ROBYN CARR


    WHISPERING
    ROCK

logo

Michelle Mazzanti and Kristy Price,
an author’s best friends.


    Contents

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS <WhisperingRock.html#fm_1>


Chapter One <WhisperingRock.html#ch_01>

Chapter Two <WhisperingRock.html#ch_02>

Chapter Three <WhisperingRock.html#ch_03>

Chapter Four <WhisperingRock.html#ch_04>

Chapter Five <WhisperingRock.html#ch_05>

Chapter Six <WhisperingRock.html#ch_06>

Chapter Seven <WhisperingRock.html#ch_07>

Chapter Eight <WhisperingRock.html#ch_08>

Chapter Nine <WhisperingRock.html#ch_09>

Chapter Ten <WhisperingRock.html#ch_10>

Chapter Eleven <WhisperingRock.html#ch_11>

Chapter Twelve <WhisperingRock.html#ch_12>

Chapter Thirteen <WhisperingRock.html#ch_13>

Chapter Fourteen <WhisperingRock.html#ch_14>

Chapter Fifteen <WhisperingRock.html#ch_15>

Chapter Sixteen <WhisperingRock.html#ch_16>


    ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks to Pamela SF Glenn, CNM, MS—without whose expertise in midwifery
this story would not have been possible. My deepest gratitude for poring
over manuscript after manuscript with sharp eyes and a ruthless pen,
keeping me straight. And to Sharon Lampert, RN, WHNP, for sharing her
expertise as a women’s health nurse practitioner, but mostly for picking
up your cell phone no matter where you were and answering delicate
questions about female anatomy and function with directness and honesty.
I’m sure there are people out there still talking about what they
overheard in the grocery store, beauty parlor and Department of Motor
Vehicles. The passion and devotion with which you two professionals
serve your women patients is inspiring, and was an enormous help in
shaping the character of a dedicated nurse practitioner and certified
nurse midwife.

Thanks to Paul Wojcik for sharing your experiences in the United States
Marine Corps, and to Richard Gustavson, RN with twenty-three years in
the Navy Reserves. I thank each of you for reading the manuscripts and
for offering your invaluable technical input.

Kris Kitna, Chief of Police, Fortuna, California, thanks for valuable
information on local law enforcement, not to mention help with details
about hunting, fishing and firearms.

Kate Bandy, the best assistant a writer can possibly have, my dear
friend of many years, thanks not only for reading copy and offering
suggestions, but especially for accompanying me on an exciting research
trip to Humboldt County. Without you there I would have floundered…or
slipped off a mountain.

Denise and Jeff Nicholl—thanks for reading first drafts, taking
exhaustive notes and answering a million questions. Your friendship and
support during the whole process means the world to me. Many thanks to
Nellie Valdez-Hathorn for her help with my Spanish.

Other early readers whose input was critical included Jamie Carr, Laurie
Fait, Karen Garris, Martha Gould, Pat Hagee, Goldiene Jones and Lori
Stoveken—I’m deeply in debt to you for your comments and suggestions.

Huge thanks to Clive Cussler, Debbie Macomber and Carla Neggers for
reading and commenting on the Virgin River series in the first place.
For you to take the time, with your busy schedules, is a monumental
compliment.

Huge thanks to Valerie Gray, my editor, and Liza Dawson, my agent, for
your commitment to helping me craft the best series possible. Your hard
work and dedication made all the difference—I’m so grateful.

To Trudy Casey, Tom Fay, Michelle Mazzanti, Kristy Price and the entire
staff of Henderson Public Libraries, thank you for the monumental
support and encouragement. I’ve never known a more hardworking and
motivated group of public servants.

And finally, thanks to Jim Carr for your loving support. And my God,
thank you for cooking! I wish I’d known years ago that you could!


    One

M ike Valenzuela was up and had his Jeep SUV packed long before sunrise.
He had a long drive to Los Angeles and meant to get an early start.
Depending on traffic around the Bay Area, the drive would be eight to
ten hours from Virgin River. He locked up his RV, which was his home. It
sat on the property at Jack’s bar and grill; Jack and Preacher would
keep an eye on it for him, not that Mike expected any kind of trouble.
That was one of several reasons he’d chosen to live here—it was quiet.
Small, peaceful, beautiful and nothing to disturb one’s peace of mind.
Mike had had enough of that in his former life.

Before coming to Virgin River permanently, Mike had made many trips to
this Humboldt County mountain town for hunting and fishing, for
gathering with an old Marine squad that was still close. His full-time
job had been with LAPD, a sergeant in the gangs division. That had all
ended when he was shot on the job—he’d taken three bullets and had a lot
of hard work getting his body back. He’d needed Preacher’s robust food
and Jack’s wife Mel’s assistance with physical therapy on his shoulder.
After six months, Mike was as close to completely recovered as he’d get.

Since moving to Virgin River he’d been home only once to visit his
parents, siblings and their families. He planned to take a week—one day
driving each way and five days with that crowd of laughing, dancing
Mexicans. Knowing the traditions of his family, it would be a nonstop
celebration. His mother and sisters would cook from morning to night,
his brothers would stock the refrigerator with cerveza, family friends
and cop buddies from the department would drop by the house. It would be
a good time—a great homecoming after his long recovery.

He was three hours into his drive when his cell phone rang. The noise
startled him. There was no cell phone reception in Virgin River so the
last thing he expected was a phone call.

“Hello?” he answered.

“I need a favor,” Jack said without preamble. His voice sounded
gravelly, as though he was barely awake. He must not have remembered
Mike was heading south.

Mike looked at the dash clock. It wasn’t yet 7:00 a.m. He laughed.
“Well, sure, but I’m nearly in Santa Rosa, so it might be inconvenient
to run over to Garberville and get you ice for the bar, but hey—”

“Mike, it’s Brie,” Jack said. Brie was Jack’s youngest sister, his pet,
his favorite. And she was really special to Mike. “She’s in the hospital.”

Mike actually swerved on the highway. “Hold on,” he said. “Stay there.”
He pulled off the road onto a safe-looking shoulder. Then he took a deep
breath. “Go ahead,” he said.

“She was assaulted sometime last night,” Jack said. “Beaten. Raped.”

“No!” Mike said. “What?”

Jack didn’t repeat himself. “My father just called a little while ago.
Mel and I are packing—we’ll get on the road as soon as we can. Listen, I
need someone who knows law enforcement, criminology, to walk me through
what’s happening with her. They don’t have the guy who did this—there’s
got to be an investigation. Right?”

“How bad is she?” Mike asked.

“My dad didn’t have a lot of details, but she’s out of emergency and in
a room, sedated and semiconscious, no surgery. Can you write down a
couple of numbers? Can you keep your cell phone turned on so I can call
you? With questions? That kind of thing?”

“Of course. Yes,” Mike said. “Gimme numbers.”

Jack recited phone numbers for the hospital, Jack’s father, Sam, and
Mel’s old cell phone that they’d charge on their way to Sacramento and
then carry with them.

“Do they have a suspect? Did she know the guy?”

“I don’t know anything except her condition. After we get on the road,
get the phone charged and we’re out of the mountains and through the
redwoods, I’ll call my dad and see what he can tell me. Right now I
gotta go. I gotta get down there.”

“Right,” Mike said. “Okay. My phone will be in my pocket
twenty-four-seven. I’ll call the hospital, see what I can find out.”

“Thanks. Appreciate it,” Jack said, hanging up.

Mike sat on the shoulder, staring at the phone for a long minute,
helpless. Not Brie, he thought. Oh God, not Brie!

His mind flashed on times they’d been together. A couple of months ago
she’d been in Virgin River to see her new nephew, Jack and Mel’s baby.
Mike had taken her on a picnic at the river—to a special place where the
river was wide, but too shallow for fishermen to bother. They’d had
lunch against a big boulder, close enough to hear the water whisper by
as it passed over the rocks. It was a place frequented by young lovers
and teenagers, and that big old rock had seen some wonderful things on
the riverbank; it protected many secrets. Some of his own, in fact. He’d
held Brie’s hand for a long time that day, and she hadn’t pulled it
away. It was the first time he’d realized he was taken with her. A
crush. At thirty-seven, he felt it was an old man’s crush, but damned if
it didn’t feel awfully like a sixteen-year-old’s.

When Mike met Brie for the first time a few years back, he’d gone to see
her brother while Jack was on leave, visiting his family in Sacramento
right before his last assignment in Iraq. Mike was oblivious to the fact
that his reserve unit would be activated and he’d end up meeting Jack
over there, serving under him a second time. Brie was there, of course,
recently married to a Sacramento cop. Nice guy, so Mike had thought. She
was a prosecutor for the county in Sacramento, the state capital. She
was small, about five-three, with long, soft brown hair that flowed
almost to her waist, making her look like a mere girl. But she was no
girl. She put away hardened criminals for a living; she had a reputation
as one of the toughest prosecutors in the county. Mike had immediately
admired her brains, her grit, not to mention her beauty. In his past
life, before the shooting, he’d never been particularly discouraged by
the mere presence of a husband, but they were newlyweds, and Brie was in
love. No other man existed for her.

When Mike saw her in Virgin River right after Jack’s son was born, she
was trying to recover from a painful divorce—her husband had left her
for her best friend, and Brie was shattered. Lonely. So hurt. Mike
immediately wanted to take her into his arms and console her, for he was
hurting, too. But Brie, crushed by her husband’s infidelity, was
determined not to put her heart on the line again, and she wanted
nothing of a man, especially another player who’d had more than his
share of women. A further complication—this was Jack’s baby sister, of
whom he was so protective it verged on ridiculous. And Mike was no
longer a driven, devil-may-care Latino lover. He was a cripple. The body
just didn’t work right anymore.

It had been only a couple of weeks since he’d last seen her. She had
come back to Virgin River with the rest of her family to help erect the
frame of Jack’s new house. Preacher and his bride, Paige, were married
in that framed structure the very next day. For a man who could barely
walk six months ago, Mike had given Brie a fairly decent twirl around
the dance floor at the wedding. It was a fantastic party—full of that
good old country food, barbecues flaming, the chairs pushed back and the
band set up on the foundation of Jack’s unfinished house, the frame
strung with floral garlands. He grabbed her, laughing, into his arms and
whirled her around with abandon, and whenever the tempo allowed, pressed
his cheek close against hers, whispering in conspiratorial amusement,
“Your brother is frowning at us.”

“I wonder why that is.” She laughed.

“I don’t think he wants you near a man so like himself,” Mike speculated.

That seemed to amuse her a great deal. She tipped her head back and
laughed a little wildly. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she said. “It has
nothing to do with your great success with women. You’re a man, near his
baby sister. That’s enough.”

“You’re no baby,” he said, pulling her closer. “And I think you’re
having too much fun with this, getting him riled up. Don’t you realize
he has a dangerous temper?”

Unmistakably, she held him tighter. “Not toward me,” she whispered.

“There’s a devil in you,” he said, and looked death in the face by
kissing her neck.

“There’s a fool in you,” she said, tilting her head just slightly to
give him more of her neck.

In years gone by he would have found a way to get her alone, seduced
her, made love to her in ways she’d dream about later. But three bullets
had decided a few things. Even if he could spirit her away from her
brother’s protective stare, he wouldn’t be able to perform. So he said,
“You’re trying to get me shot again.”

“Oh, I doubt he’d actually shoot you. But I haven’t been to a good
old-fashioned wedding brawl in ages.”

When they’d said goodbye he had hugged her briefly, her sweet scent like
a cinch around his mind, feeling her cheek against his, his arms around
her waist, pulling her close. A bit more than just a friendly gesture—a
suggestive one, which she returned. He assumed she was having fun with
the flirtation, stirring things up a little bit, but it meant far more
than that to him. Brie held his thoughts in a disturbing way that
suggested if he were capable of giving her love, she would capture his
heart and mind in that powerful way that wipes all other women out of
the past. He really didn’t have that to offer anymore. Although that
didn’t keep him from thinking about her, wanting her.

He could not bear to think about all that mischief and sass lying broken
and violated in a hospital. His heart was in pieces, aching for her.
Dying to know that she was going to be all right.

He put the SUV into Drive, looked over his shoulder and got back on the
freeway. He gunned the engine and veered across two lanes of fast-moving
traffic to make the exit to Sacramento.

 

When Mike got to the county hospital a couple of hours later, he called
Sam’s cell phone number and left a message to say he’d arrived and
wanted to know where they were. A prosecutor, the victim of a crime, was
not going to be with the general population—she would undoubtedly have
security.

Sam came to the hospital entrance, extending his hand. “Mike. Good of
you to come. I know Jack will appreciate it.”

“I was on my way south and was almost here anyway. Brie’s a special
friend. I’ll do anything I can.”

Sam turned and headed for the elevators. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure
what you can do. She’s going to be all right. Physically. I have no idea
what a woman goes through after something like this….”

“Tell me what you know so far,” Mike said. “Did she know her attacker?”

“Oh, yes. Remember that terrible trial she had about the same time
Jack’s son was born? The serial rapist? The media circus? It was him.
She identified him for police.”

Mike stopped walking and frowned. “She’s sure?” he asked. That was such
a sick, bold move for someone who’d just gotten a free pass. Brie had
lost that trial and it was a hard loss, especially coming on the heels
of her divorce. It was as if the sky was falling on her. Also, it wasn’t
something men like that did. Typically, they bolted. Got away from
anyone who had the balls to go after them, as Brie had.

“She’s sure,” Sam said.

Mike couldn’t help but wonder—was she hit in the head? Hallucinating? In
and out of reality because of the trauma? “Her injuries?” he asked.

“Her face is battered, there are two broken ribs and the usual…” He
paused. “The usual injuries incurred during a rape. You know.”

“I know,” he said. Tearing, bleeding, bruising. “Has she been seen by a
rape specialist and police?”

“Yes, but she wants Mel. Understandably.”

“Of course,” Mike said. Jack’s wife, Mel, was the nurse practitioner and
midwife in Virgin River and had had years of experience in a huge L.A.
trauma center. She was an expert in battery and sexual assault and if
she could be the medical eyes and ears, maybe Mike could cover the
police angle. “I heard from them at seven this morning. They should be
here in two or three hours, depending on how fast they got out of town.”

Mike noticed a uniformed Sac PD officer standing at the entrance to a
room; undoubtedly that’s where Brie was. “Well, let me talk to some
people, see if I can find out anything at all. But first, I’ll say hello
to the family.” He moved to a large clot of people in the waiting area
just down the hall. Jack’s three other sisters, their husbands, a few of
his nieces. Mike was embraced and thanked. Then he got about the
business of talking to nurses, got the number of the detective on the
case from the officer guarding the room. All the detective could tell
Mike at this time was that the suspect was still at large. The doctor
would discuss her injuries, that was all. But it appeared that apart
from being horribly assaulted, she would recover physically.

It was almost three hours later that Jack, Mel and baby David arrived.
Jack embraced his father, then looked in surprise at Mike. “You’re here?”

“I was already close,” he said. “I thought I’d come over. If I can help,
it’s better for me to be on-site.”

“Oh, man, I didn’t expect this,” Jack said.

“Hell, you’ve done more for me,” Mike said. “And you know I love Brie.
Mel,” he said, reaching for baby David, “she said she wants to see you
the minute you get here.”

“Of course,” Mel said, handing off the baby.

“I think she needs Mel’s opinion of how the rape evidence was
collected,” Mike said to Jack. “Go hug your sisters. By that time you’ll
be able to see her.”

“Have you seen her yet?” Jack asked.

“No. It’s family only. But I’ve talked to some people, trying to gather
whatever facts they’ll share.”

“God,” Jack said, gripping Mike’s biceps hard. “Thanks. Mike, I didn’t
expect this.”

“You should have.” He laughed, jostling little David a little. “That’s
how it is with us. Right?”

 

Jack sat by his sister’s bedside at the county hospital for almost
twelve straight hours. He had arrived at eleven in the morning and it
was now 11:00 p.m. Outside her door, in the hallway, the family had
gathered for most of the day, but as evening had descended they’d
drifted home because she was out of danger and sedated. Mike had taken
Mel and the baby back to Sam’s, but Jack hadn’t wanted to leave Brie.
Brie was close to her entire family, but it was Jack with whom she had
the deepest bond.

Jack was torn to pieces as he looked down on his little sister. Her face
was horrific; the bruising and swelling was terrible. It looked much
worse than it was, the doctor promised. There was no permanent damage;
she would regain her former beauty. Every few minutes Jack would reach
over, gently smooth back her light brown hair, touch her hand. She
wrestled in her sleep now and then, despite the sedatives. If not for
the ribs, he might have taken her into his strong arms during these
struggles. Instead he would lean over her bed, touch her face where
there was no swelling, drop a tender kiss on her forehead and whisper,
“I’m here, Brie. You’re safe now, baby.”

At almost midnight he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to look up
into Mike’s black eyes.

“Go on home, Jack,” he said. “Get a little rest. I’ll sit with her.”

“I can’t leave her,” Jack said.

“I know you don’t want to. But I had a nap,” he lied. “Sam gave me a
room at the house. I’ll sit right here in case she wakes up, which she
probably won’t, and we’ve got the cop in the hall there. Go. Get a
little rest so you can be here for her tomorrow.”

“If she wakes up and I’m not right here…”

“They’re putting heavy-duty bug juice right in the IV to get her through
the night,” Mike said softly. “It’s okay.”

Jack laughed a little. “I sat by your bed through a week of nights when
you were shot.”

“Yeah,” Mike said. “Payback time. Go home to your wife. See you first
thing tomorrow.”

It surprised Mike that Jack actually left. He was the kind of man who
went days past exhaustion to be there for someone he cared about. Mike
took his place on a chair beside Brie’s bed and sat vigil. Her battered
face didn’t shock him—he’d seen worse. But it hurt him inside. He
couldn’t imagine the kind of monster who could do that.

The nurses came and went through the night, checking her IV, taking her
blood pressure, sometimes bringing Mike coffee from their break room—and
it tasted a whole lot better than what the machines dispensed. If he
asked, a nurse would sit with Brie while he ran down the hall—a result
of the coffee. But Brie didn’t move except for some occasional
disturbances that caused her to stir fitfully.

Mike had carried fallen soldiers out of harm’s way; he’d sat by the side
of dying men while sniper fire whizzed past his head. But nothing
compared to what he felt while looking down at Brie, beaten like this.
Thinking of her violation filled him with a kind of rage that had never
been visited on him before. Although she was a beautiful woman and
strong, his vision kept mixing her up with the vulnerable woman he’d
taken on a picnic a couple of months ago. A pretty, young woman who’d
just been left by her husband, and was crushed by the betrayal. And what
fool would give her up? he thought. It was beyond him.

The rape trial had been one of the toughest of her career. It had taken
her months to prepare a case against the suspect for serial rape. The
forensic evidence had been strong, but in the end the only witness who
hadn’t failed her was a prostitute with a bad record, and the guy
walked. Brie had identified him to the police as her rapist when she’d
regained consciousness.

In the early hours of the morning she turned her swollen face toward
Mike and opened her eyes—or tried to. One was partially shut because of
the swelling. He scooted closer. “Brie,” he whispered. “It’s me, Brie.
I’m here.”

She put her hands over her face and cried out. “No! No!”

He took gentle hold of her wrists. “Brie! It’s me. It’s Mike. It’s okay.”

But he couldn’t pull her hands away from her face. “Please,” she
whimpered pitifully. “I don’t want you to see this….”

“Honey, I saw you already,” he said. “I’ve been sitting here for hours.
Let it go,” he said. “It’s okay.”

She let him slowly pull her hands away from her battered face. “Why? Why
are you here? You shouldn’t be here!”

“Jack wanted me to help him understand what was happening with the
investigation. But I wanted to be here. Brie, I wanted to be here for
you.” He brushed her brow gently. “You’re going to be okay.”

“He…He got my gun….”

“The police know, honey. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“He’s so dangerous. I tried to get him—that’s why he did this. I was
going to put him away for life.”

Mike’s jaw pulsed, but he kept his voice soft. “It’s okay, Brie. It’s
over now.”

“Did they find him?” she asked. “Did they pick him up?”

Oh, how he wished she wouldn’t ask that. “Not yet.”

“Do you know why he didn’t kill me?” she asked, a tear running out of
her swollen eye and down over the bridge of her purple nose. He tenderly
wiped it away. “He said he didn’t want me to die. He wanted me to try to
get him again, and watch him walk again. He wore a condom.”

“Aw, honey…”

“I’m going to get him, Mike.”

“Please…Don’t think about that now. I’ll get the nurse. Get you another
sedative.” He put the light on and the nurse came immediately. “Brie
needs something to help her go back to sleep.”

“Sure,” the nurse said.

“I’m just going to wake up again,” she said. “And I’m just going to
think the same things.”

“Try to rest,” he said, leaning over to kiss her brow. “I’ll be right
here. And there’s an officer outside your door. You’re completely safe.”

“Mike,” she whispered. She held his hand for a long moment. “Did Jack
ask you to come?”

“No,” he said, gently touching her brow. “But when I found out what
happened, I had to come,” he whispered. “I had to.”

After having a sedative administered into the IV, she gently closed her
eyes again. Her hand slipped out of his and he sat back in his chair.
Then, his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands, he
silently wept.

 

Jack was back at the hospital before dawn, not looking particularly
rested although he had showered and shaved. He had dark circles under
eyes that were lit by a very scary inner brightness. Mike had sisters he
cherished; he could imagine the rage that burned inside Jack.

Mike stepped into the hall outside Brie’s door to quietly talk with
Jack, explaining the night had been quiet and he thought Brie had
rested. While they stood there, the doctor making rounds went into the
room, his nurse in tow. Mike used that opportunity to visit the men’s
room. He stared in the mirror; he looked far worse than Jack. He needed
a shower and shave, but he didn’t want to leave her. Family members
would be returning soon, but Mike didn’t think they’d be keeping Brie in
the hospital for long.

On his way back to Brie’s room, he saw Jack talking to a man outside her
door. In fact, Jack was right up in his face. The officer providing
security was stepping closer to them, making a gesture with his hands
that they should separate. Then Mike realized it was Brie’s ex-husband,
Brad, and that probably within seconds Jack was going to kill him just
on principle.

Mike made fast tracks. “Whoa,” he said, separating them first with an
arm between them, then with his entire body. “Whoa,” he said again.
“None of this. Come on.”

From over Mike’s shoulder, Jack demanded of Brad, “What the hell are you
doing here?”

Brad glared meanly. “Nice to see you, too, Jack,” he said.

“You don’t belong here,” Jack said too loudly. “You left her. You’re
done with her.”

“Hey,” he said, bristling. “I never stopped caring about Brie. Never
will. I’m going to see her.”

“I don’t think so,” Jack said. “She’s in no shape to have to deal with
you right now.”

“You’re not in charge of the guest list, Jack. That’s up to Brie.”

“Come on,” Mike said sternly. “Let’s not do this here.”

“Ask him if he wants to take it outside,” Jack snapped back.

“Yeah, I’ll—”

“Whoa,” Mike said yet again, widening the space between the two men.
“This isn’t happening here!”

Brad moved closer, pushing up against Mike, but lowered his voice
cautiously. “I know you’re angry, Jack. In general and at me. I don’t
blame you. But if you get tough with me, it’s going to be worse for
Brie. And this officer is just going to hook you up.”

Jack ground his teeth, pushing up against the other side of Mike. Mike
was having some trouble holding them apart. “I really want to hit
someone,” Jack said through clenched teeth. “Right now, you’d do as well
as anyone. You walked out on your marriage. You left her while she was
building a case against that son of a bitch. Do you have any idea what
you did to her?”

Oh, boy, Mike thought. It was going to happen between these two any
second, right in the hospital hallway. Mike was a good six feet and
pretty strong, but Brad and Jack were both taller, broader, angrier and
not a shoulder injury between them. Mike was going to get hammered when
they lost it and started pummeling each other.

“Yeah,” Brad said. “Yeah, I do! And I want her to know that I still care
about what happens to her. We’re divorced, but we have history. A lot of
it good history. If I can do anything now…”

“Hey!” Mike said to the cop. “Hey! Come on!”

The police officer finally got in it, putting himself between Brad and
Jack along with Mike. “All right, gentlemen,” the cop said. “I have my
orders. No scuffling outside Ms. Sheridan’s door. If you want to talk
this over calmly, I’d like you to move down the hall.”

Oh, that was not a good suggestion, Mike thought. If they moved down the
hall, they wouldn’t be talking. Mike cautiously backed Jack up a few
steps. “Take a breath,” he said quietly. “You don’t want to do this.”

Jack glowered at Mike. “You sure about that?”

“Back off,” Mike said with as much authority as he could muster.

Just then a nurse came out of Brie’s room and Brad snagged her too fast
for Jack to intervene. “Ma’am, I’m Ms. Sheridan’s ex-husband. Brad. I’m
also a police detective,” he said, badging her. “Off duty. Will you ask
her if she’ll see me? Please?”

The nurse made a U-turn and went back into the room.

“What’s he doing here?” Brad asked, indicating Mike with his eyes and a
jut of his chin.

Oh, mistake, Mike thought instantly, stiffening. Was Brad crazy? Pissing
off the guy who was keeping Jack from killing him? He felt his own fists
begin to open and close. The ex wants to know why another man is here?
He dumps his wife for another woman, but no guy is supposed to pick up
where he left off? Mike actually smiled, though coldly. Balls, he
thought. I should just let Jack beat him up.

“He’s a cop,” Jack said, stretching the truth somewhat. “I asked him to
come. To help.”

“He can go,” Brad said. “We don’t need his help.”

That did it. Mike took one fast step in Brad’s direction, but was
stopped by a strong hand on the bad shoulder, pulling him back. That was
all it took to get his attention; he wasn’t going to put Brie through
this. But if they all ran into each other somewhere else, like the
parking lot, he couldn’t make any promises. Right now he wanted a piece
of Brad as much as Jack did.

The nurse returned from the room and spoke to Brad. “When the doctor is
finished, you can go in.”

Brad had the good sense not to take on any superior airs. He didn’t
avoid eye contact with the other men, however.

“Let me ask you one question,” Jack said to Brad, trying to keep his
voice under control to avoid being ejected by the uniform. “Were you at
work the night it happened?”

“No.”

Jack ground his teeth. “Then if you hadn’t walked out on her for another
woman, you’d have been at the house that night. Maybe waiting up for her
to get home. Maybe right inside where you could hear her scream. So much
for your good history.”

“Hey,” Brad began, clearly wishing to argue the point. But Jack turned
away from him and took several steps down the hall. Right then the
doctor came breezing out of the room, looking down at the chart as he
walked by all three men. Brad lifted his chin, glared briefly and
entered Brie’s room.

Mike let out his breath. “That was gonna be so ugly,” he said. He went
to the chair outside Brie’s door and sat. Jack paced, fidgeting. He took
several steps down the hall, away from the door.

Mike rested his elbows on his knees. He scratched his itchy beard. He
noticed the cop was standing beside him.

“This has got to be tough,” the cop said to Mike, indicating Jack just a
few feet away, his jaw pulsing and his hands in fists at his sides.

Mike turned his head, looked up at the young officer. He glanced at his
best friend; Jack was tortured, helpless. “Nothing can prepare you for
something like this to happen to a woman you love,” he said softly.
“Nothing.”

 

Brie was released from the hospital that afternoon and she went home to
her father’s house. Sam and Jack drove her while Mike followed in his
own car, watching with concern. He hadn’t been around very many sexual
assault victims in his police career, but certainly he’d come into
contact with some. He had never seen a woman so stoic, so removed. Once
they all arrived at Sam’s, she went directly to the room that had been
hers when she was younger. She called Jack to come, to cover the mirror.

Brie took her dinner on a tray in her room that night. Her sisters
stopped by one at a time, visited with her in her room, but didn’t stay
long. There were five Sheridan siblings, all married but Brie. Two of
the sisters were older than Jack, one was a couple of years younger and
then there was Brie, the caboose, eleven years younger than Jack. Her
three older sisters had brought to the family eight daughters, and Jack
and Mel had provided the only boy in little David. So when the family
was all together, it was an almost unmanageable crowd. A teeming throng
filled with noise and laughter—Mike had seen that for himself on earlier
visits. It was not unlike the Valenzuela household. Not so now. The
house was still, like a mausoleum.

Mike had a quiet dinner with Sam, Jack and Mel.

“You should probably head for L.A.,” Jack said to Mike when the table
was cleared.

“Whatever.” He shrugged. “I can stay a day or so, see if anything develops.”

“I don’t want to hold you up,” Jack said. Then he walked out onto the
patio and Mike followed. “I can call you if anything happens.”

Sam came outside holding a tray with three glasses. There was a short
shot of amber liquid in each and he put the tray on the patio table.
Without conversation, the men each took one, sipping in silence. The
June air was sultry in the Sacramento valley, humid and almost
oppressive. After a few minutes Sam got up and said good-night. Then
Jack finished his drink and went into the house. One by one, the lights
inside began to go out, leaving only the kitchen light for Mike.
Exhausted as he was, he didn’t feel like sleep. He helped himself to
another short shot and went back to the patio, lighting the candle on
the table.

The whole family is in shock, he thought. They move around silently;
they grieve Brie’s lost innocence. Everyone under this roof is in
terrible pain; they feel each physical blow for which she bears the marks.

“You should probably go now.”

He lifted his head and saw Brie standing in the open patio doors,
wearing the same clothes she had worn home from the hospital. “Brie,” he
said, rising.

“I’ve talked to the detectives several times. Jerome Powell, the rapist,
was tracked as far as New Mexico, then the trail was lost,” she said,
very businesslike. “I can tell you from experience, the odds are at
least ninety-five percent he’s gone—pulled a territorial. I’m going to
start counseling and group therapy right away—and I’ve decided not to go
back to work for a while. Jack and Mel insist on staying the rest of the
week, but you should go. Visit your family.”

“Would you like to come and sit with me?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I’ll talk to the D.A. every day, see if he turns up
anything new. Of course I’m staying here. If I need any assistance in
the police department, I have an ex-husband who’s feeling very guilty.
And very helpful.” She took a breath. “I wanted to say goodbye. And to
thank you for trying to help.”

“Brie,” he said, taking a step toward her, his arms open.

She held up a hand, and the look that came into her eyes stopped him
where he was. She shook her head, kept her hand raised against him. “You
understand,” she said, warning him not to get too close, not to touch her.

“Of course,” he said.

“Drive carefully,” she said, disappearing into the house.


    Two

O ne week later Mel and Jack returned to Virgin River to resume their
routine. Mel went into Doc’s every morning, the baby with her for the
day. If something urgent came up, she could always take the baby over to
Jack at the bar, or if Jack wasn’t there, Paige or Preacher or Mike were
more than willing to babysit. For the most part, David could be counted
on to remain content for the half hour or so Mel needed to see a patient
as long as she had the bouncy seat with her and he was neither hungry
nor dirty. He still took two long naps a day—one in the morning and one
in the afternoon.

Mel had been back from Sacramento less than two weeks when a teenage
girl from Virgin River came to Doc’s and asked to see her. Carra Jean
Winslow was fifteen and Mel had never seen her before. In fact, even
though Mel had lived and worked in Virgin River for just over a year,
she didn’t know the girl’s parents. Taking note of her age and obvious
anxiety, Mel took her to an examining room before asking her what she
needed. When a fifteen-year-old girl who didn’t cough or wheeze or bring
her parents came in to see the nurse midwife, the possibilities seemed
pretty limited and obvious.

“I heard there was a pill that could keep you from getting pregnant if,
you know, you had sex,” she said. She said it very quietly, looking at
her feet.

“Emergency birth control. But it’s only effective if the intercourse has
been very recent.”

“Two nights ago,” she said weakly.

“That’s recent enough,” Mel said, trying to put her at ease with a
smile. “Any problems? Pain? Bleeding? Anything?”

“Bleeding. There was some bleeding.”

“First time?” Mel asked, smiling kindly. The girl nodded. “Have you ever
had an internal exam before?”

She shook her head and looked down again.

“I’d like to check you, make sure everything is okay. It’s not as
terrible as you think,” Mel said, touching her arm gently. “How much
bleeding?”

“Not too much. A little…Getting better…”

“How do you feel? There?”

She shrugged and said, “Still a little sore. Not bad.”

“That’s good. I assume, if you’re interested in emergency contraception,
you didn’t use a condom….”

“No,” Carra answered.

“Okay, we can handle this. Can I get you to undress and put on a gown
for me?”

“My mom…No one knows I’m here.”

“That’s all right, Carra. This is between you and me. I’m only
interested in your health. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Everything off, just the gown.”

Poor thing, Mel thought. She ached for young girls who had just stumbled
into this sort of thing without planning, without being sure. And that
described almost all young girls. But at least she was here, avoiding
yet another disaster. She gave Carra plenty of time to get undressed,
but didn’t leave her waiting long enough to tangle up her nerves, then
returned to the exam room.

“Let’s get a blood pressure and listen to your heart first,” she said
briskly.

“I have to pay you myself,” Carra said. “I don’t want my parents to know
about this.”

“Carra, confidentiality is important in this office—you can trust that,”
she said. “This is all going to work out.” She applied the blood
pressure cuff, noting there were a few small bruises on the girl’s upper
arm. “You have a couple of bruises here,” she said.

“It’s nothing. It was…volleyball. It can get a little rough sometimes.”

“Looks like someone grabbed you,” Mel suggested.

The girl shrugged. “It happens.”

Mel got the blood pressure, which was normal. She listened to Carra’s
heart, looked in her eyes, checked her pupils. Except for the nervous
pounding of her heart, she seemed to be in good shape. She showed her
the speculum, explained the procedure and eased her carefully into
position for the pelvic. “Nice and slow, feet right here, slide down for
me. That’s it. Try to relax, your knees apart, honey. Thank you. This
isn’t going to be bad at all, so take some deep breaths and try to relax.”

“Okay,” she said, and began to softly cry.

“No crying now,” Mel said gently. “Everything is going to be all right,
because you came to see me right away.” She gently parted the girl’s
knees and was frozen. Her labia were bruised and swollen; there were
bruises on the insides of her thighs that bore a striking resemblance to
the bruises on the girl’s upper arm. An unmistakable thumbprint and
fingers. Oh, God damn. Mel stood from her stool and looked over the
drape at Carra’s face. “Carra, I can see that you’re very sore. Bruised
and swollen and a little torn. I’d like to proceed, take a closer look
to be sure everything is all right. But only if you’re up to it. Are you
okay?”

She pinched her eyes closed, but nodded.

“I’ll be as gentle as I can,” Mel said. She put on her gloves but set
the speculum aside. “I’m just going to check your vagina and uterus,
Carra—I’m not going to use the speculum because you’re sore. I’d like
you to take a deep breath for me, then let it out slowly. That’s it,”
she said. “It’ll just take a minute. Don’t clench. Relax your muscles,
Carra. There you go, very good. Tell me, does this pressure hurt?”

“Not so much,” she answered.

Why do these things always come in batches? Mel thought. I’m not over
Brie! Carra’s vaginal wall was torn, ragged. Raw. Her hymen was ripped
open and looked like so many little fingers. She completed her exam
quickly, and while she didn’t have a rape kit handy, she did have a
sterile swab with which she took a vaginal specimen, although it could
be too late for any DNA recovery.

“Okay, Carra, let me help you sit up.” Mel snapped off her gloves and
helped Carra get herself settled, legs dangling off the table. “I’m
concerned about what happened to you, Carra. It looks like you’ve been
hurt. Want to tell me about it?”

She shook her head and a couple of big tears spilled over. Carra was a
plain girl with an oblong face, bushy, unshaped brows and a small
problem with acne. And right now, a really bad case of regret and fear
and nerves.

“It will be confidential,” Mel said tenderly. “It’s not just the
bruises, Carra. Your vagina looks ragged. Torn. The damage isn’t
serious. It’ll heal. But from everything I can see—”

“It was me. It was my fault.”

“Something like this is never a woman’s fault,” she said, and she used
woman purposely, although this was a mere girl. “Why don’t you tell me
what happened, and we’ll go from there.”

“But you’ll give me that pill?” she asked desperately.

“Of course. We’re not going to let you get pregnant. Or sick.”

She took a deep breath, but it brought the tears harder. “I just changed
my mind when it was too late, that’s all. So it’s my fault.”

Mel touched her knee. “Go back to the beginning. Nice and easy.”

“I can’t,” she said.

“Sure you can, honey. I’ll just listen.”

“We decided we were going to do it. He got all excited about that—he
said he was sorry after. We’d already started…. He couldn’t stop.”

“He could,” she said. “I can see the bruises from his fingers, like he
held you down, held your legs apart. I can see the marks, the tears. Let
me help you.”

“I wanted to, though.”

“I know, Carra. Until you didn’t. And you told him no, didn’t you?”

She shook her head. “No. I wanted to.”

“If you said no at all, that’s rape, Carra. Date rape.”

Carra leaned forward, her position pleading. “But I’ve done things with
him. Lots of things. And I wanted to.”

“Have you ever had intercourse before?” She shook her head. No. “You can
say no right up to the last minute, Carra. That’s the law. And it
doesn’t matter what you did with him before. Tell me—is this a
boyfriend? Or someone you’ve only known a little while?”

“I’ve known him a long time from school, but he’s been my boyfriend a
couple of weeks.”

But they’ve done a lot? Mel was asking herself. “Carra, he moved pretty
fast. I want you to think about this. A couple of weeks. This is one
determined guy. How old is he?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, I’m not telling you any more. I’m
not getting him in trouble. It wasn’t his fault. It was my mistake, but
he’s sorry.”

“Okay, listen—don’t get yourself all upset. If you change your mind and
want to talk about this, you just call me. Or come to see me. Doesn’t
matter when. Let’s get you on a dependable birth control and—”

“No. I’m not doing it again,” she said, holding her mouth in a tight
line while tears wet her cheeks.

Oh, she’d been raped. Sounded as if she didn’t even have much of a date,
Mel thought. “Carra, if you continue to see this boy, this man, it’s
going to happen again.”

“I’m not doing it again,” she said firmly. “I need that emergency pill.
That’s all.”

“That’s all for right now,” Mel said. “I want you to come back in a week
or two, so we can test for STDs and be sure you’re healing up. It’s too
soon for anything to turn up today, this soon after exposure. But this
is really important. Will you do that?”

In the end she agreed, but she wouldn’t accept birth control. In a very
businesslike tone she asked Mel, “How much?”

“Forget it, Carra. This one’s on the house. Call me if you need me.
Anytime. I mean it—anytime. Night or day. I’ll write down the number
here and my number at home for you. Okay?”

“Thanks,” she said meekly.

After all that, the thing that really tore at Mel’s heart was seeing her
patient ride away on her bicycle. The girl wasn’t even old enough to
drive a car. And she pedaled while standing up—her tender bottom
couldn’t handle the seat.

 

Mike Valenzuela called Brie. He couldn’t help himself. It had been two
weeks since he’d heard her voice. Jack was more than happy to keep him
up-to-date on her recovery, how she sounded, but Mike needed more. “How
are you feeling?” he asked her.

“Pretty rugged. Kind of edgy and nervous,” she answered. “But then, it
hasn’t been that long.”

“Physically?” he pressed.

“I…Ah…I guess the worst is over. The bruises are beginning to fade. But
it’s amazing how long it takes a couple of ribs to heal.”

“Jack says you took an extended leave of absence from the prosecutor’s
office,” Mike said.

“Did he tell you why?” she asked.

“No. And you don’t have to tell me. Don’t make yourself uncomfortable.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said coldly. “Because I can’t work like that—when
I can prosecute a suspect for rape and he gets off.” She laughed
bitterly. “On me!”

“Oh, Brie,” he said, sympathetic. “God, I’m so sorry.”

“If I get a chance, if they find him, I’m going to bury him. I’ll put
him away for life. I swear to God.”

Mike took a deep breath. “You’re one of the bravest women I’ve ever
known. I’m proud of you. If there’s anything I can do…”

“It’s nice of you to call,” she said more softly. “Not many people
besides family are brave enough—I guess they’re afraid of what they
might hear. Does Jack know you called?”

It wouldn’t be long before Jack found out, Mike thought. Sam had
answered the phone, asked who was calling before putting her on. “I
didn’t call you because you’re Jack’s sister, but because you’re my
friend and I wanted to know how you are. I don’t really care if Jack’s
okay with it, only if you are.”

“I’m okay with it. His protective nature usually just amuses me. Or
annoys me. But not at the moment,” she said. “It feels kind of like a
shield, just knowing how he is.”

“I’d be protective if you were my sister, too,” Mike said. “I’m feeling
protective myself, though there’s not much I can do but call and talk. I
think this is what happens to everyone around the crime, Brie. We all
have our responses—from the victim to her friends and family. It’s all
part of the healing process. I watched my friends and family go through
that, too. It’s one of the reasons I came up here—it was becoming
oppressive. Their need for me to heal so they could feel better.”

“I keep forgetting that,” she said. “That’s how self-absorbed I’ve
become. You’re a crime victim, too.”

“You’re supposed to be self-absorbed right now. Self-protective. Focused.”

“And that’s how you were?” she asked him.

“Ohhhh.” He laughed. “I wish you could’ve seen my routine. I started out
the day by crawling out of bed crippled, the pain terrible. I dosed up
on the anti-inflammatory, iced down my shoulder and groin, drank Mel’s
protein supplement drinks that would gag a maggot, and then started my
exercises with one-pound weights—so light, so nothing. And it would make
me almost cry. Then I’d have to lie down. It took me two months to do a
sit-up—and Mel would help me with the physical therapy on my shoulder
every day, but not until afternoon, not until I could drink a beer first
to take the edge off. She’s little, you know, but you shouldn’t let that
fool you—she can pull and push and grind on an injured muscle until you
beg like a baby. My life was all about getting my body back.”

“I wish this was just about my body,” she said softly.

“There were also nightmares,” he said quietly, almost reluctantly. “I’d
like you to know—I’m not having them anymore.” And he thought, you just
don’t realize yet how much of this is going to end up being about your
body. He had at least a passing knowledge of what rape and assault
victims went through. It was going to be a long time before Brie would
have a healthy sexual relationship.

Afterward, Mike was pretty astonished that Jack made no mention of his
call to Brie. It could mean only one thing—neither Brie nor Sam had
mentioned it, and he wasn’t sure why. He gave brief consideration to
bringing it to Jack’s attention himself. He could explain his concern
easily—he had a few things in common with her at the moment and might be
able to offer support. But in the end, he said nothing. He didn’t feel
like an odd three-way, checking in with Jack about his feelings for
Brie. Nothing had changed in the way he felt toward her, except that at
the moment they were both crippled.

The middle of July was steamy and wet, and Mike called her every couple
of days, and still Jack said nothing. It seemed to Mike that she took
his calls as if looking forward to them a little bit. They rarely talked
about the crime and her recovery, but about mundane things. His fishing,
what she was reading or watching on TV, weather, Sam and her sisters and
nieces, letters that Ricky—a kid from town who had been Jack’s and
Preacher’s young protégé and helper in the bar—was writing home from
USMC basic training.

She told him about her new phobias—the dark, public places, noises in
the night that she’d probably never even heard before. She put her house
on the market—she had no intention of living there alone again. She
thought she might eventually be strong enough to live on her own, but
not there, where it happened.

“Are you getting out at all?” he asked her.

“Counseling, group sessions. The occasional trip to the store with Dad,”
she said. “I don’t really want to leave the house. I’ll have to find a
way to change that soon, but for now, I just want to feel safe. That’s a
tall enough order.”

He could hear the growing strength in Brie’s voice despite her new
fears; she laughed regularly, and the sound of her voice brought him
great peace of mind. He teased her, told her jokes, even played his
guitar for her over the phone so she could tell him he was improving.

Jack, however, was too quiet. Mike confronted him, asked him how he was
doing. “I just want her back, man,” Jack said somberly. “Brie—she was
always such a goddamn life force.”

Mike gripped Jack on the upper arm. “She’ll be back. She’s got the stuff.”

“Yeah, I hope you’re right.”

“I’m right,” Mike said. “You need me for anything tomorrow? I’m thinking
of driving down the coast, having a look around.”

“Nah, enjoy yourself,” Jack said.

 

Ordinarily, Mike wouldn’t have given even a second thought to going to
Sacramento without mentioning it to Jack, but these circumstances were
different, and he wasn’t an idiot—Jack would want to know. Still, he
said nothing and in fact had covered his tracks, acting as though he was
out for a day of poking around. He rose before Jack began splitting logs
behind the bar in the early morning—his ritual even in summer, when
there was no need to lay a fire. He hit the road south through Ukiah in
the predawn hours, arriving in the city by ten in the morning.

After he rang the doorbell, he saw a shadow cross the peephole, then the
locks slid and the door opened. “Mike?” Sam asked. “I didn’t expect to
see you.”

“I decided not to call ahead, sir,” he said. “I thought—”

Brie appeared from around the corner, standing behind her dad. “Mike?”
she asked in equal surprise.

He smiled. “You look good,” he said, relieved. “Great. You look great. I
was saying I didn’t call ahead because I thought if I just came here,
maybe I could lure you out of the house for a while. If I’d called,
you’d think of a million excuses.”

She actually took a step back. “I don’t know…”

“How about Folsom,” he said. “Enjoy the mountains, walk around the
shops, have a little lunch, maybe stop at a vineyard or two. Just a few
hours, just for some fresh air and maybe a little practice at facing the
public. You have to get out in the world eventually.”

“Maybe not this soon…”

“It’s only soon because you haven’t done it. You’ll be safe, Brie.”

“Of course, but—”

“Brie,” Sam said. “You should take advantage of this. Mike is a trained
observer, a cop with years of experience. You couldn’t be in better hands.”

Mike gave his head a slight bow in Sam’s direction, respectfully. “Thank
you, sir. You’re welcome to join us.”

He laughed. “No, I think I’ll pass. But this is a good idea. Brie,” he
said, taking her hand and rubbing it between his, as if warming it, “you
should go out for at least an hour, maybe two. Mike’s come all this way….”

She looked at him pointedly. There might have been a glare in her eye.
“You didn’t tell Jack you were doing this, did you.” It was not a question.

“Of course not. He would have tried to talk me out of it. If you needed
someone to pry you out of the house, he’d want to be the one to do it.”
He grinned. “I couldn’t risk that.”

She seemed to think about this momentarily. Finally she said, “I’d
better change.”

“Nah, you’re fine. Folsom isn’t any fancier than your shorts. Let’s just
do it. You won’t be out longer than you’re comfortable.”

“Dad…?”

“This is a good idea, Brie. Go out for a while. Have lunch, a glass of
wine. I’ll be right here when you get home.”

Mike got her into the car and started to drive. Brie was predictably
quiet, which was what he expected. “You might be stressed for a little
while, but I think it’ll ease up,” he said. Another few minutes of quiet
reigned in the car. “We internalize when we’ve had a trauma. Grow very
quiet, very private with feelings.” Again, no conversation. She looked
straight ahead, tensely, holding the shoulder strap with one hand, her
other crossed protectively over her belly.

“I was the fourth of eight children and had three older brothers,” Mike
said as they began to drive into the foothills of the Sierras. “By the
time I went to kindergarten, I had three younger sisters as well, so my
mother, she was very busy. A lot of old-world traditions and values in
my house—my father had trouble keeping us all fed, yet he still thought
he had the world by the balls with all those sons, and I’m sure he
wanted more. But it was a loud and crazy house, and when I went to
school for the first time, my English wasn’t so good—we spoke only
Spanish and some very bad English in my home, in my neighborhood. And
although my father is successful now, at that time we were considered
poor.” He glanced over at her briefly. “I got beaten up by some bigger
kids my first week in school. I had bruises on my face and other places,
but I wouldn’t tell anyone what had happened.” He concentrated on the
road. “Not even my brothers, who offered to add to the bruises if I
didn’t tell them who had done it and why. I didn’t talk at all for a
couple of months.”

She turned her head toward him, looking at him. He met her eyes. “From
working with kids who were victims of abuse, I learned that’s not
unusual. To go silent like that. I also learned it’s all right to get
your bearings before you start talking.”

“What made you talk?” she asked.

He chuckled to himself. “I don’t know if I remember this correctly, but
I think my mother sat me at the kitchen table, alone, and said, ‘We have
to talk about what’s happened to you, Miguel. I can’t let you go back to
that school until I know.’ Something like that. It was the not being
allowed to go back, even though I was afraid of getting beaten up again,
that made me more ashamed of those boys thinking I was a coward.
Empty-headed machismo even then.” He laughed.

“Did your mother tell the authorities?” she asked.

“No.” He laughed again. “She told my brothers. She said, ‘If he comes
home with one bruise, I will beat you and then your father will beat you.’”

“Well, that’s pretty horrible,” Brie said.

“Old World. Tradition.” He grinned. “Don’t worry, Brie. There were a lot
more threats than there were beatings. I don’t remember beatings. My
father whipped us across the bottom with his belt, but never injured
anyone. For my mother, it was the wooden spoon. Not your pansy gringo
wooden spoon, but a spoon as long as her arm. Christ, if the belt was
unbuckled or the spoon plucked off the shelf, we ran like holy hell. The
next generation of Valenzuelas has given up that form of child raising.
By the way, it’s not Mexican by genesis—it’s that generation. It was not
against the law to beat your child if he misbehaved.”

She was quiet for a moment. Then she asked, “Did you marry Hispanic women?”

He looked at her curiously. “I did,” he said. “Both times. Well, mixed
Mexican.”

“You’re drawn to that culture…. Very strongly drawn…”

“I love the traditions of my family, but I don’t think that had anything
to do with the marriages. I dated a lot of women who weren’t Hispanic.
My marriages were brief failures of my youth.”

“What happened?”

“Well, the first time I was too young, and so was she. I was in the
Marines, and she worked for my father. I wrote to her, married her while
home on leave, returned after my tour of duty to find she was interested
in another young man. I could have been outraged, but the truth is—I
wasn’t faithful either. I was married and divorced by the time I was
twenty-one. My mother was completely ashamed of me.”

“And the second wife?”

“Just a few years later. An employee at LAPD. A dispatcher.” He
chuckled. “Time-honored tradition—cops and dispatchers. It lasted six
months. My mother has completely lost hope in me.”

“I guess you didn’t cling to all the traditions….”

“You know what I miss about my family’s traditions? My mother’s cooking,
my father’s skills and ingenuity. My mother and father did most of their
cooking for large tribes on the patio—on the grill and in huge pots over
slow burners. Mole, the old family recipe, tamales wrapped in banana
leaves, enchiladas, carne asada. My mother’s salsa and guacamole would
make you pass out, it’s so good. She makes a fish with sliced olives
that’s amazing. Her shrimp in tomatoes, avocado and Tapatío is astonishing.”

“Tapatío?”

“Hot sauce. Pretty hot hot sauce. And my father could do anything—he
built a room on our house, a gazebo in the yard, poured concrete, put a
wall around the yard, rewired the house, built a freestanding garage—and
I’m sure he did all that without building permits, but I had the sense
never to ask. And the landscaping was incredible. That was his business,
landscaping. He started out trimming hedges and mowing lawns, but later
he started his own little business. It’s now a pretty good sized
business with a lot of corporate clients. He has a million relatives and
sons—he never runs out of employees. My father was an immigrant, but he
didn’t have to naturalize. My mother is a first-generation American,
born in Los Angeles—marriage to her validated him. But interestingly,
she is the one to uphold the old traditions in our family. He wanted to
acclimate himself to the U.S. quickly, so he could get about the
business of making that fortune poor, hungry Mexican boys dream about.
And he did, though he worked damn hard to do it.” He pulled into the
town of Folsom, found a place to park and went around to Brie’s side to
open her door.

“Tell me about your growing up,” he said.

“Not nearly as interesting as yours,” she said.

“Let me be the judge,” he said, taking her elbow and walking her across
the street toward a gift shop.

As he maneuvered her through shops, galleries, antique stores and
bakeries, she told him about life with three much older sisters who
babied her, and Jack who fussed over her till she was about six, then
again when he was home on leave. Her household didn’t sound terribly
different from his, except that her mother didn’t cook outside, use
oversize cooking pots and implements, and her father was a whiz at
numbers and investing, not building or landscaping. Otherwise, their
childhoods were similar—large families filled with noise and laughter,
loyalty and blistering sibling fights. “The girls fought like animals,”
she said. “They never fought with me—I was the baby. And Jack was
threatened with certain death if he ever struck a girl, so they went
after him with a vengeance, knowing he was helpless.”

“Any chance there’s a video of that somewhere?” he asked, laughing.

“If there was, Jack would have it destroyed by now. They were terrible
to him. It’s amazing he loves them now. Of course, he had his revenge in
small ways. He played tricks on them constantly—but to his credit, he
never fought them physically. Fought back, I should say. Until he
returned from his first hitch in the Marines, I believe he wished them
dead.”

Mike stopped walking outside a corner pub and looked at his watch. “I’ll
bet you’re getting hungry.”

“There’s a Mexican place down the street,” she said.

“Nah, there’s not a Mexican restaurant in the world that can satisfy me
now. I’m a mama’s boy. How about a hamburger?” he asked.

She smiled. “Sure. This has been easier than I expected.”

“We’re taking it nice and slow and you’ve been distracted by
conversation,” he said.

“That sounds so professional,” she commented, entering the pub. “And
here I thought you were having fun.”

He laughed at her. “Surely you can tell I’m completely miserable,” he
said. “Of course I’m having fun. But I’m here on a mission—getting you
out. If I happen to have a good time while I’m doing it, even better.”

He directed her to a corner booth, moved her into the seat from which
she could see the whole restaurant so she wouldn’t feel vulnerable, and
told her to order a beer or glass of wine. There were only a few people
in the pub, so she could easily see everyone having lunch. Then they
ordered hamburgers and continued the discussion into the teenage
years—their grades, dates, trouble they’d been in. Here they were
opposites—Brie was an exceptional student, had a couple of very polite
boyfriends, never any trouble. Mike couldn’t concentrate until he was
over twenty, dated anyone who would have him, got into plenty of
trouble—even trouble with the police, who brought him home late at night
more than once, waking his parents. By the time they were halfway
through their hamburgers, there was a slight disturbance in the pub. A
man shouted at the waiter, “It’s unacceptable!”

Brie’s eyes grew round and Mike looked over his shoulder. There were two
couples across the room at a table; they looked to be middle-aged
married couples. One of the men was irate, while the other tried to
mollify him, placing a hand over his forearm and speaking quietly. Both
women drew back, if not just embarrassed, then concerned. The waiter
leaned down and said something to the angry man, and he reacted. He
picked up his glass of beer and hurled it toward the bar, smashing the
glass, beer splattering and shards of glass flying. If the pub had been
more crowded, it could have been dangerous. “Not good enough!” he shouted.

