s confrontation with Wes, of visiting her family in L.A. and John holding up to them—holding her up. John and Chris. Jeannie saw the bear with the blue-and-gray flannel leg. She had stroked it and said, “Oh, God. I’ve never known a guy who does something like this. This is amazing.”

“It’s one of the first things that convinced me to stay. The way he is with Chris.”

“That’s really awesome,” Jeannie said. “But you can’t stay there forever because of how he is with your child, you know.”

“That isn’t all there is,” she said softly. “It’s how he is with me. But he’s so quiet. So…reluctant. I don’t know if he’s just shy or if he’s a big Boy Scout, doing the right thing and counting the days till I leave and he’s free of this obligation….”

Jeannie had laughed and said, “Make him tell you.”

“Huh?”

“You’ve completely forgotten how to flirt. No surprise. Let him know you want to be there. You love it there, and he’s the biggest draw. Let him know he makes you feel wonderful. Be coy but get him the message—you’re a girl ready for a guy like him. If you flirt with him a little and he’s not interested, he’s going to set you straight eventually.
If he’s really shy, you don’t want to confront him and scare him off. So, what have you got to do in the meantime?”

Paige said to John, “You’re sure it’s okay that we’re still here? I mean, with the holidays coming…”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you here,” he said.

“That’s good,” she said. She took a final sip of her wine, stood and kissed his forehead. She let her lips linger there. “This is the only place I want to be. By the way, the hair is sexy. Very sexy.”

With that, she went through the kitchen and up the back stairs to her room. And he thought, I’m going to pass out.

Late in the year the salmon and sturgeon fishing on the Virgin was at a peak, and fishermen came in droves to the river, which meant the bar had plenty of visitors. Many of those who traveled to this part of the world had been here before and had at least a passing acquaintance with Jack and Preacher. But they met with delight the new face on the scene.

Paige was alive with happiness. She delivered drinks and meals, bussed tables, laughed with the patrons and, it did not go at all unnoticed, threw adoring looks at Preacher when they were both in the same room at the same time.

The conversation in the bar always seemed to center around the size of the catch, the conditions on the river, the weather. But something that also came up was Preacher’s apparent catch.