Brie gasped and stiffened, terror in her eyes. Mike glanced at her,
glanced over his shoulder again, back at Brie. Panic was showing on her
face.

Then the owner or manager came rushing into the room and to the table,
speaking quietly first to the waiter, then to the disgruntled customer.
The angry diner talked back, though his words were impossible to make
out. The other man at the table clearly tried to quiet him, but he stood
abruptly and shoved the manager, causing him to take a few steps backward.

Mike looked at a terrified Brie and thought, this is all she needs.
Bullshit like this her first time out in the real public. He put a hand
over hers. “Stay right here and breathe deeply.” Then he got up and
strode purposefully toward the table. Already kitchen staff were peeking
out the window in the swinging door to the kitchen.

Mike placed himself between the waiter and manager, directly in front of
the offender, and was grateful that he was taller than all of them,
younger and more fit than the pissed-off man. He looked into the
manager’s eyes and said calmly, “Call the police, please.”

“Thank you, sir. I believe we can handle the situation now.”

“Then if you’ll allow me the use of your phone, I’ll place the call.”

The angry customer tried to shove Mike out of the way and said, “I’m
getting the hell out of this shit hole.”

Mike simply straightened, grabbed the wrist of the man’s hand to ward
off his shove, blocked his passage and raised the palm of his other
hand. He used an authoritative voice to say, “Please sit down, sir. I
don’t believe you’ve paid for your meal and drinks.” He was firm but
polite. Though Mike was only a couple of inches taller, he was younger
and the expression on his face very determined. The man sat. Then Mike
looked at the manager and said, “The police, if you please.”

“Here,” said the friend, standing, opening his wallet. “Let me just pay
for it and—”

“I’m sorry, sir, but your angry friend is going to settle up with the
police now. Throwing glassware, assaulting the management is against the
law.” Then he looked over his shoulder, lifted his eyebrows to the
manager and gave a nod.

“Call the police,” the manager instructed the waiter, and the young man
fled.

Twenty minutes later the local police took the angry client away, still
sputtering about his terrible meal. It turned out that his
dissatisfaction with his lunch had been met with an offer of a
replacement meal or discount from the waiter, but the man had wanted his
entire foursome comped, despite protests from his wife and the other
couple. It also turned out he was a little drunk and unmanageable.
Handcuffs were not necessary, but the police decided it would be best if
these visitors were escorted out of town and everyone exited calmly. The
little pub returned to its quiet atmosphere.

The manager brought Mike a beer and Brie the wine she’d had with lunch.
“With our compliments,” he said, smiling.

“Thank you very much,” Mike said. Then, turning to Brie, he placed a
hand softly over hers and said, “God, I’m so sorry that happened, Brie.
I hope you’re not too upset.”

Brie’s eyes were actually twinkling. She smiled. “Talk about baptism by
fire,” she said.

“Of all the days for that clown to get tanked and cause trouble—”

But Brie answered him with a laugh. “God. For a minute I had all kinds
of hysterical fears—and then it was over. The police were called, he was
escorted away and it was over. Plus,” she said, lifting her glass, “free
drinks.”

Mike’s brows drew together, concern that she’d become hysterical. “I’ll
cover the drinks in the tip. I guess you’re not hopelessly traumatized?”

“No.” She laughed again. “I’m reminded. I’ve been up against some scary
individuals, but ninety-nine percent of the time, they’re all bluster.
They threaten, make a lot of noise, show off and then when they’re
picked up by police, they cry.” She leaned across the table. Her voice
sank to a whisper. “I’ve been reciting a mantra to myself for weeks—it’s
been over ten years since an officer of the court was actually hurt by a
defendant, and that ADA was not seriously injured. I’m not fixed, but
I’m reminded—what happened to me was very unusual. What happened today
was more typical.”

“You deal a lot in percentages, I guess,” he said.

“Ninety-three point five percent of the time,” she answered with a smile.

 

Every week, like clockwork, Jack received a letter from Ricky, the boy
who’d been his shadow for a few wonderful years until joining the
Marines immediately following his high school graduation. The letter was
always addressed to Jack, opened with “Dear Jack, Preach, Mike and
everyone.” It was the best part of his week.

When Jack first came to Virgin River, he bought the cabin because of its
size and location, right in the middle of town. It had spacious rooms.
He slept in one room while he worked on the other, then shifted his
pallet. He was building the bar, not quite knowing if it would work in a
town of only six hundred. He added the room upstairs and the apartment
behind the kitchen, where he lived until Mel came into his life.

Ricky was a kid from down the street, a gregarious, freckle-faced
youngster with a bright smile and the disposition of a friendly puppy.
When Jack found out it was just Rick and his elderly grandma, he pulled
him in, acting as something of a surrogate older brother or father. He
had the privilege of a few years with the boy, watching him grow into a
fine young man—strong, decent, brave. Jack taught him to fly-fish, to
shoot and hunt. Together they’d gone through some fun times, some
heartbreaking times. The day Rick left for the Marine Corps at the
tender age of eighteen had been a day of both admiration and grief for
Jack. There was a part of him that swelled in pride that Ricky would
take on the Corps, and another part that worried, for no one knew better
than Jack how challenging, how dangerous it could be.

When the letters came, he would share them with Preacher and Mike, then
walk down to Lydie’s house—Rick’s grandmother. They would exchange news,
for Rick wrote at least two letters a week during basic training—one to
the bar where he had worked since he was fourteen, and one to his
grandma. Lydie’s news was always censored, Rick keeping the rougher and
tougher parts of his experience from her. But Jack read his letter aloud
and Lydie laughed and gasped and shuddered, but loved hearing the
unabridged version.

People started showing up at the bar when they heard there’d been a
letter. Connie and Ron, the aunt and uncle of Ricky’s teenage
girlfriend, always came around, hungry for news. Doc Mullins was as
anxious as anyone, as were Mel and Paige. The Carpenters, Bristols, Hope
McCrea…Everyone missed Ricky.

“They run us through the rain and mud with a thirty-pound ruck on our
backs for miles and miles and miles, screaming and yelling about how we
have to pay our dues, get tough—and it makes me want to laugh,” Rick
wrote. “I keep thinking, brother, this is nothing. I paid my dues in
Virgin River….”

Ricky and his young girlfriend, Liz, had had a baby together six months
ago. A baby who hadn’t lived. They were too young, too fragile to be
having a baby in the first place; too young and tender for such a
tragedy. Being a father himself, Jack had no trouble imagining how the
rigors of the Corps could seem like child’s play by comparison.

Jack missed the boy. Missed him as a father misses a son.

 

Mike stepped up his phone calls to Brie to almost every day and it
reminded him of how he’d fallen in love when he was a boy. So much phone
time. So many hours given to idle conversation about the day, the
activities, the family. They’d occasionally drift into tenuous
territory—religion and politics. At one point Mike asked her if she was
driving yet and she said, a little bit. Over to her sisters’ houses,
once in a while to the store, really quickly. “How are you doing in the
car?”

“I don’t have a problem driving. It’s when I get where I’m going that I
feel vulnerable. Unsafe. I have a new gun,” she informed him. “To
replace the one I lost.”

He was silent a minute. “Uh, Brie…I wouldn’t want your confidence in the
car to come from the fact that you plan to shoot the first Good
Samaritan who pulls over to help you change a flat.”

“That isn’t exactly what I meant. But…”

“Never mind. I don’t want to know any more.”

She laughed at him. Her laugh seemed to come a little more easily these
days, at least with him. “It makes me feel safer, even though it didn’t
do me any good before.”

“I was wondering—do you want to have lunch again? Meet me this time?
Provided you don’t have far to go and agree to leave the gun at home…”

“Where?” she asked.

“Maybe Santa Rosa,” he suggested. “I’d be happy to come to Sacramento,
but it might be good, you driving somewhere that’s not just around the
corner.”

“It’s a long way to go for lunch,” she said.

“Practice,” he said. “Expand your boundaries. Get out there.”

“But what’s in it for you?” she asked quietly.

“I thought that was clear,” he said. “There are a hundred reasons I want
to help you in recovery, not the least of which is, I like you. And…I’ve
been there.”

It worked. Lunch in Santa Rosa at a small Italian restaurant where they
had pasta and iced tea and talked and the patrons behaved themselves. He
held her hand across the table for a little while.

It was strange to Mike that he’d first become attracted to a feisty,
tough character and now, even though most of the time she was
soft-spoken and had trouble maintaining eye contact, his feelings toward
her hadn’t changed all that much. He would welcome the old Brie back if
she could fully recover—but he realized that even if she remained this
vulnerable, he was feeling something strong. Something he wasn’t going
to be able to let go of easily.

“Where did you tell your dad you were going?” he asked.

“Out to lunch with you,” she said, shrugging. “I made sure he knew which
restaurant and when I’d be home. He was thrilled. Of course he wants me
to get back into circulation. He has no idea how far I am from that.
This is something…Well, it’s not getting back into the world, but it’s
lunch with a friend. And that feels good.”

Two weeks later they met in Santa Rosa again, this time at a French
restaurant in a vineyard, again small, where Brie could see every
patron. And two weeks later, again Santa Rosa. When he first saw her, he
wanted to rush to her, grab her up in his arms and hold her for a while,
but he always put his hands in his pockets, smiled and nodded hello. By
the sixth week and fourth lunch, she hugged him goodbye. “Thanks,” she
said. “I think this helps.”

In between lunches, there were the phone calls. When they talked, he was
constantly reminded of the spunky, smart-ass woman he’d fallen for. But
he was faced with an uncertain woman; her confidence had been shattered.
Yet in her core, this was the same woman—honest, humorous, brave.

Mike was faced with a first-time challenge. He was gentle with her, and
kind—not difficult for him, because if anything he was a gentleman. But
he had to work at making it seem he wasn’t worried about her; that he
held no pity for her, when in fact there was nothing quite as hard as
knowing a woman he admired so profoundly, cared for so deeply, had been
brutalized in such a way. He couldn’t have her add his pain to her
agenda—her recovery was difficult enough. It wasn’t easy to keep his
concern from showing in his eyes, his smile. She needed strength now,
not weakness. He would not be the weakness in her life.

Neither of them ever mentioned Jack in their conversations, except when
Brie talked about the family, about growing up, how she’d missed him
after he’d left for the Marines. So far Jack had not mentioned the phone
calls or lunches.

 

Summer was growing old. Mel and Jack had been back from Sacramento since
June and the summer had been fraught with tension for Mel. Her
fifteen-year-old patient was very much on her mind, as she had not
returned to the clinic to be tested for STDs. She had two pregnant women
in her care, not to mention the other patients who wandered into Doc
Mullins’s little clinic.

And her husband had not touched her in weeks.

Jack’s routine was to go to his business early, chop wood, look at the
schedule for the day, confer with Preacher and do what work was needed
at the bar—inventory, supply run, help serve at mealtime. Then, if he
could get away, he would go out to their new homesite to work on the
house in progress.

The latter seemed to occupy him more, because there he could be alone.
And Jack suddenly seemed to need a great deal more time alone than he
had before his sister’s assault. He didn’t talk about Brie’s rape; he
was stonily silent.

Sometimes when there was nothing going on at Doc’s, Mel would drive out
to her new homesite with the baby and watch Jack driving nails into the
wood, planing, leveling, hefting huge boards on his broad shoulders.
Ordinarily, he stopped work immediately upon seeing her, spent a little
time with her. But these days, these weeks, silence consumed him.

Brie called almost every day, because if she didn’t call Jack would call
her. She was improving both physically and emotionally, but Jack wasn’t.
Mel was painfully aware that this was the reason he hadn’t made love to
her in so long, and for them it might as well be an eternity. Their
lovemaking had always been frequent and satisfying; sexually, they were
a matched set. It was one of the driving forces in their marriage. Jack
had strong urges, powerful urges, and Mel had learned to depend on the
amazing fulfillment he brought her. Nothing could make her feel adored
the way Jack did when he put his hands on her. She reciprocated, doing
everything in her power to show him the depth of her love.

Knowing that it was the assault on Brie that was deeply troubling him,
crippling his desire, she had exercised patience and understanding. But
it was hard to lie beside him every night and not receive his usual
advances. She understood his pain, his anger, but she also understood
that she couldn’t let her man brood forever.

She had to have him back.

A usual custom of theirs was to spend an hour or two at the bar at the
end of the work day, perhaps having dinner, perhaps just a beer or cup
of coffee with some of the patrons before going home to their own
dinner. On this particular day, Mel simply went home. She hadn’t even
stopped by the bar to say goodbye. She fed the baby and put him down,
showered, put on one of Jack’s shirts and sat on the couch with the cool
evening breezes drifting through the screen door. She could smell his
scent on his shirt—his special musk mixed with the wood and wind and river.

He called and asked where she was and she said, “I decided to just come
home tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because there was no one to talk to at the bar,” she said.

“But I’m here.”

“Exactly,” she said. And then she said goodbye.

Of course it took him only about twenty minutes to make his excuses to
Preacher and get home. Mel knew that to have confronted this any sooner
might not have given Jack the time he needed to work through it. In
fact, she worried that it might still be too soon, but she was hell-bent
to try. It had been a long time. Too long. The health of her marriage
was everything to her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, coming in the cabin door.

“I’m lonely,” she said.

He sat down on the sofa beside her and hung his head. It was that
hangdog look along with his silence that was eating at her. “I’m sorry,
Mel,” he said. “I know I should have snapped out of it by now. I would
have expected it sooner myself. I’m not a weakling. But it’s Brie…”

“Jack, Brie needs you, and I want you to be there for her. I couldn’t be
married to any other kind of man. I hope you have a little left over,
that’s all. Because I love you so. I need you, too.”

“I know I’ve disappointed you. I’ll do better…”

She knelt on the couch beside him, facing him. “Kiss me,” she said. He
leaned his lips toward her, pressing his mouth against hers. He even
made a noble effort to move his mouth over hers, opening and admitting
her tongue. But there was no passion in it, no desire. He didn’t put his
hands on her, didn’t draw her near, didn’t moan with his usual hunger.

She was afraid she was losing him.

“Come with me,” she said, taking his hand and leading him to their
bedroom. “Sit,” she said.

She knelt in front of him and worked at taking off his boots. Then,
rising on her knees, she began to unbutton his shirt. “This may not turn
out the way you expect,” he said.

“Shhh. We’ll see.” She opened his shirt, pushed it off his shoulders and
began to rub her hands over the soft mat of hair that covered his chest.
She kissed his chest, running a small tongue over his nipples, one at a
time. She pushed him back on the bed and slowly opened his belt, the
snap on his jeans, the zipper. She kissed his belly. She hooked her
small hands into his jeans and tugged, bringing them down over his hips.
Down off his long legs. It did not escape her that he was barely rising
to the occasion, and for Jack this was astonishing. He was known to
spring to life at the mere suggestion there might be sex coming his way.
But she wasn’t discouraged. Down came the boxers and she caressed a
little life into him, then put her mouth on him in exactly the way he loved.

And there was that moan that she had longed to hear. That deep groan. He
couldn’t remain passive during this, one of his very favorite treats.
There. He responded, perhaps in spite of himself, but she didn’t care.
It was a start.

Jack had never in his life had a problem that kept him from wanting sex.
In fact, during the worst stress of his life, he found sex to be a
wonderful escape. But not this time—this time he’d been numb. He was
barely aware it had been happening to him, and then his wife let him
know when she came after him, demanding a response, and he suddenly
realized that he hadn’t deprived only himself in some pattern of grief.
He felt her small mouth take him in, and his body allowed him blissful
separation from his mind. He closed his eyes in luxury. She climbed on
him, hot and sweet, and he ran his hands around her bottom and under the
shirt she wore, up to her full breasts, and heard her hum in pleasure,
“Oh, Jack—I have so needed your hands on me.” It hit him, how much they
depended on each other. They should be helping each other through the
difficult times, not closing off.

He lifted the shirt over her head and brought her breasts down to his
mouth, tasting their sweetness. Then he rolled with her, bringing her
beneath him, filling her, listening to her pleased sighs and purrs.
“Baby, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never meant to neglect you.” He
moved and she bent her knees, lifted her hips to bring him deeper and
deeper, her hands on his shoulders and arms, her mouth on his mouth.

This is what he loved about his woman, his wife—that she was as driven
sexually as he. In this they had been beautifully paired and it had
taken boldness on her part to bring him back to life. He’d never before
suffered so long a dry spell, and it meant the world to him that she
wouldn’t allow it, that she was desperate for him, that she was
determined to have this back in their marriage. Thank God for her, he
thought. Anyone else would have become moody, angry, taken offense or
even ignored the drought. But not Mel; she was committed to him.
Committed to this passion they shared. She would not give it up easily.

He grabbed her small, tight fanny and held her to him, making it good,
making it right, the perfect friction that caused her to gasp and cry
out his name. He chuckled, a deep raspy laugh, for he adored this about
her—that she couldn’t be quiet, that when he did the things he knew she
loved, she was swept away, helpless.

When she heard that lusty laugh, the sound he made when he was again in
control, focused on nothing but bringing her pleasure, making her body
soar, she wrapped her legs around him and blasted him with an orgasm so
hot and strong, he trembled. As she weakened beneath him, she knew
immediately he had held himself back. Saved himself. He was going to do
it to her again before he let himself go.

She touched his beautiful, sculptured face with her hands, saw the smile
on his lips and the dark smoldering fire in his eyes, and said, “Welcome
home, darling. Welcome back.”

 

Brie had to forcibly pry herself off the couch. She’d rarely left her
dad’s house since it had happened. Most of her outings were to her
counselor or support group and a lunch once in a while with Mike.
Lunches she looked forward to with anxiety and delight. Sam, so afraid
of making things worse, rocking her already rocky boat, hadn’t said
anything to her about it, but he knew. And she knew he knew.

Brad called almost every day, and while Brie wasn’t really interested in
talking to him, she knew he’d tell her the truth about what was going on
with the investigation. That was one of the things they’d had in common
from the beginning—casework. Right now, if Brad could deliver the news
that they had taken Powell into custody, it would make a huge difference
in her life. But of course that had not yet happened.

Another person who called regularly was Christine, her former best
friend and Brad’s new woman. Those were calls Brie refused to take, but
even Sam’s advice that Christine stop calling had no impact. “She says
that eventually you’ll talk to her, let her tell you how worried she’s
been and how much she loves you,” Sam reported to Brie.

Brie gave a huff of laughter. “She just loves way too many people,
doesn’t she?”

With every call, she’d revisit that drama in her mind, still amazed by
the way the whole thing had unfolded. They’d been couple friends since
before Brie and Brad married; Christine’s husband was also a Sacramento
cop, Glenn. Glenn and Christine had danced at their wedding. Christine
was a surgical nurse who worked for a private practice surgeon; she and
Brie had become close. In fact, besides her sisters, Christine had been
the closest woman in her life. They’d talked almost every day, seen each
other at least a couple of times a week, with husbands or without.

Brie was aware that Christine and Glenn had some marital problems. They
bickered over the usual things—sex, money and parenting. With two
demanding jobs, two little kids and a too-big house, it seemed to Brie
they were destined to have certain squabbles until the kids got older,
until they could mellow out and get ahead of the bills. But Brie was
wrong—a couple of years after Brie and Brad married, Christine and Glenn
separated and divorced. They were almost more amicable than when they
had been married. It wasn’t too tough to sit on the fence on that
one—Brad saw Glenn at work and he’d drop by the house for a beer
occasionally, and Brie and Christine remained friends. After the shock
of Glenn’s moving out settled a little, it seemed to Brie that her best
friend was in many ways calmer and happier on her own, managing her own
money, getting a break from the kids a couple of days a week when Glenn
took them.

There were signs that Brie had taken no notice of. Christine didn’t date
or talk about men; a year after her divorce, their phone chats had
become fewer—but Christine was very busy. It wasn’t easy being a single,
working mom. And Brie’s job was demanding, her hours long, so she was
usually the one unavailable for girlfriend time. If she were honest, she
could admit Christine had always done most of the phoning, inviting.
What was still impossible for Brie to grasp was that Brad’s behavior had
never seemed to change. They talked on cell phones several times a day,
were together every night Brad wasn’t on duty, making love as often as
before. Up until the time he told her he was leaving, that he needed
some space, she had no idea anything was wrong.

Brie didn’t know how it started between them, but Brad admitted it had
been going on about a year. “I don’t know,” Brad said with a helpless
shrug. “A couple of lonely people, I guess. Glenn was gone, you were
always working and Christine and I were pretty close friends to start with.”

“Oh, you are so full of shit!” she railed at him. “You never once asked
me to take time off! My hours were just what you needed to pull this off!”

“If that’s what you have to believe, Brie,” he had said.

It had knocked the wind out of her. The only thing worse than the pain
was the shock and disbelief. Six months after the divorce was final,
she’d thought she’d made some important headway in dealing with it, but
it was as though the rape brought it all back; her depression over the
divorce seemed suddenly brand-new. Robbed, again and again, she kept
thinking.

Most of the time all she did was watch TV, snack, sleep, tidy up the
house. Her concentration wasn’t good enough to read a novel—something
she had craved when work had been so consuming. Working a crossword
puzzle was out of the question—she couldn’t focus; she used to do the
Sunday-morning crossword in ink before Brad even got out of bed. She
couldn’t even go to the mall. But she made it to those lunches with
Mike. She came to think of them as her secret lunches, almost the only
thing that brought her away from herself, away from all the blows of the
past year. Her father’s silence on the matter intrigued her; she hadn’t
even whispered of these meetings to her sisters. It was as if that would
take the magic away.

She didn’t even recognize the woman she’d become. She’d been so tough.
Some people—mostly men—thought of her as hard. At the moment she was
limp and frightened. She was paranoid and afraid it would never pass.
She’d been dealing with the victims of crimes for years now, and a
number of them had been rape victims. She had watched them wither,
paralyzed, unable to act on their own behalf. As she cajoled and coached
them for their testimonies, she would become frustrated and angry by the
reduction of feeling that seemed to weigh them down, overwhelm them. The
helplessness. The impotence. And now she was one of them.

I’m not giving in, she kept telling herself. Still, it had taken her
weeks. Months. “I need some exercise,” she told Mike during one of their
lunches. “I can’t seem to get out of bed or off the couch if I don’t
have a specific appointment or lunch with you.”

“Have you asked anyone for an antidepressant?” he asked. “I thought it
was pretty routine after a crime.”

“I don’t want to go that route if I can help it. Up to now, I’ve always
had so much energy.”

“I went that route,” he admitted to her. “I didn’t think I needed to,
but it became clear I was depressed—a combination of major surgery and
being the victim of a violent crime. It helped.”

“I don’t think so…”

“Then you’re going to have to think of an alternative or this thing can
swallow you up,” he said. “Brie, fight back. Fight back!”

“I am,” she said weakly. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but I am.”

He touched her hand gently and said, softly but earnestly, “Fight
harder! I can’t lose you to this!”

Well, she couldn’t jog anymore—she was afraid to be out there alone,
even in broad daylight. It couldn’t be a gym or health club—she couldn’t
have men looking at her right now. She remembered with some longing how
she had loved being looked at. She had a small, compact, fit little body
and lots of long, silky hair that she braided for court but let swing
freely down her back the rest of the time. It made her heady with power
to garner the stares of attractive men. Now if a man looked at her, it
threw her into panic.

But she wasn’t going down without a fight—so she joined a women’s gym
and started running on the treadmill and lifting weights. If she
couldn’t have a full life, she was at least going to fake one.

The joke was on her—a couple of weeks of vigorous exercise and she was
sleeping better and eating better. She felt it put her into the next
stage of recovery, every day a tiny bit easier than the day before.

There were times she thought that if not for Mike’s attention right now,
she’d be lost. Oh, her family was amazing—the way they managed to hold
strong for her, encourage her and make themselves constantly available
should she want to talk. But Mike, the very man she had vowed would
never get near her when she recognized his flirting last spring, was the
only thing in her life that allowed her to feel like a woman. For that
she would be forever grateful.

 

Tommy Booth was the new kid in town, just checking in for his senior
year at Valley High School. His father, Walt Booth, had just retired
from the Army and had given Tommy his choice—a military academy, a
nonmilitary private academy or Valley High. Tommy chose to live with his
dad for a couple of reasons—he’d lost his mom in a car accident a few
years ago and it had just been him and his dad since, a couple of
bachelors who got along fairly well for father and son. And his older
sister, married and pregnant and separated from her husband by the
Marine Corps, was going to come to Virgin River to live with them until
Matt, his brother-in-law, got back from the Middle East. She was going
to have her baby there—and Tom was secretly a little excited about that.
Plus, there were his horses, which he couldn’t take to a private school.

Tom’s father, a retired three-star general, had found this property a
couple of years ago; the general had a younger sister and niece a few
hours south in Bodega Bay and had looked all over California for the
right spot, not too far away from them. Aunt Midge was sick; she had
been sick several years, bedridden the past three. She was worse than
sick—she was terminal, with Lou Gehrig’s disease, and her daughter,
Shelby, was her full-time caregiver. Walt Booth had been ready to settle
in Bodega Bay to be there for her even though he was more of a forest
and mountains than beach kind of guy. But Midge had convinced him not to
choose Bodega Bay because of her presence there—she wasn’t going to last
more than a couple of years. She might be gone by the time Walt retired
from the Army and if she was not, he could visit. Thus, Virgin
River—close enough to see Midge and Shelby as often as he could, but the
kind of place Walt wanted to put down his final roots. It had begun to
look as if Aunt Midge was right—she couldn’t possibly have much longer.
By the time Walt and Tommy got to Virgin River, Midge needed
twenty-four-hour care, and Hospice was on the scene.

While Walt finished his last assignment at the Pentagon, he’d had the
house renovated via long distance and the new stable and corral
constructed. Tommy had seen it only once before actually moving in, but
he loved the land—the enormous trees, the rivers, the coast, the
mountainsides and valleys through which he could ride.

Classes started in late August. He wasn’t that jazzed about the high
school. The kids sure weren’t as sophisticated as the D.C. kids. And Tom
was a little bit on the shy side until he got to know someone. This
being a small-town high school, all the cliques had been established
ages ago, so fitting in was going to take a while. He was a big kid,
athletic, but he’d been too late for football.

He met a kid in first period right off—Jordan Whitley, a funny guy. Kind
of skinny and hyper, but really friendly. He hung out with him a couple
of times after school. Jordan lived pretty close to the school, while
Tom had to drive his little red truck all the way from Virgin River
every day. Also, Jordan’s parents were divorced, he was an only child
and his mom worked—which freed up Jordan’s house until about six. As
long as Tom got home before dinner, in time to take care of the horses,
it was no big deal to go over there for a little while after school.

Tom also learned that there were frequent keggers at an abandoned rest
stop area right at the edge of Virgin River. Weekend parties that Jordan
really wanted him to attend, but Tom always had an excuse. He didn’t
know anyone but Jordan. And he was quiet about the fact that he had a
house to himself for a few days every other week or so while Walt went
to Bodega Bay. He wasn’t about to be overrun by Jordan and his tribe—if
Walt ever found out, he’d be dead meat.

Jordan somehow managed to score beer at his house. After-school beer.
Tom was very careful about that because if the general smelled it on his
breath he was toast. But the other thing Jordan had going on was girls.
He seemed to always have a different girl. So far Tommy hadn’t seen one
that got him excited—Jordan didn’t seem to draw the really pretty ones.
But it was kind of fun to go over to his house and get all the
flirtatious attention bestowed on him, being the new kid and not that
bad looking.

“Come on over to my buddy Brendan’s Friday night,” Jordan invited.
“We’re gonna get lucky.”

“Yeah?” Tommy grinned. “Who you gonna get lucky with?”

“I’ve got this girl who wants me so bad she can’t hold herself back. And
she’s on the pill.”

“So you want me to come over and watch you get lucky? I might have to
pass on that,” he said with a laugh.

“She’s bringing a girlfriend,” Jordan said.

“I might come by for a beer,” Tommy said. “Let me think about it. I
don’t know this Brendan guy.”

“He’s cool,” Jordan said. “He graduated a couple of years ago, and when
his mom goes out of town, which she does a lot, the house is his. And if
we get lucky, we can get lucky all night long, if you get my drift.”

“Oh, I get your drift,” he said. And he was thinking, you idiots. You
don’t go banging the local girls who advertise they’re on the pill. He
wasn’t stupid—that’s how you got stuff. Bad stuff. An image of telling
his dad he had the drip sent shivers up his spine.

But he went. He popped the top on two beers, total, without finishing
either one; he knew better than to drink anything out of a keg or punch
bowl. There was a little pot floating around, though not everyone
indulged. Tommy didn’t get near that shit. Too risky for a kid planning
on West Point; too risky for a boy with a father like Walt, who would
dismember him before killing him.

The girlfriend who was earmarked for Tom if he was interested was way
too aggressive and ready for anything, and he just couldn’t see it.
Plus, Jordan and Brendan were busy getting everyone as shit-faced as
possible, as quickly as possible, and there was nothing quite as funny
to watch—but inevitably boring. He finally slipped away about nine
without anyone really noticing he was gone.

The next Monday morning at school Jordan excitedly asked, “Where’d you
go, man?”

He shrugged. “I had to get home. My dad is pretty strict.”

“Yeah, but we had beer and girls!”

“I had a couple of beers,” he said. “And the girls…Well, I didn’t meet
one I really liked.”

That made Jordan laugh almost hysterically. “Well, so what? You’re not…?
You don’t still have your cherry, do you, man?”

In fact, he did. “’Course not,” he said, because what do you say to
something like that? Tom hadn’t made it with a girl, but not because he
couldn’t. Because he was very careful and he and the last girlfriend
back in D.C. had barely graduated to some petting before he moved away.
He was in a desperate hurry to find a great girl, but she’d have to be a
great girl, not just someone who’d put out. In fact, a girl who put out
was kind of a put-off. And if he found a great girl, he was going to be
a great guy to her, not someone out for himself.

“Come over after school,” Jordan said. “Maybe we can hook you up.”

“Listen, Jord, I know you’re just trying to be a good friend and get me
laid, but how about you worry about you and I’ll take care of myself. Huh?”

“Aw, man, you don’t know what you’re missing!”

But Tom had seen the girls, the beer and pot, and he thought—actually, I
think I do know what I’m missing. He hadn’t met anyone through Jordan
who interested him. So far. “You take care of you—I’ll take care of me.”

Still, Jordan was one of the few friends he’d made. And Jordan loved
coming out to the ranch and hanging around the horses sometimes. The
general didn’t like him, but didn’t have a really good reason. Tom found
himself a little torn—grateful to have a friend at all, but hopeful that
someone a little more substantive would show up before too long.

 

A young man came into the bar and claimed a stool right in front of
Jack. He was clearly under thirty. Jack eyed the polo shirt, khaki pants
and loafers—not the mountain attire most commonly seen around here. This
guy was not hunting, fishing or splitting logs. He gave the counter a
wipe and said, “What can I get you?”

“How about a beer?”

“That’s our specialty,” Jack said, serving him up a cold draft. “Passing
through?”

“No, as a matter of fact. At least I hope that’s a no—I just started
teaching at Valley High School. I thought I’d get to know some of the
folks around here.” He took a pull on his beer. “You have any high
schoolers?”

“Brace yourself,” Jack said, lifting his coffee cup. “I have a new baby.
By the time he gets to high school, I’ll have a walker.”

The young man laughed. He put out a hand. “Zach Hadley.”

“Jack Sheridan. Welcome aboard. How do you like it so far?”

“A little out of my experience, to tell you the truth. I’m used to a
bigger school, city kids. But I wanted to give a rural community a try.”
He grinned. “The kids find me real interesting—they laugh at my clothes.”

Jack grinned. “Lotta ranchers, farmers, vintners and that sort of thing
around here. That, and hunting and fishing.” He nodded at the young man.
“Not a lot of golf.”

“Is that what I look like? A golfer?” He chuckled. “Figures.”

Mel came into the bar, the baby on her hip. She passed the baby right
across the bar to Jack. Jack hefted the baby and said, “Mr. Hadley, meet
David, your future student.” David laughed, put a finger in his mouth
and farted, bringing a big laugh out of Jack.

“Yeah, he’s just warming up. He’s going to be one of the fun ones, I can
tell.”

Jack reached underneath the bar for the backpack. He very deftly slipped
David into it and then the straps over his shoulders. “Mel,” he said,
while getting David comfortable. “Meet Zach Hadley, new high school
teacher in town.”

They shook hands and Zach explained he was renting a small place outside
Clear River and was just getting around, meeting neighbors and parents
of his kids. “Well, you’re here at the right time,” Mel said. “The
locals will start turning out for a beer or cup of coffee.”

“Excellent,” he said. “Do you run this place with your husband?”

“No. I’m a nurse practitioner and midwife. I work across the street with
Doc Mullins in his clinic.”

“Is that a fact?” he asked, intrigued.

“It’s a fact no one around here gives birth in daylight,” Jack said,
serving his wife a short beer.

“My very able helper,” Mel said. “When I have a delivery at Doc’s, Jack
usually sits up through the night in case I need him for anything.”

Mike came into the bar, took his place beside Mel. Jack introduced him
as a former LAPD police officer who’d served with him in the Marine
Corps. Next was Doc.

“You know, there’s a lot of interesting experience in this little bar. I
bet it would be good for some of the kids to hear about your career
choices. How about it?”

Mike said, “I’ve done that, actually.”

“You have? How’d it go?” Zach asked.

“Hmm,” he said, shaking his head. “They wanted to know two things—have I
ever shot anyone and have I ever been shot. My answers were yes, and not
yet. Shortly after that I was shot. I don’t think that’ll get the
department any recruits.”

“I’d be happy to talk to the kids about birth control, sexually
transmitted disease and sexual assault,” Mel said. “I’ve been looking
for a way into the school—this is pretty conservative country.”

“Mel,” Jack said, “Zach was just saying he’s new and hopes he’s not just
passing through.” Preacher came into the bar with a rack of clean
glasses. “Preacher, meet Zach, new high school teacher in town. He’s
looking for some volunteers to talk to his students about their career
choices.”

“Hey, man,” Preacher said, shoving his rack under the bar, wiping a big
meaty hand on his apron and sticking it out. “Nice to meet you.”

“You could talk about being a chef,” Jack said.

Preacher looked at Zach, smiled and said, “No way in hell. I barely talk
to my own wife. Welcome to town.” Then he went straight back to the kitchen.

Zach leaned over the bar and looked past Mike and Mel to Doc. “Dr.
Mullins?” he questioned hopefully.

Doc lifted his one whiskey of the day along with a bushy white eyebrow.
He sipped, put the whiskey down and said, “In your dreams, young man.”

Zach picked up his beer and said, very good-naturedly, “That went well.”

“You know what you got yourself here, young man,” Jack said. “You got
yourself an excellent place to have a beer.”

“How about you, Jack? You’d do it, right?”

“Sure, Zach. I’ll go tell the kids all the advantages of owning your
very own bar. Right after that, Mel can teach them sexual
responsibility. Kind of a little family business.”

“That’s it,” Zach said. “An excellent place to have a beer.”


    Three

S ue and Doug Carpenter and Carrie and Fish Bristol—best couple
friends—had been having an after-work beer at Jack’s a couple of times a
week since he opened, so Mel knew them well. And Sue had called Mel to
make an appointment for her sixteen-year-old daughter. On the phone she
had said, “The girl is pregnant and we have to do something.” Well, this
was Mel’s job—to give medical attention to pregnant women, whatever
their age or marital status. And Sue was a bit put out that Mel insisted
on seeing her patient alone first.

“What have we got, Brenda?” Mel asked, looking at the chart.

“I guess I’m pregnant,” she said. “Figures.”

Mel looked up from the chart. Brenda was a high school junior. From
gossip between the Carpenters and Bristols at the bar, Mel had gathered
that this girl was an honor student, cheerleader, student council
officer—a leader. College bound; scholarship material. Nature certainly
doesn’t discriminate, Mel thought. “Do you know how many periods you’ve
missed?”

“Three. Can you get rid of it?”

Mel tilted her head, surprised by the caustic edge to the girl’s
question. Brenda had always been soft-spoken, on the sweet side. The
tragedy was usually that these young girls were ready to throw away
their lives, their promising futures, based on some immature romance
with a young boy. Didn’t sound as if Brenda was suffering from that
syndrome. “You have lots of options, but first things first—how about I
examine you to be sure that’s what’s going on.”

“Fine,” she said shortly. “Whatever.”

“Okay, let’s get you in this gown. Everything off. And I’ll be back.
How’s that?”

Rather than answer, Brenda snatched the gown and didn’t even wait for
Mel to leave before she began undressing.

Mel went to the kitchen, had a sip of her diet cola and ran this over in
her mind. Maybe Brenda was just mad at her mother for finding out. Maybe
the boy had taken off. Maybe a lot of things, she thought. She reminded
herself to stick to the facts for now.

She gave Brenda a few minutes, knowing better than to stretch this out
for too long. Brenda didn’t need to settle her nerves; she needed to get
this over with.

“Have you had a pelvic before?” Mel asked her.

“No,” she said shortly. “Just do it.”

“Sure thing,” Mel said. “But let me get your blood pressure and listen
to your heart first, if you don’t mind.”

“Whatever.”

“Brenda, excuse me, but are you angry with me?”

“I am angry in general,” she said.

Mel sat on her stool and looked up at the girl. “Because…?”

“Because this sucks.”

“Well, people make mistakes. You’re human…”

“Yeah? I could live with that if I knew I was making a mistake!”

“Okay, let’s back up a little. Want to tell me about it?”

“Why bother? Do it, okay? You’ll just think I’m as stupid as I already
think I am.”

“Try me,” Mel said, crossing her legs, resting her arms on her knee.

“I went to a party. A kegger. I got drunk. I woke up sick. Puking sick.
The guy I was with said he passed out and nothing happened. But
obviously someone is lying if I’m pregnant.”

Mel couldn’t help herself—her mouth dropped open. “Brenda, you told your
mother about this?”

“Not until two periods didn’t come, because how was I going to know? I
did one of those home test things. I never thought it would be…positive….”

“Were you sore? In your vagina?”

“I was sore everywhere! Like I’d fallen down a flight of stairs! And so
sick I wanted to die. My vagina was about the last thing on my mind!”

“When you woke up—you were dressed? Any evidence of rape?”

“Completely dressed. Right down to the vomit on my shirt. And in my
hair,” she added with a shudder.

“And you were with friends? Anyone see anything?”

“I was with a couple of girlfriends and one useless guy. They were all
as drunk as me. We’d never…It was like the first time for something like
that. I’ve had maybe one or two beers, but I’ve never been to a kegger
before. I’m obviously not much of a drinker.”

“Do you remember drinking a lot?” Mel asked.

“I don’t remember much of anything. A couple of the guys said I was
totally shitty. Drunk out of my mind. And one of my girlfriends swears
my date really did pass out right away.”

“Ever think there could have been a drug involved? Slipped into your beer?”

“What kind of drug?” she asked.

“What do you think happened?” Mel asked her.

“I think I got hammered and let some guy—Obviously I wasn’t in a
position to make a good decision. Plus, these are my friends. Well, the
girls I went with are my friends—they wouldn’t lie to me. I don’t hang
out with the other ones who were there.”

“All of them were your friends?”

“Someone’s not—unless there was a guy there who also doesn’t remember.”

Mel leaned forward. It was in her mind to ask Brenda if she’d ever heard
the term, whiskey dick. “An unfortunate reality for most males is that
too much alcohol inhibits erection or ejaculation. Whoever did this
remembers.”

“And is lying…”

“Well, somebody’s lying—and if you’re pregnant and can’t remember
getting that way, it probably isn’t you. Brenda, you could have been raped.”

“Or—I could have been so stupid drunk I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Same thing, in my mind,” Mel said with a shrug. “Have you talked to the
police?”

“Yeah.” She laughed bitterly. “Right.”

Mel reached out a hand to touch her knee and Brenda flinched. Mel’s mind
immediately flashed on Carra and she cringed inwardly. “You have DNA in
you, Brenda. The person responsible can be revealed.”

“Uh-huh. That should be interesting.” She laughed again. “Real interesting.”

“Listen, Brenda…”

“I don’t want to know. Whoever it is will just say I wanted it. Why
wouldn’t he? And I would never be able to say otherwise, since I don’t
fricking know. Meanwhile not only the whole school, but the whole town
would know Brenda is a whore. Brenda’s knocked up, Brenda would like
everyone to believe she was drugged.” She laughed at Mel. “Who are we
kidding? Huh?”

“Is that likely? Let me tell you something—girls who aren’t sexually
active don’t usually have one occasion of getting drunk and waking up
pregnant because they wanted it.” Brenda looked away. “Have you been
sexually active? Not that it matters in this case.”

Her eyes came back and the anger had seeped away. “I had a boyfriend
last year who…I really liked him a lot. But we didn’t go all the way.”
She looked down. “I wouldn’t give it up. I wanted to be sure, wanted it
to be special. You know?” Now there were tears in her eyes, but they
vanished as quickly as they had come.

Mel touched her hand. “It’ll still be special, honey,” Mel said,
standing up. “When you’re ready, it’ll be special. Let’s do an exam,
test you for sexually transmitted disease, get a blood workup for HIV.”

“H-I-Vee?” she asked, stricken. “Oh, fuck!”

“One thing at a time, Brenda. Are you up-to-date on the hepatitis B
vaccine for school immunizations?”

“Hepatitis B?” she asked. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“It’s also an STD,” Mel said.

“Oh, God,” Brenda said weakly.

“Take it easy, sweetheart. Feet here, in the stirrups, slide down for
me, that’s it.” She put on her gloves. “Take a deep breath, let it out
slowly and relax your muscles as much as possible. There you go.” Mel
took a look and noted some inflammation, tenderness. She did her pap
slide, then inserted a swab in the cervical area to test for chlamydia
and gonorrhea. “I’m going to let that swab sit for a moment. Listen, do
you remember the people who were at that party? And where it was?”

Brenda put the back of her hand on her forehead and her chin quivered.
“All I want to do is get it out of me and get on with my life. School
already started and everything….”

“I understand that, but I’m worried. This isn’t a situation we should
ignore. What if some other young woman is attacked like this, made
pregnant without even consenting to sex?”

“Or remembering that she consented?”

“Do you remember any bruising? On your arms, pelvis, hips? Buttocks?”

“My chest was really sore, and so was my throat. I thought it was from
throwing up.”

“Where?” Mel asked. Brenda put her palm against her upper chest, on her
sternum, right above her breasts. “On the outside? Like you’d been hit
in the chest by a…by a basketball or something?”

“Yeah,” she said, apparently surprised by how well the analogy fit.

Mel finished her exam and helped Brenda sit up. “Would you be willing to
talk to someone about this? Like maybe one of the nurses at the family
planning clinic? Give whatever details you can remember?”

“What for?”

“For the future protection of some girl who doesn’t know what dangers
lurk at a kegger?” Mel said.

Brenda looked down miserably. “I don’t know.”

“No one’s going to expose you. No one’s going to confront anyone without
charges being filed. But for right now—you deserve better than to have
no idea what happened to you.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I’ll have to think about it.”

“Okay. Get dressed. But first—will you tell me one thing? The party. Was
it here? In Virgin River?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Right here.”

 

Mel had a long chat with a nurse in the family planning clinic in
Eureka. She agreed that it was very important to interview this patient,
but before that could even happen, Brenda miscarried. Less than a week
later the test results came back positive for chlamydia.

Mel immediately got in touch with Carra Winslow. She was a little past
caring if a parent answered the phone, but fortunately for Carra, it was
she who picked up. Mel was straightforward—she told her there was a
venereal disease making the rounds and it was imperative that Carra
return to the clinic for testing.

She also tested positive for chlamydia. Mel fixed her up with
antibiotics and made her promise to return to the clinic in a couple of
months to follow up. Carra still refused birth control; she was no
longer seeing the two-week boyfriend. And even though he had given her
an infection, she still wouldn’t blame him or name him.

But this weighed on Mel’s mind mightily. She was afraid they might have
a serious problem in her town.

 

September and October brought a time of year that Mel disliked, though
it was good for the bar. Bear- and deer-hunting season. Since there was
no hunting inside the Virgin River town limits, the hunters they saw
were those who passed through town en route to and from the lodges and
camps in Shasta and the Trinity Alps where some of the best hunting was
found. As a rule, these were a decent lot of men and even a few women,
many of whom had been seen at Jack’s in previous years and made it a
point to stop by to enjoy Preacher’s cooking. And Preacher went to a
little extra trouble, knowing they’d bring their money and high
expectations. They didn’t change the pricing of their food and drinks
for the hunters—it was all sold on the cheap, catering first to the
town. But Jack did lay in some of the finer liquors, like Johnnie Walker
Blue, because this was a monied crowd who liked their drinks. And they
always left a lot more money on the bar and tables than they were charged.

City girl that she was, Mel abhorred the sight of a beautiful buck tied
to the roof of an SUV or tossed in the back of a truck. Having already
been through one hunting season and being married to a man who happened
to enjoy the hunt, she’d learned to say very little.

Jack and Preacher had always catered to the hunters and fishermen—it was
one of the reasons Jack had built the place. During the season, the bar
stayed open a little later if there were people around, and still opened
at the crack of dawn. Jack usually stayed to help out until at least
nine, sending Mel home to get David settled for the night.

At a time of day when Mel might already have been and gone from her
dinner hour, she had a call to make with Doc, and brought the baby to
Jack. Being over five months now, husky and strong, David was most often
seen riding happily in Jack’s backpack as opposed to the front sling he
had occupied in earlier months. As Mel slipped the straps over Jack’s
shoulders, she said, “He’s fed and changed and I shouldn’t be too long.”

Mike was having his dinner at the bar when six hunters came in. Since
Jack didn’t greet them as men he’d seen before, Mike assumed this might
be their first time through town. These were young men, all in their
twenties, and obviously having a good time. All six went up to the bar,
made a few jokes about the bartender being part-time babysitter, which
Jack took in good-natured stride. They eschewed dinner, opting for some
drinks. Once Jack had set them up with beer and shots, they retired to a
table, where they enjoyed rehashing every aspect of their hunt.

“Who do you think is the designated driver in that crowd?” Mike asked Jack.

Jack was watching, but said nothing. And Mike was watching Jack, because
the latter had a good sense for things. Getting a little loud and rowdy
was not frowned upon here, so long as you could keep your head. These
boys were hanging in there, though they were ordering up more beer and
shots; they wanted a pitcher and a bottle and were getting a little
louder by the shot.

It wasn’t long before Paige came out of the kitchen. “Have you asked
them about dinner?” she asked Jack.

“Last time I offered, they weren’t interested,” he said.

“Okay, let me just check before we close the kitchen.” She went to their
table to ask them if they wanted anything to eat. “My husband has a
great lasagna and garlic bread, but also some broiled, stuffed sturgeon
fresh off the river and steamed vegetables, if you’re interested.”

“Husband?” one of them chortled. “Damn, my hunting sucks no matter where
I go.”

She instinctively retreated a step and the man reached for her hand,
pulling her back. “You can get rid of the husband, can’t you,
sweetheart?” His buddies laughed at his brazenness and Mike thought,
shit. This is not a good thing; you don’t want to mess with Preacher’s
woman. He looked across the bar at Jack’s narrowed eyes. Oh, boy.

Paige simply pulled her hand back, smiled politely and didn’t grapple
with them any longer over food. As she would have gone back to the
kitchen, Jack stopped her and asked her to take David. He slid the
backpack off his shoulders and into her hands and one of the hunters
yelled over to Jack, “That the wife, buddy?” And Jack’s mouth curved in
a slow smile as he shook his head—no, you don’t really want to meet her
husband.

Now, what none of these idiots knew was that Jack hadn’t had a nice
summer. His sister’s trauma was not that long past and he’d been in a
real mood. There was a side of Jack that was all soft, crushed concern
and a side that wanted to kill someone. This was not a great time to
screw with him. Since Jack had shed the baby, a telling move, Mike
thought it might be worth it to try to head this off. He stood up from
his meal at the end of the bar and walked over to their table. He
flipped around a chair from a neighboring table and, straddling the
back, he said, “Hey, boys. You have a good hunt?”

They eyed him suspiciously. One of them said, “One buck—young. Not much
to brag about. Who are you?”

“Name’s Mike—how you doing? Listen, I just thought I’d mention—you don’t
want to overdo it. Especially if you’re driving out tonight.”

They started to laugh, meeting eyes with each other as though sharing
some kind of private joke. “That a fact?” one asked. “And who put you in
charge?”

“I’m not in charge of anything,” he said. “But gee—I’d hate to see
anyone get hurt. These roads,” he said, shaking his head. “Sometimes
pretty tight around the curves going down. And real, real dark. No
lights. No guard rails.”

Right then, Mel came into the bar, hung her jacket on the peg inside the
door and jumped up on a stool in front of her husband, elbows on the
bar, leaning toward him for a kiss.

“Holy shit,” one of the men said. “Look at that one. Talk about a doe
I’d like to bag.”

Jack straightened before meeting his wife’s lips. The look on his face
wasn’t a pretty one.

“You know,” Mike said, laughing uncomfortably, “about our women. You
boys don’t want to be giving the women around here any trouble. Trust me
on this, okay?”

That set up a round of hilarious laughter at the table of hunters and
one of them said, unfortunately too loudly, “Maybe the girl wants to get
bagged. I think we should at least ask her!” But oops—glancing over his
shoulder, Mike saw Jack had heard that. And probably so had Mel. And
after what those two had been through earlier in the summer, comments
like that were not taken lightly.

And that’s when Mike became convinced that these guys had been pretty
well oiled before they hit Virgin River. They had absolutely no
judgment. Hunting and drinking was a thing he disliked—frowned on by him
and his brothers, both the Mexican brothers and Marines. Drinking after
the hunt—that was another story. Especially if the shooting was done,
the guns unloaded and stowed, and all you were going to do was walk out
back to your camper.

He looked back over his shoulder in time to see Jack whisper something
to Mel. Mel jumped off the stool, disappeared into the back and Mike
thought, oh fuck. He stood. “Okay, boys. Settle up for your drinks and
hit the road. While you can still see straight. Okay?”

“Relax, chico. We’re not quite done here.”

Chico? He hated it when people did that. You don’t want to call a
Mexican man a little boy.

Out of the corner of his eye Mike saw him. He’d known he would. Preacher
had come out of the kitchen and stood behind the bar next to Jack, arms
crossed over his massive chest, those big, black eyebrows drawn together
in a frown that only Preacher could effect with such a look of menace.
The diamond stud in his ear seemed to twinkle. Jack had sent Mel for
him. They were ready to mix it up with these guys, defend the place.

Mike absently worked his shoulder a little bit, loosening it up. He
couldn’t remember hearing about a bar fight around here. Certainly not
since Preacher had come on full-time. You’d have to be drunk and stupid
to get into it with him.

These guys looked pretty fit. Lots younger by average than Jack,
Preacher and Mike. But they’d been doing a lot of drinking, whereas that
evening shot before closing had yet to be poured for the crew running
the bar. The home team had been on coffee.

As Mike knew, Jack hated it when his bar got messed up. It was a
sacrifice he’d make if threatened, but it made him very unhappy. Maybe
he’d stay behind the bar and just let them wander off. Or maybe he’d
enjoy a little fight, having had the kind of summer he’d had.

“Come on, boys. Get going. You really don’t want to mess this place up…”
Mike said.

The hunters exchanged looks, then slowly stood. They began to move away
from the table, having left no money to pay for their drinks, which was
a sure clue trouble was coming. The one in the group closest to Mike
whirled suddenly, landing a blow right to Mike’s face. It sent him
skittering backward, his hand to his lip, ending up against the bar. He
said, “Oh, you’re going to hate yourself.”

He wound up and hit back, left-handed, sending his assailant flying into
his boys, knocking two of them off balance.

It started. Preacher and Jack were around the bar before Mike even
delivered his first blow. Preacher knocked two heads together, Jack
landed a blow to one gut, another jaw. Mike grabbed up his attacker,
decked him again and then sent him into another guy, downing them both.
Someone came at Jack with a ready fist, which Jack caught easily,
twisted his assailant’s arm around his back and shoved him into his
boys. In less than two minutes, six partially inebriated young hunters
were on the bar floor, spread over some broken glasses and amidst
toppled chairs and two tables. All of them were moaning. Besides that
first blow to Mike’s face, they hadn’t even managed contact. The
heartiest of the bunch got back on his feet and Preacher grabbed him by
the front of his jacket, lifted him off the floor and said, “You really
wanna be this stupid?” He instantly put up his hands and Preacher
dropped him.

“Okay, okay, we’re out of here,” he said.

“It’s too late for that, guys,” Mike said. He yelled, “Paige!” She stuck
her head into the bar. “Rope!”

“Aw, come on, man,” someone said.

“Just get ’em the hell out of here,” Jack said, disgusted.

“Can’t,” Mike returned. Then to the hunters, “Hell, I tried to warn you.
You don’t want to mess with the women. You don’t want to fight. Not
around here. Jesus,” he said in disgust. “Shit for brains.”

Mike explained to Jack that not only were these boys too drunk to drive
down the mountain, they might get down the road and claim they’d been
jumped. Since they had all the bruises and the home team had only sore
knuckles, it just wouldn’t be smart to take that kind of chance. Better
to let the police handle things now. Fifteen minutes later each one of
them was tied to a porch rail out front, and a half hour after that
three sheriff’s deputies were standing around the front of the bar,
assessing the damage.

“Merciful God,” Deputy Henry Depardeau said. “Every time I turn around,
somebody’s getting beat up or shot around here!”

“Yeah, Henry, we’re awful sorry,” Jack said. “We hardly ever have any
trouble.”

“And what was it this time?” he asked impatiently.

“That one,” Jack said, pointing. “He threw the first punch. That was so
frickin’ rude, don’t you think? You can see, it was just out of line.
You know?”

“You’re taking up way too much of my time!”

“I’ll buy you dinner one of these days, how about that? You and your
boys just drop in anytime.”

“Yeah, yeah. All right, let’s load ’em up. I sure hope you boys have
yourselves licenses and your deer tag.” By the droop of one hunter’s
head, it looked as if there were going to be more fines. It made Jack
laugh. “Aw, man,” Henry said. “Poachers are usually quiet and polite so
they can slip in and out of here unnoticed. I should book you for stupid.”

 

Hope McCrea, a feisty old widow, was almost a daily visitor at Jack’s.
She liked to have a Jack Daniel’s and a cigarette at the end of the day.
She’d often sit up at the bar next to Doc, but there were times Mike
talked with her a while.

“You know I hired Mel to come up here, right?” Hope asked Mike one night.

“I heard that, yeah,” he said.

“I’d like you to come out to the house to talk about something. A
proposition.”

“Well, Hope.” He grinned. “That sounds real interesting….”

“A job, you young fool,” she said, pushing her too-big glasses up on her
nose. But she had a toothy smile for him just the same.

“I don’t want a job, Hope,” he said.

“We’ll see. Jack will tell you how to get there. Tomorrow. Four
o’clock.” She stamped out her cigarette and left.

Mike drove out to Hope’s house the next day because Jack had said it
might be at least worth listening to. Hope was seventy-seven and had
been widowed for over twenty years. She had given Mel a contract for a
year, paid her out of her own accounts plus the cabin she was living in,
now with her husband and child. After that one-year contract was
exhausted, Doc had pulled Mel into his practice and they’d managed a
modest salary for her without help from Hope, which was exactly what
Hope had intended. Mike had learned this from Jack.

Now, according to Jack, what she wanted was a town cop, and she hoped
the same thing would happen—that she would pay him a salary from her
savings for a year and the town would realize it was a positive addition
and manage to pull together enough for his salary.

Hope lived about five miles out of town in a big old Victorian home that
she and her husband had bought fifty years ago. They’d never had
children and so had filled the place up with junk. “I’ve never been
inside,” Jack had told Mike, “but the rumor is that Hope hasn’t thrown
away a thing in seventy years.” After her husband died, Hope had sold
off the acreage to her neighbors for farming and grazing land.

He pulled up to the remarkable old house and found her on the porch with
her coffee and cigarettes and a folder full of papers. When he stepped
up on the porch, she greeted him with a victorious smile and said, “I
knew I would get you eventually.”

“I don’t know what you’d be getting, Hope. I have no idea how to be a
small-town cop.”

“Who does? But you have lots of law enforcement experience, and clearly
we can use it. Lately we seem to have had our share of problems.”

“Not from Virgin River people, however.”

“What’s the difference? If it happens in Virgin River, it becomes our
problem.”

“What have you got there?” he asked, indicating the folder.

“Just paperwork. I had to get a little legal help from a county
attorney. Here’s what I can do—I can hire you as a local security
officer, a constable. Even though you’ve graduated from one of the
toughest police academies in the country, you wouldn’t be recognized by
the state as an official law enforcement officer, but that really
doesn’t matter. If you run across a lawbreaker, you detain them and call
the sheriff, just like you’ve been doing. You’re not prevented from
investigating. Hell, any private investigator can do the same. You
should visit the sheriff’s department, Fish and Game, California
Department of Forestry, the Highway Patrol and some of our neighbor
towns who have their own local police departments. Introduce yourself.
Believe me, they’ll all appreciate any help, with all the territory they
have to cover in these rural towns.”

“And what do you expect me to do?” he asked.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about speeding tickets.” She laughed.
“You’ll figure it out. Assess the needs of the town. It’s a law-abiding
place—there shouldn’t be too much stress. But, as has happened a couple
of times too recently, if we get some real trouble, I want an
experienced police officer around.” She lit another cigarette. “You
don’t have to keep a jail. You shouldn’t need flashing lights or a
bulletproof vest.”

“When would you expect me to be on duty?” he asked.

“I expect, if you’re around, you’re on duty. I understand everyone needs
time off, needs to get out of Virgin River sometimes. If you’re around
five or six days a week, that’s five or six more days a week than we’ve
had. Let’s just hope our crime sprees fall on your work days.”

All that came to mind was a trip to Santa Rosa for lunch every couple of
weeks. Something he hoped would become even more frequent. “Sounds like
a paid vacation,” he said.

“With any luck,” she said. Then she opened the folder and showed him a
one-year contract that displayed a pathetic salary.

“Not exactly a paid vacation,” he said. But then, he’d been looking for
something to do, and it wasn’t necessary that he find work. He had his
retirement and disability income, plus a little savings. “Why do you do
this?” he asked. “First Mel, now me?”

“Hell, someone has to mind the needs of this town. This town is
disorganized—I have to think what to do about that. And we’re growing,
if only a little.” She took a drag. “I’m not going to last forever,
though sometimes I’m afraid I might.”

She slid a badge across the table to him. It said Virgin River
Constable. “I had that made five years ago. Nice, isn’t it?”

“You expect me to wear this?”

“You want to keep it in your pocket until you need it? You don’t have to
wear a uniform or anything. You wouldn’t be the only guy in town
carrying a sidearm or rifle. But I recommend you generate some forms so
you can write up reports when you actually do something. There ought to
be records. Want me to buy you a filing cabinet?”

He grinned at her. “Yeah. That would be nice. It doesn’t have to be big.
And business cards, please. So I can be sure anyone who might need to
call me knows my number.”

“Done.” She smiled back at him, holding out her pen. “For now, just
drive around. Sit on the porch at the bar and talk to people. Fish a
little and think. Think what your job is going to be—you’d know more
about that than me.”

What a kick, he thought. The constable. Hah. For six hundred completely
law-abiding citizens. “I feel like Andy of Mayberry,” he said.

“That’s a damn good place to start,” she said, pointing the pen toward him.

He didn’t take it. “Not just yet,” he said. “Let me get the lay of the
land, then we’ll talk about this contract.”

“You planning to try to negotiate?” she asked suspiciously.

“Oh, I have a feeling that would be useless. But before I make a
commitment to you, to the town, I’d like to find out how receptive my
fellow cops are to having someone like me in the mix. Let me visit
around a little. Lotta type A’s in law enforcement, Hope. Some wouldn’t
take a rope from a guy like me if they were in quicksand. If that’s
going to be the case, I should just save you the time and money.”

“I don’t really care what anyone else thinks about a guy like you.”

He stood up. “Well, you should. I could probably help out a little, but
cops don’t work alone. You might not have local police, but you don’t
want this new idea of yours to drive away the coverage you have. One
thing at a time.”

 

Mike borrowed Preacher’s computer to fashion a pretty informal résumé
and letter of introduction. Because Preacher’s printer wasn’t top
quality, he put the information on a disk and drove over to Eureka to
have both printed. He chose a simple format that merely listed his
experience and gave plenty of phone numbers to check references.

If Mike had been applying for a job, he would have gone into more detail
about training, awards, special assignments. In fact, he felt boastful
about his accomplishments at LAPD, about his experience. He couldn’t see
the advantage in downplaying what he knew about law enforcement and
criminal justice, but when trying to fit in with the local cops, he
didn’t want to appear arrogant. It was a very fine line. His goal was to
become one of them, and he was curious if they would accept him. He was
from the city, he was Mexican, he’d been around the block. Around a lot
of blocks. One thing the local guys never appreciated was some hotshot
hitting town, acting as if he knew it all—whether that happened in L.A.
or Eureka. A lot of ex-cops were boastful, eager to play on their war
stories. A lot of times their war stories were bullshit.

His first stop was the Fortuna Police Department. The chief, Chuck
Andersen, was a big guy with meaty hands, bald, and he wasn’t smiling.
Mike got the immediate impression he reserved his smile, kept it inside
so it would never appear he was playing around. Mike shook his hand and
introduced himself. “Thanks for seeing me, Chief,” he said, handing him
a couple of pages. “I’ve been asked to take a job in Virgin River—town
cop, more or less.”

“Sure,” the big guy said. He indicated a chair but didn’t sit behind his
desk, so Mike continued to stand. The chief looked over the résumé
quickly. “How long you been here?”

“Since just before Christmas. Couple of my best friends live in Virgin
River.”

“Why didn’t you apply to one of the departments around here?”

“I wasn’t looking for work,” Mike answered. “This was a surprise. I
guess the woman who put together a contract for a constable has been
looking for someone, but I didn’t come to Humboldt County to work. I
came here to fish. Hunt.”

“Not too many people can do that at…” He looked through the résumé
briskly. “At thirty-seven.”

Mike took a glance around the office. Family picture, good-looking wife,
two handsome kids, a dog. He smiled with a little envy. “I don’t have a
family. I was retired from LAPD with a disability.”

The chief’s eyes came up to Mike’s face. “How’d that happen?”

“I got shot,” Mike said without self-consciousness. “During that last
assignment on the résumé,” he added with a nod toward the paperwork.

“Gang Unit,” Andersen said. He looked as if he might have memorized the
page by now. “Patrol, narcotics, gangs, robbery, gangs again.”

“I worked gangs, then after passing the sergeant’s exam, was reassigned
there with my own squad. I loved gangs. I hated narcotics,” Mike said
unnecessarily. “I was always good with Patrol. Grassroots policing
suited me.”

Finally the chief sat, so Mike took his seat. When he did so, the chief
lifted his eyes slightly, maybe surprised. “Marine Corps,” he said.

“Yes, sir. Active for four, reserves for ten.” Then he laughed. “I got
through a lot of stuff, then got picked off by a fourteen-year-old.” He
shrugged. “No accounting for luck.” As the résumé described, when Mike
had finished his first tour with the Marines, he’d started college on
the GI bill, and got his degree in criminal justice while working LAPD.

The chief read awhile. Then he lifted his eyes again. “What’s your
mission here?”

“Here? In your office or in Virgin River?”

“Okay, my office.”

“I just want to say hello. I’m going around to the departments. If the
meter reads No Help Wanted, I’m not signing that contract. If the local
cops think they can stand having a guy like me helping out in Virgin
River, I might go with it, see what I can do.”

“A guy like you?”

“Ex-cop,” he said. “I know at least as many ex-cops as cops. I realize
most of us come with a lot of baggage, a lot of stories. I used to get
real bored with ’em, real tired of all the drama. And here I am—one of
them. With drama. With a big story.” He shrugged. “I’m checking out how
that goes over. It’s only fair. To you guys.”

“This department doesn’t have any presence in Virgin River….”

“There’s always the chance a problem in Virgin River could connect to
your town, your department—in which case I’d like to think there’s
someone I could talk to over here.”

The chief seemed to think a moment. He almost smiled. “And the disability?”

“I’m as close to a hundred percent as a guy can get. It was mainly the
shoulder,” he said, working it a little bit. “It’s all good. I can shoot
straight, angle just fine. I’ve got a left arm that’s getting better all
the time.”

“But you’re taking the comp, the disability.”

“Damn straight,” Mike said with a nod. “I paid into it for fifteen years
and it wasn’t the first time a weapon was fired my way. I’m just a
working guy. But you know, I’m so damn lucky—the head works, the brain
seems okay. I’d like you to know something—if I’d had a chance to talk
my way out of that shooting, I might have tried, but it wasn’t like
that.” He nodded toward the paperwork. “There’s a report available, if
you want it. I was kind of…I was ambushed. That’s all. It was a jump
into a gang, and picking off the sergeant was a coup. So…That’s it. I
thought I’d come up here and—”

“You could get a good job with a résumé like this. There are lots of
places—private industry, corrections, small departments…”

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, chuckling. “That’s nice, I appreciate it. Go
ahead and call some folks for references. There are lots of names on
that résumé there—and you can get all the numbers of people not on the
résumé. If I can help out in Virgin River, great. If it’s a problem—I
got a lot of fish to catch.”

“How much can there be to do in Virgin River?” Andersen asked.

“Hopefully, not a lot,” Mike answered. He nodded toward the pictures on
the credenza. “Beautiful family,” he said. “Good-looking dog,” he added.

“She’s yours,” the chief said. Then he smiled. “The dog.”

It was Mike’s turn to smile. “You wouldn’t give away that dog,” he returned.

“Nah, but I might trade her for enough dirt to fill the holes in the
yard. Try me.”

Mike laughed and stuck out his hand, which Andersen shook. “Thanks,
Chief. Enjoyed it.” He gave a nod, the chief gave a nod and Mike left.

To be met with some suspicion and reluctance was not unexpected, but it
didn’t make the experience very inviting. Mike was damn glad he wasn’t
looking for work. He had to fight himself to keep from being a little
insulted; he was a decorated police officer from a big…no, huge
department. But he reminded himself this was their turf. He was an
inter-loper.

Despite the fact it was intimidating and difficult, he visited the
Eureka department, the sheriff’s department, Garberville police, Grace
Valley, a few other small towns that had local police, sometimes just
one or two cops. The initial reaction was always the same. Yeah, you’re
this big-shot guy? What’re you doing up here, poking around? Why not go
after a real job?

A few days later Chief Chuck Andersen called him. “I thought you might
want to spend a little time over here,” he said. “Do a ride along, look
at a couple of things. See how it’s different in a small city. Maybe
give us a perspective…”

“That would be good, sir. I’d like that,” Mike said.

“I called a couple of people at LAPD,” Andersen said. “You have a pretty
good reputation there.”

He had an excellent reputation there. “Thanks,” he said. “I was better
at some things than others. I did okay in police work.”

“Seems like,” Andersen said. “Good to have you helping out. Do a ride
along with one of our guys. And Valenzuela? Bring a pillow.”

Mike laughed. “Thanks, sir.”

The sheriff called, then the Eureka chief. Tom Toopeek, the chief from
Grace Valley, weighed in, but there were towns that never got back to
him. No matter, the consensus was that he would be welcomed as a
constable. By state regulation he was not an official law enforcement
officer, but more or less one of the team as far as most of the local
guys were concerned. He’d be happy to help out anyone who asked, but
what mattered was that he could go to them if there was a problem in his
town. And he’d be happy to have a purpose again.

He signed the contract. The first person he told about it was Brie.

 

Tom Booth met a girl in physics who he thought might fill the bill.
Brenda. Gorgeous Brenda. Soft, shiny, light brown hair that curled under
on her shoulders, blue eyes, drop-dead figure, long legs, a smile that
could put him in a trance. She was more beautiful than any girl he’d
seen in D.C., which was some kind of miracle—the D.C. girls were pretty
awesome. Fortunately, she seemed almost as shy around guys as he was
around girls, which could work to his advantage. He struck up a
conversation with her in class and learned that she was only a junior,
in accelerated math and science programs, and he thought, hot shit.
Pretty, smart, nice. Yup, this was a winner.

They talked about her plans for college, his horses. He asked her if
she’d like to go out sometime and she said maybe. “Not right now. I’m
kind of just getting over a really bad flu. Had me flat on my back right
as school was starting and I’m still on medication, so my mom is a
little overprotective.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “Maybe we could do homework together sometime,
when you start feeling better.” Then he smiled his most engaging smile
and said, “If you don’t mind me saying so, you sure don’t look sick.”

“I’m feeling lots better than I did, believe me.”

“So—maybe I could call you sometime? You feeling well enough for that?”

“Yeah,” she said with a smile. “That would be okay.”

“What do you like to do? When you’re not—you know—feeling bad?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Games. Dances. Movies.”

“Great,” he said. “That sounds great. I’ll give you a call one of these
days.” And he thought, maybe this isn’t going to be such a boring place
after all.

He called her that night. Why waste time?


    Four

T he fall air was crisp and refreshing and Mel, still troubled by a
couple of her cases, wandered over to the bar in the afternoon as David
napped in Doc’s care. She found Mike sitting on the porch, feet up on
the rail, his hat, his Rio Concho, pushed down on his forehead to shield
his eyes from the sun, taking in a relaxing autumn day. She sat in the
Adirondack chair next to him, scooted forward on the edge.

“Looking for your man?” he asked.

“Actually, I was looking for you,” she said. “What’s going on in there?”
she asked, giving her head a toss toward the inside.

“Preacher and Paige are getting dinner ready.”

“Are we alone?”

“Yeah.” He shoved his hat back, took his feet off the rail and put them
on the wood planks of the porch, turning toward her. He rested his
elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “What’s the matter? You don’t
look too happy.”

“Let me ask you something. Just how much of a cop do you intend to be
around here? What if I suspected a possible problem? Could you look into
it? Maybe investigate?”

“Well, I have detective experience, but I’m used to having a crime lab
to back me up.” He grinned. “I used to belong to the biggest gang in L.A.”

“Gang?”

“LAPD. Lotta backup there. Want to lay it on me?”

She took a breath. “Understand, I can’t give you names or evidence—just
a real strong intuitive hunch. And I’ve been doing this awhile.”

“Shoot.”

She looked into his coal-black eyes. “I’m worried that we have a date
raper. A kid, I think. I’ve had two girls who were clearly
forced—neither willing or able to admit it. The scenarios were
different, but there were some alarming similarities.”

“Go on,” he said, encouraging her to continue.

“The first came to me for emergency birth control. She said that she and
her boyfriend of a whole two weeks had decided to have sex and at the
last minute she lost her nerve, but he couldn’t stop. She was bruised.
Held down. Her vagina was ragged and torn. She was visibly upset. But
she absolutely insists she was not forced.

“The second one went to a kegger somewhere around town—her first
drinking party, though she admits to having a beer or two before. She
passed out and didn’t remember having sex, but missed two periods and
took a home pregnancy test and told her mother what had happened. The
kids at the party were all drunk, she said, and no one remembered
anything….”

“Yeah, right,” he said.

“I explained that to her—that in order to have successful intercourse,
it was very likely one of them wasn’t too drunk.”

“Very likely? I thought that was a law of nature,” Mike said.

“I thought it was, too,” she said. “It was obviously too late to detect
damage or bruising—but she said she’d been very sore all over,
especially on her chest.” She laid her hand on her own sternum. “As if
hit in the chest with a basketball.”

“Possibly held down as she struggled,” he supplied. “What about bruising
on the inside of her thighs?”

“She didn’t recall anything like that, but she was distracted by the
fact she was real hung over and sick. The first one, however, had
unmistakable finger and thumb prints on the inside of her thighs. Both
tested positive for chlamydia. The pregnant one miscarried and,
understandably, wants to forget the whole thing. If she can. Neither of
them would give me a name or even an age of the boy or boys.”

He winced visibly, inhaled deeply and rolled his eyes briefly skyward.
“Jesus,” he said.

“I can’t go anywhere with this. I don’t even have grounds to report it
without at least one of them relenting and saying it could have been
rape. In the second case, the girl didn’t remember drinking much—I’m
wondering if there was a drug involved.”

“Roofies?” he asked. “GHB? That could have made her really sick.”

“She woke up covered in vomit.”

“She’s lucky she woke up. A side effect of GHB is a suppressed gag
reflex. She could have aspirated and died,” he pointed out.

“This really eats at me, Mike. There’s nothing I can do. Well, I did do
one thing—I got a vaginal swab from number one, but intercourse was a
couple of days old and I’m sure she bathed a couple of times before
coming in. Even if it turns out there’s DNA present, we might never get
that far.”

“But still, good thinking. Any chance you got pictures of the bruising?”

“No. I have nothing. She was nearly hysterical and insisted she wasn’t
raped. If she had relented, even once, and said that she’d been held
down and forced, I would have reported it. As it stands, all I have is
this big ache in my gut that tells me there’s a teenage boy out there
who’s out of control.”

“Sounds like it’s time for me to get to know the youth of Virgin River.”

“Whew. I hoped I could dump this on you. I feel a little lighter already.”

“You tell anyone else?”

“Yeah—I did. I called June Hudson in Grace Valley—she and her partner,
John Stone, will be watching their patients for similar symptoms. And
the family planning clinic in Eureka is aware of my concerns. But
Mike—what sickens me most is that my second girl said this happened in
Virgin River.”

“Either a teenager whose testosterone popped or a new kid in town. Worth
looking at.”

“Thank you.”

“Obviously, if any more girls come into the clinic—”

“Of course. I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“I’ll start looking around, talking to people.”

“Thanks,” she said, leaning back in her chair, relieved.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something else, Mel. I’m ready
to discontinue the antidepressant you prescribed after the shooting,
during my recovery.”

She smiled at him. “Feeling pretty good?” she asked.

“Stronger, yes. I agree, it was a good idea at the time. But—”

“Sure, sure. We said a few months, right? Sounds good,” she said. “Let’s
take you down slowly. I’ll write up a dosage schedule for you. We’ll
have you off in a couple of weeks. How’s that?”

“Perfect.”

 

John—Preacher to his friends—was thirty-three years old and knew a lot
about war and about cooking, about hunting and fishing. He’d served in
the Marine Corps for twelve years and followed Jack to Virgin River,
where he’d turned himself into one of the best cooks in the region, if
little known. But his knowledge of women was recent.

When he met and married his wife, that was when his education began.
He’d been a man who knew few women up to that point, and he’d never
considered himself much of a lover. In fact, he’d been scared to death
of Paige—she was so petite and feminine and he was six-four, muscled,
with huge, strong hands and shoulders so broad he had to turn sideways
to pass through some doorways. He had been terrified that he’d hurt her,
leave a bruise on her.

But she had worked him through it, confident that he was the gentlest
man she’d ever known. In her arms he had been transformed. Now he not
only understood the female body, but worshipped it. Things he hadn’t
known existed were now second nature to him, and his wife was his
treasure, the most awesome gift he could ever have received. To make her
feel wonderful was one of his greatest obsessions. He knew every
erogenous spot to touch, to kiss, and the better he could make her feel,
the more he enjoyed his own experience.

She was his partner by day in the bar, working beside him in the cooking
and management, and his angel by night in his arms. Between them they
parented her son, Christopher, now four years old, and Preacher had the
kind of happiness he’d thought existed only for other men. There was one
small problem—he and Paige wanted to have a baby together, and while
they’d been married only a few months, she’d stopped taking her pills
over six months ago and nothing had happened.

He might be disappointed, but she was beyond disappointment. She’d been
pregnant when she stumbled into the bar a year ago, and, as a result of
a horrific beating from her then husband, had miscarried. Paige was
afraid that there might be some kind of damage to her reproductive
organs that would prevent her from having a baby with John—and sometimes
it caused her deep sadness.

At the end of every day he would clean his kitchen at the bar, turn off
the Open sign and lock the door, read to Christopher after he’d had his
bath, then retire to the little apartment he shared with his wife, and
love her. Born again in her arms, night after night.

He found her in the bathroom, wearing one of his huge T-shirts, and he
caught her softly crying. It had been a very long time since he’d seen
her tears, and it knocked the wind out of him. He couldn’t bear it.
“Here, here,” he said, pulling her into his strong embrace. “You’re crying.”

She wiped the tears off her cheeks and looked up at him. “It’s nothing,”
she said. “I got my period again. I didn’t want it to come. I wanted to
be pregnant.”

“You weren’t even late,” he said, for he knew everything about her,
about her body. You could set a watch by her.

“Not even an hour late,” she said, and a big tear spilled over.

“Is it a hard one?” he asked tenderly.

“No, it’s nothing at all. Except, I thought maybe finally…”

“Okay, it’s time,” he said, wiping away the tear. “You should talk to
Mel. Maybe to John Stone. See if we should check something out.”

“I get the impression that could be expensive.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” he said. “Never mind money—this is about
us being happy. We want a baby. We should do what we have to do. Right?”

“John, I’m sorry—”

“Why are you sorry? You’re not in this alone. Everything is both of us.
Right?”

“Month after month…”

“Well, now we’re going to face it and ask for advice. We’ll get some
help. No more crying.”

But she dropped her head against his chest and wept anyway, and it tore
his heart out. He couldn’t stand Paige to be in any kind of pain. He
lived for her happiness; she was his world. His life.

“Are you crying because you’re PMS-y?” he asked.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Cramps? Want me to rub your back?”

“No,” she said. “I feel fine. Really.”

He lifted her chin and kissed her deeply. Lovingly. Lustfully. “Want me
to make you feel a little better? I know how.”

“That’s okay, John. There’s no need.”

“You don’t have to be shy with me. There’s no part of your life, your
body, that puts me off. I love every bit of you.”

She sighed deeply. “I should just take a shower and crawl into bed. I’m
feeling sorry for myself.”

He reached behind her and started the water. Then he ran his hand up the
back of her thigh, over her bum and under the large T-shirt she wore,
caressing her back, pulling her close to kiss her some more. When he
released her lips, he slowly pulled the T-shirt over her head. He loved
the way she stood so erect and comfortable when she was naked in front
of him, when he filled his eyes with her. He lowered his lips to her
naked breast and drew gently on a nipple, causing her to let her head
drop back and sigh deeply. If there was anything about his life with her
that was past magnificent, it was the fact that she was as easily turned
on by him as he was by her. Their love life gave her a constant glow.
And he knew exactly how to make the tears go away.

He pulled the shower curtain wider for her to step inside, but then he
quickly shed his clothes and got in with her. He pulled her into his
arms again, his mouth on hers, his hands on her body.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered against his lips. “I never do
anything I don’t want to do,” he said. “I’m going to give you something
happy to think about.” He kissed her forehead. “Baby, I love you so much.”

 

Mel and Jack had just finished having dinner together at the bar when
Paige approached their table. “Mel, do you have a minute? I wanted to
ask you something. Something medical.”

“Sure,” she said. “We can kill two birds with one stone—I have to nurse
the wild one. Maybe we can go to your place.”

Jack handed over the baby. “I’ll take the bar,” he said.

Mel didn’t have a lot of occasions to be in Paige and Preacher’s room
behind the bar, but those few times she was, warm memories flooded back
to her. This was where Jack had lived when she came to town; this was
where David was no doubt conceived. She remembered the night so
well—she’d had a major emotional meltdown, standing in the rain crying
over her dead husband on the anniversary of his death, and Jack had held
her. Then he’d dried her off, given her a brandy, put her to bed.
Sometime later he’d joined her there and showed her a life and love
she’d never known could exist for her.

Now the room held the influence of Paige—pictures of Christopher, some
toys in the corner, flowers on the table. Paige had drifted into their
lives almost exactly a year ago, a battered wife on the run, and with
Preacher’s strength behind her, had divorced her abusive husband and
seen him sent to prison.

Paige sat on the sofa and Mel took the big chair, settling David on the
breast. He curled around her comfortably, gently kneading her breast
with his chubby hand.

“John wanted me to talk to you—I’m sorry to bother your evening, but you
weren’t around Doc’s much the last couple of days.”

“No problem. You’re not bothering my evening. He’s bothering my
evening,” she said with a smile. “He’s crabby tonight. Too much running
around, I think. Not to mention cookies. What’s on your mind?”

“I’m not getting pregnant,” she said. “It’s only been six months or so
that I’ve been off the pill, but in my previous life it was as though I
couldn’t keep from getting pregnant. What do you think I should do?”

“Well, let’s see—are your periods regular?”

“As clockwork,” she said.

“The assumption is that you’re ovulating regularly, then. Usually, if
you’re going to do any kind of infertility workup, you start with
Dad—make sure you’re dealing with an adequate sperm count. It’s the
cheapest and quickest test, plus you don’t want to do a complete workup
on Mom until you rule out Dad. And after all, we know you can get pregnant.”

“Well—I could before,” she said.

“Still, there was no indication any damage was caused beyond the
miscarriage,” Mel said. “Bleeding stopped right after the D & C and you
haven’t had any peculiarities—like real heavy or weird periods, have you?”

“No, not at all.”

“And you have relations on a regular basis?”

Paige rolled her eyes. “You have to remember, John has just discovered
sex,” she said. Then she smiled a bit shyly.

“Oh,” Mel said. “I take that to mean—?” But she stopped herself.

“He can’t get enough,” she said. “But then, I haven’t had a loving
partner until now, so I’m not complaining.”

“Well, that might be the problem. Having a lot of sex is a bad way to
get pregnant. It depletes his sperm count. Before you try any fancy
tests, you should drive to Fortuna, buy yourself an ovulation testing
kit at the drugstore and ask Preacher to save up. It takes at least
forty-eight hours to replenish the count. Make him wait. No more often
than every couple of days. Every few days would be better and then only
once—no marathons. And you want to make sure he’s been on ice a few days
before the big day.” She smiled. “You get a reprieve on ovulation day,
of course. Knock yourselves out.”

“Oh, brother,” she said, looking a bit stricken.

“How much do you want a baby?” Mel asked. “In fact, you might not hit
pay dirt that first month. You might have to keep that kind of schedule
for two or three months. Just because you’re both fertile doesn’t mean
you get pregnant on one try.”

“Oh, boy,” she said. “I can just imagine how happy John’s going to be to
hear this. I’ll have to remind him it was his idea to get your input.”

“If you like, we can do a sperm count before you put him through all
this—but if it’s low, the prescription is going to be wait it out, see
if it gets better. On the other hand, if it’s really high after all that
sex, he’s good to go. No reason to cut him off. Are you a betting woman?”

“I have a feeling how this is going to turn out,” Paige said. “He’ll
want to do what matters, but…”

Mel laughed in spite of herself. “Yeah, he’s been so happy for just
months now. I guess I can expect those frowns and scowls back. My
advice—try this for three months and then begin the infertility
routine—starting with sperm count. Sure you want to do this?” she asked,
taking the baby off the breast and putting him over her shoulder for a burp.

“I want a baby, yes,” she said. “But John was the first one to say he
wanted children with me.”

“You can always wait until next year,” Mel said. “Spend the rest of this
year seeing if you can get tired of it.”

“I’ll talk to John,” she said, noncommittal.

 

A few days later Mel ate a late lunch at the bar as Jack stood behind
it. He filled her water glass. “I want to ask you something,” he said.
“I have absolutely no idea how you’re going to answer this.”

“Sounds scary,” she said, taking a spoonful of Preacher’s delicious
chicken soup into her mouth.

“Depends on your perspective. Ricky’s USMC graduation from basic is just
around the corner and I want to go. I want us to go.”

She shrugged and said, “Of course, Jack.”

“I want us to go alone,” he said.

She swallowed. “Alone?”

He nodded. “I think it’s important, Mel. We have to carve a little time
out for the two of us, just you and me.”

“Are you feeling neglected?” she asked.

“Not at all. In fact, I feel pretty spoiled. But I still think we should
make a habit of taking some time now and then, when we can be away from
the town, the baby, the bar, the patients, everything. Regularly.”

She gave him a seductive half smile and lifted one brow. “Why, Jack…”

“It’s not even about that,” he said. “Well, it can be about that.” He
grinned. Both hands braced on the bar, he leaned toward her. “You’re my
wife, my lover and best friend. I want you all to myself once in a while.”

“What am I going to do about nursing David?”

“You’ll manage. You pump for extra bottles anyway, and he’s certainly
not dependent on the breast anymore—he has bottles regularly. There are
lots of people who’d be more than happy to keep him a couple of nights,
but I thought about calling Brie. She’s still not working and loves an
excuse to come up here. Plus, I haven’t seen her in so long. I’d like to
see her again—just to see how she’s doing. Looking. You know.” He leaned
forward and kissed her forehead. “Come away with me, Mel. Just a couple
of nights.”

“I would love that. I’ll call Brie this afternoon.”

 

Mel left the baby napping at Doc’s and drove out to her homesite. She
parked and got out of the Hummer. Leaning against the hood, she watched
Jack driving nails into Sheet-rock inside the frame of their house.
Momentarily he stopped and came to where she stood. He opened his arms
to her and she filled them. Thank God, she thought. My man is mine
again. Those silent, distant days seemed to be behind them.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked her.

“I wanted to tell you something,” she said. “Brie is coming. She’s
thrilled to come and babysit. She’ll stay at least a week, probably two.
In fact, she said there was nothing in Sacramento to demand her quick
return.”

She looked up at him and could see the struggle in his eyes. He wanted
Brie—he wanted her near if she felt that it was good for her. He wanted
to take care of her in any way he could, but he also wanted a private
life with his wife. A private life reclaimed not all that long ago. And
there was absolutely no privacy in that little cabin; every sound was
shared by all.

“This is good, that she’s coming,” Mel said. “I think she needs to get
out of Sacramento for a while—it’ll do her good. And when we get this
house finished, I think we should try to buy the cabin from Hope. It’ll
be a good place to have when we’re bursting at our seams. You have a
very large family.”

He smiled at her. “Well, Mrs. Sheridan, you’re certainly throwing money
around today, aren’t you?”

She shrugged. “We have plenty of money. We should think about hiring
subs, get this house moving. If you get bored, we’ll find you something
else to build.”

“I wanted to do it for you,” he said. “I wanted to show you how much I
would do, how far I would go. How hard I would work.”

“You can’t possibly think I don’t already know all that.”

 

“You’re not serious,” Preacher said to Paige. “That can’t be right.”

“That’s what Mel says,” she told him.

“Wow. Who’d ever think that the way to get pregnant is by not having
sex.” It seemed as though he might’ve hung his head.

“John, it’s up to you. We don’t have to do this. Right now, anyway. I’m
not insisting…”

“No, we’ll do it. We want a baby. I want a baby as much as you do and
getting your period makes you cry. So we’ll do it.” He shook his head.
“How’m I gonna know when it’s okay?”

“Well—a few days between. You know? And just once, John, on those days.
Except on ovulation day.” She grinned at him. “You can go crazy on
ovulation day.”

“Damn, I’m going to miss it,” he moaned.

“John, I don’t have any facts to support this, but I don’t think
everyone is having as much sex as we are….”

He had a confused look on his face. “Well, why not?”

She laughed at him. “Oh, John…”

“Did you get your little thing? Your little ovulation thing?”

“I’m going to run over to Fortuna later for some supplies for the bar
and I’ll pick up a couple of kits, exactly the kind we need, because Mel
said it could take longer than just a couple of months for us to make
this work—if that’s the problem.”

“More than a couple of months?” he asked weakly.

Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, Paige was saying to herself. “We try this for
two or three months,” she said. “If it doesn’t work by then, we’ll get
you tested, maybe try something else.”

He put his head in his hand. “Wow,” he said. Then, lifting his head
bravely, he said, “It’s okay. We can do it.”

She put a hand on his arm. “John, ovulation day is just around the
corner. A couple of weeks. That’s your reward.”

“I promise you, Paige. I’m going to make it your reward. I promise.”

Oh my, she thought. This was going to be interesting.

“I think we’re going to have to get a sitter for Christopher and close
the bar on ovulation day,” he said.

 

Before Mel and Jack could leave for Ricky’s graduation from basic
training, a newcomer appeared in Virgin River. The lunch crowd had
cleared out and Jack was behind the bar when a young woman came in. She
had reddish-blond hair and that golden complexion that suggested
freckles. Her lips were peach colored and she was smiling so brightly
that Jack tilted his head, returning the smile, wondering who this might
be. She came right up to the bar and leaned on it. “Jack Sheridan?” she
asked.

“That’s me.”

She put out her hand. “I’m Vanessa Rutledge. Matt Rutledge’s wife. We
have some people in common.”

He grabbed her hand. “You bet we do, one being your husband. How’s he
doing?”

“He’s back in the Middle East, I’m afraid. He’s been gone a few months.
I’m staying with my dad while he’s there, but Matt told me I’d better
come here right away, look you up, find out when your boys are coming
around, because Matt’s best friend and our best man is Paul Haggerty.”

“That’s right,” Jack said. “I remember, now that you mention it. I had
those two boys in my squad way back—they were just kids. Paul, Matt,
Preacher, Mike Valenzuela. Then Paul and the others were in my platoon
on my last assignment in Iraq, and we’re still tight. Paul was here not
very long ago, and due back again soon. We always try to catch some of
hunting season, however many can make it.”

“Paul and Matt went to school together,” she said. “They enlisted
together, went into basic and served a couple of tours together. In
fact, they were together the night I met my husband.”

“Oh, Preacher and Mike are going to love this,” Jack said. He turned
away from her and hit the wall that separated the bar from the kitchen
to bring Preacher out.

“I’ve heard all about Preacher,” she said. “Paul talked about you guys
and this little bar a lot. It was such a weird coincidence that my dad
found this place to settle.”

“Where is your dad?”

“He bought an old ranch on the edge of town a couple of years ago, right
before his last assignment. He was having some work done to renovate it
before he retired, then brought my little brother and their horses out
here from D.C. over summer.”

“Last assignment?”

“He retired from the Army. Major General Walter Booth.”

Amused surprise registered on Jack’s face. “A grunt general let his
daughter marry an enlisted jarhead?”

She lifted one pretty eyebrow, aquamarine eyes sparkling, and said, “I
don’t take orders from anyone.” And they both laughed.

Preacher came out of the back, frowning at having been summoned by the
pounding. He met with the gleaming smile of the pretty redhead at the
bar and he softened his expression somewhat, curiously.

Vanessa was not startled by the big man’s size or surly expression.
Neither was she surprised when his features softened into a curious
smile. “You must be Preacher,” she said. She put out a hand. “I’d know
you anywhere, except I heard you were big and bald. Now you’re just big.
Vanessa Rutledge—Matt Rutledge’s wife.”

“No way!” Preacher exclaimed, reaching for her hand. “I heard he got
married. What’s he doing these days?”

She shrugged and made a half smile. “Guess. Iraq. Baghdad, last I heard.”

“Oh, kid,” Preacher said sympathetically. “And you’re here?”

“My dad just moved here—he’s out on the edge of town. A nice place for
him and his horses. And my little brother, Tommy.”

“My lord,” Preacher said. “I can’t believe it. Right here!”

“The world just gets smaller,” she said, stepping back from the bar and
pulling open her jacket to reveal a pregnant tummy. “I’m on my way to
see Jack’s wife. I’m going to need her services.”

“Wow,” Jack said. “Look at you. First?”

“Yep. Just a few months to go.”

“Is Matt going to get back for the baby?” Jack asked her.

“No, but if we time this right, he should get a nice long leave when the
baby’s a couple of months old.” She looked around, taking in the bar,
the animal trophies on the walls, the rich dark wood. “So this is the
place, huh? Boy, I’ve sure heard a lot about this place.”

“The boys love this place,” Jack said. “When Matt’s out, we’ll make sure
he gets up here with the rest of them.”

“When he’s out? Hah! You think that’s going to happen? Matt’s a career
Marine.” But she smiled, clearly proud of her man. And being a general’s
daughter, she would be more than familiar with the rigors of military life.

“No rush,” Jack said. “We’ll be around a long time.”

Paige was summoned to the bar to meet Vanessa. Before long Mike made an
appearance and was delighted to make the acquaintance of Matt’s wife. An
invitation was extended for the general to stop by the bar for one on
the house and Jack promised to get in touch with Vanessa and her father
before Paul joined the next Semper Fi gathering, coming up soon.

“Whatever you do, don’t tell Paul we’re here,” Vanessa said. “I’d love
to surprise him.”


    Five

M ike Valenzuela became aware that beneath the surface of a perfect
small town there could be crime, some minor and predictable, some of an
insidious nature. He thought often about the two patients Mel had
presented as he visited casually with neighbors, with the high school in
the next town attended by the Virgin River kids, asking what people did
for fun around these parts. Most of the time he got the expected
responses—adults had their own gatherings, parties, picnics, cookouts.
They frequented restaurants, galleries, wineries and nightspots in and
around the coastal towns, and of course just about everyone hunted and
fished. Most of the community socializing surrounded school functions,
from sporting events to band and choir activities, after which there
would always be big gatherings among the parents.

Zach Hadley dropped by Jack’s once or twice a week for a beer and Mike
took the opportunity to get to know him a little better—his link to the
high school kids paid off almost right away. He said the teens had their
school functions from games to dances, but they also had a few haunts.
Parties, both with parents home and away, keggers in the woods. He’d
overheard some talk about an isolated old rest stop back off highway 109
where there were a few ancient barbecue pits, bathrooms and picnic
tables. Highway 109 had been heavily traveled before the newer freeway
was finished and now was more of a daytime road, left to the teens by
night. A perfect place, when the weather allowed, to bring a keg or a
case of beer. Where Mike grew up in L.A. the kids had desert keggers or
beach keggers—but out here, they had the forest.

“As long as they don’t get way back in the woods, far from the towns,
they’re probably safe from problems with wildlife or marijuana growers,”
Mike said. But were they safe from each other? Mike wondered.

“That’s true, then?” Zach asked. “All that illegal growing they talk about?”

“It’s true,” Mike confirmed. “Listen, if you ever have any concerns that
I can help with, I wouldn’t let on where I got the information.”

“Actually,” he said, keeping his voice low, “I happened to see
something—a half-written note—that startled me. Got my attention—but I
wouldn’t have the first idea where to go with it.”

“I’m your first idea,” Mike said.

“It’s just gossip, you know. Sometimes things kids that age say can be
shocking—and entirely fictional. But the note said something like stay
away from those parties. There was a rumor about a girl ending up
pregnant, though she couldn’t remember having sex.”

Mike’s eyebrows shot up. “How’d you come across that?” he asked.

“A student left a notebook in class.” He shrugged. “I looked through it.”

Mike smiled. “I like your style. Nosy. Whose notebook was it?”

“I have no idea. I left it where I found it and it disappeared after
lunch. Never saw it again, and I watched the kids, checked out what they
were carrying into class. It belonged to a girl, I can tell you that.
The doodles were all female.”

“You keep an eye on that, huh? Listen carefully,” Mike suggested. “That
could be important information.”

“I know kids are going to drink some beer,” Zach said. “But if there’s
any truth there, that’s some real hard drinking.”

“Yeah,” Mike said. And he thought—I bet it wasn’t the beer. “Keep me
posted. I’ll never let on that we talked.”

Mike hung around the school, introducing himself, trying to cozy up to
the kids, being as friendly and cool as possible. He knew he’d find some
pot as he looked deeper. There was whispering of some methamphetamine,
but no one breathed a word of roofies. Having Zach on his team was a big
plus, but he was hoping to nab himself a teenage confidential informant,
a CI who would feed him some names. The local police and sheriff’s
department would already be looking into any underage drinking or
illegal drug use when it turned up. But he wanted to know if any of his
Virgin River girls were getting raped, and unless someone had filed a
police report, local law enforcement wouldn’t know about it. And he
already considered them his girls, his town.

He took a swing by the rest stop on 109 and found some beer bottles and
condoms in the trash. He decided he might visit this spot with
regularity, see who turned up. What turned up. He might even try a
little woodsy surveillance. But winter came early in the mountains and
he suspected that his window of opportunity was nearly closed for the
season.

There was only one new guy on the block, as far as Mike could
determine—seventeen-year-old Tom Booth, Vanessa’s younger brother, the
general’s son. Tom hadn’t been in town very long, not long enough to
effect any damage. Booth, who invited Mike to call him Walt, was a
widower and introduced him to Tommy, who seemed bright and affable.
Polite and sincere. He would probably be popular with the girls, but he
didn’t know many people yet. If Tom were well acquainted at school, he’d
make a good source, but that wasn’t the case. When Mel’s second patient
had awakened pregnant after a party, Tom had still been back in D.C.

And then there was a host of boys who had passed the age of fifteen,
sixteen, seventeen—and perhaps come into some serious hormonal brain
damage. A little testosterone and a lack of values could do the trick.

Unsurprisingly, the one person he wished he could talk to about this was
Brie. But if he was any judge, she wasn’t up to that conversation. It
was still too close to her own violation.

Mike didn’t expect to find himself back at the sheriff’s department
quite so soon, but he felt compelled to let him know what he was
sniffing around for. Since he had no victim, no suspect, no evidence, he
really expected the sheriff to thank him politely and ask Mike to keep
him informed. To his surprise, the sheriff called a detective named
Delaney into his office and introduced him as their representative to a
multi-agency drug task force, comprised of law enforcement from each
local, state and county agency. “We have a detective working sexual
assault, but it sounds like that would be getting ahead of ourselves.
I’ll check with him, though. Ask if he’s heard anything about this,” the
sheriff said.

“Thank you, sir,” Mike answered. “I understand this is big marijuana
country,” he said to Detective Delaney.

“We have a lot of that, yeah. But we have a growing problem with white
dope and really want to get ahead of that,” he said. White dope would be
meth, cocaine, heroine.

“Gotcha,” Mike said. “Heard any rumblings about ecstasy? Roofies?”

“Ecstasy, though rare. Roofies—no. But Jesus, if you chase that down…”

“You’ll keep us up to speed?” the sheriff interrupted.

“Absolutely,” he said. “With this reluctance on the part of possible
victims to report this, it could be a long process.”

“Even more reason I’m glad you’re willing to look further,” the sheriff
said. “Without a victim or charge, no way I could free up a deputy to
look into this. I appreciate the help.” He stuck out his hand. “That
little town upriver is lucky to have you around.”

“Thank you,” Mike said. What he didn’t say was that in this case his
motivation went a bit deeper than simply finding a bad guy. This was
hitting a little close to home. There was Brie…

The next day he drove to Eureka and bought a laptop and printer. It was
time to get online, use the Internet and his contacts for research.

 

When Brie arrived in Virgin River she had a couple of days with Jack,
Mel and the baby before her brother and sister-in-law got off to an
early start on the third day, headed for San Diego to the graduation.
Then she changed the linens on the bigger bed in the room next to
David’s and looked forward to a peaceful couple of days in the cabin.
She bathed and fed her nephew, read while he had his morning nap, then
took him into town at about lunchtime.

David was a baby used to being taken everywhere. While his mother and
father worked he was either at Doc’s clinic or at the bar, being looked
after by a variety of people. He was a flexible baby, but because of the
hectic schedule his parents kept, easily bored. Sitting around at home
wouldn’t do it for him. So Brie went visiting.

She spent some time with Paige, hearing about the new quest to make a
baby. She had lunch at the bar and David had finger food from the tray
in his stroller. She spent a little time at Doc’s, where they played gin
while David had his afternoon nap. She visited with Connie at the corner
store and watched the afternoon soap opera with Connie and Joy, finding
the starring hussie was doing yet another guy on the air, much to the
delight of the older women. It was nearly dinnertime by the time she got
back to Jack’s and people started wandering in. Brie had herself a beer
while Preacher warmed up some finger veggies for David and a little skim
milk for his special cup with the spout. Everyone who came into the bar
gave her a friendly hello but then went immediately to David to kiss
him, snuggle him, nuzzle him, make faces at him and entertain him. This
was one of the most loved residents of Virgin River, and if it was not
because he was charming and handsome, then it was because he belonged to
Mel and Jack.

By five, Mike came in, and of course he went immediately to Brie. He had
a beer while she finished hers and then they had their dinner together.
He talked a little about driving around to the surrounding towns, trying
to get to know people, learning how they spent their time and whether
they had any concerns with which he could assist. He was beginning to
get a sense of what they needed in a community policeman and found it to
be like having any neighborhood beat in a city. It was not long after
dinner that David began to fuss, needing that bedtime change and bottle.

“I have to go,” she said, getting up and taking the baby’s stroller in hand.

He stood, as well. “Would you like some company tonight?” he asked.

“Thanks, but I think I’m going to concentrate on my job.” She smiled.
“When Mom and Dad get back, maybe we could do something.”

“We’ll find something fun,” he said with a smile. “It might not be too
early to see the whales—they should be migrating south pretty soon.”

“Maybe we should try that,” she said.

When Brie took David home, the first thing that struck her was that it
was very dark. She hadn’t left any lights on at the cabin and although
it was only about seven, the night was quickly descending. The towering
trees that surrounded the clearing cast long shadows. This place had
always given her such a sense of peace and safety, it surprised her to
be set on edge like this. She tried to ignore the anxiety it created in
her and talked to the baby, as if he were company enough. “Come on,
buster. Let’s get you settled. You had a good day, didn’t you? Yes, you
did.”

Then there was that matter of the door having been left unlocked; she
felt her heart skip a few beats. But she went inside, flipped on lights
and locked the front door. She went to the back door and locked it. Her
first two nights there had been so restful and tranquil, it had never
occurred to her she’d be nervous tonight. Then, despite the fact that
David fussed unhappily, she put him in his bed and retrieved her 9 mm
handgun from her purse. Gun in hand, she searched the cabin, anxious to
put her mind at ease. Inside closets, under beds, up in the loft. It
didn’t take long to find it empty of threats, thank goodness, because
her nephew was getting loud and impatient in his crib. She put the gun
on the nightstand beside her bed and tended to his needs. She changed
him and warmed the breast milk that had been left for her by Mel.

It bothered her that there were no blinds or shutters to close over the
windows. But why would Mel and Jack have bothered, out here in the
forest? Who was to peek in the windows besides a bear? This hadn’t
bothered her last night or the night before. Still, it caused Brie to
fidget and continually glance around at the uncovered windows. Then she
realized she had not spent a night alone since June.

“You have to do it sometime. You have to get beyond this,” she said
aloud to herself.

Once David was changed, fed and put in his crib, she couldn’t imagine
what she was going to do with herself, sitting in the little living room
of that cabin, feeling as if anyone could look in, the TV fuzzy because
Mel and Jack had never bothered to get a satellite dish. So she turned
off the lights, and in the dark she undressed for bed. She put on a
lightweight but concealing sweat suit, remembering with some longing the
days when she’d slept in the buff, confident and unafraid. She hadn’t
slept in the nude since that night. Even though it wasn’t yet eight
o’clock, she got into bed. Her heart was beating too fast and she talked
to herself—there’s no one out here who wants to hurt you. You’re
isolated in the woods—no one even knows you’re here.

Brie lay on her back, her arms folded across her stomach, her gun on the
bedside table. She forced her eyes closed for a minute, then two
minutes, then longer if she could. It seemed forever before her pulse
slowed and she relaxed a little; every sound the wind made caused her to
tremble. If I can just make it through one night, I can make it through
another, she told herself. She looked at the bedside clock at
eight-fifteen, eight-thirty, eight forty-five.

At some point she dozed off, but later she was jolted awake by a fright.
She gasped, sat straight up in the bed and realized she was sweating,
panting, her heart hammering. She grabbed up the gun and held it out in
front of her, pointing it toward the bedroom door. She listened
intently. There was a whistling and soft moaning; the wind through the
pines. There was a slight muffled sound coming from David’s bedroom and
she got out of bed, gun in hand, muzzle pointed to the ceiling, and
crept into his bedroom to be sure there was no one there. David squirmed
around in his sleep, nestling into the bedding, dreaming.

Oh, God, she thought. I’m creeping around my baby nephew with a loaded
gun! Tears stung her eyes. I’m a basket case, she thought.

She went into the dark kitchen, picked up the phone and called Mike.
When he answered, she said in a breath, “I’m sorry. I’m scared.”

“What’s happening?” he asked, alert.

“Nothing. Nothing that I know of. The doors are locked, I’ve checked the
house, but I’m prowling around here with a loaded gun in my hand. I’m
completely nuts.”

“Can you put that gun down, please,” he said calmly. “I will be there in
ten minutes.”

“Okay,” she answered tremulously, feeling that she had somehow failed.
Failed her brother and Mel, failed herself.

“Please, put it aside, and I will come.”

“Okay,” she said again. But she didn’t put it aside. She slipped down
onto the kitchen floor and sat there against the cabinets in the corner,
from where she could see the rest of the kitchen. If anyone came at her,
she could shoot him. And then she thought, my God, it’s a good thing
David can’t walk! Right now she would shoot anything that moved; she was
wired enough to shoot at nothing and a ricocheted bullet could hurt or
even kill the baby! She tried to keep her finger relaxed along the
barrel and away from the trigger, repeating in her mind, do not act
unless you’re sure. Do not.

Ten minutes is an eternity when you’re afraid. And there is nothing
worse than fear, whether or not there is an object. There was a metallic
taste in her mouth from the adrenaline and her pulse beat dangerously
fast. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, her knuckles white from
holding the grip so fiercely, she heard the sound of an engine as a car
came into the clearing, then a small toot as he honked the horn to let
her know it was him.

She pulled herself to her feet, put the gun on the kitchen counter and
unlocked the front door. When she opened it, she saw him standing there
in a heavy suede jacket, wearing a sidearm. It somehow made her feel
better, him having that gun. It was as though he had taken her
seriously. As if her fear, though unfounded, could have had some basis.

“God,” she said, falling against him gratefully. “I’m afraid of nothing!”

“Take it easy,” he said, gently touching her back. He held her a bit,
very careful not to hold her too tightly. “These things take time.”

“I feel stupid.”

“Well, don’t. It’s so understandable as to be almost predictable.” He
pulled back from her, his hands on her upper arms. “Your first night alone?”

“Yes,” she said. “Honestly, I didn’t see this coming. I’ve felt so great
since I got here. I’ve never slept better.”

“Would you like me to check the house for you?”

“Even though I’ve checked it,” she said, nodding. “And maybe outside.”

“I’d be happy to. Sit down. Take a few deep breaths and try to relax.”

He saw the gun on the counter and touched the grip. It was still warm.
She’d been so afraid, she hadn’t been able to put it down.

He walked around the house and up into the loft, turning lights on and
off as he went. He took a flashlight from his car to check the grounds
outside, where he found everything to be undisturbed—no footprints or
mashed grass or shrubs. When he went back into the house, he locked the
door behind him, took off his sidearm and holster and put it on the
counter next to her gun. He took off his jacket and draped it over a
kitchen chair. Then he went to the tiny living room, where he crouched
in front of the cold hearth. He stacked a few logs over some starter
pine cones, lit them and watched the flames rise. He rubbed his hands
together in front of the fire, then went to sit on the sofa beside her.

“Thank you,” she said meekly.

“It’s nothing, Brie. You should feel safe so you can take good care of
David. That’s all that matters.”

“But I called you out in the middle of the night. You must be so annoyed.”

He grinned handsomely. “Brie. It isn’t even ten o’clock.”

“Oh, my God! I didn’t even sleep an hour!”

He chuckled and, leaning over to pull off his boots, said, “You’ll get a
good night’s sleep now. I’m staying the night.”

“Oh,” she said nervously. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea….”

“Relax, mija. Don’t I know everything you’re going through trying to get
your life back? You can’t honestly think I’d do one thing to make you
feel threatened.”

“Well…”

“Don’t insult me,” he said. “I’ve done a lot of unforgivable things,
it’s true, but I’ve never been unkind to a woman. I am a gentleman. And
you need sleep.”

She thought about it for less than a second. “I know if you go, I’ll
crack up. For God’s sake, when does it end?”

“I’m not sure, but I know it does. It turns out this is just a little
too soon for you. There’s no need for you to feel self-conscious about
this. We just won’t mention it. No one watches my comings and goings. No
one watches this cabin to see whose car is parked outside.”

She gave a sigh and leaned back into the couch cushions. “I hate what
this has done to me. I thought I was tougher.”

“Jesus, don’t do that to yourself,” he said. “It’s bad enough what’s
been done to you without adding that. It’s not a small thing to get
over, Brie.”

She drew her feet up, massaging her temples with her fingers.

“Headache?” he asked her.

“Just a little tension,” she said. “It’ll pass.” Then she laughed a
little. “I was looking forward to coming back here for some fun. Before
this happened to me, I’d been planning all the many ways I could break
your heart.”

He cocked his head and smiled at her. “Had you, now? That sounds
interesting. Now I have something to look forward to.”

“I was thinking you’d be devastated. Wiped out,” she told him.

“Ah. Are you willing to share any details?”

“Not a chance.”

“I’m already devastated.” He stood up and went into the kitchen, dug
around in the refrigerator and came out with two bottles of beer. He
popped the tops and handed her one, keeping one for himself, and took
his corner of the couch again. He hoped it didn’t show on his face that
just looking at her in the dim firelight was a treat, a delight. Her
hair all mussed from bed, her feet bare, her cheeks pinked up from
anxiety, she almost took his breath away. He knew she was skittish
around men to the point that she couldn’t even go to a coed gym to work
out, and he didn’t delude himself that he was exempt from that category,
not even after all the time they’d had together. Oh, perhaps at the
moment, as they shared a couch with a couple of feet separating them.
But if he tried to get too close right now, she would freak. Bolt. Melt
down.

“Maybe you should think about going back to work,” he said.

“I’ve thought about it, but I’ve lost interest in prosecuting felons. I
haven’t lost interest in the law, but I don’t know in what field. My
experience is all criminal, and I just don’t feel like going back into
any kind of criminal law.”

“How about working with rape victims?”

She sighed deeply. “I’m trying not to be a rape victim anymore. I’m
trying to move on from that, even though I realize some of it will be
with me forever.” She shook her head and said, “I’ve been prepping rape
victims for years, and now I am one. I just don’t want to stay in that
cycle. God, I want to move past that if I can!”

“That’s reasonable. Maybe there’s some way you can use your
prosecutorial expertise on the defense side.”

Her expression was shocked. “I can never defend a criminal against
prosecution. Especially now.”

“There has to be something,” he said. “Human rights? Discrimination
cases? EEOC? Women’s rights? ACLU?”

She shrugged.

“You’re used to having a mission, some injustice that needs you. You’ve
always worked hard. I’m not sure all this time to think is such a good
thing.”

She stretched out her legs and put her feet on the coffee table to warm
them from the glowing fire, and he put his up as well, not touching. And
she found herself wondering, not for the first time, if all the women he
had so greatly wronged had been his friend like this at first. Had he
spent long hours, months, talking to them in sensitive, nonthreatening
ways before having sex with them, marrying them and then betraying them?
It would have taken such a lot of time. Such an investment. She further
wondered if she could be tricked the way they were. She took a pull on
her beer.

“After Mel and Jack return, if you’re not in a hurry to get back to
Sacramento, how about if we take a day and go over to the coast. I don’t
know if we’ll catch the whales, but there’s a lot of stuff over there.
Art galleries, wine-tasting rooms, trails to the headlands and beach,
nice restaurants. We could just be tourists for a day.”

“Would you be thinking of that as a…date?”

He grinned. “I would,” he admitted.

A smile tilted her lips. “I could do that,” she said. “Were you good
friends with your wives before you married them?”

“I shouldn’t really answer any more questions about that. About them,”
he said.

She sat up a little. “Why not?”

“It could give you an unfair advantage in staging my heartbreak. I want
to level the playing field.”

It made her laugh. Or the beer made her laugh. But this was one of the
things that was working on her—he didn’t take her too seriously, and yet
he took her very seriously. And she trusted him, which both reassured
and worried her. She pulled her feet back, tucking them under her, and
turned toward him. “Were you?” she demanded.

“Nah. I told you—I was always hunting.”

“There’s more to the story,” she said.

“Not very much more,” he said.

“I’m trying to figure out some things,” she said. “The rape—that’s not
hard. Impossible to believe, but completely understandable. It was revenge.”

“An ambush,” he supplied.

“Ambush,” she repeated thoughtfully.

“That’s what happened to me,” he added. “The one thing you really can’t
protect yourself against.”

“Of course,” she said, leaning back. “Of course.”

“That was the hardest part of the equation for me to reason out—that
there wasn’t really anything I could have done differently. Or smarter.
Have you struggled with that?”

She thought for a moment, holding her bottom lip between her teeth.
“I’ve struggled with every part of that. But the thing that still gnaws
at me is how I screwed up with Brad. For some reason, since the rape,
it’s like the pain of the divorce is fresh.”

“What makes you think you screwed up?”

“I had no idea he was the kind of man who could do what he did. I never
saw it coming. I’ve thought back to the beginning—to the first date. To
every day of the marriage. Maybe I worked too hard—my hours were so
long. I could have paid closer attention. Maybe my commitment to my
career was stronger than my commitment to Brad. I never—”

Mike took his feet off the trunk, planted them on the floor and said,
“Brie, it might’ve been his screwup, not yours. When I met you for the
first time, years ago, what I saw shining in your eyes was trust and
commitment. And love. God, you were so in love with him. And on top of
that you were a brilliant achiever, a woman of strength and power and
courage. And you couldn’t get close enough to him, giving him all your
attention. If that wasn’t enough for Brad, you can’t blame yourself.”

“Tell me about them. Tell me why you married them, why your marriages
failed.”

He cautiously reached out a hand to gently touch her hair. “Honey, it’s
not that interesting. It won’t help you understand Brad. The only thing
I have in common with Brad is we were both idiots.”

“Tell me,” she demanded softly.

He took a breath. “Carmel was nineteen years old when she went to work
for my father as a novice bookkeeper and secretary, and we met while I
was on leave. We wrote letters—lonely, sweet letters that became more
romantic. Six months later when I was again on leave, we made love, and
after that she needed to be married. So that’s what we did—married, and
then I was sent to Iraq. When I came home, she was ready to move on. She
broke my heart and saved my life all at the same time, because I
wouldn’t have left her, and I would have continued to be a terrible
husband to her. I lived in the moment. I was too easily distracted.
Always thinking of myself.”

“And the next one?” she asked.

He shrugged. “We married out of guilt. She was with another man when I
began to see her and she broke it off with him to be with me. That was
her choice—I didn’t ask her to do that. But like Carmel, she needed to
be married after that. Maybe neither of us could handle what we’d done—I
have some pretty large Catholic guilt. So we married. We tried to turn a
sexual fling into true love and it didn’t work. Within six months she
was gone. It was a mistake from the beginning, but I didn’t learn my
lesson about that kind of thing for quite a while. If a woman was warm
and willing…I was still living in the moment, thinking of myself.
There’s no defense for what I did to either of them, but I was only
twenty-six years old when my second marriage was over and still a young
fool.

“And the other thing was, I didn’t take marriage seriously. I thought
I’d just find a wife automatically. I’d just aim, fire and bang—I’d be
married and have a bunch of kids.” He shrugged. “That’s what my brothers
did. And my sisters. They dated someone, married ’em, the rest is
history. They’re all happy. It never occurred to me they knew what they
were doing.”

“You wanted kids?”

“Certainly. Thank God that didn’t happen. I’d hate to have kids caught
up in my miscalculations. Before the shooting, I had no patience, hardly
any scruples. I might’ve hit on you four years ago if you hadn’t been
obviously in love with your husband.”

“What about that shooting changed you?”

“You’re kidding, right? I almost died. I had a lot of time—down time—to
think about how I’d misspent my life. About all the people I must have
disappointed—not the least of whom was myself. I wasn’t unlike Brad—the
kind of guy who’d take too many chances, risk things a person with a
brain would never risk. And it cost him everything. Cost me everything.”
He took a drink from his beer. “My ex-wives—they might not have been
perfect, but I can’t blame anyone but myself.”

“You see?” she said, sitting straighter. “Your heart has to be broken!”

“Yeah. I’m sure it will be.”

“But what I can’t get past,” she said, “is what if I face that again?
What if I’m in love with some man, want to have a life with him and it
seems everything is okay. Wonderful. Perfect. And then…?”

“Aw, Brie, there aren’t any guarantees in this life—you know that better
than anyone. After you take your time, know as much about him as you can
and use your best judgment, it might be you who has a change of heart.”
His dark eyes glowed in the firelight. “Or maybe you’re right about
everything—about your feelings and his—and it’s destined to last
forever, to be perfect forever, and something you couldn’t have foreseen
happens. He slips off the mountain or falls off a boat.” He touched her
nose. “If you find yourself in that wonderful temptation, believing in
someone enough to take that kind of chance, the person you’ll have to
trust most is yourself.”

They talked until almost midnight and Brie began to yawn. And yawn and
yawn. Finally Mike said, “You’re driving me crazy. Go to bed. I’ll be
right here on the couch. I’ll hear every sound, so you can just fall
asleep and leave me in charge.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. First of all, this is a solid cabin—all locked up tight.
Second, if anything stirs, I’m up like that,” he said, snapping his
fingers. “It’s not even a choice. It comes from years of nodding off
while sitting surveillance. And that’s nothing to how light a sleeper
you become in Iraq.”

“Hmm. I could buy that. It’s true, isn’t it?”

“It’s true. I haven’t lied to you yet.”

She thought about all the things he’d told her about himself—totally
uncomplimentary things guaranteed to keep her from getting further
involved with him, and decided that he hadn’t lied to her. “Okay, then,”
she said, standing. “Thanks. I mean it, really. Thanks. I don’t think I
can do it yet—alone. You want a pillow or something?”

“Nah. I’m comfortable.”

Brie went off to bed. He heard the sound of her brushing her teeth.
Moving around. Snuggling in. He lay down on the sofa; his legs were too
long and he propped them up on the arm. His feet would be asleep before
morning, but it was okay. He wanted to do this for her.

Not much time had passed when he opened his eyes to find her standing
over him. “Umm,” she said nervously. “Can you…? This is awkward. I’m
still very squeamish about a man even seeing me on the treadmill, but
could you share the bed, in your clothes, and manage not to do anything?
I mean, even in your sleep?”

“I’m okay right here, Brie. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m not worried about…I just thought, that couch isn’t big enough. And
there’s a bed in the loft, but I just don’t want you way up there. And
I…Could you lie beside me on the bed without—”

“I’m not going to try anything with you, Brie. I know you can’t handle
that.”

“I don’t think I can sleep unless you’re…closer,” she said very softly.

“Aw, honey…”

“Then come on,” she said, turning back to the bedroom.

He didn’t move for a moment, thinking. It didn’t take long. He wanted to
be next to her, but he didn’t have to be. But if she needed him, he was
there. He stood and got rid of his belt because of the big buckle, but
everything else stayed on. And he went to the bedroom.

She was curled up under the covers, her back facing out, leaving him
room. So he lay down on the bed on top of the covers, giving her that
security. “Okay?” he asked.

“Okay,” she murmured.

It wasn’t a big bed, just a double, and it was impossible to keep a lot
of space between them. He curved around her back, spooning her, his face
against her hair, his wrist resting over her hip. “Okay?” he asked.

“Okay,” she murmured.

He nestled in, his cheek against the fragrant silkiness of all that
loose hair, his body wrapped around hers, though separated by layers of
clothes and quilts, and it was a long, long time before he found sleep.
By her even breathing, Mike knew she rested comfortably and that made
him feel good.

When he woke in the morning, she had turned in her sleep and lay in the
crook of his arm, snuggled up close to him, her lips parted slightly,
her breath soft and warm against his cheek. And he thought, Oh damn,
she’s right—this is going to just break the hell out of my heart.

 

Jack and Mel drove to Eureka and picked up a couple of connecting
flights to San Diego, arriving a night before Rick’s graduation. That
gave them a little time alone together at a nice hotel. They had a swim,
something they never did in Virgin River. Then a nice dinner and a long,
wonderful night as man and wife. That first night away they managed to
concentrate only on each other, but first thing the next morning Mel
called Brie to make sure the baby was all right.

“I miss him so much,” she complained.

“I know you do,” Jack said. “So do I. Thank you for doing this for me,”
he said, pulling her into his arms.

“It wasn’t just for you. It was for me, too. But I miss him so much.”

“Just two nights, baby. Then we’ll be home. And we won’t leave him again
for a long time.”

Watching Rick stand at attention while being inducted into the Marine
Corps sent pride spiraling through Jack’s breast. He graduated at the
top of his class, a young leader, a powerfully strong and smart young
man. When the company was dismissed by the commanding officer, the young
Marines all took a step back, did an about-face and shouted, “Aye, sir!”
Mel grabbed Jack’s arm, leaned against him, moved to tears. Out on the
field it was handshakes and hugs, the young men thanking the drill
sergeant, big grins and laughter. Jack put an arm around her and held
her close. They stood at the edge of the field and waited for Rick to
find them.

When he did, Jack grabbed Rick’s hand in a firm clutch that brought them
chest to chest, “Hoo-rah, man,” Jack said. “Good job. I’m proud of you,
son.”

“Thanks, buddy.” But Mel just leaned against him, hugged him and cried.
“Hey, Mel,” he said, laughing, patting her back. “Easy does it, huh?”

“Oh, Ricky, you are so handsome. Look at you. You’re so beautiful.”

“Here are some options, Rick. We can get your things,” Jack said. “We’ve
got a couple of rooms, not barracks. We can have a nice dinner out and
catch our flights early tomorrow morning. Or maybe you have some plans
with your boys before you check out of here and I can get you in the
morning, take you home.”

“I’ve had about enough of these boys.”

“There has to be some stuff going on tonight. To celebrate?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. But I’m just ready to get off the base. I like your
first idea.”

Jack suspected some of the young Marines would be getting hotel rooms as
well, but they’d be wanting to get drunk and find girls. After what Rick
had been through last year with his girl, he was probably less than
interested. So Jack checked them in, took them out to a nice steak
dinner and heard all the stories about basic. After dinner he tucked Mel
into bed and went to Rick’s room with a cold six-pack. He tapped on the
door and was admitted by a freshly showered kid in sweatpants, bare
chested. “Hey, you’re my best friend,” Rick said, spying the beer.

Jack was somewhat taken by the boy’s physique, which had been honed by
basic training. He’d been strong and lean when he went in, but now he
was cut and powerful looking. His beard was getting heavy; the hair on
his chest had grown thick. Jack laughed and shook his head. “Damn it,
boy. You sure don’t look eighteen anymore.”

“I don’t feel eighteen, either. I feel about a hundred and ten.” He took
a bottle of beer and touched the neck to the one Jack held. “Thanks for
coming down, Jack. It meant a lot to me.”

“Meant a lot more to me,” Jack said. Jack sat on one of the chairs by a
small table in the room while Rick sat on the edge of his bed. “Some of
the boys are coming up next week to catch a little of deer season. We’d
like you to join us.”

“That’d be great. There are a couple of things I have to do first,” he
said. “I have to spend a little time with my grandma. And I have to
drive over to Eureka,” he said, dropping his gaze. “I want to check on Liz.”

“Did you hear from her?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, a little bit. But usually it was only when she was having a hard
time. I’m telling myself that she’s not having a hard time every day or
I’d have gotten more letters. What does Connie say?”

“Not a lot. That she’s getting by, that’s about it. How are you doing?”

“It was the right thing to do, Jack. Signing up. It took me out of my
head a little. Made me way too tired and most of the time too scared to
think.”

“How are you feeling about things now?”

He shrugged. “I’m getting closer to living with myself. But Lizzie’s
still just a kid. Sixteen now—she’s getting older in spite of herself.
She’s been through an awful lot for a girl her age.”

Jack couldn’t help but think that Ricky was only two years older, yet
taking on all the blame as though he was the only one responsible. And
he’d been through a lot, too. “I’m going to say this again, son. It
wasn’t your fault that baby didn’t make it.”

“Just my fault there was a baby,” he said. He took a long pull on his beer.

“We’re men, Rick. We’re idiots. Ask Mel,” he said.

“Yeah.” He laughed.

“You take care of your business, then hunt with us a little. Might as
well get a lot of unasked-for advice from the boys. They think of you as
one of them now—there won’t be any holding them back.”

“Yeah. You going to hunt?” he asked.

Jack puffed up a little. “I am. I am going to defy my queen and take a
rifle into the woods. But if I hit anything, I’m blaming you.”


    Six

W hen Mel, Jack and Rick got back to Virgin River, the dinner hour was
approaching. This boy was one of the town’s favorite sons and everyone
would be anxious to see him again, so Rick was dropped off at his
grandma’s house merely to scoop her up and take her to the bar. Lydie
was a rare patron of the bar, but this was a special occasion.

It was early, but there were plenty of people already there, waiting to
see Rick. Brie and the baby had been in town most of the afternoon
already and when David saw Mel, he sent up an alarm, waving his arms at
her, squealing with excitement. She couldn’t fill her embrace with him
fast enough and couldn’t wait to nurse him. She slipped back into
Paige’s little living room to spend some quality time with her boy.

Preacher had made a big sheet cake with a remarkably good Marine
medallion iced onto the center. He’d also put out a lot of snack food
and made a huge pot of barbecue with a big basket of buns, potato salad
and baked beans, all Rick’s favorites. It wasn’t long before the place
started to fill up with friends and neighbors. Mike arrived just minutes
before Rick and Lydie, and when the young Marine walked into the bar, a
cheer erupted. There were lots of hugs, backslapping, an air of celebration.

This was the kind of night that always made Jack glad he’d opened this
place—surrounded by friends and neighbors, the walls throbbing with
happy noise. On a night such as this, there was no charge for the food—a
jar was put on the bar for people to drop in whatever they could afford,
but no one would be turned away. There was plenty of free beer and
sodas—the only things he sold were mixed drinks.

Once David had had a private reunion with his mother, he held up pretty
well during the party, being passed from person to person. Rick took his
turn with the baby, astonished at how big he’d gotten in such a short
period of time.

While Brie was up on a bar stool and Jack was at his favorite place
behind the bar, he asked her, “How’d it go, Brie?”

“David was an angel. We stayed very busy, running around visiting people.”

“And you were all right?”

“Sure,” she said, smiling. “I had a nice time. Anytime you need an
auntie, I’m your girl.”

He leaned across the bar and put a kiss on her forehead. “Thanks.”

“How was your escape?” she whispered.

“Perfect. My wife missed her baby too much, but then, so did I.”

After a big dinner and lots of visiting, the farmers, ranchers and
business owners began to disappear—that time of night was upon them.
Livestock didn’t give days off; people around here got up very early.
Rick jumped up on a bar stool, grinning. “Fantastic, Jack,” he said. “It
sure is good to be back. I’m going to get my grandma home—she turns in
pretty early. Then I’m heading to Eureka.”

“Tonight?” Jack asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” he said, a slight stain on his young cheeks. He gave a lame
shrug. “Gotta see that girl. You know.”

“You’ll get there kind of late,” Jack pointed out.

“I bet she’ll wait up,” Rick said. He put out a hand. “Thanks for
everything.”

“Sure thing,” he said. And he wanted to add, Please be careful. He
followed Rick with his eyes as he walked Lydie out of the bar.

Mel was beside him, the baby on her left hip while she circled his waist
with her right arm. “Rick’s on his way to Eureka tonight,” he said.

“They’ll be all right, Jack,” Mel said.

He shook himself and looked down at Mel. “Damn, I’d feel so much better
if they’d just get about ten years older, real fast.”

“I know. You’re such a mother hen. But I just spent two days with Ricky
and I’m not worried about him. He’s paying attention. I think I’ll go
ahead and take David home, get him settled in his bed. I’m exhausted—it
was such a long day. You stay as long as you like.”

He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the head. “I’ll see you a little
later.”

Brie jumped off her stool. “I’ll take you, Mel,” she said.

And then Jack noticed another thing. A lot had been happening around
here, he guessed. While Mel went out the door with David, Brie took a
slight detour, finding Mike, who was in a conversation with Paige across
the room. She reached for his hand and, holding it, said something to
him. Something that made him smile. He leaned toward her and put a peck
on her cheek, gave her upper arm a brief squeeze and out the door she went.

That might not be a good thing, Jack thought. Brie didn’t know Mike the
way he did.

Once the guest of honor was gone, the bar emptied of partiers. Paige had
gone to settle her son into bed in the room upstairs, leaving the three
men in the bar alone. Jack got down three glasses. He poured Preacher a
shot of his favored whiskey while he chose a single malt scotch for
himself. “Mike?” he asked.

“Sure,” he said.

“How were things while we were gone?” Jack asked Mike as he poured.

Mike shrugged. “Everything seemed fine,” he answered. “Preach?” Mike asked.

“Yeah,” the big man said. “Far as I know. Fine. The boy looks good,
Jack. The Corps doesn’t seem to have beat him into mush.”

“I think he takes to it a little,” Jack said.

“No doubt,” Preacher said. He threw back his drink. “Can you boys lock
up behind yourselves?”

“Sure thing,” Jack said.

Preacher went through the kitchen to his quarters and Jack tipped the
bottle again, giving himself and Mike a splash. “I didn’t plan this,”
Jack said. “But since it’s you and me—tell me about Brie.”

“Tell you what, Jack?”

“When she was leaving…It looked like there was something….”

“Spit it out.”

“You and Brie?”

“What?”

Jack took a breath, not happily. “Are you with my sister?”

Mike had a swallow of his whiskey. “I’m taking a day off tomorrow—taking
her down the Pacific Coast Highway through Mendocino to look for whales,
see the galleries, maybe have a little lunch.”

“Why?”

“She said she’d like to do that while she’s here.”

“All right, but you know what I’m getting at—”

“I think you’d better tell me, so I don’t misunderstand.”

“I’d like to know what your intentions are toward my sister.”

“You really think you have the right to do that? To ask that question?”
Mike asked him.

“Just tell me what was going on between the two of you while I was gone.”

“Jack, you’d better loosen your grip a little. Brie’s a grown woman.
From where I stand, we’re good friends. If you want to know how she sees
it, I think she’s the one you have to ask. But I don’t recommend it—she
might be offended. Despite everything, she tends to think of herself as
a grown-up.”

“It’s no secret to you—she’s had a real bad year.”

“It’s no secret,” Mike agreed.

“You’re making this really tough, man…”

“No, I think you are. You spent some time with her tonight. Did it look
to you like anything is wrong? Like she’s upset or anything? Because I
think everything is fine and you worry too much.”

“I worry, yeah. I worry that maybe she’ll look to you for some comfort.
For something to help her get through. And that you’ll take advantage of
that.”

“And…?” Mike prompted, lifting his glass but not drinking.

“And maybe work a little of your Latin magic on her and walk away.” Jack
drank his whiskey. “I don’t want you to do that to her.”

Mike put down his glass on the bar without emptying it. “I would never
hurt Brie. And it has nothing to do with whose sister she is. Good
night, Jack.” He left the bar.

Mike had to do a memory check, remember how he felt about his own
sisters, try to get it straight in his head that some of this behavior
was beyond Jack’s control. If Jack had looked at one of his younger
sisters the way Mike was probably looking at Brie, he might have gotten
his back up. Big brothers like me and Jack, we can get proprietary. It
wasn’t right, but it was there.

It pissed Mike off. But more than that, it worried him. He didn’t really
think he had much of a chance with Brie for a lot of reasons, but he
didn’t want one of those reasons to be his best friend.

He wished he’d finished that whiskey.

It was a long time before Mike was able to sleep, even though he hadn’t
slept much the previous two nights. He kept wishing Jack and Mel had
stayed away a little longer. He’d lain beside her for two wonderful
nights. She’d slept right up against him. Platonically, but it had been
luxurious. In her sleep she would move closer, snuggle up against him,
let him cradle her in the safety of his arms. Trusting him. Believing in
him. Her scent still lingered in his mind, real enough so that every
once in a while he would catch a whiff so memorable it was almost as
though he could reach out and touch her.

But he was alone tonight. And when sleep finally did come, it was
restless and fraught with dreams, the kind he hadn’t had in a long time.

He saw their bodies as if from above—her pale, ivory skin against his
tan Mexican hide, his large hands pressed against her perfect white
bottom, holding her tight. Close. Although he watched from above, he
could feel every sensation—the light touch of her fingers threading
through his black hair, her lips on his neck, his chest, his shoulder.
He tasted her skin, crumbled handfuls of her soft honey hair against his
face. He was inside her, her knees raised and her pelvis tilted to bring
him deeper, and he rocked with her in a gentle but intense pace. Her
sighs filled the room; he whispered love words in her ear, encouraging
her, telling her how much he wanted to please her.

He saw her small hands running up and down his back, his shoulders broad
once again, restored. And as he told her he loved her, adored her, could
never have a life if she was not part of it, she returned his words of
love in Spanish. “Estas en mi corazón.” You are my heart. “Te quiero.” I
want you. “Te quiero mucho, Miguel.” I want you so much Miguel…Mike.

He heard her cries, felt her close around him with a hot, tight power so
awesome his whole body shuddered convulsively. As she called out his
name again and again, he exploded into a climax too grand, more fabulous
than he remembered from his earlier life.

He woke suddenly, panting, his heart hammering, sweat drenching him so
that the sheet clung. Alone. But not alone; she’d been with him, beneath
him in that nocturnal fantasy turned bliss. And he thought, Oh God! I’m
not dead after all!

His immediate next thought was that he was so grateful that hadn’t
happened to him while he slept with her at the cabin. It would have
scared her to death.

 

Brie rose extra early; three people jockeying around one shower had its
challenges. By the time she was toweling off, she could hear Mel and
Jack in their bedroom, talking softly in response to the baby’s gurgles
and giggles. While she was in the loft dressing, the shower turned on
again and again—Mel and Jack getting up for the day. David was back in
his bed for an early-morning catnap when she met Jack at the coffeepot.
Brie already had a steaming cup in her hand.

Jack looked her up and down, taking in the skirt, blouse and vest—not
her usual country attire. She was dressed for a date. It ate at his gut.
He slowly poured a cup of coffee. “Mike mentioned he was taking you over
to Mendocino,” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “We’re going to be tourists for a day.”

“Listen, Brie, there’s something you should know about Mike. He’s been
married twice.”

“I know,” she said.

Mel migrated into the kitchen in time for that last exchange. She
plucked a cup off the counter, lifted the coffeepot and glared at her
husband with a deep sigh. Jack completely ignored her.

“He’s known for…Well, for being on the move a lot. Where women are
concerned.”

“I know that, too,” she said.

Jack put down his cup. “Listen to me. I’ve known the man forever. He has
a reputation with the women.”

“Oh?” She laughed. “Has he been hustling the good women of Virgin River
and breaking their hearts?”

Jack scowled at his sister. “He’s been on hiatus healing up. He’s healed
now.”

“Jack, stay out of this,” Mel warned.

Brie just laughed at her brother. “Relax, Jack. I’m fine with Mike. He’s
been a good friend. We’ve talked a lot since June. We even met for lunch
a few times. He’s been very supportive through some of this mess I’ve
been through.”

The look on Jack’s face was one of pure shock and it appeared as though
the air was briefly sucked out of him. “What?” he asked.

“He called to see if I was doing all right, we talked, we talked some
more, he drove down to the city to get me out of the house for an
afternoon, and believe me—it made a difference. We have some things in
common, you know. We’re both victims of violent crimes.”

“And no one told me this?” he asked, clearly stricken. Betrayed.

“There were things about what I’ve been going through that Mike
understood. That it would be hard for anyone else to understand,” Brie said.

“Why would no one tell me about this? He’s my friend. You’re my sister.”

She shrugged. “Maybe no one wanted to deal with one of your outbursts.”

“Dad knew?” he asked, disbelieving.

“Jack!” Mel warned again. “Leave this alone!”

“Of course Dad knew,” Brie said. “I wouldn’t leave the house without
telling him exactly where I was going. And God knows, I don’t answer the
phone!”

“Brie, listen, I’d trust the man with my life, but not necessarily with
my sister,” he said earnestly, desperately.

“You wouldn’t trust the pope with your sister,” she said. “What do you
suggest, huh? If it weren’t for Mike, I’d still be lying on the couch,
watching the soaps, scared to go out of the house in the middle of the day!”

“I told you if you needed anything, anything at all…”

“That my big brother would come racing down to Sacramento to rescue me,”
Brie shot back. “What makes you think I knew what I needed? I’m pretty
grateful Mike had a clue!”

Mel wandered onto the porch with her coffee cup and stood there, not
entirely grateful she could hear the argument going on inside. In five
minutes they’d have the baby awake. And in thirty minutes or less, she
was going to kill Jack.

“He has a knack for that,” Jack blustered. “He seems to know exactly
what it is a woman’s looking for.”

“Looking for? You jackass, I’m not looking for anything! I’m trying to
get on with my life!”

“Great, that’s great, but if you’d at least talk to me about the ways
you’re considering doing that—”

“I know you’ve been to war with him a couple of times and hunting with
him a bunch of times, but what do you think you know about Mike that I
can’t figure out in a few months?” Brie asked rather too loudly. “And
how the hell is he any different around women than you were for about
twenty years?”

Mel took a sip of her coffee and tried, desperately, to remind herself
that siblings fought. She and Joey hadn’t had a good knock-down-drag-out
since Mel’s first husband had been killed, but growing up, becoming
adults, hadn’t exactly put a total end to all disagreements.

“I was never married!” Jack fired back.

“Probably through no wisdom of your own!” Brie retorted loudly.

Mike’s SUV came into the clearing and Mel smiled and gave him a wave.
Then she walked into the cabin. “Brie, your ride is here,” she said more
calmly than she felt.

Brie glared at her brother and plucked her purse off the counter.

“You have that new gun in your purse?” Jack asked sarcastically.

“No. It’s upstairs in my suitcase. If it had been handy, you might be
bleeding through a hole in your stupid head by now.” And she whirled
away from them, storming out the door.

Left alone in the kitchen, Mel stared Jack down for just a second before
he turned away from her, presenting his back. He’d just been beaten to a
pulp by his little sister; he wasn’t in the mood to go a round with his
wife.

The baby fussed.

“Asshole,” Mel said, leaving the kitchen to see about David.

When Brie got into Mike’s SUV she was clearly flustered. “Whew,” Mike
said. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No!” she snapped. Then, taking a deep breath, “We had…Words, we had
words, me and Jack. About my new gun, which I do not have with me, so
relax.”

He put the car in gear and smiled at her. “I will if you will.”

“I’ll need about five minutes,” she said. She took a couple of deep
breaths. Then it slowly dawned on her—she’d fought! She wasn’t weak and
sniveling, wasn’t scared, wasn’t sheepish—she’d gone right back after
him! Sure, it was only Jack, not a homicidal predator, but still…She’d
always looked for Jack’s approval, and this once she’d stood right up to
him, the jerk. A slow smile spread across her lips. Maybe all was not
lost. Maybe she could get her life back. She relaxed back onto the seat.
“Ah,” she said. “I need a day off. A day away.” From my buttinsky
brother, she thought.

 

Mel had decided to give Jack some time to cool off and get his head
wrapped around the idea that Brie had gone away with Mike for the day,
but in the end it was really she who needed the time. Her husband had
made her furious. She was spitting tacks.

When David was down for his morning nap in the crib Mel kept at Doc’s,
she left the Hummer at the clinic and took Doc’s old truck out to their
homesite. If Doc had to leave, he would call Paige to babysit. When she
got to their property, Jack was inside the house where she couldn’t see
him, but she could hear the power saw as she pulled up. She drove right
up to the front of the house, parked within a few feet and jumped out.
She gripped a solid board to hoist herself up onto the foundation and
stood there, facing his back. He didn’t turn around and her blood
started to boil; he knew she was there. He always knew. When the saw
stopped whirring she yelled, “Don’t you dare pretend you don’t know I’m
here!”

He slowly turned around, and he had the audacity to still be wearing
that stubborn frown. His eyes were narrowed to slits.

“Jack Sheridan! Knock it off!”

“She’s my sister. She’s been through a lot,” he said, his voice gravelly
and impatient.

“That’s right—and she’s entitled to enjoy herself. Make her own choices.
It’s important she make her own choices! If she wants to spend time with
Mike, she doesn’t need your permission.”

Jack stepped toward her. “You don’t understand. I’ve seen him with women!”

“Yeah, I bet! At about the same time he was seeing you with women!”

“That’s different! That was over when I met you!”

“Maybe it’s over for him!”

“Hah! You don’t get it! That guy ran through women real quick, never
even gave it a thought—”

“And this is different from you how?”

“He screwed up two marriages! Brie’s already been through a painful
divorce, not to mention the other horrible crap she’s endured! I don’t
want her hurt!”

“Then you better butt out before you’re the one who hurts her!”

“I would never hurt her! I want to keep her safe!”

Mel put her hands on her hips and lifted one finely arched brow. “The
way you wanted to keep Preacher safe from Paige and almost cost the man
the most joy he’s had in his lifetime?”

“I admit—I was wrong about that.”

“You’re wrong about this! No matter what the outcome is, you cannot get
in the middle of the relationships that people choose.” She stepped
toward him. “Jack, she’s lonely and hurt—let her be. Let her go. If she
finds a little sliver of happiness, it’s not your job to take its
temperature.”

“If he hurts her, I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ll kill him, that’s what
I’ll do!”

“Then let’s tell her she has to leave. Let’s get her out of here before
we have to watch her face hurt one more time. Forget giving her a chance
to make herself happy, make herself well. Let’s tell her the truth—you
can’t take it while she stumbles along and tries to figure out what’s
right for her.” She took a breath; he looked down at his feet. “Like I
did,” she said more softly. His head snapped up. “Just like me, Jack. I
came into this town so blissfully stupid about the fact that you’d been
with a hundred women and never committed to one of them. If I’d had a
big brother handy to clue me in—I could have escaped all this
happiness.” Tears ran down her cheeks.

“Mel,” he said, stepping toward her.

She waved him back, shaking her head. “I haven’t ever been raped,” she
said, “but I’ve been emotionally bruised pretty bad.” Her voice dropped
to a whisper and she was shaking her head miserably. “It should never
have worked with you. You of all people! Jesus, you had to have been as
bad as Mike, probably worse! You had your women—quick and dirty and back
on the road. No commitments. You never loved any of them. It should’ve
been like that with me. A couple of months and then you’re bored, you’re
moving on….”

“Mel,” he said. This time he wouldn’t be held back. He reached for her,
took her into his arms. “God, baby. Where is this coming from?”

“But I got pregnant! You couldn’t get out of it, could you?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Mel…”

She looked up at his face. “This is Mike,” she said in a whisper. “This
is a man whose bed you sat by for ten long days, waiting for him to wake
up, sit up, speak. He kept your squad safe from insurgents in Fallujah.
He came to Virgin River to be near us to get well—do you really think
he’s going to treat Brie with disrespect? Do anything bad to her? My
God, he sees you as his brother! Where is your brain?”

He pulled her close, held her against him. “At this moment I have
absolutely no idea.” He kissed the top of her head. “Tell me something.
Do you think I’m going to get bored? Stray? Do you think we’re only
together because of David? Tell me.”

She looked up at his face, tears wetting her cheeks, and shook her head.
“But if I’d known about you what Mike knows about you—I’d have run for
my life.”

“But I told you, Mel. I never lied to you. It all changed the second I
saw you. Tell me you believe me. Tell me I showed you that.”

She reached up to lay a hand along his cheek. “I believe you. You’ve
never given me any reason to doubt you.”

He let out sigh of relief and pulled her tighter. “God, don’t do that to
me. Don’t throw my shitty past at me like that—you know I can’t talk my
way out of it.”

“But I’m going to talk you off this ledge if it kills me. You can’t do
this to your sister. This is up to her.”

“I understand. It’s hard, but I understand what you’re saying.”

She put her arms around his waist, laid her head against his chest and
cried. He stroked her hair, kissed her head, held her and rocked with
her as they stood inside the unfinished structure. He said things like,
“It’s okay, baby. You know you’re everything to me. You and David.” But
what he was thinking was that this was very unusual for his wife. She
wouldn’t hesitate to go after him, but she didn’t become distraught. She
cried from time to time, but over events that would bring the strongest
woman to tears—the loss of a baby, the anniversary of a loved one’s
death. And he thought, oh-oh. Something about this isn’t quite right.

At length she stopped. She looked up at him and he brushed the tears
from her cheeks. “Sorry,” she said. “You made me so frickin’ mad I
thought I was going to kill you.”

“Yeah, join the party. Brie threatened my life.” He smiled down at her.
“Thank you for not killing me,” he said. “You’re right—I have to stop
smothering her, questioning her. She’s a grown woman. She’s smarter than
me. I’ll try harder.”

“No trying,” she said. “Let go. When she comes to you, open your
wonderful arms to her, but when she’s trying to get on with her life,
toast her. Celebrate her. Let her go. And for God’s sake, please
remember that you can trust Mike.”

“You’re right,” he said. “I learned my lesson. I’ll listen to you now.”

“It isn’t easy being the wise one in the marriage,” she said.

“I imagine the pressure is terrible,” he said with a smile.

She reached her fingertips up to the hair at his temples. “You’re
showing a little gray here. Not much, but a little. I suppose I did that
to you.”

“Probably. But I’m very tough—I can take it.”

“Oh, Jack,” she said, leaning against him again. “Please, I don’t want
to ever fight with you.”

He lifted her chin with a finger. “Don’t be a candy ass. You fought
good. You won, as a matter of fact.”

“But it was awful. There have been times since this thing with Brie that
you’ve been so far away. It just…It frightens me.”

“You should never be afraid. Not while you’re my wife. It’s my job to
make sure you’re never afraid.”

“Then know this—all I want is to die in your arms. I can’t live a day
without you. Do you get that?”

He nodded, but he said, “No dying allowed. We’re going to get old and
very wrinkly together. I insist on it.”

 

Tommy knew he was pretty obvious—he called Brenda every night. When she
walked into their physics class he couldn’t suppress a huge grin—he
could feel it all the way to the soles of his feet. He scored a homework
session with her at her house in Virgin River and it might as well have
been a date at the Ritz, he was so pumped. When she walked him out to
his truck, she held his hand for a few minutes.

The girl moved really slowly, and he liked that. One of these days he
was going to get his arms around her, kiss her. She had to be about the
prettiest girl at school. Maybe the world.

He’d like to be walking her to her classes, but the second physics was
over she was surrounded by her girlfriends and whisked away, so he made
do with those phone calls and after-school homework sessions. “We should
go out,” he said. “You seem to be all over that bad flu.”

“There’s a dance coming up in a few weeks,” she said.

“You have a date,” he promised. “But I hate to wait that long. Maybe
there’s something we can do before that. As a warm-up date?”

She laughed at him. “You’re too funny. Stop looking at me and look at
your physics homework.”

Brenda’s mother stayed awfully close while he was at her house, so there
was no potential for getting snugly. But he was completely okay with
this, because when Brenda walked him out to his little truck there was a
moment on the front porch that she let him get close. He slipped an arm
around her waist. And she kind of leaned against him, so he let his lips
brush softly against her cheek. “That’s nice,” he said. “Do you know
your hair smells like vanilla?”

“Of course I know that,” she said.

“You sure do make homework a lot more fun than it used to be.”

“I’m glad to be of help,” she told him.

“Hey, you want to go to a party?”

“Where?”

“I heard there’s something going on out at this rest stop—” She jumped
away from him so fast, he was startled. The look on her face was one of
sheer horror.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I don’t go to those parties,” she said.

“Okay. That’s fine. I just thought—”

“Do you go to those parties?” she asked angrily.

He shrugged. “I haven’t been to one yet. I just heard about it. Why? Are
they bad?”

“A lot of beer. A lot of kids get drunk. Puking drunk.”

He made a face. “Ew. Sounds like loads of fun. Okay, how about a movie
in Fortuna?”

“Maybe,” she said.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?”

“It’s just…Those parties out at the rest stop, they have a real bad
reputation. I don’t want a reputation.”

He smiled at her. “As far as I can tell, you already have one, and it’s
totally good. So—” he shrugged “—we’ll skip the rest-stop parties.”

“You drink beer?” she asked him.

“I’ve been known to have a beer,” he said. “But I don’t overdo it. You
have to meet my father, Brenda.” He laughed. “Then you’d know right away
that I don’t want to piss him off.”

She seemed to relax a little. “I might go to a movie with you. But we
should have another couple along.”

“Like who?”

“Maybe one of my girlfriends and her date?”

“Whatever makes you happy. But I want to go out with you
sometime—because all this homework is making me so smart I almost can’t
stand myself.”

She smiled and said, “Okay, Tommy. Call me later.”


    Seven

B rie couldn’t believe she had lived in California all her life without
ever visiting the Mendocino coast. It charmed her at once—the
breathtaking vistas, the Victorian villages, the art, the food. She
recognized Cabot Cove, the filming site for Murder, She Wrote. They
lunched in an adorable little restaurant with an ocean view, binoculars
on the tables. Before they had finished lunch, they were sharing
binoculars to view a fleet of whales, migrating south. The mammals were
so far out to sea, the binoculars were necessary.

“In the spring, during the migration with their new calves, they come
much closer to the shore. We’ll come back,” Mike said.

The excuse to come over here had been seeing the whales, but there was
much more to the coast than that. They dropped into galleries, tasted
wine in tasting rooms, walked along the ocean bluffs, down the trails to
the tide pools and private beaches. They visited botanical gardens,
climbed to the top of a lighthouse and sat under a tree in the park,
eating popcorn. They laughed, played, held hands. Too soon, the day had
aged.

“We should at least stay for the sunset,” Mike suggested. “There’s
nothing like a Pacific sunset. Would you like that?”

“I would. Do you think I should call Jack? Let him know?”

Mike shrugged. “I don’t know what kind of arrangement you two have.
Would he be worried if you’re not home before dark?”

Remembering her brother’s dark mood in the morning, the way he’d tried
to warn her off Mike, she almost said that Jack would be especially
worried tonight. But instead she said, “As a courtesy, I’ll give him a
call. I’m really having too much fun to go back yet.”

He touched her cheek with the back of a knuckle. “Are you, Brie?” he
asked softly.

“You don’t have to ask.” She smiled.

“There’s a phone,” he said, pointing across the street. “Do you have
plenty of change?”

“Lots.”

“I’ll get us some drinks. We can take them to the bluffs and watch from
there.”

Jack came to the phone in the bar and Brie told him she was having a
wonderful time and they planned to watch the sunset over the ocean
before heading back. Although she tried to keep her voice passive and
not defensive, she really expected some kind of argument. Instead, her
brother said, “I’m sorry about this morning, Brie. I was out of line.
That wasn’t my place—I want you to enjoy yourself. I mean that.”

“Gee, Jack,” she said, amused. “You sure came around quickly.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m a genius that way.”

“Mel must have really lit into you,” she said.

“That always increases my intelligence about tenfold.”

“I love you.” She laughed. “We’ll be home later.” She was still
chuckling to herself when she crossed the street to meet Mike.

“What did he say?”

“Have fun,” she said, laughing again.

“What’s funny about that?”

“Well, as I was leaving this morning, he warned me about your
irresponsible ways with women—but now he’s docile as a lamb,
apologizing, telling me to have a good time.”

“He’s starting to get on my nerves when he does that thing about the
women,” he said, taking her elbow and steering her toward the bluffs.
“We’ve been all over that. He can give it a rest anytime. He had a
million women before Mel. Two million.”

She laughed at him. “You never mentioned to him that we spent a lot of
time together over the summer,” she said.

“I told you—it wasn’t because you’re Jack’s sister. I met you because of
Jack—I care about you because of you.”

“Did you tell him you spent the nights he was away in his bed?”

Mike laughed. “Would I be walking around today if I had? You know that
would put him in a black mood.”

“You could have explained—I asked you to come, to stay.”

“This would be Jack Sheridan’s little sister. He would’ve expected me to
sit guard out on the porch.”

“You didn’t tell him I got scared?”

He slipped an arm loosely, cautiously, around her waist. “You would have
told him if you had wanted him to know.”

“Which one of us are you protecting?” she asked with a laugh.

He was conscious that she didn’t pull away from him. “You and me, our
privacy. What goes on with us just isn’t his business. If you want to
know—he asked. I don’t know how he picked up the scent, since apparently
no one clued him in. I must be losing my touch—I’ve become obvious. I
used to be slicker than that. But he wanted to know if there was
something going on between us.”

“And you said…?”

“I said that I would never do anything to hurt you and if he wanted to
know anything, he should ask you. I suggested he be very careful about
that because you consider yourself a grown-up.”

That made her laugh rather happily. “Oh, I bet you really pissed him off.”

“He’ll get over it. He pissed me off.”

They walked the headlands trail to the bluffs and found a place on the
grassy knoll to sit. The sun was already making its downward path and
Brie found herself hoping it wouldn’t go quickly. They were hardly alone
there—lots of people strolled, children ran around, lovers paused to
embrace, kiss.

Mike sat with his legs stretched out in front of him; Brie curled her
legs under her and braced herself on an arm, close to him. “Here,” Mike
said, gently pulling her back to recline against his chest. “Be
comfortable.”

Leaning against his broad chest, she felt herself relax in a way she
hadn’t in months. With this interlude coming at the end of day like
this, she was as close to carefree as she’d been in too long. Feeling
the strength of him behind her was like a foundation. It didn’t hurt
that she’d slept beside him for two nights and he had been perfect. And
she began to think, I was wrong about what I can feel. I can feel
things. Closeness and trust, for one thing. Security. He made her feel
safe, and not just safe from danger. She had absolutely no worry that
trusting him was foolish.

The sun set very slowly, the number of people dwindled as it darkened
and soon it was almost as if they were alone. They reclined on the
bluffs in silence for a long time, until it was nearly dark. The dark no
longer seemed to bother her, because she was with Mike.

Finally she said, very softly, “Is there anything between us?”

“Oh, I think there’s much.”

“Tell me…”

“Well, I am determined to do anything I can to be there for you, and you
are determined to break my heart. That heartbreaking business, it’s very
serious.”

She laughed at him. She felt his head drop forward to her shoulder and
nuzzle her hair. A hand on her upper left arm gently squeezed and he
said, “Brie…Tu creas un fuego en mi corazón.” Brie, you create a fire in
my heart.

She straightened a bit, but didn’t pull away. “What did you say?” she
whispered.

“You are lovely. You touch my heart,” he answered, pulling her back
against him again. He slipped an arm around her waist gently, tenderly,
cautiously holding her against him, very careful that she not feel
confined. “Tu debes sentir estas manos amorosas así a ti.” You should
feel loving hands on you.

Her heart beat a little faster and she knew that it was not fear she
felt. She wanted to say, “Deja a que sean sus manos.” Let them be your
hands. But she wasn’t ready. Instead, she said, “Your language is
beautiful.”

“Te tengo en mis brazos,” he said. I will hold you in my arms.

“Tell me what you said,” she urged him.

“Nothing, really. Just an endearment. It is a very romantic language.”

She could tell him now she spoke his language fluently, that she knew he
lied. But she didn’t want to break the spell he had created in thinking
she couldn’t understand him. He spoke his heart while he thought she was
innocent of his desires. “Say something to me—something heartfelt,” she
said, not turning around.

He touched the hair at her temple, threading his fingers into it. “Te
querido más te de lo tu hubieras.” I have wanted you for longer than you
know.

She let her eyes close. “What did you say?” she asked in a whisper.

“You deserve all happiness,” he said—he lied.

A small smile floated across her face. She was on to him.

“No te merezco.” I don’t deserve you. “Te quiero en mi vida.” I want you
in my life.

“I think you seduce women with your language.”

“When you are with me, you should know that I care about you as much as
I care about any of my sisters. Or my mother, who is queen of the world.”

She laughed a little. “I’m not sure that was entirely flattering.”

“I want you to believe you are completely safe and protected when you’re
with me. I promise you, you have nothing to fear from me. Not ever.”

“I think you’re manipulating me.”

“Do you, now?” he asked, humor in his voice.

“You’re luring me into a false sense of security, trying to trick me so
I forget my plan to break your heart a hundred times.”

He laughed, stroking that long mane of hair that floated down her back.
“I know you’re a very determined woman, and if breaking my heart is your
goal, you won’t rest until it’s done.”

“I’m going to make mincemeat out of you,” she said.

“I have no doubt.”

She pivoted to face him. It was dark enough so that it was hard to see
the light in his eyes. She leaned toward him and put her lips softly
against his. Her kiss was very tentative. Brief. Cautionary. “I suppose
I’ll have to lure you into my confidence first.”

“A good idea,” he said, aware that his voice had become husky. “Tienes
labios que gritan besame.” You have lips that scream kiss me. And he
slowly, carefully, leaned toward her. He touched her mouth, drawing her
lower lip between his lips sweetly, sensuously. He wanted to put his
hands on her, but he was unsure what she could tolerate. He let one
large hand touch her waist delicately, but he didn’t apply pressure and
didn’t pull her to him. “I think I like this—being drawn into your
confidence. I knew the heart-breaking would be something to look forward
to.”

“I didn’t know I could do this,” she said a little breathlessly.

“I knew,” he said. “I told you. It was just a matter of time.”

“You’re going to get us into trouble….”

“No, Brie. There’s no trouble here, no problem. Everything is all right.”

“You sound overconfident.”

“I’m not worried about anything,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen
to you.”

“You’re not trying for an upset? Trying to break my heart before I can
break yours?”

“Estas en mi corazón.” You are my heart. “Go ahead. Do your worst. I’m
strong. I welcome the pain.”

“Kiss me,” she said. “Kiss me one time, as though you don’t find me
breakable.”

“Oh.” He chuckled, a husky sound. “Are you sure you mean that?”

“Just once,” she said, her voice a breath.

He circled her waist with his arms and drew her forward, pulling her
across his lap and against his chest. Her hands rested lightly on his
shoulders, waiting. He hovered over her lips for a moment. He let the
flesh of his lips touch hers. Slowly, giving her time to change her
mind, he pressed against her mouth. Her hands slowly drifted upward,
circling his neck, a hand reaching up to the back of his head, holding
him against her mouth, and with a groan of desire he moved over her
mouth passionately, opening his lips. Hers opened as well, admitting his
tongue. He wanted to die, the taste of her was so sweet, so delicious.
He pulled her harder against him, feeling her firm breasts bore into his
chest.

And it happened to him. He became aroused. It was the first time he had
responded this way in so long that for a second he wanted to grasp her
to him, lower her to the ground and press himself against her. But the
hell of it was, he couldn’t proceed with her. She was just testing these
waters and was still so unsure, so easily frightened. This kiss, this
deep and wet and wonderful kiss, was a huge step for her. It was
possible, lying across his lap as she was, that she felt his desire
rising beneath her. And he didn’t want her to be afraid.

He heard her sigh, her breath soft against his face, and he withdrew
from her lips. “Brie, I’m sorry. I can’t,” he whispered.

“Can’t?”

“I can’t kiss you like this. You tempt me. And you’re not ready to be
with a tempted man. I have to take you home.”

She sat back, sliding off his lap and, a little rattled, brushed at her
skirt. “Whew,” she said.

He ran a hand from her shoulder down her arm. “Okay?”

“Hmm,” she said. “Okay.”

“We have to go. It’s dark now. And we’ve had a full day.”

 

Jack was splitting logs in the early morning when Mike came from his RV.
His hands plunged into his pockets, heading toward the bar for coffee,
he said, “Morning” as he walked by.

“Mike,” Jack called after him. Mike turned and Jack leaned the ax
against the stump. “I should probably say something about the other
night,” Jack said. “I can’t figure out what.”

Mike grinned in spite of himself. “That’s too bad. I’d love to hear what
you come up with.”

“How about—I’ll stay out of your business.”

“I don’t believe it, but I like it.”

“You have sisters. You know where I’m coming from.”

“Yeah,” Mike said, taking a step toward him. “I understand.”

“I care about her. Worry about her.”

Mike stepped toward him. He put a hand out to shake. When Jack took it
Mike said, “I’m not talking to you about her. Period.”

“The boys will be here to hunt in a couple of days,” Jack said. “I’m
going to Eureka for some supplies.”

“Need a hand with that?”

“Nah. Need anything while I’m there?”

“I’m good,” Mike said.

Jack nodded. “Thanks,” he said.

“For?”

“For refusing to talk about her. Says something.” He put a hand on
Mike’s shoulder, directing him ahead toward the bar. “Let’s get a cup of
coffee.”

An hour later Jack was gone to Eureka and Mel’s Hummer was parked in
front of Doc’s. Mike drove out of town. He thought it was possible Brie
was at Doc’s with Mel, but he didn’t stop to check, didn’t want to tip
his hand. He pulled into the clearing at the cabin and gave the horn on
his SUV three short toots. Then he stepped out and leaned against the
driver’s door. In just a couple of moments she appeared on the porch,
her damp hair pulled over one shoulder as she patted it dry with a
towel. She wore slim jeans and moccasins on her feet. She looked so
young, so vulnerable. She smiled when she saw him. “What are you doing
here?”

He pushed his Rio Concho back on his head. “Checking in. How are you
this morning?”

She tossed the towel onto the Adirondack chair and came down the porch
steps toward him. “Fine. Very fine.”

“You look fifteen,” he said, feeling every one of his thirty-seven
years. She took a step closer and he put his hands on her waist; she put
her hands on his forearms and looked up at him. He twisted his hands at
her waist, wiggling her a little closer. Then his arms went around her
waist and he lifted her up so that her face was level to his. Her hands
rested lightly on his shoulders. “I missed you,” he said. “I was
thinking about you.”

“Is that so? Are you coming on to me?”

“Brie, I’ve been coming on to you for six months,” he said. “How’m I doing?”

“You’re pretty obvious.”

“I can’t help that. I have no savoir faire.”

She laughed at him and plucked the hat off his head, holding it behind
him. “I think you have more than you deserve. Enough to be dangerous.”

“With you I’m an innocent.” He touched her lips lightly with his.
Tentatively. “My days of being dangerous to women are over.”

“Is that so? And when did that happen?”

He gave a shrug. “A few months ago I began to lose interest in other
women. A few weeks ago, it was over. There is only one.”

“You’re wooing me.”

“I’m trying, yes.”

“If you mean business, you should kiss me,” she said.

“Oh, I was hoping you would say that.” He covered her mouth with a
passionate kiss, holding her close against him. Her mouth opened under
his lips at once and he probed with his tongue. She not only let him in,
she welcomed him in, moving over his mouth with lips that were hot and
urgent, holding him tightly. From what he could taste, she was enjoying
the kiss very much; she moaned softly and grew breathless. He couldn’t
remember when he had last kissed a woman before Brie. A thousand years
ago, surely. She tasted like honey, so sweet and pure.

He hated for it to ever end and when it did, she whispered, “Would you
like to come inside?”

“No.” He smiled. “You’re not really ready for me to come inside.”

“You make me wonder what I’m ready for.” She kissed him again. Deeply
and passionately.

“When you no longer wonder, we’ll talk,” he whispered against her lips.

“You could take advantage of my weakness,” she said.

He put her back on her feet and put a soft kiss on her forehead. “There
will be no taking, mi amor. Only giving.”

“Oh, my. I can see why women would marry you so easily.”

He touched her nose. “Brie, it was never like this.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said.

“I wouldn’t believe me either, but it’s true.”

He pulled her to him and she leaned into him, resting her head on his
chest, her arms around his waist. He held her like that, both of them
quiet for a long time, just enjoying the closeness. He stroked her back
and dropped soft kisses onto her damp hair, feeling more alive than he
had in such a long, long time. It filled him with pride that she didn’t
tense or tremble while he held her. She had slowly become accustomed to
his touch, his embrace, and knew that she was safe and loved in his
arms. Even if nothing more ever came, he felt he had already won the prize.

“You know the boys are coming to hunt?” he asked her.

“Yes. Jack’s getting ready for them. Will you hunt?”

“Of course. Which means I won’t be around town much during the day. If
you need me for some reason, you’ll have to let me know beforehand.”

“I’m helping Mel with a big project she has going on. Something about
free mammograms for the women around here.”

“Then I’ll see you later?”

“Yes. Later.”

He gave her a peck on the lips and pushed her gently away, taking his
hat out of her hand, then got back into the SUV and drove away. He
watched in his rearview mirror and saw that she stayed outside in the
clearing in front of the cabin until he was out of sight.

 

When Mel went into the bar for her morning coffee, David contented in
the stroller after his breakfast, she found Paige sitting at one of the
tables with the newspaper spread out in front of her. “How’s it going?”
Mel asked, parking David by the table while she went for a mug and some
coffee.

“Good,” Paige said. “Hi, coochie,” she said to the baby, making him
smile. She automatically took a toast crust from her nearly empty plate
and gave it to him to teethe on. He was delighted by it.

Mel brought her coffee to Paige’s table and sat with her. She noticed
David gnawing on the toast and smiled. “Isn’t that good?” she said to
the baby. “Where is everyone?” she asked Paige.

“Hmm. I think Jack has gone to Eureka for supplies. I offered to do
that—the boys are going to be here pretty soon. He said he’d get it,
then next thing I knew he wasn’t around. John’s in the back, setting up
lunch, with Christopher underfoot as usual.”

“How about Mike?” she asked.

Paige shrugged.

Preacher came out of the kitchen with a tray of glasses. He put them
under the bar roughly. “Hey, Preach,” Mel said. “Where’s Jack?”

“Eureka.”

“How about Mike?”

“It’s not my day to watch him,” he said gruffly, going back to the kitchen.

“Jeez,” Mel said. She looked at Paige and met twinkling eyes. “Something
funny?”

“John appears to be a little tense. Amazing he got through so many years
without sex every day.”

“Every day?” Mel asked. “Well, holy shit, his count must be down to
nothing!” She looked over her shoulder to make sure they were alone.
“How’s he handling the drought?”

“He’s a little testy,” Paige said, amused. “I keep telling him this is
entirely up to him. If it’s too much, we can make a few adjustments. But
he wants to do it right.”

“Hope he doesn’t explode,” Mel said absently.

“He asked if we can close the bar on ovulation day.”

Mel’s eyes widened in surprise and they both melted into laughter.

 

Jack hadn’t seen Rick in a couple of days. He hadn’t been back from
Eureka for long when Rick showed up. A couple of hunters were having a
late breakfast at one of the tables, so Rick jumped up on the bar stool
and Jack fixed him up with a cup of coffee. “Welcome back,” Jack said.

“The party was great, Jack. Thanks again for everything you did.”

“I didn’t do anything. This town has a habit of turning out for
important people.”

“I’ve been checking on Liz,” he said. “She’s doing great. You can’t
believe how good she looks. Beautiful, in fact.” He laughed. “I didn’t
think she could get more beautiful.”

“That checking business seems to work out for you pretty well,” Jack
said, lifting his cup. “Your complexion looks a little clearer.”

Rick laughed and ducked his head a little. “Here’s how it is, Jack. Me
and Liz—it’s not cut-and-dried. I’m going to finish my hitch, alone.
We’re not going to make any promises to each other until that time’s
up.” He shrugged. “We’re gonna let Liz get a little older, finish
school, see where we are. I want her to have a chance, you know. If this
isn’t right for her—hooking up with me—then I want her to have the space
and time to move on. In the meantime, for right now, we’re still a
little too locked in to each other. You can understand that, can’t you?
After everything…Well,” he said, lifting his mug and taking a sip, “we
have a pretty strong bond. I’ll be there for her as long as she needs
me—it’s the least I can do. I’m not going to tell her she can’t feel it,
that she has to try to get over it.”

“How about you?”

“Oh-ho.” He laughed. “I feel it pretty good. That girl really does it to
me. She always has. It’s just going to take some time to know if it’s
permanent or just something that happened to us.”

“You’re not taking any chances, are you?”

“Of course not. And I mean, absolutely not. I don’t want you to worry. I
don’t want you to think I’m a total idiot who never heard a word you
were saying.”

Jack put his hand over Rick’s forearm. “I don’t think that.”

“Thanks.” Rick was quiet for a minute or so. “It’s nice, Jack. When
there isn’t a lot of pain. When there aren’t any tears. Nice.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “You hunting with us? Or you just going to spend your
whole leave working on your complexion?”

Rick grinned. “I’m hunting,” he said. He drank a little of his coffee.
“We’re not doing that much hunting, are we?”

 

The whole town of Virgin River looked forward to the visits of the
Marine brothers—they brought such an air of camaraderie and celebration
when they came. The first to arrive in his truck with camper shell was
Zeke, who came from Fresno. He was in town by early afternoon. Just a
couple of hours later came Joe Benson and Paul Haggerty together,
pulling a fifth wheel behind a truck—they were good friends who often
worked together, Paul building Joe’s houses whenever possible. Then came
Corny, who drove in from Washington State but hailed from Nebraska—thus
the nickname. Next, Phillips and Stephens—Josh and Tom—both from Nevada,
right on the other side of the Sierras. By 6:00 p.m. everyone was
present, even Rick, and the din in the bar was raised to an all-time high.

Doc Mullins was in the midst of the throng, enjoying his one whiskey of
the day with the guys, David was being passed from Marine to Marine,
jostled as if being weighed, Rick was getting an awful lot of free
advice and Mel, Brie and Paige were hugged so much they felt their bones
crunching. Of course, others from town made brief appearances, wanting
to be a part of the reunion for at least a little while, but not wanting
to get in the way. Connie and Ron and their friends Joy and Bruce put in
appearances. Harv dropped in for a beer after work, as did Doug
Carpenter and Fish Bristol.

Paul dropped an arm around Mel’s shoulders and asked, “Why the long
face? Aren’t you having fun?”

“I hate hunting. I can handle ducks, but not deer. I mean, I don’t want
to pass judgment—I just wish my husband didn’t shoot deer.”

“Oh, Mel, don’t worry. I’ve been hunting with your husband—the deer are
completely safe.”

“Melinda, we’ll have venison all winter. You’ll love it,” Jack said.

“Don’t worry, Mel,” Paul whispered. “He’ll never get a thing. They can
smell him coming.”

Some people came into the bar and Mel immediately recognized Vanessa,
her newest patient. The older gentleman with her must be her father. She
left Paul’s side and went to her immediately, embracing her in welcome,
and was then introduced to Walt, her dad.

Paul just stood where he was, glassy-eyed with a faraway smile on his
lips. Vanessa! His best friend’s wife. Then Vanessa spotted him and went
to him instantly, arms open wide. He hugged her, rocking her back and
forth a little. Then he held her away from him and stared approvingly at
her belly, which was growing nice and round. “I had no idea you’d be
here,” he said, refusing to take his arms from around her.

“I wanted to surprise you. My dad’s retirement ranch is just down the
road and I’m staying there while Matt’s in Iraq. Mel’s going to deliver
my baby.”

“When?”

“A few months. Gosh, it’s so good to see you. I haven’t seen you since—”

“The wedding,” he answered. “God, Vanni—you’re gorgeous.” He touched her
belly. “Jesus, he kicked me.”

“We don’t know what it is yet.”

“Gotta be a guy,” Paul said.

She was joined by her dad, his hand out to Paul in greeting. “General,
good to see you, sir,” Paul said. “Let me introduce you two around,” he
said.

Several of the guys knew Matt, but the only person in the room to have
already met Walt, General Booth, was Mike. Because of his investigation
of teens, he’d been to the Booth household. And although the general
invited them all to address him by his given name, only the women seemed
so inclined. For these Marines, rank had its privileges. General Booth
declined the offer to join the hunting party, saying he might take them
up on that the next time. After about twenty minutes of introductions
and conversation, Paul grabbed Vanessa’s hand, dragged her off to the
table nearest the hearth and sat her down there to talk, to catch up. He
wanted to hear all about Matt, about her little brother Tommy, about how
she liked living way out here, so far from everything.

And she wanted to know everything that was going on with him. Paul,
thirty-five like Matt, had left the Marines after four and remained in
the reserves while Matt stayed active. Paul had finished his degree and
joined his family’s construction company in Grants Pass, Oregon, not far
from the California border. “And are you seeing anyone?” she asked him,
grabbing his hand across the table.

“Nah, not really. Until someone as pretty as you comes along, I’ll just
keep looking.”

“You’ve always been too shy for your own good. You should be married and
have a ton of kids. You’d make such a great dad.”

“Yeah, I should,” he agreed.

“I’ve missed you, Paul,” she said. “Will I be seeing more of you now?
While I’m here?”

“Sure,” he said. “Yeah, I get down here sometimes.”

At about eight o’clock the crowd thinned out a little bit. Mel and Brie
took the baby home, giving Jack strict orders to sleep in the RV on the
pullout if he had too much to drink with his boys. Paige had already
gone upstairs to bathe Christopher and get him into bed and the general
took his daughter home, promising to drop in the next night for a beer
and a debrief on the hunt. Rick went home to his grandma’s and promised
to be back at 4:00 a.m. for the trek back into Trinity to hunt.

When it was down to Marines, the cards, money and cigars came out. Poker
ensued. At about ten Paige swam through the smoke and tapped Preacher on
the shoulder. He folded his hand, having nothing anyway, and said, “Be
right back.”

“God, it’s weird, seeing Preach act like the little husband,” Stephens said.

“Little husband?”

“You know what I’m saying. All Paige has to do is lift her pinkie finger
and he’s on his knees.”

“How are your eyes, man? She can lift that little finger my way and I’d
get on my knees,” Joe said.

“The little husband might pound you into sand,” Jack said.

“I meant if she weren’t married. You old farts are starting to act real
whipped.”

“That’s because we are,” Jack said. “And it’s good. It’s very, very good.”

Preacher came back, lifted his cigar and took a pull. “I’m not hunting
tomorrow,” he said. “I’m going to have to stay here.”

“Why?”

“It’s ovulation day,” he said with a straight face.

“It’s what?” three men asked in unison.

“It’s frickin’ ovulation day, jag-off. We’re trying to make a baby and
if I miss ovulation day, who knows how long I’ll have to wait. I don’t
feel like waiting. I’ve been waiting.”

His explanation was met with completely nonplussed silence—no one at the
table knew about this quest, including Jack. And after a moment of
stunned silence, laughter erupted that was so loud and wild, the men
were nearly falling off their chairs.

When the group got a little under control, Preacher asked, “Is there
something funny about ovulation day? Because I don’t think it’s funny.”

“Nah, it’s not funny, Preach,” Joe said. “It’s cute, that’s what it is.”

“But really, Preach, you should hunt and leave me home—I’d probably make
a better-looking baby than you, anyway,” Zeke said.

“You’ve made enough frickin’ babies, jag-off,” Preacher said. “Your wife
sent you up here to hunt so she can catch a break. Whose deal is it anyway?”

While they dealt a few more hands, Jack noticed that Paul didn’t seem to
be laughing as much as the others, but he was drinking more. Paul folded
his hand, left the game, poured himself a shot from the bottle on the
bar and sat up on a stool. Jack had them deal him out and went behind
the bar. Paul turned pinkened, watery eyes toward him. “Oh, boy,” Jack
said. “You’re going to hate yourself.”

“Don’t I know it,” he agreed with a slight slur, drinking another shot
nonetheless.

“Want to tell me about it?”

“About what?”

“I’m thinking it has something to do with Vanessa,” Jack said.

“Matt’s my best friend. That would be wrong.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing happened. For me, anyway.” He put his empty glass on the bar.

Jack was sure Paul had already had too much, but he poured. “Okay, now
I’m just taking advantage of you,” Jack said. “Because I’m curious. She
said you and Matt were together the night you met.”

“Yeah. I should’ve stopped going out with him years ago. I spotted her
first.”

Jack kind of lifted his brows. “How’d he get her, then?”

Paul threw back his drink. “I think the son of a bitch said dibs.” And
then he put his head down on the bar and passed out.

So that’s how it went. Because if Matt was the first one to get to her,
talk to her, and if she was impressed enough to go out with him, a
Marine doesn’t mess with a brother’s woman. Not even Valenzuela would do
that. That was a line even he had never crossed—not his Mexican brothers
and not his Marine brothers. Because he liked living….

Whoa, damn, Jack thought. And now she’s married, pregnant and Paul is
still miserably drawn to her. That bites.

“I’m going home,” he said to the boys. “Back here at four. Someone has
to put Haggerty to bed.” He shrugged into his jacket. “Try not to burn
the place down, huh?”


    Eight

M el had asked Brie to help with a pet project she’d been working on
since David was born. While Brie was happy to help Mel in anything she
asked, she was a bit surprised by how much she enjoyed this particular
project.

While Mel had been at home with her newborn, she’d had time to go online
on her laptop, plus she could make phone calls while he slept. The women
in her town were mostly uninsured. They would pay whatever they could
afford for medical care, often in goods and services. Some of the
ranchers and farmers had insurance to cover catastrophic illness or
accident, but that left nothing for the cost of well visits, like pap
smears and mammograms. Mel had been able to step up the annual pap
smears by offering to charge only for the lab costs, and by doing a
little bit of hounding. But when it came to mammograms, which she
believed her patients over the age of forty should have every year, most
of her women were making do on breast self-exam. She had ninety-two
women over the age of eighteen in town, and forty-eight of them were
over forty. At least forty of those women were not getting annual
mammograms.

She had tracked down a mobile unit that was operated by a foundation—and
with the help of Dr. June Hudson in Grace Valley, they were trying to
put together a visit from this unit to their towns. They could hold a
mammogram event day, turn it into a party and get everyone x-rayed. “We
can get them to come on the cheap, but we’ll still have to come up with
some money—probably more than most of my patients can afford,” Mel had said.

June had had a perfect idea for subsidizing the cost. The fall festival
in Grace Valley was coming up soon—the second weekend in October. They
planned to set up a booth and sell homespun small-town items, from
needlework to baked goods. There were lots of city folks who flocked to
the festival looking for some of that small-town mystique. Mel’s mission
was to go around Virgin River, from farm to ranch to neighbors in town,
requesting donated items they could sell at the mammogram booth.

Recruiting Brie was not only a great help, but fun for Mel to introduce
her sister-in-law. On the days the Marines were off hunting, Mel and
Brie drove the back roads of Virgin River, visiting all the women Mel
knew—those who had attended her baby shower and parties at the bar,
women who had been patients over the past year. Brie was meeting many of
them for the first time and was instantly charmed by their welcoming
natures, the way they drew her in as if she’d been around for years.
Every stop they made involved at least a cup of coffee, usually cookies
or thin slices of cake, so that by the time the day was drawing to a
close, they were too stuffed to even think about dinner. And of course
David was with them all day long, which amounted to a lot of cuddling
all over town. Snuggling and sugar, since country women couldn’t stand
it if they couldn’t put a cookie in his fat little hand.

The Virgin River women were fantastic—little surprise. They promised
everything from pies to quilts—stock that would be picked up the day
before the festival or brought to Grace Valley by the women themselves.

When they got back to town the hunters had returned and Mel was
delighted to see no evidence of murdered wildlife in the truck beds or
tied to roofs. But her elation was short-lived, because once inside the
bar she learned that they had bagged two bucks, four-by-fours, both of
which had already been taken to the meat processor to be butchered.
“Oh,” she whined emotionally. “Who did it?”

Jack looked at his feet. But he made an attempt. “I think Ricky did it.”

Mel met Rick’s eyes and the boy put up two hands, palms toward her. It
wasn’t him. Mel leaned against her husband and, unbelievably, started to
cry. Jack shook his head, put an arm around her and led her away from
the gathering, back toward the kitchen. As he did so, David was bouncing
up and down on Mel’s hip, waving his arms wildly and reaching for his
dad. “Melinda,” Jack said. “You knew we were going hunting. We didn’t
torture the deer. We’re going to have venison.”

“I hate it,” she sniveled.

“I know you hate it, but it’s not a cruel thing. It’s probably more
humane than the way cattle are slaughtered.”

“Don’t try to make me feel better about this.”

“Jesus, I wouldn’t dare,” he said. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t know,” she whimpered. “I’m weepy.”

“No shit. Here, let me have him. He’s out of his mind.”

“Sugar,” she said. “I should go nurse him.”

“He’s going to be riding his bike up to the breast before long.”

“He doesn’t want to give it up.”

“Understandable. But you’re worn out. Maybe you should go home and go to
bed.”

“I don’t sleep till he sleeps. And he isn’t going to sleep until he
detoxes.”

“All right,” Jack said, taking his son. “Go cry or wash your face or nap
or something. I’ll hang on to the wild one until he calms down a
little.” He kissed her forehead. “This really isn’t like you. Not even
over deer.”

“By the way, you smell really bad,” she said.

“Thank you, my love. You smell really good. I’ll wash this off before I
smell the rest of you, how’s that?”

She let go of her son and went to the bathroom while Jack took David
back to the gathering.

“Is she all right?” Brie asked.

“She’ll be fine. She loves the deer.”

“Want me to take him?”

“Nah, he’s fine. He needs to work off your afternoon. Let me guess—you
stopped at every farm and ranch in Virgin River and he’s had fifty cookies.”

“Maybe not fifty…”

He looked at his son’s face. His eyes were wild, his smile bright and
drooly, his arms flapping. “Someone should have been in charge,” he
said. “Have a beer, Brie. In fact, we should probably give this one a
beer—he’s electric. Jeez.”

Just as he made that suggestion, Mike brought Brie a beer and when she
took it, he draped an arm around her shoulders with familiarity. There
was really no need for Mike to talk about her with him, Jack thought. He
was working on celebrating her, as he had been instructed to do. But
whatever was going on between Mike and Brie, it was putting a light in
both their eyes. He was trying to relax about that.

“So—you make that baby today?” someone yelled at Preacher.

“I believe I did,” he said, sticking his chest out.

Paige brought a big platter of wings out to the bar and said, “John,
shut up.”

“Well, I believe I did. Don’t you?”

She looked up at him, shook her head in disgust and said, “You certainly
did your best,” and turned to walk back into the kitchen.

Mike pulled Brie aside and said, “You’re the only woman on the premises
who’s not just a little pissed off at her guy. Wanna run away with me
right now? Before I do something stupid?”

She grinned at him. “You think you’re my guy, huh?”

“Well, that’s what I’m hoping….”

 

A total of three deer were bagged, but no bear. The Marines left Virgin
River, Ricky went back into active duty and the next weekend brought the
Grace Valley fall festival. A sign was posted on the bar door—Closed.
And below it a map, giving directions to Grace Valley.

Trucks, cars and SUVs were loaded with items for the mammogram booth.
Mel, Brie and Jack left early with the baby and a truck packed with
donations. They met Paige, Preacher and Christopher there to set up.
Through the day, women from Virgin River arrived with even more wares to
put out and everyone took their turn at working the booth—and items were
disappearing like crazy. Mel didn’t have to sit there the entire day,
but she stayed close to keep an eye on their growing funds.

The day was filled with visiting old friends and meeting new.

By the time darkness was falling and the booths were mostly shut down,
Mel was growing so tired she thought her very bones ached. They had
absolutely nothing left to sell on Sunday. “I’ll keep the banner and a
donation jar out here tomorrow,” June said. “Even if we get just a few
dollars more, I’m sure we’re close to what we need to bring the mammo RV
out here.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Mel asked. “I’m so shot.”

“I have to be here anyway—we keep the clinic staffed during the fair. It
won’t be any trouble.”

When the sun went down, the band set up behind the café and there was
dancing and fireworks. The raffles were called out, and someone had
rented a dunking booth that seemed to keep everyone in Grace Valley
entertained as their local hotshots took their turns on the seat.

While Mel held David and watched the dancing, Jack came to her, slipped
his arms around her and gave her a fairly decent twirl around the
asphalt, baby and all. “Who would take you for a dancer,” she said.

“That was barely dancing, but you’re a good sport. You’re exhausted,” he
whispered. “As soon as you’re ready, we’re heading home.”

“It was a long day. Maybe we should find Brie.”

“I found her,” he said. “I’m trying to celebrate her….”

Mel followed his gaze and saw that on the other side of the asphalt
dance floor, she was twirling around with Mike. “When did he show up?”
she asked her husband.

“Just a little while ago. He stayed in Virgin River most of the day,
looking after the town while so many people were here. I think he might
have come for one reason only.”

“That could work to our advantage,” Mel said. “He might give her a ride
home.”

“I’ll give her a few minutes, and ask,” Jack said.

On the other side of the asphalt, Mike held Brie closer than necessary
for a little country dancing, moving her around with more skill than she
showed, making her laugh. And then to his pleasure, the pace of the
music slowed and so did they. He tried not to, but he was helpless and
lowered his face to her neck, taking in the intoxicating fragrance of
her soft hair. “Ah, mija,” he said against her neck. He kissed her
cheek, her lips. She put her palms against his cheeks and pulled him
closer, opening her mouth under his, sending him reeling with desire.

“Mike,” she said softly. “I’m going home tomorrow.”

He pulled back, stunned. He stared at her, a million questions in his
eyes. “Were you going to say goodbye?” he asked.

“I am saying goodbye,” she answered. “I have to spend some time with my
family, and Mel and Jack need some family time—without a visitor.”

“Will you be back?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m sure I will, eventually.” She shrugged. “I don’t know yet where
I want to be. Or what I want to do.”

“I had tricked myself into thinking it might be here,” he said. “It was
nothing you did or said, my love, just crazy hope. Is it all right that
I call you while you’re there? Maybe visit once or twice?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t. Hardly a day has gone by that we
haven’t talked.”

He touched her hair. “You’ve gained such beautiful strength while you’ve
been here. Your laugh is a little wilder, a little more alive. Your
cheeks are flushed and charged with good health.”

“A lot of that has been you. Your kisses. Your tenderness. I’ll miss that.”

“You know it will be right here, whenever you like. Before very long, I
hope. In the meantime, if you want me to come to you, all you have to do
is tell me.”

Jack, holding his son in his arms, interrupted them. “I’m going to take
Mel home. Do you want to come later?” he asked his sister.

“No,” she said, pulling out of Mike’s arms. “I’ll come with you. I’ll be
right there.” As Jack walked away from her, she leaned forward and, up
on her toes, kissed Mike’s cheek. He held her waist for a long moment,
his eyes closing. But then she pulled out of his embrace and said, “I’ll
miss you,” and turned away from him to follow her brother.

“Not nearly as much as I’ll miss you,” he whispered to her departing back.

 

Jack woke a few mornings later to the sound of David’s fussing, but
instead of hearing his wife’s usual cooing and cajoling as she took care
of his early-morning needs, he heard a very different sound. A very
unpleasant sound. Retching. He sat up, found his boxers on the floor and
shrugged into them. He went to his son’s room and lifted him out of the
crib. “Morning, pardner,” he said to his boy, hefting him onto the
changing table to get off that all-night diaper. “Whew,” he said as he
removed it. “That’s gotta be ten pounds of pee. I don’t know how you do
it.” He gave David’s bottom a wipe, diapered him and carried him to the
bathroom doorway.

Mel was kneeling in front of the toilet holding her hair back with one hand.

With David on his hip, Jack wet a washcloth with the other hand,
squeezing it out. He handed it to her. “Come on, Melinda. You can’t
avoid it forever. We both know you’re pregnant.”

“Ugh,” she said, accepting the cool, wet cloth. She pressed it to her
face, her brow, her neck. She didn’t have any more to say.

But Jack knew. There had been tears, exhaustion, nausea. She turned
watering eyes up to him. He shrugged and said, “You eased up on the
breast-feeding, popped an egg and I nailed it.”

Her eyes narrowed as if to say she did not appreciate the explanation.
He held out a hand to bring her to her feet. “You have to wean David,”
he said. “Your body can’t completely nourish two children. You’ll get
weak. You’re already exhausted.”

“I don’t want to be pregnant right now,” she said. “I’m barely over
being pregnant.”

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t. Because you haven’t ever been pregnant.”

He thought this would probably be a bad time to tell her that he did so
understand, since he had lived with a pregnant person and listened very
attentively to every complaint. “We should go see John right away, so
you can find out how pregnant.”

“How long have you suspected?” she asked him.

“I don’t know. A few weeks. It was a little tougher this time….”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Well, yeah. Since you haven’t had a period since the first time I laid
a hand on you. God, for a supposedly sterile woman, you certainly are
fertile.” Then he grinned, fully aware it would have got him smacked if
he hadn’t been holding the baby.

She whirled away from him and went to sit on their bed. She put her face
in her hands and began to cry. Well, he’d been expecting exactly this.
There’d been a lot of crying lately and he knew she was going to be
mighty pissed off. He sat down beside her, put an arm around her and
pulled her close. David patted her head. “It’s going to be okay,” he
said. “I’m not delivering this one. I want that understood.”

“Try not to be cute,” she said through her tears. “I think my back
already hurts.”

“Can I get you something? Soda? Crackers? Arsenic?”

“Very funny.” She turned her head to look at him. “Are you upset?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry it happened so soon. Sorry for you. I know
there are times you get damned uncomfortable and I wanted you to get a
break.”

“I should never have gone away with you.”

“Nah. You were already pregnant. Wanna bet?”

“You knew before that?”

“I wondered why you were so emotional, and that was a possible reason. I
never bought your whole sterile thing. But I don’t have a problem with
it. I wanted more kids. I like the idea of a larger family than the
three of us. I come from a big family.”

“There will not be five, I can guarantee you that,” she said. Then she
bored a hole through him with her eyes. “Snip, snip.”

“You’re not going to blame this on me, Mel. I suggested birth control. A
couple of times, as a matter of fact. You were the one said it could
never happen twice. And then explained that whole business about not
ovulating while you’re nursing. How’s that working for you so far? Hmm?”

“Screw you,” she said, not sweetly.

“Well, obviously…”

“I’d like you to understand I wasn’t relying on that breast-feeding
thing. I’m a midwife—I know that’s not foolproof. I really didn’t think
it possible that…Shit,” she said. She sighed deeply. “I just barely got
back into my jeans….”

“Yeah, those jeans. Whoa, damn. Those jeans really do it to me. No one
wears a pair of jeans like you do.”

“Aren’t you getting a little sick of having a fat wife?”

“You’re not fat. You’re perfect. I love your body, pregnant and
unpregnant. I know you’re trying to get me all worked up, but I’m not
going there. You can try to pick a fight with me all day and I just
won’t play. It wouldn’t be a fair fight—you’re out to get me and we both
know it. Do you have appointments this morning?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to go to Grace Valley for an ultrasound. I want to know
when I have to have the house done.”

 

All the way to Grace Valley, she ragged on him. She threatened him with
dire consequences if he got all puffed up and studly about this. It was
easy for him to take it in stride—exactly how many eight-pound babies
had he pushed out? And if he joked about this even once, she was going
to make him pay. Perhaps for life.

Jack had some premonitions. His patience was going to be severely tested
for the next several months. He was not going to be having much sex.
John Stone, her OB, was going to think this was hilarious. He might have
to kill John.

“Well, Melinda, you little devil,” John said, grinning.

She rested the back of her hand over her eyes while John and Jack
studied the ultrasound, examining that little heartbeat in a barely
moving mass. John pointed out small buds where arms and legs would be
growing.

“When was your last period?” John asked her.

She took the hand off her eyes and glared at her husband. “Um, she
hasn’t exactly ever had one.”

“Huh?” John said.

“That I know of,” Jack said with a shrug.

“A year and a half ago, all right?” she said crisply. “Approximately.
I’ve been nursing. I’ve been pregnant. I’ve been cast into hell and will
live out my days with sore boobs and fat ankles.”

“Whew. Going right for the mood swings, huh? Okay, looks like about
eight weeks to me. That’s an educated guess. I’m thinking mid to late
May. How does that sound?”

“Oh, duckie,” she answered.

“You’ll have to excuse my wife,” Jack said. “She was counting on still
being infertile. This might cause her to finally give up that illusion.”

“I told you if you made one joke—”

“Melinda,” Jack said, his expression stern, “I was not joking.”

“I would just like to know how this is possible!” she ranted. “David is
like a miracle pregnancy, and before I even get him off the breast, I’ve
got another one cooking.”

“Ever hear the saying, pregnancy cures infertility?” John asked her.

“Yes!” she said, disgusted.

“You know what I’m talking about—probably better than me. I guess you
didn’t think it would apply to you, huh?”

“What are you talking about?” Jack asked John.

“A lot of conditions that cause infertility are made better by
pregnancy—endometriosis being one. Often when you finally score that
first miraculous conception, the rest follow more easily. And when you
change partners, you change chemistry. You’re going to want to keep
these things in mind,” he said. And he grinned. “You want to continue
nursing?” John asked Mel.

She got tears in her eyes. “I wasn’t quite ready to quit,” she said.

“Mel was going to breast-feed right up to basic training,” Jack said.

“I thought he’d be my only baby and I didn’t want to rush him,” she
said, a tear spilling over. She got a very pathetic look on her face.

On that note, Jack leaned down and scooped her up from behind, holding
her. He had a unique sense for when it would work and when it would get
him smacked. Right at that moment, she needed a little human contact,
support from her man.

“Then how about let’s evaluate your vitamin program, add some
supplements and maybe you can get David down to a couple of meaningful
feedings a day—the ones that comfort you and him most. You’d better add
lots of water to your regimen—you have to keep the fetus in fluids,
too.” John grabbed her hand. “Easy does it, Mel. You’re in good health,
you had a very successful delivery and at one time you would have said
this was the answer to your prayers. Try not to make Jack feel like shit.”

That night, lying in her husband’s arms, she asked, “Did I make you feel
like shit?”

“Only a little bit. It’s not like I tricked you. As I recall, you were
an incredibly willing accomplice.” He sighed. “Incredibly.”

“I’m just in shock. Stunned. Not quite ready.”

“I know. Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are pregnant? You shine.
There’s light around you. Your eyes are brighter, your cheeks rosy, you
smile and feel your belly all the time—”

“You smile and feel my belly all the time….”

“I can’t believe I’m getting all this,” he said wistfully. “You and a
couple of kids. A few years ago I thought I’d be alone the rest of my life.”

“Do you know how old you’re going to be when David graduates from college?”

“What’s the difference? Does Sam look old to you? I think I can hang in
there.”

“Snip, snip,” she said.

He rolled onto his back and looked at the ceiling. “Everyone around me
is in a mood,” he said.

“Is that so?”

“Well, there’s Preacher—he’s pretty prickly when it’s not ovulation day,
which you might have warned me about….”

“That would have been confidential.”

“Well, not anymore. I think Paige might be a little put out that he told
all the boys he was staying home to have sex.”

“You think?” she asked, laughing in spite of herself.

“And Mike is past moody. I think that’s because my sister isn’t here—and
believe me, I don’t know how to take that. I want Brie to be happy. It
would be nice to have Mike happy, but not if he’s getting happy on Brie,
if you get my drift. I’m celebrating, I’m celebrating,” he said before
she could scold him. “And this little surprise has had an effect on your
mood, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“I mind,” she informed him.

“I just wish things would get back to normal,” he said.

And Mel thought—when has anything been normal for us?

 

The notebook Jack had been using to make all his building calculations
was getting worn and bent. He had been folding it in half to stuff into
a back pocket while he worked on the house, and some of his numbers were
wearing thin and faint. But he was attached to it and that was what he
had out, along with his calculator and pen, while he was on the phone.
He had pulled up a stool to the kitchen counter and gone down a list of
general contractors, all highly recommended and all men whose work he
had seen at one time or another.

Everyone, it seemed, was pretty busy. Booked.

He called Paul Haggerty in Grants Pass, Oregon. “I know this is a shot
in the dark, Paul, but is there any way you can help me with this? I’m
on a real deadline here and I can’t find any general contractors or crews.”

“What’ve you got?”

“Well, the house is framed, drywall is up, it’s plumbed, wiring is
mostly done, the roof is on—and Melinda has a bun in the oven.”

“Whoa! How about that! Congratulations, my man!”

“Thanks, buddy—but she’s very pissy. She needs a house.”

“Gotcha. Let me make some calls, see what I can do. Maybe we can get
this done for you before the weather turns.”

“I’ll pay overtime. I’ll sell my soul.”

Paul laughed. “Take it easy. I wouldn’t take your soul—I’m pretty sure
it’s tarnished. Overtime might cut through some tight schedules, however.”

“I’d sure appreciate it. I’ll wait to hear from you.”

When he hung up the phone, Preacher turned from his chore of chopping
vegetables for his soup. “What’s going on, man?” he asked.

“I have to get that house finished.”

“Mel getting impatient?”

“No. Mel’s got another one cooking.”

“Oh?”

“She’s pregnant again, Preach.”

“Oh! Wow, that’s great, man!” he said, sticking out his hand.

“Thanks. But just so you’re warned, she’s not too thrilled yet. Watch
your step.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“David’s still a baby, and she feels like she just finished being
pregnant. Plus she’s moody, she’s exhausted, she’s puking and she thinks
I did it to her on purpose.”

“Ohhh,” he said. “Okay. But you? You okay?”

“Hey.” He grinned. “I’m great. I’d have five more. But I wouldn’t live
to tell about it.”

“This ever make you feel…You know. Old?”

“Oh hell, no. Every time I get her pregnant, I feel about ten years
younger. And if you tell her I said that, we’re both gonna die.”

“Okay then, we go easy with Mel. But hey. Good for you, man.”

 

When police officers are assigned a new area or beat, one of the first
things they do is get intimate with it. Learn all the roads, houses,
vehicles and people. In the city, where the population is dense, it
takes a while, but eventually every yard and alley, every building and
business, every suspicious character becomes part of a familiar landscape.

In the country, in the mountains, there’s a lot more ground to cover, an
awful lot of back roads and hidden trails, but the people, buildings and
vehicles are a little more sparse. Mike spent as much as a few hours
every day driving and hiking the countryside surrounding Virgin River
and the neighboring towns. He made frequent runs by the old rest stop,
but nothing much seemed to have changed there—he’d expect to see a lot
of trash if the place had been used recently for a party.

As he roamed closer to the countryside and mountains surrounding Clear
River he saw a couple of structures he chose not to get too close to—one
appeared to be a very small prefab house and the other a storage shed.
Both had recent tire tracks leading to them—off-road vehicle tracks,
probably quads or Jeeps. Neither was in plain sight, though it wasn’t
certain they were hidden in the trees and growth; it could be the
owner’s preference to be unobtrusive. But on the chance one or both were
illegal grows, he kept his distance—sometimes such enterprises were
booby-trapped. And besides wanting to know what was out there, this
wasn’t really his business. It was all just part of knowing the lay of
the land, and it was lonely work.

There was a lot of interesting signage out this way. No Trespassing and
No Hunting were pretty common, but now and then he’d see Trespassers
Will Be Shot, Guard Dogs Patrolling and Hunters Will Be Hunted. They
didn’t sell such signs at the hardware store—they were hand stenciled or
spray painted. One sign that said Firearms Prohibited In This Area was
riddled with buckshot.

Quite often he ended up at the place he’d begun to think of as
Whispering Rock, the place he’d shared with Brie last spring. He’d park
his SUV upstream and walk along the riverbank. From time to time there’d
be a fisherman or two, though the water here was too shallow for a good
catch. He’d seen a young couple sharing a blanket on the ground, doing
what appeared to be homework. When he’d walked into the clearing they’d
looked up in surprise, maybe a little nervous by his sudden presence—so
he’d smiled, waved and walked back upriver, leaving them alone.

He liked to be there in the late afternoon when the sun was shining. He
could almost see Brie leaning against that big boulder, eyes drifting
closed, smiling her secret smile. He stayed a little later than usual
one day, through the setting of the sun. He’d just been thinking how
nuts it was to do that without a flashlight when he heard a car engine.
He assumed it would be young lovers, for this was not a place to be in
the dark—there were no lights and it was far off the main road. Before
he could be seen, he started up the river, back toward his vehicle.
Something made him stop; the car had pulled into the clearing, the
lights remained on, but he didn’t hear the sound of a car door. He stood
and just listened for a moment. Young lovers would kill the lights. What
other business was there at this isolated bend in the river, after dark?

He waited; the engine continued to run, the lights shone. Mike walked
the short distance back to that spot, looked through the trees and saw
the form of a single man inside the truck. Waiting. Now his curiosity
was stirred and he watched.

It was probably ten minutes before a second vehicle pulled up to the
clearing, another truck. The engines of both vehicles remained on,
headlights illuminating the clearing, but when the second vehicle
arrived, one man emerged from each truck.

Then it got interesting. From the first truck stepped Detective Delaney
and from the second, a man Mike recognized as a well-known illegal
grower. He was a big guy, just over six feet, and wore his signature
Shady Brady hat. Over the past year Mike, Jack and Preacher had all had
a little unexpected traffic with him. The first time was before Mike got
to Virgin River—the man took Mel out to an illegal grow to deliver a
baby. Most recently, the man showed them where to find Paige when her
abusive ex-husband abducted her; it was very probable the guy had saved
her life. He was an enigma—clearly a criminal, but apparently with a
humanitarian side.

The men faced each other; Delaney leaned on the hood of his truck, and
the grower kept his hands in his pockets. They didn’t shake hands or
greet each other as friends, and no money or goods changed hands—it was
not a drug buy. In less than five minutes they got back into their
respective trucks and left the area.

There were a number of possibilities, but the most likely was that
Delaney had himself an informant inside the cannabis trade.


    Nine

P aul Haggerty would help Jack anytime he could—that went without
saying. It being a profitable venture for him as well made it even more
palatable. But when he got right down to it, the deal maker was the fact
that Vanessa was now residing in Virgin River.

He found six men who were ready to sign on immediately, so he had a
contract drawn up for Jack and faxed it to the bar. Next he leased a
large mobile home and had it delivered to the homesite, along with a
portable toilet and commercial Dumpster for the grounds. His crew could
drive down and sleep in the trailer during the week, going home weekends
if they so chose. He’d haul his own small trailer for himself. He’d
change out and add crews as progress was made on the house. Jack would
have to double as a foreman because Paul couldn’t stay in Virgin River
all the time. He was leaving his dad and two brothers to run their
construction company while he took on this project and he’d have to
spend some time back in Grants Pass trying to pull his own weight.

While the structure was being completed, Paul would scout around the
area for painters, carpet layers, tilers, paperhangers, cabinetmakers.
Jack would have no trouble having light and plumbing fixtures and
appliances installed, once Mel chose them. The house had been started
last spring and great progress had been made, but alone, it would take
Jack another year. Together, with crews, they might be able to finish it
in a few months. If the weather didn’t hamper them too much, by early
spring at least.

And during that time he would see Vanessa. The idea threatened to give
him hives. He loved being around her, went nuts with her effervescence
and buoyancy. The problem was that he found her just as sexy and
distracting pregnant as he had that very first night Matt put the moves
on her. He wondered if he was just setting himself up for a lot of long,
troubling nights of thinking about her and feeling sorry for himself
because he would never, under pain of death, touch his friend’s woman.
He felt guilty that he even wanted to.

But this would be his secret, that he desired her, worshipped her. And
while Matt was at war, Paul would look in on her from time to time, be
sure she was holding up.

He and Matt were like brothers. They had gone to the same Oregon high
school, had a couple of years of college together, joined up and went
into the Corps together. But Matt was the one who was confident with the
girls, while Paul had always been the reluctant one, a little shy. It
was hard for him to make that first move; he’d always had to think it
through for a long time before he could work up to approaching a woman.
He’d overcome a lot of that by now, but not enough. He’d never have the
speed, finesse and confidence of his best friend.

He remembered that night just a few years ago as if it was yesterday.
Matt was on leave and they met in San Francisco to do the town. They
were out drinking when they spotted a group of flight attendants on
layover at one of the bars. Paul had said, “Oh, my God, would you look
at that! Would you look at her!”

“Which one?” Matt asked.

“The leggy one with the red hair and gold skin. I’m going to pass out.”

“I’ll go get her for you.”

“No! God, don’t do that. Wait till I figure out something….”

And Matt grinned and said, “Three, two, one…I’m gone.”

But he didn’t bring her back. Instead, he waved Paul over and tried to
hook him up with one of Vanessa’s friends. And Paul went along with it,
because what else was he going to do? If he’d had an ounce of courage he
would’ve said, “Stop! I saw her first! She’s mine!” To this day, he
regretted that.

Before that weekend was over, Matt and Vanessa were in love. Since she
had airline travel privileges and he was state-side, she spent every
weekend with him for a year. A year after that Paul was best man at
their wedding. He swore if he ever again saw a woman he was that drawn
to, he would tackle her on the spot, probably knocking her off her feet,
and never let her get away.

As far as he could remember, that hadn’t ever happened to him before.
And it sure hadn’t happened since.

When Paul got to Virgin River he went directly to the job site to be
sure everything was in place. The trailer had made it just fine and
stood ready for his crews. His best supervisor, Manny, would be bringing
materials on the big truck and the others would follow. He unhooked his
fifth wheel, leaving it at the site, and drove his truck to the Booth
household. When he pulled in, he immediately had second thoughts—he
should have called her. But wouldn’t calling her indicate that she had
some play in his coming here, doing this for Jack? That wouldn’t be
good. So he just knocked on the door.

Walt answered, his glasses pushed up on his head and his newspaper in
his hand. “Paul! Damn, boy! What are you doing here?”

“I’m here on a job, sir,” he said, laughing. “We’re going to have to
keep it on the downlow for now—I don’t think it’s out yet.”

“That so?” he asked, pushing open the door. “Come in, come in! You can
tell us all about it. Vanessa! You won’t believe this!”

Paul stepped into the foyer of the house and looked around
appreciatively. It wasn’t much from the outside—just a long, narrow
ranch. But inside it was spacious with vaulted ceilings and lots of
windows facing the stable and corral so they could watch their horses
from the house. It looked as though the general had probably gutted it
and had it completely remodeled. The foyer opened up into a great room
with an impressive fireplace and lots of soft leather furniture. As Paul
stepped into that room he saw that the dining room was to his right and
he leaned slightly to peek into a huge modern kitchen. Down the hall, he
assumed, were bedrooms. Out the great-room windows he could see horses
in the pasture, the new stable and a view of the mountains and river. It
wasn’t hard to tell why the general had chosen this place. He was a
hunter, fisherman and sportsman who loved his horses.

Out back, a foot up on the corral fence, looking at the horses, was a
young man. That would be Tommy. He couldn’t wait to get a closer look at
the kid. At the wedding a couple of years ago he’d really enjoyed his
sense of humor. He was an intelligent, handsome teen who was funny but
with the kind of careful manners that would come from being raised in a
strict household, by an Army general’s firm hand.

Vanessa came down the hall toward him. Her face lit up in pleased
surprise. “Oh, my God!” she said, grinning widely. “What are you doing
back here so soon?”

“Well, I’ll tell you in a minute. How are you? You look fantastic!”

“I’m starting to get really fat,” she laughed.

“You look perfect. I think you’re more beautiful than ever. Are you
taking lots of pictures for Matt?”

“Every week I have Dad take a new picture of my belly. Time-lapse
photography.”

“That’s great.”

“How about a beer, Paul?” Walt asked.

“Sure, why not? Is that Tommy out there?”

“Yeah. He’s having a bad day. Let me get that beer. Go sit down.”

“Come on,” Vanessa said, taking his hand and pulling him into the great
room. She led him to an overstuffed chair with an ottoman near the
windows that overlooked the corral.

Before Paul even got comfortable in the chair opposite Vanessa, the
general appeared with a cold beer poured in a tall glass. He had one for
himself as well and said, “Vanni, I didn’t get you anything, honey. I
didn’t even think.”

“No problem, Dad. I’ll go get some water in a minute. Boy, doesn’t that
beer look good! I have to admit—I can’t wait.”

The general was at least six feet tall, broad shouldered and silver
haired, with black brows, square face, about sixty years old; he had had
a magnificent Army career that spanned over thirty-five years. A few
years ago his wife had died, and when that happened he wrapped it up
with the Army. Without that great partner of his—a woman lauded often
but whom Paul had never met—he wasn’t interested in any more military
challenges.

“What’s up with Tommy?” Paul asked, taking a drink of his beer.

“Aw, teenagers,” the general said. “He’s hanging with this kid I just
don’t like. He got himself in a little trouble—went out to some
forbidden kegger in the woods. I found out there’s been a little beer
after school and noticed his grades slipping in a couple of his classes.
And I think it’s this one kid.”

“That’s not all of it. Dad doesn’t like his face.”

“Huh?” Paul asked.

The general shook his head. “This kid, he’s got that shifty look, that
manipulative little grin. I mean, we were all seventeen, right? Had a
couple of beers, drove our cars too fast, tried to pick up girls? Huh?
But this one’s different. I think he’s a little fucker, and I don’t want
him fucking with my kid. Sorry, Vanni.”

She laughed. “Well, that’s the first time I’ve ever heard those
provocative words.”

“I can just tell,” the general said.

Paul thought, he probably just can. The general had spent an awful lot
of years looking at the faces of young soldiers and he’d learned to read
them pretty well. He kind of nodded to the general. “So? You ground him
or something?”

“Yeah, he’s grounded, but I told him I want him to make better friends,
because if he lies to me again, he’s history. I’ll send him to another
school—a private school. I thought this place would be quiet—the kids
would be docile. I think they’re wilder than the city kids. At least,
this one he’s been running with. This kid’s a bad influence. Now, never
mind our family troubles—what are you doing here?”

Paul looked at Vanni and said, “I told your dad we have to keep this
quiet until I understand how much of this is out—but I’m here to help
Jack finish his house. I rounded up a crew, installed a trailer out on
his homesite and we’re going to try to get it done as quickly as
possible. Because your midwife is pregnant—they need more room.”

“Really? Wow.”

“My intel says she’s very annoyed by this development—she wasn’t quite
ready for another one yet. So Jack, being the Prince Charming of a
husband he is, is paying all my boys overtime to get that house finished.”

“Aw. That’s sweet. Are you saying the pregnancy hasn’t been announced?”

“I’m not sure, but I don’t want to be the one to announce it. So let’s
not say anything. And I don’t know if she knows what Jack has done.”

“But where are you staying while you’re in town?” she asked. “Won’t she
wonder why you’re here?”

“Oh, I’m sure Jack’s going to tell her about my crew real quick because,
as I understand it, she goes out to the site fairly often just to look
around. She’s going to notice the people, the trailer—and I brought down
my fifth wheel.”

“No!” she said. “Stay here! With us!”

“Absolutely,” the general said. “We have lots of room.”

“I couldn’t do that,” he protested. “I’ll be coming and going, my hours
will be weird, I’m sure I’ll spend some time with Jack and Preacher in
town….”

“Who cares about that? Come and go as you like! We’ll just fix you up
with a key.” She laughed. “Not that anyone remembers to lock a door
around here.”

“I’m going to have to commute—I left my brothers with the company in
Grants Pass. I’ll be going back and forth, but honestly, it’s going to be—”

“I can’t stand to think of you in a fifth wheel for weeks—and I don’t
care what kind of hours you keep!” Vanessa protested.

“To tell you the truth, Paul, I could use a hand,” Walt said. “I’m
making a run down to Bodega Bay almost every week for a couple of days.
Every other week at least. Do you remember Vanessa’s cousin Shelby, from
the wedding?”

“Of course,” he said, sitting up straighter.

“Her mother, my sister…she’s disabled. Bedridden now.”

“I’m sorry, sir—I had forgotten. ALS, isn’t it?”

“That’s right. Frankly, none of us expected her to last this long, but
she’s still with us. The bravest soul I’ve ever known. But since I can’t
convince Shelby she’d be just as well off in a nursing home, I go as
often as I can. To help, to visit. To offer moral support. Vanni goes
now and then, as well. It sure would ease my mind if there were someone
around here to keep an eye on things when I have to be gone.”

“Keep an eye on Tom, he means,” Vanessa said. Then she grinned. “I’m
sure he’d prefer your mothering to mine.”

“Any way I can help, sir,” Paul said. “I’m awful sorry about your sister.”

“Thank you—she’s not in any pain. The hardest part about this is that my
niece has taken it on, full-time, and she’s just a girl.”

“Shelby’s doing exactly what she wants to do,” Vanessa said. “She’s very
stubborn about it. If it were my mother, I’d do the same as my cousin.”

“I’m sure we can work out our schedules, General,” Paul said. “If you
make your trip down the coast while I’m working on the house and not
back in Oregon, I’d be glad to hang around here. Make sure no one’s
going wild.” He smiled, but inside his pulse picked up a bit. Being
under Vanessa’s roof while her father was away wasn’t going to do much
for sleeping soundly.

“You’re a good man, Paul,” Walt said.

Paul thought, if I were a good man, I wouldn’t be having these thoughts,
these feelings.

 

Jack showed up at Doc’s at about eleven in the morning and found Mel at
the computer, David in his playpen not far away. “Hey,” he said. “What’s
going on?”

“Not so much,” she said. “I’m scheduling our mammogram unit to visit
town. What’s going on with you?”

“I have something to show you—if you can take a break.”

“What?”

“Can’t you be surprised?”

“I’m so bad at surprises,” she said.

“Yeah. I know. You should work on that. Where’s Doc?”

“He’s around here somewhere.”

“Well, find him and tell him you’re stepping out. I’ll get David. Let’s
take a ride. I think you’re going to like this.”

“Jack,” she said, standing up, “I hate when you do this.”

“I haven’t given you one bad surprise yet,” he said, lifting his son out
of the playpen. When she glared at him he said, “I haven’t! I make
excellent babies and if you’re surprised, I think that’s your fault!”

“Yeah, you don’t have to rub my nose in it.”

It took Mel only a few minutes to get herself together, find Doc to
excuse herself, grab her medical bag, which went with her everywhere,
and shrug into her coat. Jack put David in his car seat—he was delighted
to be going somewhere. Anywhere.

When they were turning off the road onto the drive that had become her
drive, to her new home, she got a little keyed up. Happy, if you dared.
“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Wait till you see. You’re going to like this. You’re going to like me
again.”

“I love you—I’m just not thrilled about how potent you seem to be.”

As Jack pulled up to the top of the hill, coming through the trees, she
sat up straighter when she saw all the activity around the house. It was
a full-fledged construction site, complete with trailers, vehicles,
portable toilet, men at work. Right in front of the largest trailer,
wearing a hard hat, she recognized Paul.

“What’s going on?” she asked again.

“We’re getting your house done, Melinda. Paul brought a crew down from
Oregon and we’re finishing up. We’re going to have to go over to Eureka
to pick out our fixtures, paint, carpet, tile, cabinets. It’s going to
go fast now.”

“Jack,” she said in a breath, turning toward him. She put her hand over his.

“We’re going to get you in and settled before the baby. I’m going to do
everything I can to make this easy for you.” He shrugged. “If I could
carry the baby for you, I would.” He grinned. “Thank God I can’t. But
after this little one is born, I’m going to do whatever I have to do to
be sure you have time to enjoy your kids. We’ll try my method of birth
control instead of yours next time. I miss your joy. Your smile.”

“I smile,” she protested.

“You’ve been pretty cranky.”

“Jack, I’m sorry, darling. It’s not you…. It’s me. I feel like an idiot.
I feel like one of those teenage girls who come to me already five
months pregnant without a clue because they didn’t want it to be so.
It’s pretty embarrassing, given my profession. I really, really thought
David was a miracle, and the only miracle I’d have. People like me
shouldn’t have that kind of denial. I don’t know what possessed me….”

“Do you have any idea how much I love you? Mel, I’d never do anything to
hurt you, make you uncomfortable.” He smiled. “I just can’t keep my
hands off you.”

“I know, Jack,” she said. “The hell of it is, I can’t resist you.”

“So—the only problem we have is that you’re way more fertile than you
thought. We can work with that. Kiss me.”

She leaned over to him and put a hand around the back of his neck,
pulling him against her mouth, which she opened passionately, treating
him to one of her lustiest kisses. He put his arms around her and moaned
appreciatively. Kiss at an end, he said, “Now, that’s what I’m talking
about. You just taste so good. Come on, let’s go see what Paul’s got
going on.”

Mel got out while Jack pulled David out of his car seat. The second Paul
saw them getting out of the truck, he came to them, opening his arms to
Mel, hugging her close. “What do you think? Your man make you happy today?”

“I can’t believe it—this is wonderful of you!”

“Nah, I’m not wonderful—he’s paying through the nose. But it’s going to
be beautiful, Mel. I guarantee it. You have work to do, too—you have to
appliance and accessory shop right away. Some things take a long time to
be delivered.”

“We’ll get right on it. Will you stay with us while you’re here?”

“I’ve had nothing but offers, and I’ve got my trailer. Which, believe it
or not, I happen to like. I think when I’m not out here with the boys or
back in Grants Pass, I’ll be spending some time at the general’s house.”

“Well, that’s perfect,” she said. “We’ll pick a night this week to have
you, Vanessa and her family and all your guys for dinner at the bar.
Right, Jack?”

“You got it. Anything you want.”

She grinned. “I like it when he says that. Did he happen to tell you the
news?”

“What news?” Paul asked dumbly.

She gave him a playful whack on the arm. “Stop it—I know you know. It’s
why you’re here.”

He put an arm around her shoulders. “If I know, it’s because you’re
glowing. Again.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” she said. “I’m pea-green until about nine
in the morning.”

“Right after which, she glows,” Jack agreed.

“Nothing more beautiful than a pregnant woman,” Paul said.

“Oh, brother,” she said.

“You do good work,” Paul said to Jack.

“Yeah…And if I ever find out who gave her those shoes…” Jack added with
a laugh, which earned him a dirty look that amused both men beyond good
sense.

 

The mammogram RV showed up in Virgin River on a Monday morning and was
set up in Doc’s clinic. All the women Mel had contacted came in early in
a big crowd, some dragging kids along and all bearing food and drink.
They gathered in the waiting room and held an all-day party, leaving one
at a time for their mammograms. It was a long, exhausting and fulfilling
day for Mel, and for Doc, too—if you looked closely enough his grimace
almost looked like a smile.

The next day the truck went to Grace Valley to June Hudson’s clinic,
where mammograms were provided for those women over forty and younger
women who were at a high risk for breast cancer.

The following day was appointment day and Mel had three prenatals—the
third being Vanessa Rutledge.

Mel wasn’t surprised her first two patients favored home births even
though a hospital and epidural were available to them—they came from
rural families that had been having home births for generations. But the
one who really surprised her was Vanessa, who was by all accounts a city
girl. She planned to have her baby in her father’s house, naturally.
“Just three months to go,” Mel told her. “And you’re in absolutely
perfect health. Now, how about a little trip to Grace Valley for an
ultrasound? We should be sure right now that we don’t have any obvious
complications. Do you want to know the sex of the baby?”

“That would be great—then I can tell Matt. He feels so left out.”

“How about next week?”

“There isn’t anything on my schedule,” she said with a shrug.

“It must be hard, having him so far away when you’re pregnant.”

“It is, but this seems to be the history in the Booth family. My dad
wasn’t around for either me or my brother’s births. The military can
really screw up the best of plans.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” she said.

“Wasn’t Jack in the Marine Corps for twenty?” Vanessa asked.

“A little over twenty—but I didn’t find him until recently. I came up
here from L.A. to work with Doc Mullins when I met and married Jack. He
was already retired.”

“And you had a baby right away!”

“Boy, howdy,” Mel said. She touched her still-flat tummy. “And guess
what? He got me again.” She shook her head. “I’m going to have to put
him in that little guesthouse out back.”

Vanessa laughed at her. “Listen, there’s something pretty special going
on at our house tomorrow night—and we’d like you and Jack, Preacher,
Paige and Mike to all be there if possible. Of course, Paul will be
there, too. My dad got us signed up for some kind of program called
‘Voices From Home.’ We’re going to get an Internet call from Matt—real
time, video cam from Baghdad. We’ll make a party of it—and after we all
get a chance to talk, we’ll have a big dinner. Can you come?”

“Vanessa,” she said, touching her hand, “don’t you want him all to
yourself?”

“There’s a part of me that does, but I’m thinking of Matt—he’s all the
way over there and right here are some of his favorite people. You have
no idea how much he talked about Jack, Preacher and Mike. And it will be
almost as big a deal for him to talk to Paul as to me. I’m going to walk
across the street right after leaving here to ask the boys. Say you’ll
come.”

“Are you absolutely sure, honey? Because it’s understandable if you—”

“I’m sure! I just wish I knew the sex of the baby for that video
conference. That would really top it off.”

Mel smiled. “Well, girlfriend, I can hook you up. I have some
connections. Can you drive over today or tomorrow morning?”

Her face lit up. “I can! Can you really make that happen?”

“You bet. It’s the least we can do for you.”

 

On the day of the video conference with Matt, Tommy was on his way to
his truck in the high school parking lot when Jordan snagged his arm.
“Hey, man, where you been?”

“I’ve been around,” he said, not very happily. He’d been avoiding
Jordan. After what Brenda had said about those rest-stop parties, he’d
been curious. So he’d dropped in on one when she had other plans with a
girlfriend. It was, as she had said, pretty out of control. There
weren’t too many kids and the weather was cold, but stuff had been going
on that he didn’t like. Jordan and his buddy seemed to be taking kids
away from the crowd briefly; he couldn’t see what was happening, but
they weren’t gone long enough to smoke a joint and there was a little
too much delight in their expressions when they returned. He suspected
some kind of score. Ecstasy, he thought. Or something a little more
high-powered, like meth.

Tommy had a beer, headed for home…and his dad had waited up for him,
smelled his breath. And he was in trouble.

“I haven’t seen you. Wanna come by the house? We got beer, we got fun
times.”

“Nah, I’m not into that.”

“Since when?”

“Since I took a run out to your little party at the rest stop and got
into trouble with my old man. I gotta go—I got something going on.”

“What is your deal? You cut me off like that without saying anything? I
know a girl I want you to meet.”

“I have a girl, Jordan. I have to go.”

“Wait a minute. What girl?”

“I’ve been seeing someone. A junior. Girl named Brenda. We’ve been out.
And stuff.”

“Brenda? Carpenter?” he said, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah, I know
Brenda.” He waved his hand in front of his face as if to cool a sudden
fever. “I know Brenda real good. Real, real good.”

Tommy’s expression closed off. Dark. “No, you don’t.”

“Yeah.” He laughed. “Oh, yeah. She’s a hottie. A real hottie.”

Tom went instantly unconscious. Brain dead. Steam started to pour out of
his ears. He moved on Jordan, getting in his face. “What are you talking
about?”

“Nothing, man. It was a long time ago. No big deal. We partied together
a little bit.”

Tommy grabbed him by the shirtfront. “No. You didn’t.”

“Okay.” He laughed again. “Whatever you say.”

Tommy drew back and landed a blow to his face, knocking him down. But
Jordan sprang right back up and delivered his own blow, surprisingly
hard for the skinny runt he was. And it was game on. They were hitting,
rolling around, crunching, swearing—and then they were pulled apart by
two teachers.

In the principal’s office Tommy admitted immediately what had set him
off and Jordan confessed as fast that he’d just been mouthing off and it
wasn’t true. That was one thing about the country as opposed to the
city—they kind of expected you to handle something like that with a
punch or two. The principal said to Jordan, “Sounds like you were just
asking for it, son. If you’d said that to me about my girl, I’d have
given you a lot worse than what you got. Now I want you boys to stay
away from each other, because if this happens again, you’re both suspended.”

The problem was, it took a long time to get to that point and Tommy
wanted to get home. He didn’t want to miss a chance to talk to Matt.

 

There was a definite air of excitement at the Booth household as the
hour for the contact through the Internet approached. The general had
moved the computer into the living room with a camera installed above
the screen. For this special night he had purchased a larger,
flat-screen monitor, as an image of Matt’s face would be projected onto
the screen, just as the faces of the people who talked to him would be
videoed to him for the conference. Vanessa was running around nervously,
worrying about her hair and makeup, while Jack and Mike went immediately
to the kitchen to help the general serve up drinks and hors d’oeuvres.
Jack’s bar had been closed for this event and Paige and Mel spent all
their time trying to reassure Vanessa that she’d never been more
beautiful. Preacher held Christopher on his lap, keeping him under
control at this gathering while David slept peacefully in the playpen in
a bedroom down the hall.

As the time for the contact approached and the general got the computer
online, tension rose about tenfold in the house. Long, stressful minutes
passed as the time for the video conference came and went. And then,
suddenly, a voice rang out in the room. “Hey! Anybody home?”

Vanessa rushed forward. She was momentarily speechless, staring at the
face of her husband on the screen. Her hand reached out toward him.

“Hey!” he said again. “Vanni? You there?”

“Matt,” she said, too softly. Then, turning on the camera and pulling
herself up internally, louder, “Matt! Darling!”

“Aw, Vanni—look at you! Let me see it—your belly.”

She turned sideways in front of the small camera.

“Whoa, Vanni! You’re getting big! You’re growing me a great big baby!”

“Matt, I have so many surprises for you. First of all, I just found out
this morning, it’s a boy. A son, Matt!”

There was deafening quiet. “Aw, Vanni!” he said in an emotional breath.
“I love you, baby. I love you so much.”

“I love you, Matt! Are you okay? Is everything okay?”

“Fine, Vanni, it’s all good. We’re working hard, but that’s what we came
here for. It won’t be too much longer. You’re beautiful, baby.”

“Have you lost weight?” she asked him.

He laughed. “Baby, everyone loses weight over here. I don’t think I’m
going to have any trouble putting it back on. I just can’t wait to hold
you.”

“Me, too, Matt. By the time you get home, you can hold both of us. You
should be thinking of a name, okay?”

“I will. How are you doing there? You feeling okay?”

“I feel great, darling. And I have more surprises for you. Guess who’s
here. Jack, Preacher, Mike—come over here!”

One at a time they put their faces in the line of the camera. “Hoo-rah,”
Jack said, grinning. He was joined quickly by the other two men.
Preacher scowled into the camera and said, “What’s up, Marine?” Mike
smiled and said, “Buy you a beer when you get back, buddy.”

“Oh, man!” Matt said, laughing, slapping his forehead in surprise. “Damn
me, you boys look good! You must not have to work for a living, you look
so good! God, I’m glad Vanni’s there—I told her she’d love it there!
How’s the general doing? You looking out for him?”

Walt pushed his way in. “Who says I need looking out for?”

“Hey, man! How you doing, sir? You watching over your grandbaby?”

“By the time you get home, I’ll have him standing at attention!”

Matt laughed, clearly enjoying the small reunion. “Tommy around?” Matt
asked.

“I’m afraid he’s late, Matt. I can’t imagine why—he’s been looking
forward to this. There’s someone else here,” Walt said, pulling Paul
into the frame.

“Haggerty! What the hell? What are you doing there?” Matt asked.

“I’m finishing up Jack’s new house for him. He’s got a kid and another
one on the way….”

“Jack’s got a kid?”

“Yeah, can you think of anything crazier? He needed some help. How’s it
going over there, bud?”

“Aw, it sucks. Big surprise, huh?”

“You making any progress?”

“Slow, miserable progress. You going to be around there a while?”

“Couple of months maybe, on and off. But I’m never very far away, you
know that. When you get back here, I’ll just come—”

“Hey, Paul…Buddy…Listen, if anything happens…”

“We don’t talk that way, come on.”

“Paul, if anything goes wrong, you look after Vanni, huh? I think she
always liked you best anyway.” Then he laughed. “We’re going to kick
some ass here, don’t you worry.”

“I’m not worried. Hey, we don’t want to steal this time from your wife.
We’re going to step out, leave the two of you alone, okay?”

“Thanks, buddy. Paul? Buddy? Hey, you know I love you, man.”

“Hoo-rah,” Paul said. “You hang in there. Give ’em hell! Vanni—get back
here,” Paul said.

And like an exodus, everyone left the great room for the kitchen so that
Vanessa and Matt could have what was left of the air time alone. From
the kitchen they could hear the voices in the background. Walt quietly
passed out drinks while they whispered. “He looks good,” Jack said.

“For a jarhead,” the general joked. “Tommy was supposed to be here. Late
again.” Then to Mel he said, “That was perfect, what you did. Getting
the ultrasound before this video conference.”

“They didn’t have anything like this when I served,” Preacher said.
“This is good, this Internet conference. Too bad they can’t talk every
day or every week.” He draped an arm around Paige’s shoulders, pulling
her near. Clearly he wouldn’t be able to bear being away from her,
separated like Matt and Vanessa.

After a few minutes had passed, there were no more voices coming from
the other room. Paul had seemed to be on alert and it was he who first
poked his head around the corner. The screen was dark and Vanessa sat in
front of it with her head lowered to her folded arms, crying.

Paul approached her. “Vanni, come on, Vanni,” he said, down on one knee,
his arms enfolding her. She turned in his arms and with her head on his
shoulder, she just wept. “Oh, honey, that was hard, wasn’t it? But he’s
okay—you saw that! He’s tough, Vanni. He’s going to be fine. He’ll be
home before you know it.”

She lifted her head and met Paul’s eyes. “At least I held it together
while he was online,” she said.

“Yeah, you did good. Come on,” he said, pulling her to her feet. “Let’s
get your face washed. I don’t want you all upset. We don’t want to get
the little critter upset. Come on,” he said, arm around her shoulders,
leading her away from the computer, down the hall toward the bathroom.

Walt was the next one out of the kitchen. “It’s probably going to take
her a few minutes,” he said. “I knew the whole thing would be good and
bad all at the same time. But with all of you here, she’ll come around
quicker, enjoy herself, have some good feelings just from seeing him
again, seeing he’s okay.”

The front door crashed open and Tommy rushed in. “Did I make it?” he
asked, eyeing the gathering.

“You missed it, son. Where’ve you been?”

“Aw, man, I’m sorry, Dad. I tried to get back….”

Walt walked toward his son, frowning. The boy was as tall as his dad,
though leaner. He had a split lip and some dirt on his clothes. “What’s
this? You’ve been fighting?”

“Not really,” Tommy said. “Maybe a little bit. Dad, I’m sorry I missed
him. I’ll explain later, but I promise, I’m not going to let you down
again. I promise.”

“Just tell me one thing—did this have anything to do with Jordan Whitley?”

Tommy grinned. “Yeah. And he looks worse than me. I’m through with him,
Dad. Honest.”

“Well, that’s something, I guess.”

 

Paul was spending a few nights at the general’s house following the
video conference while Walt was in Bodega Bay, and he decided to do
little big-brothering. He found Tommy in the stable, mucking the stalls.
“Hey, pal,” he said. “How’s it going?”

“Okay. What’s up?”

“I’m staying out of the kitchen. Believe me, Vanessa doesn’t want my
attempts at food preparation. I was wondering something…”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to pry, so you tell me if it’s none of my business. You
having any trouble at school?”

“Like…?”

“Like the kind that gets you into fights?”

“Oh, that. What did my dad tell you?”

Paul shrugged. “He said you were hanging with a guy he didn’t like.
That’s all I know.”

“The second he saw him, it was instant hate, and I don’t have that one
figured out yet. I don’t know how you can take one look at a guy and
know he’s an asshole.”

“Well, the general has looked at a lot of young guys over the years. Did
he turn out to be right?”

“Yeah,” Tommy said with a grin, then touched his split lip in sudden
pain. “Don’t tell him I said that. He already thinks he knows everything.”

Paul returned the grin. “Your secret’s safe with me, pal. How’d you get
hooked up with him?”

“New-kid syndrome,” Tommy said, leaning his shovel against the wall of
the stall. “I got here too late in the summer for football and didn’t
have anything better to do. I thought he was a little weird, but you
know—he always managed to have a couple of beers or a place lined up for
a party.” He shrugged. “You know how it goes.”

“I guess,” Paul said, though his senior year had been pretty tame. “So
what kind of an asshole did he turn out to be?”

“The usual kind. He’s a liar. Likes to brag about the girls he’s nailed.”

“Lot of that going around the locker room.”

“I always learned a real man doesn’t brag about it. Plus, I don’t have
anything to brag about.”

“No shame in that, Tommy. This is a good time to be real careful, if you
know what I mean.”

“I know exactly what you mean, Paul,” he said, smiling more cautiously.
“Don’t worry. My dad has had this talk with me a hundred or so times.
But Jordan really pissed me off good—he was talking about a girl I’ve
been dating. I’ve only been out with her a few times, and there’s school
and homework at her house, and she’s a nice girl. A good girl, you know?
She moves real, real slow. The way that asshole talked, it was like he
was saying he’d done her. There’s no way he’d even get to hold her hand.
I had to slug him. You know?”

“Whew,” Paul said. “You finished with him now?”

“Oh, yeah. Every time I see his face, I just want to mess it up.”

“How’s it going with the girl?”

“It’s good. You should see her—she’s beautiful. And you would never
believe how smart she is. I think she kind of likes me.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“Surprises the hell out of me,” Tom said, glancing away. Paul laughed at
his modesty. He was already six feet tall with some good-sized shoulders
and arms on him from playing sports and taking care of a stable and four
horses every day. Tossing around heavy bales of hay was better than
lifting weights. “Hey, you have any time on your hands? Any need to make
money?”

“I could always use a little money.”

“Yeah, if you’re gonna date beautiful girls, you need money.” Paul
laughed again. “There’s work out at the job site, if you’re interested.
It’s dirty and it’s hard—clean up around the site. But Jack’s paying
overtime. I could give you a few hours after school or on weekends.”

“I’ll take it,” Tom said, smiling.


    Ten

B rie’s routine in Sacramento lacked challenge, but she still had no
desire to go back to the prosecutor’s office. All she did was exercise
every morning, clean up her dad’s house and cook dinner for the two of
them. She read when she was relaxed and could focus—not law text or
nonfiction, but escapist novels. Finally there were a few places around
town she was comfortable going to—if only in the light of day. She felt
safe at the grocery store and the women’s gym, but not the library;
those narrow aisles of tightly packed books gave her claustrophobia. So
she bought her books online and had them delivered. There was still
enough anxiety in her that she even varied the time of morning she went
to the gym for her workout, conscious that criminals who watched their
victims studied their habits to use against them.

She went to her sisters’ homes and sometimes the girls would come to
Sam’s. Sunday dinners with the whole family at Sam’s were pretty
typical. Everyone had noticed that even if Brie’s routine hadn’t changed
much, her mood had. She was lighter of spirit; she smiled and laughed
more easily.

“I think Virgin River gets you right,” her oldest sister, Donna,
observed. “This isn’t the first time you’ve gone there after a crisis
and come home better.”

“It’s not the town,” she admitted. “And it’s not Jack.” When she’d gone
to Virgin River after the trial and David’s birth, she’d been empty
inside. Hollow. A brand-new divorcée having just lost the biggest trial
of her career, she’d felt as if she was nothing. A zero, a nonperson; a
woman who couldn’t hold her man, a lawyer who couldn’t win her case. But
a picnic, a little wedding dancing, some flirting, and she’d begun to
feel female again. Then the rape had set her back a year; she was broken
in a million pieces. But some phone calls and lunches, some strong arms
around her and lips on hers, and she’d started to feel like a woman. In
fact, that was the only place she felt like a woman and not a victim—in
his arms.

Since being back in Sacramento Brie had seen Mike only twice in several
weeks—Santa Rosa lunches, holding hands across the table. There were
long, deep, wonderful kisses at parting. She talked to him almost every
evening, taking the call in her room, and for about an hour they would
share the events of the day. He caught her up on all the news, from the
video conference at the general’s to who’d been at Jack’s for dinner.
She was amazed by how hungry she was for every tiny piece of information
about that little town.

Then as the conversation would draw near its end, their voices would
grow lower and softer and their words more intense. “I miss you, mija,”
he would say, his voice husky. “I can’t wait until you threaten me with
a broken heart again. I think you’re all talk and you’ve lost interest
in my heart.”

And she would say, “Not at all—breaking your heart is still a huge
priority with me. I’ll be back.”

“Not soon enough.”

“I miss your kisses,” she told him.

And he said, “Te tengo en mis brazos.” I will hold you in my arms. “Te
querido más te de lo tu hubieras.” I have wanted you for longer than you
know. “I will kiss you as much as you allow,” he translated incorrectly.
It sent shivers through her.

November arrived, bringing crisp days and cold nights to the Sacramento
valley, and she heard on the news that snow had fallen in the mountains.
The pass from Red Bluff through the Trinity Alps to Virgin River could
be closed now and any trip made to that part of the country would have
to go from Sacramento to Ukiah and up the Mendocino valley. Just as
well—highway 36 was treacherous and slow even in the best weather, but
it was spectacular. Brie spent a lot of time thinking about which route
she would take when she eventually decided it was time to return to
Virgin River.

She told her sisters about him, but only one at a time, and sometimes in
hushed tones that she knew became a little breathless. “He speaks to me
in Spanish, in low, sexy Spanish, and then he lies about what he’s said,
thinking I don’t know.”

“What does he say?” Jeannie asked her.

“He’ll say something like, ‘I want to hold you and make love to you,’
and pretends he has said he would like to kiss me.”

“Do you think you can have this in your life again? Intimacy of that
kind? Are you ready for that?”

“I’m very nervous, but I long for it,” she said. “I want him.”

“You trust him enough?”

“When I’m with him, I feel completely safe. Nurtured. Protected. He
doesn’t hurry me—he’s very kind. Very cautious. He’s the only kind of
man I could deal with right now, and he knows that.” She shivered and
said in a low breath, “But there’s a fire in him. I can feel it.” She
took a deep breath.

She’d been home from Virgin River for a month and was beginning to think
in terms of going back after the holidays. But then Brad came to see her
with an agenda that turned her world upside down again. It was afternoon
and Brie had been thinking about what to prepare for dinner when she
heard her father go to the door. It always gave her a little tremor when
the doorbell rang, even in broad daylight, afraid of who it would be
standing there, and that Sam would forget to check through the peephole.

Sam came into the kitchen and said, somberly, “It’s Brad.”

She dried her hands on a dish towel. “Here?”

Sam nodded. “I’ll go to my office.”

When she went into the family room, he was standing there, still wearing
his leather jacket, the one she had given him two Christmases ago. His
hands were in his pockets, his head down. He was as tall as Jack; as
broad shouldered with a wide, hard chest. Looking at his back, she
realized it could almost be Jack, and for a split second she wondered if
she had married him because he resembled her brother in so many ways.
That sandy-brown hair, square jaw, long legs, powerful physique.

Mike wasn’t anything like the Sheridan men—he was six feet, quite tall
to her five foot three, but not towering like her brother and father,
like Brad. His shoulders and arms were strong, but he was lean. There
was that soft, coal-black hair, high cheekbones, black eyes, tan skin,
his teeth so white they were almost startling. His hands were soft and
his fingers long and graceful. She hadn’t seen him without a shirt, but
she knew his chest and belly were muscled and hard, almost hairless. She
found herself imagining that below his waist was more of that black
hair, swirling downward. His legs were the strong, sculpted legs of a
runner—she remembered the feel of his thighs as she lay across his lap
to be kissed.

She had to shake herself, focus on the moment.

“Brad, what are you doing here?”

He lifted his head and turned, smiling when he saw her. He reached for
her as an old friend might, his arms open. She allowed these brief hugs,
but then extricated herself quickly. “I have to talk to you, Brie. Is
this a good time?”

“It’s fine. Here, sit,” she said, indicating the couch. When he had
taken a seat, she chose the love seat, not beside him but facing him at
an angle.

“This is hard,” he said, dropping his chin, looking down. “I’ve been
trying to figure out how to do this for months.” He stared at the floor
for a moment.

“What is it, Brad?” she asked impatiently.

He took a breath. “Me and Christine,” he said. “We’re not together
anymore. We split up. A few months ago. Not long after your…The incident.”

It took her a second to absorb that. Then she gave a short huff of
laughter and said, “I don’t know what you expect me to say. I’m sorry?”

He reached for her hands, but managed to snag only one. “Brie, I was a
fool. I made a terrible mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m a
screwup. But I still love you. I never stopped loving you.”

She pulled her hand away, and the look on her face was one of
incredulity. “You’re not serious.”

He reached again, but she pulled back. “I know—it’s crazy. We split up
months ago, but for months before that, we weren’t getting along at all.
We tried to keep it together, if for no other reason than we’d put our
spouses, our families through so much. Brie, it was never the answer,
but I didn’t see it for a while. God, I’m so sorry.”

Her face held the shock of what he’d just said—more than he even
realized he’d said. Put our spouses through so much…? “She wasn’t
divorced when it started,” Brie said softly. “She wasn’t, was she?”

“I don’t know,” he answered. “Not really, no. You know they were having
trouble anyway. They weren’t going to make it. Glenn didn’t know about
us,” he said with a shrug. “There wasn’t much to know. Really, there was
all that other stuff.”

“Christine and Glenn split up because of you!” she said. She stood up
and backed away from him. “It was more than a year,” she said. “God, you
took your best friend’s wife! And he doesn’t even know?” She turned
sharply, presenting her back.

He approached her and put a hand on her shoulder. “No, it wasn’t exactly
like that,” he said. “There were feelings, maybe. Temptations, I guess.
A kiss or two. But I told you the truth about when we got involved.
Physically…sexually…I just didn’t go all the way back to the beginning
because honest to God, I didn’t know where the beginning was, or where
it was going. Jesus, Brie—”

She turned around and faced him. “You left me a year ago. You were
sleeping with her for a year before that. But you were fooling around
with her for even longer, lying to me with every kiss good-night, every
touch….”

“There was something physical…I can’t describe it…. It was like I
couldn’t stop myself.”

“Something physical?” She laughed. “Oh, God! You were sleeping with both
of us! At least she threw Glenn out, but not you! You had two women! Two
women who loved you, wanted you!” She laughed at him, a cynical and mean
laugh. “You must have been in heaven! You think that’s something I’m
going to get over?”

“I’m sorry. There’s no good explanation. I was an idiot.”

“I’ve been paying you alimony. Even while I’ve been unemployed.”

“I have it all. It’s not spent.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “I never thought this could get worse.”

He took another step toward her. “If you’ll give me a chance, I’d just
like a chance to show you that I—I’m sorry, Brie. Can’t we—? Can’t we
try again? See each other? See if we can rekindle some of what we had? I
know it’ll take time…. If we can’t, I have no one to blame but myself,
but can we just—”

She gave a huff of laughter. “Poor Brad,” she said. “You went from two
women who couldn’t get enough of you to no one. You’re not getting laid,
are you? You’re pathetic!”

“I know you’re angry—you should be. I’ll make it up to you somehow. Just
give me time, give us time—”

“No!” she yelled at him. “No!” And then she started to laugh again.
“God, you don’t know how long I waited to hear you say that! Even while
I was hating you, I might have taken you back!” She shook her head in
disbelief. “Jesus! Thank God you didn’t pull this sooner.”

“Brie—”

“For God’s sake, do I want anything to do with a man who can cheat on
his wife because there’s some kind of physical thing? Something you
can’t even explain? Forgive me, but I thought we had something physical!”

“We did. We will again.”

“No. No. Go. Get out of here. You left me for my best friend and now
you’d like to see if we can rekindle something? Oh, you are such a fool.
What did I ever see in you? Why didn’t I know this about you? Go!”

“No, Brie, there’s more.”

“I can’t take any more,” she said.

“They found him.”

She was stunned for a second. She couldn’t breathe. “What?” she asked.
“What did you say?”

He took a deep breath. “They found him—Jerome Powell. He’s in Florida.
They have him in custody there. They’re working on the extradition. I
think you’ll get a call tomorrow from the D.A. I heard it at work.”

She took a step toward him. “Why didn’t you tell me this first?” she
asked in a furious whisper.

“Because I wanted you to know that I love you. I’d like to be with you
through this. With you when they bring him back. I want to take care of
you.”

“Oh, my God,” she said in a breath. “You thought I’d take you back out
of fear? Helplessness? You’re an idiot, that’s what you are! A big,
stupid, goddamn idiot!”

He hung his head. “Don’t you think I feel pretty terrible about what
happened? Haven’t I been around since it happened? Don’t you think it’s
killing me? Hell, Brie—that’s probably what broke me and Christine apart.”

She started to laugh again, but tears smarted in her eyes at the same
time. “It’s all about you, isn’t it, Brad?” There was a sweet voice in
her head. There will be no taking, mija. Only giving.

“I want a chance to try to make it right,” he said.

“Well, you can’t. No one can make it right, especially you. You made
your choice, Brad. You’re stuck with it.” Then she ran out of the room.
She went to her bedroom and slammed the door.

Brad was about to follow her when he came face-to-face with Sam, who
blocked the hallway. “I think you’d better go, son,” he said patiently,
but firmly.

“You heard?”

“Every ludicrous word. Goodbye, Brad,” he said.

Brad turned to leave and Sam followed him, locking the front door behind
him.

In her bedroom, Brie was already folding clothes into neat little piles
on the bed. She was thinking of Brad’s lame suggestion that he take care
of her through this. He didn’t know the meaning of taking care of his woman.

There was a light tapping at the door. “Dad?” she asked.

“Yes, Brie.”

“Come in, Daddy,” she said. When he opened the door, she filled his
arms. “Oh, Daddy.”

“It’s okay, Brie. We’ll get through this.”

“Daddy, I’m going to Virgin River.” She looked up at him. “I’m going to
Mike. I want to be there. I’m going right now.”

“Do you want me to take you?” he asked, smiling down at her. “I wouldn’t
have to stay around, but I could take you, so you wouldn’t be alone on
the drive.”

She shook her head, but smiled back. “No, I’m okay in the car. But if I
don’t go right away, I might lose my nerve. Dad, tell me the truth—do
you think I’m making a fool of myself? Going to him? Trusting him?”

Sam looked nonplussed. “Mike? Why would I worry about Mike?”

She shrugged. “Jack has warned me of his fickle, roving ways with women.
A player, he says.”

Sam chuckled. “Ah, Jack, who was as pure as the driven snow. Hah. I
guess they know each other pretty well, Mike and your brother. Brie,” he
said, running his big hand along the hair at her temple, pushing her
hair behind her ear, “I could be wrong. I’ve been wrong before, but I
can’t think of any reason not to believe Mike, not to trust him.” He
smiled into her eyes. “Your brother trusted him for many years—for that
he has to be a good man. And obviously he cares about you.”

“He makes me feel like a person,” she said softly. “Like a woman. I
haven’t felt like a woman since Brad…And then…” She stopped. “I have to
go before they bring that monster back here for trial. Before I face him
and can’t imagine a loving touch.”

“Do you think that’s what’s waiting for you in Virgin River?” Sam asked.

She nodded. “I think so. I hope so. If I’m wrong…”

“You’re packing,” Sam said. “You don’t feel like you could be wrong.”
She shook her head. “You’re my baby, and you’re thirty-one,” he said in
a whisper. “I don’t want you to be alone and afraid. I want you to have
love in your life. It’s the natural order of things. And I think Mike
gives that to you. You go,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I think
you’ve had enough of the tough side of life. Time for a little bit of
the tender side.” He pulled her close. “Don’t be gone too long. I’ll
miss you.”

 

When Brie pulled into Virgin River, there were still trucks and cars
surrounding the bar, though it was nearly the time of night Jack and
Preacher would close. She pulled her Jeep right up to the front of the
RV, parking beside Mike’s SUV. She could talk to Jack in the morning;
she needed Mike’s arms around her. Jack would not misunderstand her
presence here, though he might not be happy about her decision. She even
left her suitcases in the back of the Jeep when she went to the RV’s door.

Mike opened the door and saw her standing there, looking up at him. He
gasped and jumped out of the RV. “Brie!” he said in a breath, grabbing
her up in his arms, lifting her clear of the ground, burying his face in
her neck.

Her whole world tilted and warmth spread through her from deep inside;
just feeling his arms around her made so much right. Everything was
suddenly as it should be. She held on to him, held him tight, feeling
his lips, his breath on her neck. “Brie,” he whispered. “What are you
doing here? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

She looked up into his black eyes. “It was sudden,” she said. “I came to
be with you, if that’s all right.”

He ran a knuckle down her cheek to her chin, lifting it. “Anything you
want is all right. You have only to tell me what it is.”

She’d been thinking about this through a five-hour drive, and had
planned a hundred ways to approach it delicately. But in the end she
said, “I need you to make love to me.”

Instead of looking shocked or excited by the prospect, he asked, “What’s
wrong, honey? What happened?”

She shook her head, looking into his eyes with moist ones of her own.
“Brad,” she said in a breath. “He came to ask me for another chance. And
in the same conversation, told me they’d found the rapist and would be
extraditing him to California for trial.”

He was quiet a moment, a half smile on his lips. Then he asked, “And you
think I can make that go away?”

“No,” she said. “But I knew if I didn’t come here soon…Mike, I’m not
whole, you have to know that. It’s been so long, and there’s been so
much…. I just learned my husband was with two women for a long, long
time before he chose her. And what Powell did to me…I can want you, but
truthfully, I’m not sure I can ever feel again.”

“Shhh,” he said. He gently touched his lips to hers. “You already feel,
or you wouldn’t be here,” he whispered.

She said, “Quiero que me abraces. Para amarte durante la noche.” I want
you to hold me. To love me through the night.

A slow smile grew on Mike’s face. “I haven’t had any secrets, have I?”

“Nada,” she said. Not one.

Mike laughed softly. “It serves me right. I didn’t know you spoke
Spanish,” he said. “Tu debes sentir estas manos amorosas así a ti.” You
should feel the touch of loving hands.

“Deja a que sean sus manos.” Let them be your hands.

“Brie, are you sure you’re ready for this? Are you sure you want it to
be me?”

She shook her head. “I’m only sure I want to try, to feel complete, to
feel like a woman again before it’s too late, before that bastard is
brought to trial and facing him turns me to stone again. But you? Sí. Te
quiero mucho.” Yes. I want you so much.

“Have you seen Jack?” he asked, his hand on the back of her neck under
her hair, kneading gently.

She shook her head. “I didn’t even go into the bar. I don’t think he’ll
have any trouble figuring out why I’m here when he leaves tonight and
sees my car.”

“Do you want me to take you to him? Be there when you tell him you’re back?”

She shook her head again. “I’ll see him tomorrow.” She laughed
nervously. “I’m not sure what I have to offer. I’m absolutely certain,
and still…Maybe you should give me a beer,” she said.

“Tu no necesitas eso. Nada malo te pasara en mis brazos.” You won’t need
that. Nothing frightening will ever happen while you’re in my arms. He
pulled her to him with the hand at the back of her neck.

“What if I’m really dead inside?” she whispered.

“You know better than that. You’ve never been dead inside, just
frightened. You trusted yourself enough to come here. Leave the rest to
me.” He touched her lips softly. “You have to know something while
there’s still time for you to change your mind about this. I’m not a
Good Samaritan, Brie. Not just a man willing to help a good friend get
in touch with her feelings again. I’m in love with you,” he said,
hovering over her lips. His breath was hot and sweet on her face, then
slowly he descended on her, covering her mouth in a kiss that was
powerful and hot, a kiss that seared and demanded. He moved over her
parted lips hungrily and she clung to him with a whimper. “I’m so in
love with you.”

When he released her lips, he pulled her up and into the RV and locked
the door. She slipped out of her jacket and asked, “Will he come
pounding at the door?”

Mike chuckled low in his throat. “Not a chance. I think even Jack knows
when he’d be taking his life in his hands.” With his hands on her face,
he pulled her lips onto his, devouring her. He kissed her again. And
again. Holding her against him with arms that had ached to hold her like
this for too long. He felt her small tongue in his mouth and it made him
weak in the knees, it was so delicious, so sweet. All he hoped for was
that he could make her comfortable with his touch, soothed enough so
that she would welcome more of him. He wanted her to relearn, in his
arms, the beauty of what could happen between a man and woman. The joy
and ecstasy. After what had been done to her, she should know that in
this, the love that he had for her, there would never be fear or pain,
but only pleasure. Pleasure so wild and wonderful, it would fill her
life for many days and nights to come. These thoughts combined with the
sensation of her against him made him erect at once and he sprang to
life, folded almost painfully inside his jeans. With a hand on her
bottom, he pulled her against him to show her what holding her did to
him, and a deep and beautiful moan escaped her.

“Everything is up to you, Brie,” he said. “If you want to change your mind…”

“No,” she whispered against his lips.

“There’s no hurry, baby. Tell me when to slow down, when to stop….”

She shook her head. “I trust you. I need you.”

He drew her through the RV, past the full kitchen and a shower big
enough for two into a small bedroom. There were only a couple of feet on
each side of the queen-size bed and the walls were lined with closets,
drawers and shelves, but it was all beautiful and modern, and plenty big
enough.

His hands went to the bottom of her soft sweater and he drew it slowly
over her head, leaving her in only her bra. He was on her mouth again,
bruising her lips with the passion of his kiss. He pulled her hands from
around his neck and, looking into her eyes, placed her fingers on the
buttons of his shirt. She didn’t need to be told—she tugged his shirt
out of his pants and worked the buttons quickly, then with her hands
against his chest, spread the shirt over his shoulders to bare his
chest. She touched the scar on his right shoulder, then caressed his
chest with her small soft hands. “I love the way your skin feels,” she
whispered. “You’re so smooth. So silky.” She kissed the hollow place at
the base of his neck.

With one deft movement, the bra disappeared and he pulled her against
him, her breasts on his chest. Flesh to flesh. Her arms encircled him
and held him close. The feeling of her small hands running up and down
his back stirred his blood just as the sensation of her nipples against
his chest bored through him with heat. One of his hands found and cupped
a full breast, his thumb running over that erect nipple, stimulating it.
Then he lowered his lips to gently draw on it, and she moaned softly,
sweetly, whispering his name.

Mike was aching for her. He brought his mouth back to hers, and while
kissing her, he backed her slowly and carefully to the bed until the
backs of her legs were against it. Then his hands went to the snap of
her jeans. “Okay?” he asked against her lips. “Do you need a little more
time?”

She shook her head. “I’m ready,” she whispered.

He undid them carefully, slowly. Then, sliding his hands gently along
her hips, moved them down. He sat her down on the bed and knelt to take
off her shoes, pull off her jeans. When he stood and put his hands on
the buckle of his belt, he hesitated, waiting for her to tell him if it
was too much, too fast. But she brushed them away and replaced his hands
with her own. She undid the buckle, the snap and zipper, and tugged the
pants down. Freed, he leaped out at her and her eyes widened briefly.
She glanced up at him, then, her eyes closing, she leaned toward him.
But he stopped her by putting his hands on her shoulders. “Another time,
mi amor. Tonight is about you.” He gently pushed her back onto the bed
while he freed himself from his boots and trousers so he could get in
beside her.

Both of them naked, he took her into his arms. She was so small and
compact against him. He closed his eyes and in his mind he could see
them against the white sheets, her ivory body against his tan, his dark
hand on her hip and her small pale hand on his. He filled his hands with
her satiny flesh, covering her body with long, smooth, calming strokes
from her shoulders to her knees while he kissed her deeply. He caressed
her gently for several minutes, giving her time to get used to the
sensation of their naked bodies together, entwined. She slipped a leg
over his and her hands on him became bolder as she moved down his back
and grabbed his butt, pulling him closer, harder against her. He slipped
his hand between their bodies and moved it lower, inching his fingers
down over her flat belly and farther, finding, with some surprise, that
she parted her legs for him. He found the prominent little knot he was
looking for and gave it a little attention, rubbing her gently, bringing
a deep, lusty moan from her. Then he moved lower still, gently dipping a
finger into her to find she was ready—this was a passionate woman who
had been too long without a man to love her. But he wasn’t going to rush
her; he was going to bring this to her sweetly, slowly. The last touch
she’d felt had been brutal. He would erase that with gentleness and love
so that she would never again fear it.

He rolled her gently onto her back and rose above her. “Let me look at
you, Brie,” he whispered. He ran a slow hand down her body from her neck
to her pubis and over, letting his fingers slip into her damp softness
for just a second, causing her to writhe against him. “I don’t think
I’ve ever seen anything this beautiful,” he whispered. He put his hands
on her hips and gently squeezed. She was soft and lush. He began a line
of gentle kisses from her neck to her shoulder, her chest, her breast,
her belly. Then he rose to kiss her neck again and with his lips against
her ear, he whispered, “Trust yourself, Brie.” Then he resumed his
kisses, less gentle as he lowered his mouth until he was at the center
of her body. He parted her legs and put his mouth on her, delicately at
first, and then with more pressure. She moved her hips against his
mouth; he heard her groan and cry out, then felt her hands on his
shoulders, gripping him fiercely, and he pulled on her carefully with
his lips, massaging with his tongue until he could feel her tremble,
open up, clench, vibrate against him. It was glorious, the way she let
it go, let him take her to that pinnacle and beyond. This pleased and
surprised him; he had prepared himself to have to coax her into
pleasure, into orgasm, but she was quick and hot, consuming him, her
fingers digging into his shoulders. As she relaxed, he drew away, rising
slowly, kissing her belly, her breast, her neck, her mouth. “Brie, you
are wonderful. Delicious. You honor me.”

She had trouble catching a breath. She said, “Oh, God. Oh, my God.”

“I don’t think you’re going to have trouble feeling….”

“God,” she whispered, weak and spent in his arms.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” he whispered, gently pecking at her lips.

“I want more of you,” she said.

“Are you sure?” he asked her.

“I’m sure,” she whispered.

But he took his time again, allowing her to recover, slowly arousing her
with slow hands, sweet lips. There was a fierce ache in him that wanted
to dive into her and experience her quickly, bring his own release, but
he ignored it. He concentrated on her responses, sure that she was
rising to that ultimate pleasure again. And then, because he was honor
bound, he whispered against her ear, “Brie…I have a condom.”

She froze. “No,” she said emphatically, shaking her head. “Please, no.”

“Very well, my love.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t…”

“It’s all right, Brie. We’ll do without….”

He gave her a little time to forget about that, spreading his kisses
over her once more, lingering at her breasts, her neck, her lips. Then
finally he rose over her and with a knee placed carefully between her
legs, he gently moved them apart again. He looked at her face; her eyes
were closed and her head turned away from him. She held her bottom lip
between her teeth, tensely. With a hand on her chin, he turned her back
to face him and kissed her tenderly, lightly. Then harder, opening her
lips with his. Her hands went to his hips, whether to hold him back or
draw him in, he wasn’t sure. He lowered himself to her and the moment he
touched her where he might enter her, she flinched. Stiffened. “Brie,”
he commanded softly. “Look at my face. Look at me, baby. It’s me. Say my
name, mi amor.”

In a breath it came. “Miguel.”

“Put your hand on me, Brie. Show me the way. You’re in control.”

She wrapped her small hand around him, and at the merest touch he was
ready to lose it. He wasn’t sure he could last long enough to please her
again, but he was hell-bent to try. Slowly, cautiously, she led him into
her. “My love,” he said, “focus on my face, Brie. It’s you and me, and I
love you. I’ll never give you anything but love.”

“Miguel,” she said softly.

“Brie,” he whispered. He slid into her slowly, filling her, and she
tilted her head back, her pelvis up, and with her hands again on his
hips, pulled him deeper. Being inside her like that, he thought he might
die, it was so good. He pulled up her knees and balanced on them, moving
within her, rocking, stroking, making sure to create the friction that
he knew from experience worked, while pushing himself deeply inside,
which also worked. It was so important that she reclaim the joy of this.
It wasn’t just feeling again, but feeling to her very core; feeling that
was so shattering, it would leave her consumed. She was straining
against him, bucking, losing herself in the moment, reaching for another
orgasm, and this time from the feared penetration. This was what he
wanted for her, that she could have success now, like this, with a man
who wanted only to please her, with a man who adored and respected her
and loved her more than life itself. He knew she would have to trust him
completely for her release to come.

When her orgasm came, it closed around him with a powerful grip and he
felt her fingernails dig into his butt. He moaned in deep appreciation
while he pushed harder against her, deeper into her. She clung to him
and cried out. He held her fast, held her close, still, his body her
body, as one. “Brie,” he gasped. “Dios.” And when he sensed that she was
almost complete, the storm nearly past for her, he moved inside her
again, deep and strong and quick, and that was all it took to bring her
up and over the top once more. She gasped and rose against him, pulsing
around him all over again. When it stole her breath away and she was
again at the peak, he let himself go. He went off like a rocket inside
her. The strength of it overpowered him and caused him to tremble.

“My God,” she whispered, astonished by him. By herself. “Oh, God.”

He nearly collapsed, but held his weight off her. A fine mist of
perspiration covered them. Recovery was a long time in coming for both
of them; she lay weak and spent beneath him, her hair scattered across
the bed in disarray, her eyes closed, a small smile curving her lips.
“Brie,” he finally said in a breath. “You’re smiling.”

“Hmm,” she said, not opening her eyes, her lips curving a little more.

He chuckled. “I think we have it back, love.”

She shook her head slightly, eyes still closed. “No, we don’t,” she
said, groggy.

“We don’t?”

She shook her head again. “I never had anything like that before….”

He laughed at her, smoothing the hair back from her brow. “You’re
incredible. Like a shooting star.”

“Hmm.” Her arms lay spread wide, limp, on the bed above her head. “Thank
you,” she muttered.

He kissed her tenderly, tugging at her lips with his. “Feel better?” He
kissed her again, small, delicate kisses. “You seem pretty relaxed,” he
teased.

“Hmm. I never give good sex enough credit,” she said. “You didn’t slip
me a Valium, did you?”

“Not Valium, no.” He laughed. “I wanted you to feel good. I didn’t know
you were going to give back so much.”

“Hmm. Neither did I.”

He sucked gently at the lobe of her ear. “I didn’t know it could be like
this,” he whispered. “You didn’t turn into stone.”

“No kidding,” she said softly. “I was hoping to feel nice.” She opened
her eyes, but only a little. “Warm and cuddly. Feminine. I didn’t know
you were going to blow my brains out two or three times….”

He lifted a black brow. “Two or three?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure, but that’s okay—I’m fine now. Better than
fine. Do you think you can remember how you did that?”

“I could go write it all down.”

“I just wanted to feel like a woman again….”

“Oh, baby. You did—trust me. Congratulations. They just don’t make any
more woman than that. Now I’m doomed,” he said. “Now I can’t live
without you.”

“All right, then,” she said with a weak little chuckle. “I’ll hang
around awhile.” She ran her hand along his hair at his temple. “Thank
you. I couldn’t have done that without you.”

He rolled onto his back. “Well, if you figure out how to do that without
me, we’ll get a patent. Retire in the Swiss Alps. Eat caviar for breakfast.”

She giggled again. “Really, that was so good….”

“Really. I know.”

“I think you fixed everything. It seems to be working fine.”

“Hmm,” he answered. “That doesn’t touch it. There are no words…”

“You said you were in love with me,” she reminded him.

“I am over the moon, I’m so in love with you. But right now, after sex
like that, it might sound insincere. Because I’ve never had sex like
that in my life.”

She rolled to her side and propped herself up on an elbow. “Really? You
haven’t? How is that possible?” she asked him.

“Can we worry about that tomorrow?” he asked her. “I’d hate to screw
this up.”

“If you insist.”

“We’re going to try this again before tomorrow. See if we know what
we’re doing…”

“If you insist,” she said again, laughing.

“I want you again,” he said. “Already. I think you have a magical effect
on me.”

“Oh.” She laughed. “Poor you.”

“By morning, you might regret this.”

She sighed. “Betcha I don’t…”

And he began with soft kisses on her lips…

 

When Jack got home, the baby was asleep and Mel was sitting up,
comfortable in one of his shirts, the laptop on her knees in front of
her, either researching something on the Internet or writing e-mails. It
always made him smile to see her like that. She said she liked to wear
his shirts right after her shower, smelling his musk on them. He liked
to wear those same shirts the next day, a reminder of her body inside,
the faint memory of her fresh scent apparent. “I have a surprise for
you,” he said.

“What?”

“Brie is back in town. She’s with Mike.”

“Really?” Mel said, suddenly giving him her attention. She closed the
laptop and put it aside.

“I haven’t seen her. When I was leaving the bar, her Jeep was parked
next to Mike’s car. She came to Mike. Not to us—to Mike.”

She shrugged. “Well, that makes sense. He loves her.”

“How do you know that?” Jack asked.

“How could you not?” she asked.

Jack sat back on the couch. “I thought he was just trying to get laid.”

“That’s pretty irrelevant,” she said, laughing. “You’re all trying to
get laid. Some of you actually love the women you’re trying to get close
to.”

“You act like we’re all just a bunch of bulls being led around by our
dicks.”

She laughed at him, gleefully for a woman who was annoyed to be
pregnant, and moody to boot. “Do I? I wonder why?”

“So you think this makes sense?”

“Extraordinary sense. It even makes me nostalgic.”

That caused him to smile devilishly. “Nostalgic enough to take me to bed?”

“Tell me something—are you letting go of this weird control thing you
have over Brie?”

“Yeah,” he said, almost tiredly. “It’s not like I haven’t wanted her to
have a full life. I thought she was going to have that with Brad, the
shit. It was Mike who worried me—he’s been such a frickin’ tomcat.” He
glanced at his wife’s disapproving expression. “Yeah, yeah, let’s not go
over that again. We all made our rounds.”

“I doubt he made any more rounds than you,” she said.

“It was just the marriages that got under my skin,” he said. “So help me
God, if he marries her and walks away from her, I am going to kill him.”

“Looks to me like he’s totally sunk,” she said. “A complete goner.”

“Fine,” Jack said shortly. “I’m out of it now—she’s staked her claim.”
Then he reached out a hand, threaded it under her hair and around the
back of her neck, pulling her toward him. He kissed her deeply. “How are
you feeling?” he asked.

“Pursued. How are you feeling?”

“Lucky.”


    Eleven

I n the cool light of morning Mike rose on an elbow to look down at the
beautiful pale body of his love. Brie slept on her stomach, and the
curve of her back and small, round bottom was exquisite. Irresistible.
He hated to disturb her, her rest was so peaceful, but he couldn’t help
himself—he touched her. He ran his hand tenderly from her neck, down her
spine, over her bottom. She hummed in half sleep and he pressed a gentle
kiss into the small of her back.

There was a soft knock at the door. She lifted her head; her hair
cascaded over her face. “Shhh,” he told her. “Don’t move. I’ll be right
back.”

While he sat on the edge of the bed to retrieve his jeans from the
floor, she saw the tattoo on his back for the first time—a large
sunburst right between his shoulder blades. Very sexy on that broad,
brown back. She’d seen the other one earlier, an armband in the shape of
a chain. He shrugged into his pants, pulling them up over his hard,
compact butt.

When Mike opened the door he saw that someone, Jack or Preacher, had
left a breakfast tray on the ground just outside the door. He looked
around; there was no one there. Mike brought the tray inside. There were
two covered dishes and a thermal pitcher of coffee. He put it on the
table. His kitchen was fully equipped with dishes, utensils, pots and
pans—but he hardly ever used it. He took all his meals at the bar.

Then he realized something else was missing—there was no log splitting
this morning despite the fact that the weather was perfect. Jack was
giving them more than just privacy—he wasn’t even making his presence
felt on the property.

Mike took off his jeans again, letting them drop. He got back into his
bed and continued the pleasurable study of Brie’s smooth, silky back. He
scrunched up her tangled hair and pulled it to his lips. She hummed
contentedly.

“Who was at the door?”

“Room service,” he said with a chuckle. “Breakfast has been delivered.”

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“Not for food,” he said. He stretched out over her back, careful not to
put all his weight on her. He moved her hair away from her neck, kissing
her there, and began to grow firm against her soft bottom.

“Breakfast can wait,” she said, breathless, tilting her hips upward,
wriggling softly against him.

It occurred to Mike that he’d had a lot of sex in his life, but it had
never been like this. There was an intimacy he shared with Brie that
went beyond the coupling; they’d been through so much together,
emotionally, before the loving. He felt as though there had never been a
woman before her; no one had ever taken him into her body in the free,
wild, trusting way she did. After that first tentative and hesitant
touch, she’d held nothing back from him. She gave her body completely,
insatiably. She welcomed his hands, his lips, every bit of him, relying
on him to do right by her, showering him with her pleasure over and over.

He had nearly forgotten that for the better part of a year he hadn’t
thought he would enjoy this aspect of life again. Pleasing her,
re-creating the joy and safety of sex for her again had put his own
burdens so far from his mind that he was completely removed from worry
as to whether he could perform. It not only worked well, it worked again
and again and again. She created a fire in him that he couldn’t put out.
And from her reaction, her response, she had fire of her own. For him.
She wasn’t the only one who needed blissful release from a troubled
past; Mike needed to be brought back to life, as well. Until that moment
he had been focused only on helping her heal, not realizing that she had
done the same for him.

He slipped a hand beneath her, creeping down over her belly, lifting her
pelvis slightly. He gently parted her legs with his knee. “Is this okay?
Like this?” he whispered, pressing toward her again.

“God,” she said. “Oh, yes.”

He slipped in, moving inside her yet again, rocking her, pushing
smoothly against a deep, erotic place inside. A slow, even pumping of
his hips brought deep sighs from her; she moved against him, meeting him
with each stroke. There was a special place inside a woman that was
secret, sensitive, and he’d made a study of her body and knew exactly
where to go. He thrust against that secret spot, rhythmically, gently
but firmly, relentlessly. Finally she pushed back against him, eager for
the pressure he applied, craving it with sighs and whimpers, and after a
while a startled gasp escaped her and she lunged into him, hard. He held
her against him as she was sent soaring into a pleasure so hot and bold
it seemed she couldn’t breathe for a long moment. He enjoyed success; he
felt the hot spasms surround him, a flood of liquid heat that poured
from her and drenched him, and then he joined her in moment of
fulfillment that left them both weak, content.

When she began to recover, he slipped out of her and gently rolled her
over onto her back.

“Dear heaven,” she gasped. “I’ve never felt anything like that in my life….”

He rose on an elbow to look down at her beautiful face, her lips crimson
from love, her cheeks in high color. “You like that?”

“Good lord!” she said, her voice still quivering. “What in the world did
you do?”

“Magic,” he said. “A treat. For both of us. The G-spot.”

She stared at him in stunned wonder for a moment, then surprised him
with a laugh. “I thought that was a myth! A legend!”

“Completely real,” he said. “Obviously.”

“How can you know more about my body after one night than I’ve known in
my life?” she asked.

“It’s you,” he said, running a hand over her shoulder and down her arm,
entwining his fingers in hers. “It’s the way you trust me. Let me in.”

“Can you do that again?”

He laughed at her. “Not for a while, I’m afraid.”

“You amaze me.” She ran a hand over his chest. “The things you know.”

“I’ve been with too many women, Brie. I apologize. I can’t undo that.
But I have never felt as much a part of a woman as I do with you. It’s
like I was never really intimate before now. I can’t explain it any
better than that.”

“Hmm,” she said, letting her eyes drift closed.

“It blows my mind. Do you feel it?” he asked her.

She laughed. “I feel it, Miguel. What are we going to do about it?”

“Do you think it would be frowned on if we just stayed here, naked, and
had a couple of meals a day delivered, for maybe a month or two?”

She giggled. “How long do you really think Jack will stay out of our
business?”

He shrugged and smiled. “I guess we’ll have to get dressed eventually….”

“Do you remember when I came here after Davie was born? I would listen
to you practice your guitar in the early mornings.”

“I didn’t know you were there.”

“I used to pretend you were playing for me. I was so moved by the music,
I imagined you playing for me late into the night. You tempted me even
then.”

He chuckled. “I never knew. At that time, you wouldn’t give an inch.”

“I was pretty sure all men were dogs.”

“We are. We deserve nothing. But we beg just the same.” He touched her
face. “I’m not the same man since you came into my life.”

“I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to make love again,” she said softly.
Then, smiling, she said, “Now I’m not sure I can stop.”

“Tell me,” he whispered. “Last night, the first time—you froze up, you
tensed. You didn’t want the condom.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. Then she opened her eyes, met
his and said, “I couldn’t. I couldn’t feel that latex inside me because he—”

“I know, my love,” Mike said sweetly. “It’s all right. A little flashback?”

“For a second, but you brought me into the present and it was all right
then.” She smiled. “Way more than all right.”

“There’s something you should keep in mind,” he said softly, stroking
her hair. “No matter how perfect things seem, you could find yourself—”

“I know. Back there, in that terrifying moment,” she finished for him.
“I’ve had a lot of counseling. They try to prepare you for that. It
happened to me once before, that first night at the cabin. It snuck
right up on me.” She ran a finger along his ear, down his neck. “Talk
about baggage…”

He smiled into her eyes. “Everyone has something, Brie. Everyone has a
haunt, a relentless ghost. The best way to scare it off is to look it
square in the face.”

“You’re so good,” she whispered.

“There’s no danger of disease,” he said. “I haven’t been with a woman
since before the shooting, and in the hospital every cell in my body was
screened. But there is another matter…. Are you taking pills?”

She shook her head, but her eyes were clear.

“Ah,” he said. “Mel can help with that. There’s something she can give
you to prevent a baby.”

“What if I didn’t do that?” she asked. “What if I didn’t go to Mel?”

That caused him to straighten a bit. “I assume you passed biology 101,”
he said.

“There’s no telling what would happen.” She shrugged. “Probably nothing.”

“If the amount of pleasure we have correlates to conception, there will
be a hundred babies by the end of the week.”

“If you’d like me to see Mel, I will. This is probably just crazy. I
wouldn’t push you, rush you.”

“Brie, you can’t rush me. I want to give you everything. If you wanted
me to give you a baby, I would die trying, but only if it was our baby.
Together. Maybe you should think about it a little longer, until you’re
sure.”

She smiled at him. “Ah. I knew I forgot something. It’s the reason I
came here, to you—it wasn’t just because I needed your touch to help
make me stronger. It was so much more than that. I couldn’t be away from
you a second longer. I think you’re the best friend I’ve ever had. In
fact, we became so close in the last six months, I didn’t think we could
get any closer.” She put her fingers on his lips. “The joke’s on me—this
goes beyond my wildest expectations. If you’re only pretending, you’re a
gifted actor.”

“No acting, Brie. I love you. Endlessly.”

“And I love you.”

Her admission fulfilled his deepest desires. “You mean this?”

“Sí, Miguel. I can’t imagine being without you. Not now. You’ve been
everything to me for months. I love you so much.”

“Nunca soñe que yo pudiera tener esto en mi vida.” I never dreamed I
could have this in my life.

“I didn’t even know it existed.”

“And this is what you want? To let nature take its course?”

“Betting on nature probably isn’t very risky. Before I knew…” She took a
breath. “I stopped taking my pills while I was married to Brad. We’d
been talking about a baby and I thought I’d surprise him. I didn’t know
he was brewing a romance with my best friend…. A long time before…Well,”
she said. “It wasn’t just a year before he left me. It was longer.”

“Is that what he told you yesterday?” Mike asked. “At the same time he
was explaining Powell had been found?”

“I think he let it slip,” she said. “I guess she booted her husband on
the excuse of their many little fights, but it was really because she
was in love with Brad. And he knew it.”

“Oh, man…” Mike said in a breath.

“But he never stopped sleeping with me. I was clueless, trying to
surprise him with a baby. Nothing happened, though. I didn’t get pregnant.”

“Aw, honey,” he said, stroking her arm. “Maybe it’s best that didn’t
work for you, under the circumstances. But this could be different. Your
eyes should be wide open. I’m told you shouldn’t trust the water around
here. It might be wise to do some planning, for your sake. I live in a
trailer in Virgin River.”

“Details.” She smiled. “I’ve never felt more at home.” She touched his
handsome face. “If last night made a baby, it will be a beautiful baby.
I don’t want Mel’s help to make sure it doesn’t stick. If it’s there,
it’s yours—and I want it.”

“Then that’s how it will be,” he said. He kissed her deeply,
passionately. “Whatever you want.”

“I don’t want this to end.”

“There’s no end in sight, mi amor. Trust me.”

 

Jack hadn’t been watching the RV during the morning, even though it had
been on his mind. It was a pure accident that he happened to see the
door open and Brie step out. He glanced at his watch—eleven. Almost
lunch. Right behind her was Mike. Probably he should have turned away,
but he didn’t. His sister looked so small and girlish in her jeans,
moccasins, suede jacket with fringe and all that light brown hair
cascading down her back almost to her waist.

She stood in front of Mike and he lifted her chin, pressing an intimate
kiss to her lips. Even from this distance it was easy to see they were
not anxious to be parted. But in a moment Mike pulled himself away and
went to his SUV to leave while Brie walked toward the back door of the bar.

Jack went behind the bar quickly so as not to get caught watching. He
picked up a perfectly clean glass and began to wipe it with a towel. The
door opened and Brie walked in, and he almost took a step back. He had
never seen her look this way. She was radiant. There was an expression
on her face, a glow in her eyes, a secret smile on her lips that said
volumes. She didn’t hesitate—she walked behind the bar, right up to him,
and put her arms around his waist. He got rid of that glass and towel
and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close.

All Jack had wanted since June was to have his sister back, well and
whole, restored. Happy and alive, without that fuzzy blotch of fear and
uncertainty around the edges of her aura like a smudge. He wanted his
Brie back, renewed and a force in the world once again. Jack hadn’t been
able to give that to her—none of the family had been able to do it. And
yet the young woman in his embrace nearly vibrated with joy. It wasn’t
as though the old Brie was merely back, but this was a new Brie—a woman
reborn. A woman experiencing love and life as if for the first time.

Sometimes it took him such a long time to accept the very things that he
knew intimately for himself. The very things he had discovered in his
wife’s arms. What Brie needed in her life, what everyone needed, was
perfect love. He’d found that with Mel, Preacher had found it with Paige
and now…He kissed the top of her head.

She lifted her head to look up at him. In a voice soft and sincere, she
said, “You are never to doubt him again. Never.”

He put his hand along the hair at her temple and smiled tenderly into
her eyes. He gave his head a very slight shake—never again, he was
saying to her. Brie had chosen her mate. And for all Jack’s previous
doubts, it appeared she had chosen well.

Jack had resisted when he should have trusted his sister to know what
she needed in her life, and he should have trusted Mike, as much a best
friend as Preacher, to treat her like the precious jewel she was.
Whatever had happened between them had clearly surpassed a physical
fulfillment.

My wife, Jack thought, is always right about everything.

 

For Mel, a nightmare had come to roost in the form of sixteen-year-old
Sophie Landau. She thought something might have “happened to her.” Mel
had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach even before more of the
story came out. “Me and my girlfriend Becky went to a party that we
weren’t supposed to—I said I was staying over at Becky’s and she said
she was staying over at my house. Brendan Lancaster invited us.
Brendan’s older—he graduated a couple of years ago,” she said with red
lips that looked as if she’d been chewing on them.

“Okay,” Mel said, encouraging her.

Sophie sat on the exam table, still dressed, while Mel leaned against
the cabinet, listening, dreading. Sophie was on the chubby side with
straight brown hair that fell limply onto her shoulders. She had a
little problem with acne, her teeth were crooked and she was clearly
nervous in a general way—nails bitten down, a hair-twisting habit, an
occasional twitch of her cheek.

“So you went to a party. Big party?” Mel asked.

“Small. Six or seven kids.”

“Brendan lives alone?”

“No, he lives with his mom, but she’s gone a lot. She was gone over the
weekend. And he’s out of school now—you know—working over in
Garberville, pouring concrete with his uncle. So there wasn’t anyone
there but kids.”

“Okay…?”

“So there were a few kids and we drank beer, smoked a couple of joints.
And got drunk and a little high. I passed out. Becky thinks she did, too.”

“Becky thinks she did?”

“She doesn’t know, because she got wasted and went to Brendan’s mother’s
bedroom and lay down and woke up at about three in the morning. Me—I
think I must have passed out, because I was just waking up in the
morning, in Brendan’s room. There were only a couple of kids still
there—Becky, Brendan, a couple others sleeping in the living room.”

“And…”

“And I felt really awful. Like I’d been hit in the head with a brick and
my stomach was all upset. I couldn’t wait to get home and sleep it off.
When I got home I told my mother I thought I’d got the flu while I was
at Becky’s, and I went to get into bed, and undressed, you know? My
underpants were inside out and backward.”

Ew, Mel thought. I have another one.

“So—I didn’t think anything about it—figured I did that to myself drunk.”

“Big drinker, are you?”

She hung her head. “Not really,” she said. “I’ve been to a few parties
with these guys. Maybe three. I never got so trashed before.”

“Ever pass out and put on your undies inside out and backward?”

“No. Nothing like that. But I realize I was pretty drunk.”

“But you didn’t think anything about it? Let me ask you something—did
you have any soreness anywhere? Bruises or anything?”

“I was a little sore, down there,” she said, glancing into her lap. “I
just thought it was impossible. You know? Because I thought if anything
had happened, I would’ve woken up. But then later when I heard this girl
in the locker room at gym class telling one of her girlfriends to never
go to one of those parties—those beer parties. And she said something
like, ‘I’m not even going to tell you what happened to me! You just
wouldn’t believe it!’ And right away I knew. Don’t ask me how I knew—I
just knew.”

“You think you might have been raped?”

“I might’ve been, yeah. I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem like those
guys…They’re just friends. They don’t seem like the kind of guys who…”

“Have you missed periods or anything?”

“I’m on the pill. I’m on it for my periods, you know? Because they’re
awful. I got my period on time about a week later, but now I’m starting
to worry about other stuff. Like what if something happened to me and I
got something?”

“Straight thinking, kiddo. We can check for everything and put your mind
at ease. But, Sophie—I’ve heard something similar to this before and I’m
concerned. I have no idea if anything happened to you besides a little
too much beer, but I seriously need you to talk to a friend of mine, a
police officer, who—”

“Wait a sec,” she said. “I don’t want to get into trouble.”

“Sophie, you’re not in trouble. My advice is to stop going to
unchaperoned parties where alcohol is served and joints are available,
but that’s just advice. My friend might want to ask you who was there,
just to see if there are any similarities between your experience
and…And other things I’ve picked up just talking with people.”

“And if there are? Will the people who were there get in trouble?
Because I don’t want to do that.”

“Sophie, I can assure you no one’s going to get into trouble for
drinking beer. I’m not even interested in the pot. Everything you say
will be kept in confidence. But seriously—we need to know what’s going
on, if something like assault is going on.”

“What if nothing’s going on?”

“Then nothing more will come of it,” Mel said. But in her gut, she knew.
“My friend, he has a lot of detective experience, he’s worked with a lot
of kids—and he’s been looking into this stuff already. He’d be very
interested in talking to you. And he will never divulge where he got his
information without your complete permission. Will you, Sophie? If it
could help keep this from happening to anyone else?”

“I might,” she said, ducking her head shyly. “Let me think about it.”

Mel did the requisite pelvic exam, tested for STDs and convinced Sophie
to talk to Mike. Mel asked Sophie to wait at the clinic for a little
while, just long enough to see if she could find Mike. They could have
their conversation in private at the clinic—the safest place she could
think of, away from Sophie’s friends and parents. If Mike wasn’t around,
she would have to ask Sophie to come back the next day, and cross her
fingers that the girl would.

Mel felt terrible all over. She hated hearing Sophie’s story, because
she was convinced there was a date raper in town, maybe even a group of
boys, young men, possibly using drugs on unsuspecting girls.

It was early afternoon when she left Sophie in the clinic and went to
the bar. It was quiet, as was usual for the mid-afternoon. Jack’s truck
was gone—she assumed he was out at the house, getting in everyone’s
business. In the kitchen she found Paige and Preacher getting things
started for the evening meal. “Hi, guys. Anyone seen Mike?”

“His car’s out back, but I think he’s locked in with his…You know Brie’s
in town, right?” Preacher asked.

“Yeah,” she said, picking up the phone in the kitchen. She punched in
Mike’s land line. “Hi, Mike. I hate to do this to you. I need you. It’s
about a situation we discussed a while ago—it’s business.” Then she
said, “Thanks. I owe you one.”

She went behind the bar and fixed herself a sparkling water, waiting for
Mike. The speed with which he appeared gave her a little peace of mind.
She hadn’t interrupted anything too complicated or private, and for that
she was grateful.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Let’s step out on the porch,” she said.

Once outside, she explained in hushed tones what she’d just heard, and
the girl’s willingness to talk to him. Then she took him across the
street and introduced him to Sophie. She should have expected Mike to be
a pro, yet she was pleasantly surprised by the tenderness and finesse
with which he handled Sophie, putting her at ease at once, gaining her
confidence and trust. He took her into Doc’s kitchen, since there were
no patients in the clinic. A few moments later he came out, asking for a
tablet and pen, then went back behind closed doors.

Mel really wanted to go see Brie, but she felt she had to stay at the
clinic while Mike interviewed her patient. David had been napping in the
reception area in his playpen and she heard him start to rouse. Before
long he sent up an alarm and she had to go pick him up, change him,
cuddle him quiet. Over an hour passed before Mike walked Sophie out of
the kitchen. He had a hand on her back, solicitously escorting her,
thanking her in soft tones for helping him so much.

By the moony eyes Sophie turned up to Mike’s face, not only had he won
her over, she adored him. Trusted him completely.

When Sophie had gone, Mike looked at Mel and gave her a somber nod.

“We have a bad one on the loose, don’t we?” she asked.

He nodded. “Or ones. Now I have names. Now I can talk to some other
youngsters, one of whom I suspect is one of your other girls—because the
name didn’t come from you.”

“What’ll you do?”

“Interview. Right away. And I’m going to have to round up some support
for Sophie—she’s going to need to talk to a professional.”

“Family Planning might help with that. And the county has a sexual
assault response team.”

He shook his head almost sadly. “When I took this job, this is the last
thing I expected to be up against.”

“Brie is barely here,” Mel said sympathetically.

“She’ll understand, Mel. In fact, I’m going to have to talk to her about
this.”

“I never tell Jack….”

He gave a nod. “I’ll ask her to be sensitive to that, but after what
Brie’s been through, I have to be up front about this. She’s been lied
to—things have been withheld from her. I can’t keep something like this
back from her. It’s real important. We’ve barely begun….”

Mel held up a hand. “You know what you can and can’t do—and you know we
can’t have these teenagers exposed.” He nodded. “I want to see her.
Brie. When can I see her?” she asked, jostling David.

“I think as soon as ten minutes. Give me a head start?”

“Sure. At least.”

 

Something wonderful happened to Mike’s heart when his hand touched the
door to his RV, just knowing she was there. Everything about that felt
right. When he stepped inside, there she was, waiting. Brie had tidied
up the place, put away their clothes and made up the bed. She was
sitting at the small table with a tablet in front of her, writing, and
looked up at him with those soft, glowing eyes.

He couldn’t help himself—the first thing he did was go to her, lean down
and kiss her. “What are you doing?” he asked, sitting opposite her.

“Writing my resignation to the prosecutor’s office,” she said. “And
making a list. I’m going to start looking for an office. If I’m going to
stay here, I’m going to work. And I’m going to stay here.”

“An office?”

“Uh-huh. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I’m a lawyer. I can’t
work out of this space because I’ll need my things. My computer, books,
et cetera.”

“I love hearing this. Are we sure we want to make Virgin River home?”

“I can do it, although I don’t think I’m going to find an office in this
little town. In fact, who knows where I’ll find work? I might have to
commute to one of the larger towns, or maybe I’ll be taking whatever
work there is in some of these small towns. But, Mike—do you want to
leave Virgin River? Because I think you know—I’ll go anywhere with you.”

He reached for her hands and held them. “I love it here. The best part
of my life has come to me here. I have a suggestion. Instead of looking
for an office, think about looking for a house. One large enough for an
office at home, or one with the space to build on. You could work out of
our home.”

“You think?”

“If we’re going to go with nature, something tells me the need for more
space will present itself before long. How do you feel about that?”

She smiled at him. “Like going forward with you.”

“Am I getting ahead of you?” he asked her. “This is quick. Your brother,
your father, your sisters—they’re going to point out how fast we’re
moving. People are going to say we’re crazy.”

“I don’t care,” she said, shaking her head. “I haven’t felt this good in
well over a year. I’m due a little crazy happiness. When do you think
we’ll come down to earth?”

“Sooner than you think. I have some work I have to do. Police work. It’s
going to tie me up a little bit, but it’s very important.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

“I want to talk to you about it, but it’s very sensitive. It could be
upsetting.”

“Okay. I’m good with sensitive. And I’ll try to look upsetting in the face.”

“Mel doesn’t share things like this with anyone, even Jack. She hopes I
might help investigate. I told her I was going to talk to you for a lot
of reasons, but you’ll have to be discreet with your brother. No
question—he can be completely trusted, but this is an arrangement they
have and I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Mel has had some young patients she suspects have encountered a date
raper. From what she describes, I believe she’s right. I finally have
some names—I’m going to do some interviews. See if I can get a fix on
what’s happened and who this could be. Then I’m going to get him. Or them.”

Brie couldn’t help it—a shudder of revulsion passed through her. God,
she hated to think of anyone going through what she had. Mike gave her a
moment to gather herself and finally she just shook her head, saddened
to hear it. “How awful. Have you ever worked sexual assault? Are you up
to speed on this?”

“I haven’t worked a sexual assault unit, but I’ve worked with some of
those detectives on cases that cross over, and have a little experience
from that. And I’ve worked with a lot of kids, which gives me an
advantage in this situation. I can get started without your help, but
I’m sure I’ll be asking for your advice. Can you deal with that?”

“I can try. I happen to know a lot about this—and not just from personal
experience. I’ve prepped a lot of rape victims for trial.”

“I was hoping you’d be willing to help. I’m going to go talk to some
people,” Mike said. “Mel is dying to see you.”

“She’s at Doc’s?”

“By now she might be right outside.” He opened the door and saw her
standing near the back door of the bar, bouncing David in her arms to
keep him happy, giving them whatever time and space they needed. He
gestured for her to come ahead. But Brie got up from the table and went
to greet her. She opened her arms to Mel and the baby and they embraced
as sisters would.

 

Mel slipped David onto the seat beside her at the small kitchen table
while Brie got them each a soda. “How does it feel to be in my kitchen?”
Brie asked Mel.

Mel smiled. “Took you long enough.”

“I had to think it through….”

“You look beautiful,” Mel said. “There is no doubt in your eyes.”

“Do you think they talk? The men?”

“Not the way we do. Mike won’t talk to Jack about you, I’m sure of that.
Jack has been a real idiot about you and Mike.”

“He’s over that now,” Brie said. “Someone brought us breakfast and left
it outside, and I suspect it was Jack.”

“Well, good. It’s time he came around. I’d apologize for your brother’s
stubbornness, but you’ve known him longer than I have.” She laughed.
“Someone should have warned me he can be such an interfering pest. And
bossy? Lord.” She tilted her head. “One look at you makes it clear this
is the right thing for you. For both of you. Mike is wearing some kind
of halo.”

“He should. He’s an angel. I’ve never been treated with such kindness
and tenderness. Never. He spent months talking me through the dark days
without a hint that he expected more from me. How many men do you know
who are willing to invest themselves like that, when there might not be
anything in it for them?”

“Mike’s a good man,” Mel said. “He wouldn’t put a woman he cared about
in a difficult position.”

“I wasn’t sure I’d even be able to respond to a man again, Mel. You
can’t imagine how nervous I was.”

Mel simply waited quietly; if Brie wanted to be more specific she could.
When a moment passed and Brie hadn’t said any more, Mel said, “I’m just
so grateful you finally worked it out, and that it brought you back to us.”

Brie looked upward for a second, shaking her head, still in wonder. It
was at times like this that she would miss her sisters most, but with
Mel here she had the female connection she needed. That secret talk that
women shared. “I had a lot to think about, to consider, but in the end,
I’m here because of something that came up in Sacramento.”

Mel lifted her brows. “Anything you can talk about?”

“I haven’t had a chance to tell Jack yet—but Mike knows everything. The
reason I came suddenly and without calling ahead is because Brad came to
see me. Jerome Powell was found in Florida and the ADA is working on
extradition to bring him back for trial.”

Mel reached out and covered her hand. “God, Brie,” she said in a breath.
“How are you doing?”

“I’m going to testify against him. Of course. But I’m staying right here
until that happens.”

“Oh, baby. You know we’ll all be there for you.”

“It was bizarre—that I should get this news from Brad. He came to the
house to tell me. But before he told me about Powell, he asked for
another chance, to see if we could rekindle some of what we had. He’s no
longer with Christine.”

“Whew,” Mel said, sitting back in shock. “How do you feel about that?”

A slow smile spread on Brie’s lips. “I showed him the door and then
packed immediately. I’m done with that part of my life.” Then the smile
vanished as she said, “The other part, the trial, that’s going to take a
little longer. Be a little harder. Who am I kidding? A lot harder.”

 

The very first occasion Mike had to present his business card officially
came at Valley High School in the guidance counselor’s office. Mrs.
Bradford was a cautious and serious woman and, while cordial, she wasn’t
about to turn any of her students over to this man without being sure.
He invited her to have him checked out with the sheriff’s office if she
questioned his authenticity. And he told her a little bit about how he
came to be the new town constable, showing her the badge Hope had given
him. He’d been to the high school before, talking to the principal and
some of the teachers, but just on a get-to-know-you basis, never as part
of an investigation. He explained that, in his capacity, he wouldn’t be
making arrests of any kind, but that his interviews might help solve a
problem.

He assured Mrs. Bradford that the students he wanted to speak with were
in absolutely no trouble, but without even realizing it, might have
information that could help him. “Think of it as something like a
witness to an accident—someone might have information that can help
resolve an issue, without even being aware of it.”

Mrs. Bradford disappeared for about twenty minutes, and when she came
back she was ready to have a few students called to her office to speak
with Mike. He assumed she had called the sheriff.

Mike talked to a couple of girls who provided him with the names of
teens they had seen at parties. Within an hour, Brenda Carpenter was
delivered to the counselor’s office and they were left alone together.
He knew Brenda’s parents, but in the months he’d been in Virgin River,
he hadn’t met her. He showed his badge again.

“What’s this about?” she asked.

“You’re not in any trouble,” he assured her. “You’re under no obligation
to talk to me, but I hope you will. I want to ask you about a gathering
of kids, a party you might have attended. Maybe recently, maybe quite a
while ago.”

“I don’t go to parties,” she said.

“Your name appeared on a list I have of kids who attended one or more
parties I’m checking out. It could have been as long ago as last year.
What I’m trying to learn about is a party in which there could have been
drugs present.”

“I don’t do drugs.”

“I’m not talking about pot. You might not have known if there were drugs
present. Being used.”

“Then how could I help you?”

“This is worth checking. And what you have to say, if anything, goes no
further. I know your parents through Jack and, I promise you—I won’t be
discussing this with them or anyone else. I’m looking for information
about a party at which people passed out or lost consciousness.”

Her pupils shrank at once and her eyes narrowed. “What are you talking
about?”

“Have you ever found yourself at a party where that happened? Where
people—maybe they were drinking—passed out or lost consciousness?
Because that information could help me.”

Brenda just about leaped out of her chair. “Who told you about that? No
one was ever supposed to tell about that.”

He made sure his arms were open, that he appeared accessible to her,
even if it was only on a subconscious level. “A student I interviewed
claimed to have been at a party where this happened to her. I can’t tell
you who—it’s confidential. I don’t know whether you were present or not,
which is why I’m asking.”

“You’re sure? It wasn’t an adult who told you?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “It was definitely not an adult. Have
anything for me, Brenda? It’s very important.”

“Why? Why is it so important?”

“Because that sort of thing has happened, and I really have to make it
stop before somebody gets…Well,” he said, shaking his head solemnly.
“Let’s be honest for a second—the situation could be deadly. If I knew
something, I wouldn’t want that on my head.”

“Deadly? How? From getting drunk and passing out?”

“If some kind of drug was used to cause a person to lose consciousness,
yes.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you want me to say?”

“Let’s back up. Have you ever been to a party where that’s happened?”

“I went to a party, once, a long time ago, where people drank too much.
I don’t think that’s what you mean.”

He shrugged. “That could be all it looked like, if something was slipped
in a beer.”

She took a breath. “Like I said, a long time ago.”

“Do you remember who was there?”

“Why?”

“Because your name came up once, although there were several parties
where that happened,” he said. “Now, I’m just a simple guy, but I have
an idea that maybe you went once and decided you don’t like those
parties too much. I’m not guessing why,” he said, holding up his hands.
“All I want to do is get some names from you—confidential—just so I can
see if any of the same names turn up at these parties. Regularly.”

A startled look came over her face, then there was a slow
transformation—to anger. She was catching on. She knew now. She wasn’t
the only one. A guy or guys were going after the girls.

Mike turned a tablet with a pen on top toward her. “And anything
specific would help, like whether a certain person was just there for a
little while, a long while, was the host of the party, brought the beer,
that sort of thing. That would be important. Thank you.”

When Mike sat in his car forty minutes later looking through these
lists, he knew Brenda was probably the patient who had become pregnant
at a party with no idea how. Then something jumped out at him that
spelled opportunity and relief at once. There was one name he
recognized. It appeared on Sophie’s list—that party had taken place
about a month ago. A young man she remembered being there for a short
time. The name popped up once more—at a kegger at the rest stop, again
for a short time. But the name did not appear on Brenda’s list, the
party she had attended last spring, or on any others. Tom Booth. Tom
would know the boys present at the party where Sophie passed out.

Mike could have gone back into the school and asked Mrs. Bradford to
call Tom Booth to her office for an interview, but before he had much
time to consider that the last bell rang, and he watched students pour
out of the building and migrate to cars and buses in the parking lot.
Paul had mentioned Tom was helping out at Jack’s homesite after school,
and he wondered if he might run into him there.

And he’d also run into Jack out at the job site. In thinking about it,
he might be able to take care of two delicate situations at the same
time. Brie had spent the night in his bed, in his arms—it had been a lot
more intimate than a trip to the coast, or a dance at a festival. If
Jack was going to have an issue with that, he’d rather they get beyond
it without Brie being present. He was aware that she’d seen her brother
that morning and had said the reunion was uneventful; Jack hadn’t seemed
to have had any bone to pick. However, that didn’t cover the territory
between two men who loved Brie—a protective brother and a lover.

Tom’s little red truck wasn’t there when Mike arrived at the building
site, but the place was alive with activity, a lot of noise coming from
inside the structure. Jack’s truck was parked near the house.

Inside, Mike found a lot of men at work and Jack in the kitchen on his
knees, working baseboards into place around newly installed cabinets. He
watched him work for a moment and then said, “Looking real good out
here, Jack.”

Jack leaned back, sitting on his heels, and looked up at Mike. He pulled
a rag out of his back pocket and mopped the sweat and sawdust off his
face. Then he stood. Jack had a lot of expressions—there was the good
buddy, the comrade, the steely-eyed killer, and there was one that he
seemed to reserve for his role as commander and leader. It was not
unlike the expression a father would bestow on the beau of a
daughter—not quite deadly, not quite docile, but something in between.
Purposely unreadable, giving away no emotion. “Thanks,” he said simply,
responding to the compliment.

“I thought if you had anything you wanted to say to me, I’d give you a
chance to do that while Brie’s occupied with other things.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “Yeah, I have something to say. We’ve been over this,
but just let me say this once more, so you know where I’m coming from.
She’s real special to me and I’ve seen her hurt. Jesus, worse than hurt.
You know what I’m talking about.”

Mike gave a nod. “I know.”

“This thing that’s going on with you and my sister, I fought it. It
really scared me, got under my skin….”

“I know,” Mike said again. “I under—”

“Because I’m a fool,” Jack said, cutting him off. He shook his head in
frustration. “Christ almighty, Valenzuela—you’ve had my back how many
times? You’d fight beside me in a heartbeat, put yourself in harm’s way
to protect me or any member of our squad. I don’t know why I got my back
up like I did. When a woman in your family gets hurt like that—you just
want to put her in a padded box with a lock on it so no one can ever get
to her and hurt her again, even if that’s the worst thing you could do.”
He shook his head again and now his expression was readable. He was
open. “I apologize, man. I thought of you as my brother before you even
glanced at Brie. I know she’s safe with you.”

Mike found himself chuckling. “Man,” he said. “Mel must have held you
down and beat you over the head.”

Now the expression got surly. “I’d just like to know why Mel always gets
the fucking credit when I start to make sense. What makes you think I
didn’t just think it through and—”

“Never mind,” Mike said, sticking out a hand. “I appreciate it.” Jack
took the hand and Mike’s smile vanished. The look on his face became
earnest. “Jack, I give you my word. I plan to do everything in my power
to make your sister happy. I’ll protect her with my life.”

“You’d better,” Jack said sternly. “Or so help me—”

Mike couldn’t help but smile. “And we were doing so good there for a
minute.”

“Yeah, well…”

“You won’t be disappointed in me,” Mike said.

Jack was quiet a moment, then said, “Thanks. I knew that. It just took
me a while. Guys like us…”

“Yeah.” Mike laughed. “Guys like us. Who’d ever have thought?”

Jack rubbed a hand across the back of his sweaty neck and said, “Yeah,
well, look out. You bite the dust like I did and all of a sudden you’re
breeding up a ball team.”

“I’ll be on the lookout for that,” Mike said. “Show me the house, Jack.
Looks like it’s coming along real well.”

“Yeah, we’ll find Paul to give us a tour. I was going to make it
good—he’s going to make it a masterpiece.”

After about thirty minutes of looking at every detail of Paul’s work,
Mike saw Tom Booth’s truck pull up. Tom parked, got out and dug into his
job of cleaning up and hauling trash. Mike timed his approach; he shot
the breeze with Jack and Paul as the sun was sinking. Jack finally left
to get a quick shower so he could help serve dinner at the bar, and Paul
went back into the house to check on the crew as they were finishing up.

Mike made his way to Tom. “Hey,” he said. “Could you give me a minute?”

“Sure,” Tom said, dropping the debris at his feet and pulling off his
gloves. “What’s up?”

“I talked to you about some parties a while ago and—”

“Look, I told you, Mike—I dropped into a couple, just out of curiosity.
What’s going on here?”

“I’m looking for something,” he said with a shrug. “Drugs.”

“Drugs?” Tom asked. “I saw a couple of joints passed around. I cut out.
You know my dad. I’d be in some military academy if I’d been caught
around that stuff. Maybe a penitentiary. I’d be history. He’s not a
liberal kind of guy.”

“Yeah,” Mike said with a smile. “I figured that one out all by myself.
Actually, I was looking for something else. Something you don’t see
every day.”

Tom’s chin dropped and he looked down. “I didn’t see anything,” he said.

“Son. Look me in the eye and say that.”

He lifted his gaze. “Seriously, I left when I saw a couple of joints
come out. I got myself grounded for going somewhere they had beer. My
dad, he’s not the strictest dad on the books—I’ve had a beer with him.
Innocent beer, no driving, no going out to a kegger in the woods,
though. But…”

Mike waited. “But?” he finally asked.

“I was already on my way out, and I suspected something was going on.”
He shrugged. “Couple of kids breaking from the crowd, doing something a
little sly, not gone long. You know?”

“What did you suspect?” Mike asked, his radar up.

“Have no idea. Ecstasy, maybe? Meth? I don’t know. Something sneaky.
Man, I wanted no deeper than a beer, seeing a joint from a long, safe
distance. I’d be—”

“History,” Mike finished for him. “Who threw the parties where you saw
this?”

Tom lowered his gaze again, shaking his head. Then before Mike asked him
to look him in the eye, he raised his eyes and said, “Look, I wouldn’t
mind getting the little shit in trouble—I’d love that. But really—I have
absolutely no idea what might have been going on. If I knew something
and thought someone might get hurt, I’d tell you everything, but I can’t
rat out a guy for drugs if he might’ve just been exchanging phone
numbers. You know?”

Mike was quiet a long moment. Then he said, “I know. Let’s go over who
was at those parties again, okay?”

“I can do that,” Tom said.


    Twelve

O f all the people in Virgin River Mel could have imagined having a
positive mammogram, Lilly Andersen, who had borne and nursed seven
children, was the last. Lilly, who was so dear to Mel. But there it
was—the radiologist called and said the X-ray was significant. Lilly
should see a specialist immediately.

It didn’t sit well with Mel that in addition to this probable diagnosis,
Lilly had lost a great deal of weight recently. She hoped and prayed the
weight loss was from chasing one-year-old Chloe around.

Chloe. Only four people knew the truth—Mel, Doc, Lilly and Buck
Andersen. Everyone thought Chloe had been an abandoned newborn whom
Lilly had been fostering since Chloe was three weeks old. But Chloe was
her flesh and blood. Lilly’s own child.

Now she had to tell this woman that she might have breast cancer.

“I’m sorry, Lilly. But at least we caught it, and if it’s not good news,
you can concentrate on the treatment. I’ve got you set up in Eureka for
tomorrow.”

“So soon?” she asked nervously.

“The sooner the better. Can Buck take you over there, or do you need me?”

Lilly, so typical, smiled that gentle, comforting smile of hers, touched
Mel’s hand and said, “Don’t worry, Mel. I’ll make Buck take a day off.”

“Want me to talk to him? Because this is important.”

“No, I can handle Buck. But they won’t do anything like operate on me
right away, will they?”

“No—but they’ll do a biopsy. They might try to aspirate a lump or do
more X-rays and blood work. If surgery is in order, I think they’re
going to get to it soon, however. The radiologist described the presence
as significant. Have you felt a lump or lumps?”

“Not really—but I’m large and kind of lumpy anyway.”

“Lilly, you’re going to need help with Chloe. I really think you should
tell your family the truth about Chloe. Your kids.”

“We’ll get by, Mel. I don’t want you to worry.”

“I’m not worried. Treatment now is good—the survival rate for breast
cancer is great. But if you have to undergo treatment, you might not
feel well. It seems like they deserve to know. And they’re all
wonderful, to the last one. They won’t hold it against you.”

She laughed and said, “If you don’t hold it against me, I guess no one
would!”

“You have to remember—if there’s a reaction, it’s only a reaction. And
temporary, until the facts settle. Don’t be afraid of them, Lilly. They
adore you.”

“I’m lucky that way,” she said.

But that was where Lilly’s luck ended. Her breast cancer was advanced,
aggressive and had spread to the lymph system and lungs. After a
bilateral radical mastectomy, performed within a week of her visit with
the surgeon, her new oncologist put her on a very strong regimen of
radiation and chemotherapy. Chloe was living with her oldest sister,
Amy, because Lilly was weak and ill.

 

Sadly it was common in police work to realize immediately who the bad
guys were, yet not have the kind of probable cause or evidence required
for a search warrant or arrest. Mike had deluded himself that it would
be simpler in a town so small, where everyone seemed to know everything
that was going on. But he faced the same problems in Virgin River as he
had encountered in L.A.

After talking to Tommy and to twenty other teenagers, he had lists of
names spread across several parties that had taken place from last May
to recent months. There might have been even more, but Mike didn’t know
about them. Mike made one trip to Garberville to talk to
nineteen-year-old Brendan Lancaster, who, along with Tommy’s ex-friend
Jordan Whitley, were the only two boys at every party. The few other
names that turned up more than twice were probably shills—boys who were
at the parties but didn’t have a clue as to what was going on. Mike
could tell in the interview—the shills responded with confusion that
seemed authentic, yet Whitley’s and Lancaster’s alleged confusion was
obviously contrived. Very few girls’ names turned up more than once.

Where Mike got confused was the combination of drugs that caused
people—girls, primarily—to pass out and possibly other drugs that hyped
them up. It was a weird combination. Could there be roofies and either
ecstasy or meth at the same party? Sounded like a smorgasbord—and a
deadly one at that.

Mike was easily convinced that Tom Booth had no involvement with this
group. He’d gone to one party at the rest stop out of curiosity, stayed
less than an hour and had seen it wasn’t going anywhere good. He’d
decided to get out of there before it went south in a hurry. He’d been
to a friend’s house a couple of times before he met and started dating
his girlfriend; beer was available but he’d never seen anyone passed out
in any of those instances, probably because he’d never stayed long. He
didn’t know many people, but he’d given the names of the ones he did
know, and the names added up, once again, to Whitley and Lancaster.

“I’ll give you a clue,” Mel told Mike. “Your boy has chlamydia. If
there’s more than one boy with chlamydia, they’re passing it around.”

“But I can’t get to it,” he told her.

“Then maybe you’ll have to catch him.”

“Maybe,” Mike said, and a picture of him staking out a teen party
waiting for these boys to drug and rape an unsuspecting young girl was
enough to make him want to throw up. He thought he was probably going to
have to get some help, which would mean going to the sheriff again, yet
all he had was a list of names of teenagers who’d been drinking, maybe
smoking a little pot, and had nothing else to say. Until he came across
something more significant, he had nothing to report to anyone. He’d
just have to keep talking to these kids, get Zach Hadley to sharpen his
ears at the high school, maybe catch a break.

It was nearing Thanksgiving and Mike was caught up in this caper when
Paul issued an invitation to a dinner at the general’s house for Mike
and Brie. It was Vanessa’s idea to welcome Brie to the community—a
generous thought that was typical of her. While the general—who had
command of his kitchen—and the women were occupied, Paul and Mike stood
out at the corral with a couple of beers in the light dusting of a
late-afternoon snow. They had just been talking about the fact that
Tommy was working hard out at Jack’s homesite, really earning his money
by keeping the site clean of construction trash, when he came riding up
from one of the back trails with a girl on another horse.

“There’s Romeo now,” Paul said.

“New girlfriend?” Mike asked, squinting into the distance.

“The wonderful Brenda. He’s been after her forever. I think the horses
finally cinched it for him.”

Oh, Jesus, Mike thought. This is going to freak her out. “Ah…Listen,
there’s a situation. I’ll try to explain later, but do me a favor, okay?
When they get up here, drag Tommy out of here. Tell him you need his
help—firewood or something. I’ll take care of his horse. I need a minute
with the girl.”

“Everything okay? Because she’s a nice girl….”

“Yeah, she’s a real nice girl. But I’ve had a little business with
her—she’s not in any kind of trouble, I promise. If I don’t find a way
to convince her I’d never talk to anyone about her, Tommy might lose his
main squeeze over something as dumb as nerves. Cop nerves.”

“You been flashing that badge around, partner?”

“At the high school, yeah.”

“Oh, crap,” Paul said. “You better make this right because Tommy’s got
his head screwed on straight after a little trouble with his dad, and it
just might be due to the girl.”

“Yeah,” Mike said. “I can do this. Don’t worry.”

Sure enough, just as Mike expected, Brenda looked stricken when she
spied Mike at the corral. She actually pulled back on the reins and
slowed her mount. Mike tried sending her a signal, a narrowing of eyes
and very slight shaking of his head, but she was a little lost. Scared.
No way she wanted this new boyfriend to know what she’d gone through. No
way she wanted to sit and tremble nervously through dinner with the cop.

“Tommy, buddy, help me out a sec, huh?” Paul said. “I need a hand
getting in a load of wood. Mike will take care of your horse.”

“You sure?” he asked, dismounting. “Maybe Mike should do wood while I
help Brenda with the horses.”

“Aw, his arm, you know—still iffy. Come on.”

“You okay with the horse, Mike?”

“You bet,” Mike said. “Your girl here can show me what to do.”

“Ah, Mike—this is Brenda. Brenda, Mike Valenzuela, friend of the family.”

“Nice to meet you,” Mike said, extending his hand to the young girl. She
accepted it limply, silently, surprise and worry still etched on her face.

Mike watched over his shoulder as Paul led Tommy away, an arm around him
as they walked up the hill toward the house. Brenda dismounted and led
the horse toward the stable.

“Brenda, don’t panic. No one knows I’ve talked to you about anything.
All right?”

“Sure,” she said nervously.

“Easy does it,” he said. “Tommy’s a good catch. Don’t cut and run
because of me. I’m not saying anything to anyone. I’ve seen your folks
at the bar ten times since we talked and haven’t breathed a word. I told
you, our conversation was in confidence.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been all over that school. People are talking.”

“Yup,” he said. “And they’re talking to me, too. Listen, there’s
something you ought to know about your boyfriend here—I’ve been getting
to know him and I think he’s solid. If there’s stuff you’re worried
about him finding out, it might be better coming from you—but that’s
just my opinion. I think he’s a tough, fair kid. He’s not going to get
anything from me.”

As she was leading her mount into the stable, she stopped. “You know
more than you’re saying. Don’t you?”

“Yup,” he said.

“You know who it was?” she asked without giving him any specifics. But
he already knew the specifics. He could continue to play dumb with her
or he could go out on a limb and hope it paid off.

“Yup.”

“Will you tell me?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have a victim. Can’t make an arrest or prosecute a crime
without a victim. And just like I’m not telling anyone what you said—”

“Is there more than one person who could be that victim?” she asked.

He looked into her eyes steadily. “What do you think?”

“Oh, no.” Tears gathered in her eyes—probably as the possibility of more
girls going through what she’d been through flashed through her mind.
“Oh, my God.”

“Yeah, this isn’t pretty, is it? Anytime you want to talk about this,
work through it, you know how to reach me. I’m not asking you to do
anything, but I want you to try to trust me a little. I’m going to give
you some space, and I’m never saying anything about your personal life,
or my relationship with you unless you give me the okay. Get that? Let’s
take care of the horses. And act like we just hit it off. Huh? Instant
friends…”

“I don’t know how to do that,” she said, emotional.

“Sure you do. We’re going to have a nice dinner, a visit with the Booth
family. I’ll introduce you to Brie—you’re going to love her,” he said
with a smile. “I bet she was a lot like you when she was sixteen. Good
grades, nice boyfriends, great family.” His smile deepened. “You’ll be
fine. You gotta trust me a little, Brenda. I never sold anyone out.”

“What if you never get a victim so you can make an arrest?”

“I’m gonna get him anyway,” he said. “I’m trying to come up with ideas
that don’t involve you.”

They got the saddles off and the tack out, then began brushing the
horses. After about ten minutes she said, “Thanks. Mike.”

“Hey, Brenda, I think we’re on the same side. We don’t want anyone else
to get hurt.”

 

It hadn’t yet been two weeks that Brie had been in Virgin River, but to
Mike it felt as if they’d been together forever. No matter what the
evening held, whether supper at the grill and a quick walk across the
yard to the RV, or dinner with the general and his family, when they
were finally alone the door was barely closed before they were in each
other’s arms. They hadn’t slept in a stitch of clothing since Brie’s
arrival and probably never would again. Mike thought about her all day
and made long, slow, delicious love to her almost every night. Then
there were the mornings…

“No one has this much sex,” she whispered to him, breathless and satisfied.

“Even I never had this much sex,” he admitted, just as breathless.

“It’s a honeymoon, that’s what it is,” she told him.

“I’ve been on two honeymoons, and they were nothing like this.”

“Well, I’ve been on one, and it was nothing by comparison.” She giggled.
“You’re amazing, Mike,” she told him.

He rose over her and looked deeply into her eyes. “You’re a passionate
woman, Brie. You have a powerful libido. It’s a good thing you chose a
Latino.” He grinned. “We have a reputation for being able to handle hot
women like you.”

“You handle me, all right. Do you think this is going to wind down
anytime soon?”

“If nature takes its course, it will. That’s why I’m taking advantage of
you right now. I know what’s coming in the pregnant days.”

“I just can’t wait for the end of the day,” she said. “I shudder on and
off all day long, just thinking…”

“Aftershocks,” he said, rolling onto his back. “I have ’em, too.” He
chuckled. “It’s a miracle is what it is. I wasn’t even sure I could do it.”

“Huh?”

He rolled back onto his side and looked down at her. “I came out of my
coma with a few things missing. Erections, for one thing.”

“Seriously?” she asked, wide-eyed. “Because you’re certainly having more
than your share now.”

“It took almost a year to come back, and then it was completely
unpredictable. When I took you to bed that first time, I didn’t know if
it would work, how well it would work, if it would keep working….”

“And yet you went for it?”

He shrugged. “I had responded to you before…I was hopeful.”

“Mendocino,” she said with a smile.

“You did know. I wondered.”

“What if it hadn’t worked that first night?”

He ran a hand over her naked shoulder and down over her hip. “Helping
you become comfortable with a loving touch was all I wanted. Pleasing
you was the only important thing. I was prepared to make up for it. In
many wonderful ways.”

She closed her eyes. “You do have your ways,” she whispered.

He laughed, deep in his throat, and took great pride in working a little
of his magic. Nothing in his life to this moment compared to the
happiness he felt when she responded to him, when she was swept away by
the pleasure he could give her. And sweeter still was holding her
afterward, whispering in the night, or talking softly in the
early-morning light. Whether it was love talk, usually only stirring
them up all over again, or just the conversation of partners planning
their days, their lives. Then there were conversations about children,
about a house on a hill, about life together that took them into old
age. All of it filled him up inside, gave him the substance that had
been missing from his life. He’d had women but this was the first time
he’d had a true partner.

Brie propped herself up on her elbow, meeting his smiling eyes, her hair
falling over her shoulders. “It’s almost Thanksgiving,” she said.
“You’re sure you want to stay here?”

He shrugged. “Mel and Jack can’t leave—she has babies coming. Preacher
and Paige are here—that’s family. If you want to go to Sam’s, I’ll do
that with you. But I don’t want to go to L.A. yet.”

“You aren’t keeping me a secret from the Valenzuelas, are you?”

“God, no, I’ve told them all, every one of them. I even told them to
look out—you’re bilingual and tricky. But I’m not ready to share you. In
my mother’s Catholic household, it would be separate bedrooms because
we’re not married. Even though I’m thirty-seven and she knows we’re
living together—it’s her Catholic home. We could stay in a hotel, but I
think we’ll visit later. Just give me a little more time. I’ve never
been this happy in my life and all day long I look forward to when we’re
finally alone together.” He played with the hair that fell to her
shoulder. “I’m greedy. This is the best my life has ever been.”

“What about Christmas?” she asked him.

“What about it?”

“Will your family be upset it we go to Dad’s for Christmas? Because my
whole family plus Mel’s sister, brother-in-law and the kids will be
there—and I want to be with them.”

“Then that’s where we’ll be. We can join the Valenzuelas another time.
You have to remember, mija—my family is so large that my parents don’t
expect to have all the kids together with their own families every year.
We’ll do Christmas with them another year.”

Thanksgiving fell on the last Thursday of the month and Preacher did the
dinner in the bar. General Booth and his family were invited, but they
drove down the coast to Bodega Bay to be with his sister and niece.
There were several Virgin River folk who were included in Thanksgiving
at the bar, people that Preacher and Jack had looked after for a long
time, and it was a tradition to serve them the holiday meal in the bar.
There was Doc and Hope McCrea, Connie and Ron of the corner store,
Ricky’s grandma Lydie, Joy and Bruce from just down the street. Now that
Preacher and Jack were both married, they’d close the bar on Christmas,
but Preacher liked doing his Thanksgiving feast, keeping the bar open in
case anyone who was alone straggled in.

When Mel, Jack and Davie arrived for dinner, Mel called her two patients
who were close to due dates to see how they were doing, and when the
report was that everything was status quo, she asked for her one glass
of wine for the trimester. “One of my girls is running a tish late,
while the other one has a habit of going early,” she said, raising her
glass to Brie. “Any second now, we’re having not one but two babies.”

“You must be so excited.”

“I still get a little wound up, waiting. I live for the babies.”

“And you’re still feeling okay?”

“I’ve been sick as a dog with this one. But I hang in. Jack promises
he’s not going to do this to me again. And I’m leaning toward a surgical
procedure while he sleeps.”

 

The turkey was one of Preacher’s very best and the side dishes were
perfect. The pies had been made by Paige, who had developed some amazing
culinary skills since coming to Virgin River. Preacher had proven to be
not only a fabulous chef, but a wonderful teacher. And she was a very
apt student who had seemed to find her niche in the kitchen with him.

Mel and Brie helped with the cleanup and Jack helped with the trash and
sweeping up while balancing David on one hip. Mike wiped down the bar
and tables but, even so, Preacher was busy cleaning up for so long that
he missed Christopher’s story time after his bath. He did go upstairs,
however, to kiss the little guy good-night, because he found he just
didn’t get a good night’s sleep without doing that. Then he trudged
downstairs to close up the bar and go to his quarters, where he would
lie platonically beside the woman of his dreams, waiting for her
invitation indicating that enough time had passed. Every day he wondered
when he’d get permission to let it go. He really waited for ovulation
day when he didn’t have to hold anything back and which, by his
calculations, was about a week away. And Paige was so regular, he had
this figured almost to the minute.

When he walked into their bedroom he saw that Paige was sitting up in
bed, pillows behind her, sheet drawn up over her naked breasts and a
mysterious smile on her face. When he frowned and cocked his head, she
pulled a pregnancy test stick out from under the sheets. “Ta-da,” she
said. “We did it, Dad.”

Preacher almost fell down. His eyes actually welled up with tears. He
put his hands up to his face to try to gain control, but he was
overwhelmed. Three months of saving up, waiting for ovulation day, and
he had begun to despair of them making a baby. But Mel was right! This
is what it took! He could do this again, and again! But wait, he told
himself. One baby at a time!

He went to the bed and fell to one knee beside it, grabbing on to that
pregnancy stick. “Oh, God! Oh, baby! Are you?”

“Looks like it, yes.”

“Oh, my God,” he said, grabbing her, pulling her into his arms and
holding her against his huge chest. “Oh, God!”

“Easy, John,” she said, laughing.

He immediately let go of her. “Am I hurting you?”

“No.” She laughed again. “Of course not. But, John, if this little stick
is accurate, you’re all done saving up.”

“Paige,” he said in all seriousness, “do you think so?”

“Yes, John, I think so. I’m late for the first time ever, and the test
is positive.”

“Oh, my Lord. Oh, my Lord. How do you feel? Are you okay?”

“Actually…I’m pretty horny.”

“Not really,” he said, stunned.

“Oh, really. This saving-up business—I guess you think you’re the only
one who missed it. Huh?”

“Well…You got a little pissy there for a while….”

“Well, John, you told everyone it was ovulation day! You’re going to
have to learn to be a little more discreet in the future.”

“Anything you want, baby. Anything.”

“Fine. Take off your clothes. Come in here with me. Do that thing you do….”

 

Mike drove out to Jack’s homesite; it was the first week in
December—damp and cold. Preacher had taken a call at the bar and asked
Mike to go break the news. Preacher would work on shutting down the bar
and closing up the kitchen.

Jack and Paul were both inside installing cabinets; Paul’s crew had
already quit for the day and were in the trailer getting together an
evening meal. The sun was low in the sky and Tommy Booth was still
picking up scraps and dragging them to the Dumpster. Mike got out of his
SUV and waited for Tom to turn back his way.

Mike walked over to Tom. “I gotta get you home, buddy. It’s bad news.
It’s Matt. There was an explosion. In Baghdad.”

The expression on Tom’s face was one of pure horror. He was frozen for a
second and then he called out, “Paul!” It sounded as much like a scream
as a shout. It was enough to bring Paul and Jack running to the porch of
the house, and for some of the crew to appear in the doorway of the trailer.

Tom looked back at Mike. “Is he dead?” he asked in a terrified whisper.

Mike nodded and the tears instantly sprang to Tom’s eyes. Mike grabbed
his upper arm. “Leave the truck. I’ll drive you. I’ll get the truck for
you later. You have to be safe—your sister has enough going on right
now. She can’t have anything happen to you.”

Tom sucked it back bravely. “Yeah,” he said in a breath. “I’m okay.”

“You have to try to hold it together for her. We can meet up and fall
apart later, bud.”

“Yeah,” he said. Then he ran for Mike’s SUV.

Paul jumped out of the house rather than walking down the plank where
the porch steps would eventually be constructed. He ran to Mike, Jack
right on his heels, questions shining in their eyes. “The Marine Corps
is at the house, Paul. It’s Matt. Car bomb in Baghdad. He’s dead.”

“Jesus,” Paul said in a breath. “Vanni!” burst from his lips. And he lit
off for his truck before Mike had a chance to stop him.

“Jack, I sent Mel out to the house because of Vanni’s pregnancy. You’ll
want to get over there. Brie will bring Davie in a little while.”

Tom, Mike and Paul beat Jack to the house by mere seconds, but when he
looked in the door what he found was a Marine Corps recruiter and a
chaplain sitting uncomfortably in the great room while Walt stood beside
his daughter. Tommy leaned on his dad and Paul knelt beside the ottoman
on which Vanni sat, and held her in his arms. Before Jack could even
enter the house, Mel drove up, parked and walked swiftly toward the
house. Jack stopped her at the doorway. “Are you up to this?”

“I’m fine, Jack. I should see Vanni.”

“Sure.”

Then he watched as his wife, medical bag in hand, went to her patient.
Mel put a hand on Vanni’s shoulder and said, “I’m here, Vanni. I just
want to be here,” she said. What she didn’t say was, to be sure you
don’t have any problems with your pregnancy on account of the news.

Shortly the house filled up even more. Preacher and Paige with
Christopher, Brie with David. Preacher brought food that had been
prepared for that night’s dinner, plus a couple of bottles of good liquor.

Eventually the Marine contingent spoke with the general about
arrangements and told Walt that a similar detachment had paid a visit to
Matt’s parents in Oregon once Vanni had been notified. They’d be
available to help with the burial, when those decisions were made.

Paul took Vanni to her room, glancing over his shoulder to Mel,
indicating she should follow. Once there, Vanni lay back on the bed and
cried helplessly. Paul sat beside her, gently rubbing her back. Mel
quickly checked her vitals, listened to the fetal heartbeat and gave her
a light sedative that wouldn’t bother the baby.

This was the first time Mel became aware of a truly special bond between
Paul and Vanni even though she’d seen their reunion a couple of months
before, even though she’d heard Matt ask his best friend to look after
his wife. Right now, in the moment, Vanni was completely dependent on
Paul. Not on her father or brother, but on Paul, who continued to keep
at least a hand on her, if not his arms around her. “Paul, if you can,
if it’s all right with Vanni, lie down beside her and stay close for a
while. The contact,” she said. “Loving contact is good.”

“Vanni?” he asked.

She turned in his arms, nodding and sobbing, and he climbed onto her bed
with her, drawing her close as she cried.

“Call me if you need me. I’ll be near,” Mel said.

 

It was a long while before the sobbing finally subsided. Vanni’s eyes
were swollen and red, her breathing jagged. She turned to look at Paul
and asked, “Did he know?”

“Know what, honey?”

“Did he know he was going to die? I heard him ask you to take care of us
if anything happened. It was almost as if he knew….”

“He didn’t know. When it gets hot, you think like that. That’s all it
was. You always wonder. Plus, he knew without asking I’d be here for you.”

“What am I going to do?” She wept again.

“We’ll get through it, Vanni. You have a lot of people around who love you.”

“He’ll never see his baby. His son.”

“Sure he will. You think he won’t be watching? I know the guy—he’ll be
watching.”

They lay together on her bed and Paul held her. No one bothered them; no
one checked to see if they were okay. Paul could hear the soft murmur of
voices in the other room, but the only thing that mattered at the moment
was Vanni and the baby. She faced him, her head on his arm, her belly
pressed up against him, and he felt the baby move. Relief flooded him.
It was bad enough that Vanni was going through this—he couldn’t have
anything happen to the baby. Matt’s baby.

The room was dark. There was a soft glow from the hallway from lights in
the great room and kitchen spilling over. Vanni’s breathing became even
and calmer—she slept, probably due to the sedative. He eased himself
away reluctantly; he knew he wouldn’t be able to justify putting himself
back on her bed, at her side, his arms around her, so it was hard to
leave her.

In the great room he found all his friends. Waiting.

“She’s asleep,” he said. “Mel, I could feel the baby moving, so I guess
he’s okay, right?”

“She’s in her last trimester—the baby’s pretty tough. Resilient. I’m
confident she’ll carry, though she’ll have a lot of emotional pain.”

“You want to call his parents?” Walt asked Paul.

“I can do that, yeah. Any idea what Vanni would want to do about the
burial?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know how it’s going to sit,” Walt said. “If anything
happened in Iraq, they’d decided together that he’s to come here. Not
Virginia, where she’s never going to live. Not Oregon, where their child
isn’t going to grow up. Do you think you can talk to his folks about
that, or should I?”

“I can do it,” Paul said. “When you say here…?”

“On my land,” the general said. “I’m always going to be here. This is
going to be home base for Vanessa, at least. There’s a kind of…the baby
should have a link to his dad.”

“And me,” Tommy said. “And to me.”

“Yeah, of course,” Paul said. And he was beginning to long for the
moment when he could be alone and grieve for his best friend. But it
wasn’t going to happen soon. He knew these people needed him to be strong.

 

A permit had to be obtained for burial on private property and a digging
crew had to be hired from a cemetery in Fortuna. A site that could be
seen from the house was chosen, up on a small rise under a big tree, a
place from which a person could stand and see the many acres of General
Booth’s land. A contingent of Marines brought the body, a body it was
not possible to view. It was never spoken of and no one really knew if
it was a routine practice of the Corps to deliver an honor guard and
twenty-one-gun salute to a ranch in the backwoods, or if a three-star
general could whip that up with a phone call or two.

Folding chairs were placed around the grave site; Vanni sat between her
father and brother right in front, Paul sat beside Tom, and beside the
general sat Matt’s parents. In the gathering, besides Preacher, Paige,
Jack, Mel, Mike and Brie were Joe, Zeke, Josh Phillips and Tom Stephens.
They were there more for Paul than anyone, because when one of them
needed to be shored up by his brothers, the Marines arrived.

The flag was removed from the casket, folded with precision and
presented to Vanni, who pressed it lovingly to her breast. The rifles
fired; the bugle wailed.

Mel held Jack’s hand and pulled it to her belly. There was a stirring
inside and she looked up at him with a small smile. He leaned down to
hear her whisper, “Darling, you will never hear me complain about this
baby again. Never. I thank God I have you…and your babies.”


    Thirteen

D espite everything, or perhaps because of everything, Christmas in
Sacramento was filled with joy and laughter. Mel had many hands to help
tend to David, allowing her to relax. Sam Sheridan’s house throbbed with
noise, food, love and celebration. Mike was pulled into the throng with
enthusiasm, for the happiness that sparkled in Brie’s eyes brought
everyone’s gratitude and relief.

Mel’s sister, Joey, her husband, Bill, and their three kids joined the
five Sheridan siblings, their spouses and, with David, nine little
Sheridans, making it twenty-five in total, eleven of them camping out at
Sam’s house, using every bedroom, pullout sofa, sleeping bag and beanbag.

The first night in town was a relatively quiet one, with Brie and Jack’s
sisters and spouses dropping in to say hello and welcome, heading back
to their homes early, but on Christmas Eve it grew wild with everyone
present at once. The street outside looked like a parking lot, dinner
was big and messy and the dishes took forever to clean up, but the
evening was young.

“We have a few traditions around here,” Bob, the eldest of the
brothers-in-law, said to Mike. “It starts on the patio.”

“To the patio!” chimed in Ryan, the third in rank.

“This is where we come after dinner,” Jack let him know. “First drinks,
then the cigars come out and eventually the brandy—after which we
generally have the women completely pissed off.”

“Sounds like home,” Mike said.

As the women held their usual gathering in the family room, the space
heaters on the patio were lit by Sam.

“Do they do this at the Valenzuela house—segregate by sex?” Sam asked Mike.

“Yeah, but at my mother’s home, the men take the garage, which holds a
pool table and a refrigerator. In the refrigerator we have cerveza. It’s
kind of like a clubhouse.”

“Hmm. I could get a pool table,” Sam said thoughtfully.

Inside, the women were focused on pie, coffee and David, who was getting
around very well and trying to pull himself up on furniture. He crawled
around in his pajamas, ready to be put to bed once the noise level in
the house subsided a bit. No one really seemed to notice when the
doorbell rang. Donna, who was sitting nearest, answered. When she came
back to the family room, she leaned down and whispered in Brie’s ear.
“Really?” Brie asked. “Hmm. Will you please get Mike for me?”

“Sure, kitten.”

Brie went to the door and found Brad in the foyer with a small
gift-wrapped box and a large, gaily ribboned basket of wine, meats and
cheeses. “Hi, Brad,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought maybe you’d had enough time to cool down now and think about
things. I brought you something. This is for you, this is for the family.”

He expects to be invited in, she thought. He still thinks we’ll kiss and
make up. He’s crazy as a loon. “I’ll take this,” she said, reaching for
the basket. She put it on the hall table behind her. “But you should
take that back. I’ll give the family your regards.”

“Come on, Brie. Give me a chance.”

She shook her head sadly. “Brad, you’re much too late.”

Mike came up behind her. She could sense his presence before she felt
his hand on her shoulder. “Brad,” Mike said with a nod.

Brie reached up and put her hand over Mike’s. He slipped his other arm
gently around her waist, holding her against him. Last Christmas came to
mind, when Brad was with the other woman and her children and Brie was
here, lonely and hurt in this huge crowd of family. And now, with Mike’s
warmth against her, his arm around her, she couldn’t remember feeling
more secure.

A strange look came over Brad’s face and a huff of laughter escaped him.
“No way,” he said.

“You should go, Brad,” she said.

“Come on,” Brad said in disbelief. “You’re not with this guy.”

“Merry Christmas, Brad,” Brie said. “Have a nice holiday.”

Brad laughed. “God, I should’ve known. He was at the hospital. That’s why…”

Brie turned to look up at Mike. She smiled at him. She’d be damned if
she’d explain anything about their relationship to Brad.

Brad looked down uncomfortably. Then meeting Brie’s eyes, he said,
“You’re sure?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

He took a deep breath and slowly turned, leaving Brie and Mike in the
foyer alone. She leaned back against Mike and felt his breath on her
neck. “God, I feel sorry for him,” Mike said.

“You do?”

“I do. It must be torture for him, knowing what he’s lost.”

“You think he even realizes?” she asked him.

“Come on, Brie—he’s a lot of things, but he’s not stupid. He’s figured
it out by now. He gave up an incredible woman. The kind of strong,
passionate woman who can commit to the forever thing, once her choice
has been made. Not many chances like that come along for a man. Believe
me—I know.”

“He might not understand that,” she said. “In the short time we’ve been
a couple, you’ve touched me in places he doesn’t even know exist.”

“Hmm,” he said, nuzzling her. “Not because there’s anything special
about me. Because you hold nothing back. Do you wonder what was in the box?”

“Not even curious. And there’s a lot special about you. What do you want
for Christmas, Mike?” she asked him.

“You.” He turned her around and looked into her eyes. “Are you all right?”

“He doesn’t have much effect on me anymore, Mike.”

“No more questions about what went wrong?” he asked, running a smooth
knuckle down her cheek.

She shook her head. “Six months ago I couldn’t think of many reasons to
go on living. I had no idea I’d find this kind of happiness with you.”

“I didn’t think I had a chance.”

“You were so kind to me. So patient and loving, waiting for me to be
ready. And so passionate—I couldn’t resist you.”

“My past concerns your brother.”

She laughed. “His past concerned the whole family. He should worry about
his own transgressions.” She gave him a little kiss. “I’ll worry about
yours.”

“You aren’t afraid? Any fear that I don’t know my heart?”

She shook her head. “When I’m with you, I don’t worry about anything.”

“Would you take a chance on me? Let me make promises that I swear by the
Virgin I can keep?”

She laughed at him. “Do you really want to get the Virgin involved in this?”

“Before the babies come, mija,” he said. “Because there will be babies.”

“There is that talk about the water in Virgin River….”

He covered her lips in a steaming kiss, pulling her hard against him.
“It’s not about the water with us, mi amor,” he said. “If we disappeared
for a while, would we be missed?”

“Yes,” she answered, laughing.

“When I woke up in the hospital, I thought to myself, why did I make it?
When I was discharged and struggling for every step, unable to lift a
glass from the cupboard, my constant thought was that I had misspent my
life—carousing, living in the moment, acting carelessly. What every man
wants, what my friends had found—that one woman they would give up
everything for—had eluded me completely. And when you came along…angry
over your divorce and determined never to give a man, especially a man
like me, a chance, I knew I’d been cast into hell for sure, because I
was feeling that for you.” He gave her a kiss. “How did this happen? I
know I don’t deserve this.”

“It started with a promise to break your heart,” she said. “Somehow I
got distracted.”

“Will you marry me, Brie? I want you to be my wife. I want to be your
husband, your partner for life. Can you trust me with that?”

“Sí, Miguel. I trust you with everything.”

 

It was the first Christmas in many years that Paul Haggerty hadn’t spent
in Grants Pass with his parents and brothers and their families—because
Vanessa needed him. She asked him if he would stay; she said it would
make her Christmas a little easier. She didn’t have to ask—he would move
heaven and earth for her.

The person who needed Paul as much, perhaps even more, was Tommy. The
boy was crushed by his loss. He loved his sister more than the average
seventeen-year-old boy dared admit, but he’d begun to admire Matt in a
heroic manner. He was enamored of his bravery and patriotism. He thought
of him as a true brother.

It was typical of kids to take the opposite path of their parents, but
even though Tom and his dad butted heads regularly, Walt had clearly
raised a young soldier. Tom had been accepted into West Point already
and was slated for at least a good long hitch in the Army, perhaps a
career. This loss of Matt devastated him.

Paul tried to spend as much time as possible with Tom. He helped him
take care of the horses and took him over to Jack’s house to help out
for a few hours here and there prior to Christmas. On Christmas morning
a beautiful snow fell, dusting the pines and the trails, and they took a
couple of the horses out for a ride.

“You think he was scared?” Tom asked Paul out of the blue.

But of course there was no confusion about whom he was speaking. “Maybe
not at that moment, since the explosion was a complete surprise. But in
that situation, everyone is scared. You wish you could crawl into your
helmet and wait for it to pass. But damn, it’s exhilarating, Tom. The
training, the physical challenge, putting it all to the test when it
really matters. When everything’s at stake. Not a pay raise, not an
extra day of vacation—but your freedom. Your wife’s freedom, your son’s,
your parents’. You think about that when you’re really up against
it—that there’s purpose in what you’re risking. Great purpose. That’s
what keeps pulling men like Matt back. Men like Jack. Jack did a twenty.
If Matt had made it twenty, he’d have been as decorated as Jack.”

“I don’t know if I have the stuff,” Tom said. “I want to do well, but…”

“It’s not a good idea to go that route if you don’t feel it. It’s got
power. The power of conviction. It’s full of adrenaline. The rush. It’s
hard enough when you do feel it.”

“How do you know?”

Paul shrugged. “I can’t answer that, son. I wasn’t sure till I was
there. For us, me and Matt, it was Iraq the first time, and it was
nothing compared to this. But once I got there, I knew I was supposed to
be there. That’s when we met Jack Sheridan, Preacher and Mike.”

“But you got out.”

“The reserves was enough for me, but that ended in Fallujah—where I took
a bullet and donated a spleen. Okay by me—I wanted to serve, but I
didn’t want that career. I have the career I want. I love building
houses. The most important thing for you to remember is you don’t have
to make this decision now. You have years before you have to do that.”

“You think Vanni’s going to be all right?” he asked.

“Not right away. She’s going to have to grieve him. Eventually, though,
she’s going to get on with her life because she has that gift, that love
of life. I’ve never known a woman as alive as Vanni. And she’ll have a
son to raise. She’ll be okay. Just a matter of time.”

“I hear her at night. Crying.”

“Yeah,” Paul said. “So do I.”

They took the horses on a path along the narrow end of the river that
cut through the general’s property and Paul pulled back on the reins.
“Tommy,” he whispered. “Over there.”

At the water’s edge was the most magnificent buck Paul had ever seen.
Drinking from the river, he had twelve points, six by six, a thick white
throat, a long, handsome snout and black nose. God, he was beautiful.
“There’s an old guy. He’s dodged the hunters for a few years.”

“Look at him,” Tom said. “I’d never be able to shoot him.”

“His meat might be a little tough anyway,” Paul said. “We’re going to
have to start bringing a camera with us.”

They sat in silence and admired the stag. One of the horses whinnied and
the deer’s head came up. He sniffed the air and then turned and ran into
the trees.

“You think it hurt him?” Tom asked. And again Paul knew it was Matt of
whom they spoke.

Paul reached across the distance that separated them and put a firm hand
on his shoulder. “Son, he didn’t feel a thing. He might be wandering
around heaven right now, wondering what the hell hit him. No pain. And
I’m not just speculating—your dad got in touch with his platoon commander.”

As they headed back to the house, Tom said, “Tell me about Jack. About
these guys…”

“Jack,” Paul said. “When Matt and I met him, he was already a marksman,
a sniper, a decorated Marine, and we were kids. I served under him again
when my reserve unit was called up—that’s the group that still hangs
tight. By the time Jack retired he held more medals than I could count.
He saved a lot of lives—he served in five combat zones. He went in as a
boy, but damn, he must have had some instinct about it because he was a
huge success, a bona fide war hero. Then when he got out, he came to
Virgin River and rebuilt that cabin into the bar and grill, married Mel
when she got here and seemed like this pretty regular small-town guy.

“But he’s no ordinary small-town guy—he’s still a fighting Marine. There
was an incident—a guy came out of the woods in the middle of the night,
looking for drugs at Doc’s. Mel was staying there. He broke in, put a
knife to Mel’s throat, threatened to kill her for the drugs. Doc heard
something and called Jack, who was asleep at the bar across the street.
He grabbed his handgun, a nine millimeter, and ran. He managed to get on
a pair of jeans and that’s all. Half-dressed, barefoot, a couple of big
tattoos on those huge arms of his, and I don’t know if you’ve ever seen
that killer look he can get on his face—he must have looked like a wild
man. He kicked in the door at Doc’s and was face-to-face with this
lunatic holding his woman, big serrated knife to her throat, and he had
a little, bitty target.” He held up his thumb and forefinger. “Right
next to Mel’s face. Now, you can see how he is with Mel—he worships her.
No way he’d ever risk her life. But it took him about a second to make
up his mind, to act. He took the guy out. Shot him in the head, killed him.”

“No way.”

“He did. He’s the kind of guy who never hesitates. But he knows what
he’s doing—he knows what he can and can’t do. Knows what he has to do.
And then he does it—clearheaded.”

“What a stud,” Tom said.

Paul laughed.

“What about Mike? Valenzuela?”

“Mike? After our first hitch, he went to LAPD and stayed in the
reserves, like I did. We were activated at the same time. We had some
hard fighting in Iraq, but he got through that with a couple of medals.
He held off insurgents at Fallujah, saving the whole squad. Joe and me
were bleeding all over the place, and so were some others, but Mike kept
them back till Jack and the rest of the platoon could effect a rescue.
But then about a year ago back in L.A., as a police sergeant in a gang
unit, he got taken out by a fourteen-year-old gangbanger in a
playground. He took three bullets and it almost killed him. LAPD retired
him and he came up here to recuperate—Mel helped him with his physical
therapy. Now he’s the town cop—bet he never saw that coming. And you
already know about Brie, right?”

“What about her?”

“Well, it’s no secret and you’ll hear about it sooner or later. Brie was
a Sacramento ADA, an assistant district attorney. She put away a lot of
dangerous criminals, but then she prosecuted a serial rapist and lost
the trial. The guy had brutally raped a bunch of women, and he walked.
And then he raped and beat Brie.”

“Come on—are you shitting me?” Tommy asked, appalled.

“No, that’s what went on. Mike told me that they’ve found the guy and
there will be a trial. Brie is determined she’s going to testify against
him and put him away so he can’t do this to anyone else, ever.”

“Jesus,” Tommy said.

“Yeah,” Paul said.

“Right here. These stories. This little dinky place full of big trees
and pretty rivers and good-looking deer, and people are performing
heroic acts and living out these huge dramas. Every day.”

Paul laughed. “And I haven’t even told you about Preacher. And Paige.”

 

Christmas dinner at the Booth household was served at six—small and
somber. Paul and the general cleaned up the kitchen and not long
afterward Vanni just went to bed. Paul knew she wasn’t sleeping well, as
he could often hear her in the night. But she continued to go to bed
earlier and earlier. Paul suspected she wanted to be alone, to grieve,
to cry without impacting the rest of the household.

When it was down to just the men, Paul excused himself to run into town
to pay a call on Paige and Preacher, and Tom took his little red truck
in the same direction, to visit Brenda.

When Tom got to Brenda’s house it was still all lit up, and it looked as
if there were a lot of people inside. He knew he should’ve called, but
he hadn’t been thinking straight lately. When he rang the bell, she
answered. “Hey,” he said.

“Tommy! Hi! Wanna come in?”

“Um—I was wondering if you could come out. For a little while.”

“Let me ask my mom,” she said. “Here, step inside. Come on.” She pulled
his hand and he let himself be drawn into their house.

The moment Brenda’s mom saw him, she stood up from her place at the
table with Brenda’s dad, brothers and sister, grandma and grandpa and a
couple of other people. She went straight to him and put her arms around
him. “How are you, Tommy?” she asked, giving him a motherly hug. “You
getting by?”

“I’m doing all right,” he said with a shrug. “Sorry. I should’ve called.”

“It’s okay, honey. How’s Vanessa doing?”

He hoped he wouldn’t get choked up. “Um. She’s having a pretty hard
time. I think it’s going to be a while. You know?”

“Mom?” Brenda asked. “Okay if I go out with Tommy for a little while?”

“Sure, honey. Don’t be too late. Tommy—keep an eye on the time,” she said.

“Yeah, I will, Mrs. Carpenter.” He held Brenda’s coat for her. Then held
her hand as he took her down the porch steps and out to his truck. Once
they were in the truck, still sitting out in front of her house, still
holding her hand, he said, “I’m sorry, Bren. I haven’t called. I haven’t
given you any attention.”

“I didn’t really expect anything, Tommy. I understand—it’s a really
rough time. You feeling any better?”

“Right this minute, with you, I feel a lot better. Can we drive out to
the woods? Maybe Jack’s homesite? Brenda, I just have to hold someone.”
He smiled at her. “You’re my first and only choice.”

She squeezed his hand. “Sure.”

He put the truck in gear and headed out of town. “You know—you’re about
the best thing that’s happened to me since I got here. If I weren’t
going with you, this year would be—it would be total crap.”

She laughed a little. “I feel the same way. My year didn’t start out
real good, either. It wasn’t half as tough as yours, but it was still
pretty crappy.”

“You’ve been so great to me,” he said.

“You’ve been pretty good to me, too.”

“I mean it. A lot of girls are real complicated. Ever since we started
talking, going out, you’ve been awesome. You don’t worry about little
shit, you don’t get all moody, you’re just so—Brenda, you’re the best
girl I’ve ever known.”

“Thanks. You’re pretty much the best guy I’ve ever known. There’s only
one thing wrong with you as far as I can tell.”

“Yeah?” he said, smiling in spite of himself. “What’s that?”

“You’re going away next year.”

“Yeah, there’s that. Could be a long year. But I’ll get leave—I’ll be
back here to visit. And you can always pick a school not so far from
West Point when it’s your turn. People do that, you know. Actually date
for a long time. Go steady for a long time. Of course, that’s all up to
you—I don’t expect anything.”

“It would be all right to ask, though,” she said.

“I wouldn’t tie you down your senior year,” he said.

“And maybe you don’t want to be tied down your freshman year?” she asked.

“Whew,” he said. “First of all, I don’t think they let the little guys
out much at West Point the first year. And second, if I knew you were my
girl, I wouldn’t even have to think about it. Being tied down to
you—that would be worth my time, no kidding.” He pulled off the road up
to the top of the hill where the house was being built. He stopped the
truck, leaving it running, and put on the dome light. “I have something
for you.” He opened the glove box and withdrew a small, wrapped box. “I
bought this before…Before Matt…I had this big deal planned for giving it
to you—a real nice night out, something special. For sure not sitting in
my truck in the woods. Open it, go ahead.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Of course I didn’t have to. Don’t you think I wanted to?”

She tore into it and found a gold ID bracelet with her name on the
topside and underneath, “With love, Tom.” She read it aloud. “God, it’s
beautiful. It’s just beautiful.”

“You like it?”

“I love it! Here, put it on me.”

Once the bracelet was latched, he put his hand against her soft hair. “I
do, you know. I love you.”

“Tom…”

“You don’t have to say it back. I know I’m rushing you a little. Think
it’ll get me kissed, though?”

“At least,” she said with a smile. She leaned toward him across the
console, her hands on his shoulders while his found her waist, and the
kiss was good. Hot and openmouthed. She made little noises while she
kissed him, and he loved that. Kiss at an end, she said, “Thank you.
It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever been given.”

All he wanted was to feel her warmth against him, and this wasn’t
getting it. Their make-out sessions had been a lot more comfortable than
this—either at her house when no one was home, or out riding, on the
soft ground under a tree, or in fresh clean hay in the stable. “I have
an idea,” he said, turning off the truck.

He went around to her side, opened her door and said, “Come with me.
Let’s hope Uncle Paul doesn’t lock things up too tight.”

“What are you thinking?” she asked, laughing, going with him.

He pulled her to the fifth wheel and, God bless Paul, the door swung
open. He stepped up inside and pulled her up and right into his arms,
covering her mouth with a passionate kiss. Then he pulled her down onto
Paul’s bed and held her there, tight. Close. “God, that’s better. That
is so much better.”

“Tommy…You’re not thinking we’re going to, you know, do it…?”

“I hope we do it, Bren. But it’s not going to be tonight. I’m not
lying—I just have to feel you next to me. I’ve been feeling so damn
empty. And alone. I just wanna hold you. So bad.”

“But I bet you have a rubber in your pocket.”

He laughed at her and buried his face in her neck. “I’m a
seventeen-year-old guy. What do you think?”

“That’s what I think.”

“It’s staying in my pocket, don’t you worry. We seventeen-year-old guys,
we don’t even want to carry ’em. But it’s the law.”

“You’re so funny….”

“Yeah, this is working,” he said. “Snuggle up here, baby. You feel so
good. Hmm.”

“Tommy?” she said.

“Yeah?”

“I love you, too. I do.”

“Aw,” he said, pulling her closer. “That’s so nice to hear.”

“And if we fall asleep here, we’re history.”

“No kidding.” He laughed. Then he slipped a hand against her breast, and
she covered his hand with hers. “We’re not gonna fall asleep, Brenda.
We’re gonna get all hot and bothered for a little while.”

“Yeah,” she said against his lips. “I know.”

 

Preacher unlocked the door to the bar and let Paul in. They shook hands
tight and hard, bringing them shoulder to shoulder. “Hey, man,” Preacher
said.

“Merry Christmas, my man. How was your day?”

“It was okay. Come on in. Paige told me to call her when you got here,
then we’ll have a drink. How’s that?”

“Just what I need,” Paul said, going to the bar.

Preacher called back to his quarters, then went behind the bar. “How’s
it going out there at the general’s?”

“Real tough,” he said. “Real, real tough.”

“Yeah, I can’t even imagine.” He pulled down a couple of glasses. “Vanni?”

“She’s hanging in there, but I can see the pain in every damn breath she
takes. God, Preach—that girl is hurting all over. She’s trying so hard
to be brave, especially over these holidays, it just kills me to look at
her. And she’s growing by the minute.”

“It’s good, though, that she’s got that baby in her. That little bit of
him. There has to be some consolation in that.” He tipped a bottle over
two glasses. “And it’s good you’re there. I know she needs you there.”

“I’m not sure it’s a great idea. We spend an awful lot of time talking
about Matt, and we’ll have some fun things to remember, but it always
ends up with her in tears.”

“I don’t know how you can get around that, man. She’s gonna cry. At
least she has a good friend to hold her up while she’s doing it.”
Preacher touched his glass to Paul’s. “If something happened to me and I
left Paige with a baby in her, I hope to God one of my boys would be
there for her.”

“It’s automatic, Preach,” Paul said, taking a drink.

Paige came into the bar and walked straight into Paul’s arms, giving him
a big hug. “How are you holding up?” she asked.

“I’m doing okay, Paige. Thanks. How about you guys? How was your
Christmas? I bet the little guy had a big day.”

“Oh, you know he did. He now has everything but a car.”

“And you?” he asked. “The man here spoil you like you deserve?”

“You have no idea,” she said. “We’ve been sitting on a little news.
We’re having a baby.”

“Well, damn!” Paul said. He looked at Preacher and grinned. “You finally
came through on ovulation day, huh, buddy?”

He puffed up a little. “I did at that,” he said, throwing his chest out.

“And John promises that in the future when we have personal business,
like we’re going to have sex all day and I’m going to stand on my head
between rounds, he’s not going to tell the town. Or the one-ninety-second.”

“Aw, I think we took it pretty much in stride,” Paul said, but he
couldn’t help grinning. “That’s awful good news, Paige. I’m really happy
for you.”

“You know, it’s not that easy,” Preacher said. “Being married to someone
like Paige and waiting for ovulation day. I think I did pretty good
there. I should get a little more credit.”

“I imagine it’s pretty tough.” Paul laughed. “You know, I needed that.
Some great news, a good laugh. Congratulations to you both.” He lifted
his glass. “This last year has been awful tough. The past month has been
pure shit. Let’s toast a new year, with new stuff, good stuff. Here’s to
the new baby.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Preacher said.

“And I’ll just say hear, hear, and leave you boys to your business.”
Paige got up on her toes and pressed a kiss onto Paul’s cheek. “We
realize that you have some grief business going on, Paul. You kind of
get lost in the shuffle with Vanni going through such a terrible time,
but if you ever need to talk, escape, break down or blow off steam,
we’re here for you.”

He gave an appreciative nod. “Thanks,” he said.

Paul and Preacher talked a little while longer, then said good-night. It
was in Paul’s mind to go somewhere he could be alone and either hit
something, cry or maybe scream, and he couldn’t really think of anywhere
other than the homesite. So he drove out there. But when he entered the
clearing, he saw Tommy’s truck. He killed his lights immediately. He
assumed they were parking, Tom and Brenda. Then he saw that the truck
was empty.

Oh, damn, he thought. Tommy was in a lot of pain. He was needy and
vulnerable, seventeen and in either the trailer or the fifth wheel with
his girl. Paul knew that Tommy hadn’t seen much of Brenda in the past
couple of weeks, given the events. And tonight of all nights, he was not
only with her, he was way too alone with her. And there was a goddamn
bed in that trailer.

Paul backed up, turned around and didn’t put the lights on again until
he was facing away from the trailer. He drove back to the general’s
house, let himself in and found Walt asleep in the chair, TV on and
newspaper hanging off his lap. He roused when he heard Paul moving
around. “Evening, sir,” Paul said.

“Hmmmph,” he grunted. “I must have nodded off. How was Christmas for
Paige and Preacher?”

“Good,” Paul said. “They have some big news. Paige is expecting.”

“Ah, he did it,” the general said with a chuckle. “He showed up for
ovulation day.”

Paul laughed. “He’s in a lot of hot water for telling too many people
about that.”

“Yeah, I suppose. But it’s so like him, don’t you think? He’s so damn
transparent.” He stood up and stretched. “I’m going to turn in.”

“Mind if I sit up? The TV won’t bother you?”

“Help yourself.” The general extended his hand to Paul and Paul took it.
“Thanks for staying on,” he said. “I know it’s damn hard on you, son.
And I know you’re here because Vanni asked you to be.”

“I’ll do whatever she needs me to do, sir. I gave Matt my word. And I’m
awful fond of Vanni.”

“You’re a good man,” he said, giving him a slap on the arm. And he went
off down the hall, his step a little slower.

This has aged the hell out of him, Paul thought. He’s buried a few
hundred soldiers, but this one is taking its toll.

At ten Paul turned on CNN. At eleven he checked the news out of San
Francisco. At twelve he was starting to think about driving out to the
homesite, but at twelve-thirty the front door finally opened. Tommy was
clearly surprised to find him up. “Hey,” he said. “You’re awake!”

“Yeah,” Paul said, still undecided about exactly the best way to handle
this. But it had to be handled while there was still the opportunity for
a save, and neither the general nor Vanni was up to the job.

“Good. I need to talk to you about something, man. Let me get a soda.
Want anything?”

“No, go ahead.”

Tom came back to the great room with a soda, sat opposite Paul and
scooted up to the edge of his seat. A little on the nervous side, Paul
thought. “You want to take your coat off?” Paul asked.

“Oh. Yeah,” he said, putting his soda down and shrugging out of his
coat. “Listen, I have to tell you something. I kind of borrowed your
trailer tonight—I hope that doesn’t piss you off.”

Paul raised his eyebrows, waiting.

“It was a situation. I would’ve asked your permission, but I swear I
didn’t plan it at all. It was real sudden. But hey, it worked out great.”

“Want to attempt an explanation?”

“Sure. Yeah. I had a Christmas present for Brenda. I bought it
before…Before everything happened. I had this big idea I was going to
take her somewhere nice—like maybe over to the coast to dinner or
something, but the shit hit the fan. So I took her out to the site to
park where I could give her this beautiful bracelet I bought her.” He
smiled. “With your money, by the way.”

“And what happened?” Paul asked coyly.

“Well, it worked pretty good. She loved it. It was good for many kisses,
if you want to know. But that damn little truck, you know? So I got this
idea—I spotted your fifth wheel and helped myself to it. Honest to God,
Paul, I would’ve asked—but I didn’t even think of that ahead of time.”

“So. Were you having teenage sex in my trailer?” he asked.

“Oh, hell no!” Tommy said. “Jeez, man, I’m not having sex with Brenda!”
Then he smiled. “I am having some very nice making out with her, however.”

“Listen, Tommy—maybe we should talk….”

“Aw, save it. I’ve had this talk a hundred times. I’m not having sex,
much to my disappointment. I’d love to be having sex, don’t get me
wrong. But Brenda’s a nice girl, and she doesn’t move fast—which I
happen to like, by the way. And besides, I’m still a virgin. You tell
anybody that, I’ll have to kill you.”

Paul felt himself smile. “So, what did you do in my trailer?”

“Come on, Paul. Don’t you think that’s a little nosy on your part?”

“Under the circumstances…?”

“Man, I just wanted to feel something soft up against me, you know? This
month has been so ugly. So horrible. Tonight was actually nice. We just
kind of held each other, made out like rock stars and—” He got this look
on his face, this dreamy faraway look. “She said she loved me.”

“Whoa! Come on.”

“I’m pretty sure it was the bracelet.”

“Give yourself a little credit,” Paul said.

“I’m giving myself credit for thinking of the bracelet. God, she is so hot.”

“You can’t use my fifth wheel to make out in,” Paul said. “You’re going
to end up having sex. I can smell it. I’d feel like an accomplice or
something.”

“I hope you’re right,” he said with a laugh. “But I don’t think you are.
At least not anytime soon. Brenda’s pretty worried about stuff like
that. So…when did you actually lose it? You know.”

“I was over seventeen,” Paul said, smiling. “I think that’s graphic
enough. Do you have condoms, in case…”

“Oh, brother,” he said. “Ask yourself. Did the general give the boy
condoms? Holy shit, Paul—he watched me stretch ’em over bananas. I’m
surprised he didn’t make me model one. He’s probably counting ’em every
day when I go to school. I kind of want to throw a few away just to get
his heart rate up. Yeah, I have condoms. And—I’m not willing to rely on
condoms, how’s that? I’m not having sex with anyone who doesn’t also
have her own birth control—and we haven’t had that conversation, me and
Brenda. You happy yet?”

“I’m getting there.”

“I’m not going to take advantage of Brenda. I really care about her.
Nothing that risky is going to happen between us until it’s right for
her. And when it’s right for her, she’s going to be safe and I’m going
to make her safer. She’s important to me, man. I’m not going to mess her
up.”

Damn, Paul thought. The boy’s got serious game. “You can’t use my fifth
wheel to make out in,” he said, but he grinned when he said it because
jeez, the boy was so cute. It made him nostalgic. He remembered a
certain prom date that he was sure, sure was going to be it for him. It
wasn’t. It came later, when he least expected it. Paul found himself
almost hoping the kid could get lucky. “You understand, right?”

“Sure. But you’re not pissed off about tonight?”

“Nah, I can live with it. You’re sure nothing scary happened? Because if
it did, even with a condom, we can still get ahead of it.”

“Yeah, I know about that, too. The little morning-after pill. Believe
me, the only thing I don’t know about sex is how good it feels.”


    Fourteen

I t came too soon—the trial against Jerome Powell for rape. In the third
week of January Brie and Mike returned to Sacramento so that she could
testify against him. They went ahead of time so that Brie could be
prepped. When the trial date arrived, Jack was determined to be there,
but Mel couldn’t leave her women—Lilly had grown very ill and Vanni was
in advanced pregnancy and in a state of grief. Paige and Preacher
promised to back her up, as did John Stone, but still, it was very hard
for Jack to leave her.

While jury selection and opening arguments were presented, Brie sat in
the same room with her rapist. With her were her partner, her brother,
her father, her sisters. She was definitely shored up—but the fact was
she could have had the entire Marine Corps marching band sitting with
her and she would still have felt shaken and vulnerable. She revisited
the crime in her mind, over and over. They were all hoping that this
ordeal could be dispensed with quickly.

There was a good case against Powell. Even though he’d worn a condom so
as not to leave his DNA behind, the rape kit performed on Brie at the
hospital had turned up hair, plus they’d found her gun in his
possession. He claimed to have found it.

However, the defense had been able to suppress any testimony of earlier
arrests or trials, which precluded Brie from explaining that her
positive ID was based on the fact that she had prosecuted him. Since she
had failed to convict him, she couldn’t testify to that. The defense
suggested she might falsely accuse him in a rage at having lost the case
against him.

Brie didn’t have to be in court as often as she was—she could have
waited to be called to testify. But she wanted to get used to seeing
him, to bolster herself before her testimony, and she wanted him to see
her, to know how it was going to go down. The prosecutor was not going
to accept a plea agreement under these circumstances, the crime being
retribution against an officer of the court.

But seeing him every day didn’t bolster her, or calm her. Now she knew
exactly how her witnesses had felt. Brie barely slept, had trouble
eating and felt as though she were vibrating under her skin. The
illogical reaction—all emotional—was hard for her to accept. After all,
he was in custody; he couldn’t reach her. And right beside her were two
powerfully strong men who would stop at nothing to keep her safe. Yet
the very sight of him was making her sick.

Jerome Powell was six feet tall, tan from his stay in Florida, his blond
hair thick and floppy, his jaw square. He had a big smile, one that
certain women could be drawn to. He had very large hands, strong arms
from working construction and was powerfully built. His eyes were dark,
close together and sunken under hooded brows.

He glared at Brie. Sometimes he smiled at her, which made her stomach
turn. Every time he turned his head to look at her, she felt Jack and
Mike tense beside her. She looked up at their profiles, her lover and
her brother, and watched the dangerous tics and tension in their
expressions. These were completely fearless men—Jerome Powell should be
as afraid of getting off as going to prison. But he sat calmly,
unafraid, arrogant.

In the evening, conversation at Sam’s was subdued and superficial. Mike,
Jack and Sam took to the patio after dinner while one or two of Brie’s
sisters dropped by the house to spend time with her, being there for
her. And at night, in bed, Mike would curl himself protectively around
her, holding her closely, whispering to her that he loved her, that he
was proud of her, that he could not imagine her courage.

“I could not get through this without you,” she told him.

“I think you could, you’re that strong. But I’m glad you don’t have to.
You’ll never have to go through anything alone again.”

When the day for Brie to testify finally arrived she went bravely and
calmly to the stand to be sworn in. No testimony about her prosecution
of him for previous crimes could be admitted by the prosecutor, so she
was left to describe the details of her rape. As she took her seat and
looked into the courtroom, she saw Brad in the back. Well, she thought,
he was a part of it all, like it or not. Maybe they could all get their
closure and get on with their lives.

“I had to work late and wasn’t home until after midnight. I opened the
garage door, but I parked in the drive because the garage was full of
junk that I’d been meaning to clean out for months. My car door wasn’t
even closed when I was grabbed from behind, by the hair. He smashed my
head into the top of the car. Then an arm came around my neck, choking
me. I dropped my briefcase and was trying to get into my purse. I
carried a gun. But the purse was flung away—I’m not sure if he did it or
if I lost control of it in the struggle.”

“Did you struggle, Ms. Sheridan?”

“I fought with everything I had, and he hit me, three or four times in
the face. I blacked out for a moment. When I came to, I was on the
ground and he was leaning over me. He was smiling. It was so evil, so
terrifying, I froze. That’s when he reached under my skirt and tore my
hose and my underwear off. Well, not off. Down. He held a hand around my
throat to keep me still while he undid his trousers with his other hand.
I was choking.”

She looked at her brother and Mike. Jack frowned and looked down, but
Mike held her gaze. Steady. She knew that inside he was in terrible
pain, hearing what she’d been through, but for her he kept a strong
front, chin up, eyes level.

“Did he say anything?” the prosecutor asked.

“Objection. Your Honor?”

The judge put his hand over the microphone and leaned toward Brie. “Can
you answer the question without introducing any prohibited information?”

“Of course,” she said. She had to focus on the lawyers’ faces. “He said,
‘Look at me. I want you to see my face. I’m not leaving any evidence
behind. I’m not going to kill you. I want you to live.’”

“And did that make you feel safe?” the prosecutor asked.

“He was putting on a condom as he said that. When it was on, he raped
me, holding me down at the neck. I thought I was going to choke to
death. I felt like I was being ripped apart. When he was done, he pulled
his pants up and I watched—that condom went with him, inside his pants.
Then he stood up and kicked me several times. I lost consciousness.” She
went on to describe the injuries she sustained as photos taken at the
hospital were passed around the jury box. Her voice was steady, her
words well chosen and clear, but tears ran down her cheeks and dripped
onto hands folded in her lap. And inside, her stomach churned violently.
It was almost enough to double her over.

“Did he say anything else?”

“Objection! Your Honor?”

“Sustained,” he said.

“That’s all I have for now,” the prosecutor said.

The defense attorney got up and started asking her questions about the
time of night, whether she was tired, did she wear glasses, was it dark
or was the drive well lit, all aimed at throwing doubt on her ability to
make an ID. The room began to sway before her eyes and she wavered a
bit. The judge leaned over and asked her if she could continue. “You’re
looking a little pale,” he pointed out.

“Let’s just do it,” she whispered back.

The defense took up an hour with questions about her schedule, her
health, her mental stability, even her divorce. Finally he said, “Did
you pick the suspect out of a lineup?”

“No. He fled.”

“Did the police show you photos?”

“I did look at photos, yes.”

“And that was how long ago?”

“Seven months ago,” she said, and her face glistened in sweat.

“Do you see the man you identified in this room? This man you identified
to police as your rapist?”

“Right there,” she said, pointing. “Jerome Powell.”

“And you’re confident that a man you identified from a photo seven
months ago is this man?”

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide, at attention. The prosecutor in her
had kicked in.

“Yes or no, Ms. Sheridan.”

She leaned forward. “No,” she answered.

By the look on his face, the defense attorney immediately knew what he’d
done.

“Your Honor, may we approach?” Brie’s lawyer asked.

The lawyers went to the bench and a heated argument ensued, every bit of
which Brie could hear. The prosecutor argued that he was entitled to
explore that last answer while the defense argued that it would
ultimately introduce testimony on evidence not allowed. At length the
judge admonished the defense attorney that he had opened the door and
the prosecution could proceed.

“Ms. Sheridan,” the prosecutor asked, “how is it you’re not confident
that the man you identified from the photo is this man?”

“Because I looked at photos, but I didn’t identify him from a photo.”

“And how did you identify your rapist?”

“I gave the police his name. I knew him.”

“And how did you know him?”

“I was an assistant district attorney when he raped me. I had just
prosecuted him for the serial rape of six women—and I lost.”

So much noise erupted in the room that the judge had to bang his gavel
several times and threaten to clear the courtroom.

When the din had finally subsided, the prosecutor asked her, “Did he say
anything else to you, Ms. Sheridan?”

“Yes. He said, ‘I’m not going to kill you. I want you to try to come
after me again, and watch me walk again.’”

The place went crazy with gasps and murmurings, the judge banging his
gavel again and again. But it was at that moment that Brie allowed
herself to look again at Mike. Her lips curved in a very small smile as
she locked eyes with him. Even at that distance she could feel the pride
in his gaze. Love and pride and commitment. He smiled at her and gave a
small, almost imperceptible nod. She’d done it. She’d got him. It was
why she’d come.

“That’s all I have for Ms. Sheridan,” the ADA said.

The defense tried to recover, asking Brie if there was any chance she
was out to get this guy, since she had failed to convict him before. Her
voice clear and strong, even knowing that possibility would be contained
in the defense attorney’s closing arguments, she said, “And leave
another rapist out there? My rapist? The police not even searching for
him because they thought they had the suspect? Not hardly.”

“Perhaps you couldn’t identify your rapist, Ms. Sheridan, and saw your
chance to go after the defendant.”

“Objection,” the prosecutor shouted. “Your Honor!”

The judge leveled his gaze on the defense. “Was there a question in
there or are you just testing me to see what it’ll take to find you in
contempt?”

“Is that possible, Ms. Sheridan?”

“It is not,” she said. “I saw him, I knew him, I identified him.”

“You may step down, Ms. Sheridan.”

She rose on shaky legs, grateful to be finished, to have finished
strong. No way they could let him go now. No way a single jury member
could doubt. Now that the door was open to Powell’s motivation for
raping her, they could look at his past, at his previous arrests.

She stepped down and started toward Mike. Then she collapsed.

 

When Brie had delivered her final statement Mike saw her face go pale,
then white. As she left the stand and started to walk toward him, he
noticed that her eyes had become glassy and she wasn’t walking in a
straight line. He started to come to his feet just as she fainted.
“Brie!” he yelled. The bailiff stopped him until the prosecutor
identified him as her husband—though he was not.

Mike rushed to her. By the time he lifted her head, her eyes were
opening. “I did it, darling.”

“Can we get an ambulance here?” Mike yelled.

“On the way, sir,” someone said.

“Lo siento mucho,” she whispered. “I’m sorry you had to go through all
this.”

“Shh, it’s okay, baby. You’re done with it now. All of it.”

“Te amo, Miguel. I love you.”

“Te amo mucho,” he said. “It’s over, baby.”

 

Every afternoon when it was almost David’s nap time, Mel would drive out
to the Andersen ranch. Doc went out there every morning and most
evenings. They’d been doing this since the second week in January when
Lilly’s chemo and radiation had been suspended. There comes a time in
every life when the curtain is coming down, and when that time is
present and there’s no way to turn back the clock, the best answer is
dignity and peace.

When Mel arrived at the ranch, she greeted family members and put David
down in Chloe’s crib with his afternoon bottle where he would sleep for
a couple of hours. Then she went to Lilly’s bedroom, checked the
morphine drip and kissed her on the forehead. “How’s my girl today?” she
asked.

“I think this is a good day to talk to the kids,” she said weakly. “I
don’t want to miss my opportunity.”

“Okay,” Mel said.

“Will you help me?”

“Of course. Let’s see who we can gather up.”

Mel went to the living room and kitchen. Lilly’s daughters were there,
her sons out in the barn with their dad. “Your mom wants to talk to you
about something important. Can you round up your dad and brothers?”

“I’ll go,” Sheila said.

Back in the bedroom, sitting down again beside Lilly and taking her
hand, Mel said, “It’s going to be okay, you know.”

“I know. I owe you so much, Mel.”

“Oh, it’s the other way around. If I hadn’t found Chloe on Doc’s porch,
I’d have made it all the way to Colorado Springs without ever knowing my
husband, without having my children.”

Only five of Lilly’s seven kids were present, but that was enough for
her to make a clean breast of it. Buck stayed in the kitchen with Chloe,
bouncing her on his knee as he had with the six children before her.
“This is going to shock you,” Lilly said to her grown children. “I hope
you can find it in your hearts to forgive me. I lied to you. I was a
little bit crazy,” she said, and then was sent into a coughing fit and
had to rest for a little while, her children looking at each other in
confusion.

“Whew,” Lilly said when she recovered. “I have to get this over with.
Chloe isn’t adopted,” she said weakly. “I gave birth to her, right here,
in this bed. I covered my pregnancy with large and loose clothes and put
her on Doc’s doorstep. Mel?” she said, looking up at her.

“I’m going to see if I can help out with this,” Mel said. “Your mom is
so tired. Lilly was distraught at the thought of having another child to
raise at the age of forty-eight, already being a grandmother seven
times. She thought some nice young couple desperate for a baby would
want to adopt her and that everyone would be better off—that Chloe would
have young parents. But when no one came forward, Lilly took her back.”

“I regretted it so much,” Lilly said. “Your father thought it was crazy,
but he was more afraid of what I might do if he didn’t go along with the
idea. I was really out of my mind. So I pretended to foster and adopt
her—but she’s your blood. I can’t die without you knowing.”

Lilly’s oldest daughter, Amy, sat down beside her on the bed. She took
her mother’s hand, kissed it gently and smiled. “Well, that certainly
explains why she looks like all the rest of the Andersens.” She leaned
over and kissed her mother’s cheek. “You shouldn’t worry so much. It’s
okay.”

“I’m sorry I lied to you all.”

“But you did the right thing when you brought her back home. We would
have taken care of her for life anyway….”

“It’s important that you know where she came from,” Mel said. “Not just
for medical reasons, but so she knows her legacy. Her biological family.
We can’t have our girl running around Northern California trying to
figure out who her family is.”

“If you have to tell her someday, please tell her that I loved her so
much. And that I’m sorry,” Lilly said. “Shew. I’m so tired. I hope this
doesn’t last much longer.”

Mel stood and tinkered with the drip, giving her a little more morphine.

One by one Lilly’s children leaned over the bed and kissed their mother.

“It’s okay, Mom. Everything is okay and I love you.”

“Thank you for another sister, Mom.”

“We’ll take care of everything—don’t you ever worry.”

“No one’s mad at you, Mom. You’re the best mother and grandmother in the
world.”

And finally, to her oldest boy, Lilly said, “Harry—you be sure to take
care of Dad. He’s really helpless.”

“I got it, Mom. He’ll be fine.”

When it was just Mel and Lilly again, Lilly said, “There. I’ve been
meaning to do that for a long time. Thanks.”

“It wasn’t me. You raised a wonderful family. They’re the most loving
people I know.”

“It’s much easier to go, knowing that. I’m leaving behind some good
work. Really, a woman couldn’t ask for more from a lifetime than a
family like that. They make me so proud.”

“A woman shouldn’t go without knowing you’ve made them proud, too.”

Four days later Lilly Andersen closed her eyes on the world for the last
time and was lovingly laid to rest in the family plot between the
orchard and the meadow with most of the town present to say goodbye. Mel
wasn’t able to have Jack at her side and was sorry about that, but there
was a great deal of peace and relief in knowing her friend was no longer
in any pain.

 

Jack went back to Virgin River the moment he felt he could leave Brie,
though Brie and Mike stayed on in Sacramento. Brie wanted to hear how
the trial ended and to hear the verdict. But Jack was aching to get back
to his family, and although he’d talked to Mel several times a day, he
hated that she’d had to bury a good friend without him. And he was very
secure that he left Brie in good hands. Mike was more than just
attentive—he was devoted.

As Jack drove into town he spotted Mel, all bundled up with David tucked
inside her coat, just walking across the street to the bar. He pulled up
to the bar and met her in front, folding them both into his arms. “God,
I missed you. I’m going soft—I can’t stand to sleep alone.”

“I didn’t,” she said. “Someone was in my bed all night.” She jostled the
baby and David turned his wet, goopy mouth toward his dad for a kiss,
which he got.

“Bllkk,” Jack said. “When do you think he’s going to stop leaking?”

“How was everyone when you left them?”

“Resting. Brie’s doing pretty well. It’ll take a while for her to get
back on her feet—that trial was more traumatic for her than she expected.”

“Everyone is waiting for news.”

“Is Doc in the bar yet?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Maybe I can tell it just once. Here’s something for you—guess who was
there? At the trial?”

“Who?”

“Brad. Sitting in the back. When Brie got off the stand and fainted and
Mike rushed to her, Brad just kind of hung his head and left the
courtroom. He screwed himself pretty good. And he knows it.” He slipped
a hand down under his son’s bum to place over Mel’s belly. “How’s this
one doing?”

“Good. I seem to have passed the dark pukey days of the first trimester
and am sailing through the comfort zone of the middle trimester, flying
like a bullet toward my hugeness. We have to go get an ultrasound, see
what you made me this time.”

“I’m hoping for a girl,” he said.

“Are you?”

“I have an idea you might cut me off at two.”

“I’m not wild about throwing up or waddling, but I sure love carrying
around a little piece of you. You’re right—you make excellent babies.”

“We all have our special talents,” he said.

 

Brie and Mike were another two weeks in Sacramento, awaiting the end of
the trial. As she waited, Brie was once again haunted by the violence
done to her. Sometimes the musty smell of that June night could come
back to her; sometimes it was the smell of his sweat. His eyes would
bore into her in her sleep. The pressure of his hand around her throat
invaded her dreams and she would awake gasping, wondering if this was
the end. It caused her to be weak and sick.

Mike never left her side. When she couldn’t keep food down, his arms
were around her as she lost it in the bathroom. At night he held her
protectively, securely, gently. When a fright woke her with a gasp or
near scream, he was right there to softly bring her back to reality in
the safety of his arms. If he felt her shiver in a cold night sweat, he
tenderly woke her and talked to her until she felt all right again. In
just a few days Brie grew stronger, calmer and closer to closing the
book on that horrific experience.

For Mike, Brie’s crisis gave him a stronger sense of purpose; he had a
problem in Virgin River that had to be resolved. He hated the thought of
any woman going through this kind of trauma, and if there was a guy back
in his small town who was preying on innocent young girls, he was going
to find him and bring him to justice, if it took every breath he drew.
Ironically, after all these years of police work, he was revisiting the
emotions that had motivated him to get into law enforcement in the first
place—a force that drove him to keep the good people safe from the bad.
To serve and protect.

When Brie and Mike returned to Virgin River they brought with them a
guilty verdict and matching wedding bands. They were now ready to move
ahead with their lives.

 

Jack was helping Paul put the finishing touches on the house while Brie
was helping Mel order furniture and accessories. In addition, Mel was
going to the Andersen ranch often, making sure the family there was
doing all right. Most days she left David with Brie when she had calls
to make. She was also checking Vanessa every week as her time grew near.

With his sister ready to deliver any minute and Jack’s house nearly
finished, Tom had to hang close to home, so he was able to find the time
to take his girl on after-school rides around the property, along the
river, into the woods. The weather was cold but clear, the ground crispy
underneath the horses’ hooves. He loved riding with her, talking with
her, kissing afterward.

“That whole business with Brie being raped—did you know about that? I
mean before the trial and everything?” Brenda asked Tommy as they were
taking the horses in.

“Yeah, Paul told me all about it. Not long after Matt died. It happened
last year.”

“Doesn’t that make you feel strange about her now? Knowing that happened
to her, that someone did all that to her?”

“Brenda, it’s not like she did anything wrong. In fact, she risked
everything to get that guy, make sure he was behind bars so he couldn’t
ever do anything like that again. You have any idea how brave she had to
be to do that? Mike’s so proud of her, he idolizes her. I think Brie
might be one of the strongest women I’ve ever known. Brie and Mel and my
sister, for sure.”

Brenda dismounted when they got to the barn. “Wouldn’t a guy feel funny
about his girl getting raped? Like maybe not wanting to…You know…Seems
like a guy wouldn’t want to touch her after that.”

“Like she was dirty? Come on,” he said, laughing. “Don’t think like
that. When something bad happens to the girl you love, you just love her
that much harder.”

“Really?”

“Of course, really.”

“She must’ve been pretty scared. About the trial and everything. I
wonder if she ever thought about just not doing it—not testifying.”

“I doubt it,” he said. “It took a lot for her to go through with that,
but she did it.” Tom took the reins of Brenda’s mount and led the horses
inside. He got the saddles off, the bridles released. When she followed
him into the tack room, he turned and pulled her into his arms. This was
his favorite part. He kissed her. Damn, he loved the girl. “Wanna find a
nice, soft bale of hay?” he asked her.

But she was crying. Little soft tears that made no noise.

“Brenda? What’s up, baby? Huh?”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I have to tell you something you’re gonna hate.”

He wiped the tears off her cheeks. “What?” he asked gently.

“I’m not a virgin,” she said with a sniff.

“Aw, Brenda.” He laughed, closing his arms around her more tightly.
“What are you worrying about? That’s not as big a deal to me as you
might think.” He pulled away and looked into her eyes. “You’re
funny—here you’re embarrassed because you’re not a virgin and I’m
embarrassed because I am.”

“It wasn’t someone I dated,” she said.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m pretty sure I was raped.”

He frowned. “Pretty sure?” he asked.

But now that it was out and she couldn’t turn back, Brenda crumbled
against him, sobbing. Tom was no expert on girls, but he was smart
enough to know he wasn’t going to get the rest of the story until she
calmed down a little. He sat down on the bench in the tack room and
pulled her onto his lap, holding her while she cried. He murmured little
words of comfort, stroked her back, held her close. It was quite a while
before she could talk again.

“I lied to you, Tommy,” she said, wiping at her face with the back of
her hand. “I did go to one of those rest-stop parties. One. With a
couple of girlfriends and a date—a guy I went out with that one time.
You take sleeping bags, you know? Because you’ll have to sleep over,
either in cars or on the ground, on account of drinking. Like camping,
right? I got drunk real fast and passed out. When I woke up, I’d been
sick all over the place and a couple of the guys said I’d really gotten
wasted and was pretty hilarious—but I don’t remember anything. Two
months later I realized I was pregnant.”

“Holy shit,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said, letting out a short, embarrassed laugh. “I was on my
way to get an abortion when I had a miscarriage. Whoever it was gave me
a raging infection. I hope he dies of it. There—it’s out. Now you can
break up with me.”

“Why would I do that? I told you, I love you.” He stroked her hair. “Who
was it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to know. There were six guys at that party—I
gave the names to Mike. He’d like me to tell the story to the
sheriff—but what good’s that going to do? I’m not like Brie, Tommy—I
have no idea who it was. Plus, I’m not brave enough to do that. And I
don’t want the whole school to know I got pregnant. And really, I don’t
even want to know who it was because, God, what if there was more than
one? Oh, God,” she said, falling into helpless tears again.

“Okay, Brenda, honey. It’s okay…”

“What can you think of me?”

“I told you—it’s not your fault and I love you.”

“I can’t go any further with it. All I wanted since I realized what
happened is that it go away. No way I’m going to blame anyone, testify
against anyone.”

“Maybe they could get the guy without putting you through all that.”

“And what if I wasn’t raped, really? What if I was just stupid drunk and
let some guy—”

“No, you didn’t,” he said. “We’ve been together over five months. You’re
not like that. We’ve had a beer or two together—you’re not like that.
That isn’t what happened.”

“There might’ve been a drug,” she said.

He pulled her close against him. It was hard, but he tried to focus on
Brenda’s feelings rather than building rage at what had been done to his
girl, even before she was his girl. Of course he remembered the fight
he’d been in with Whitley. It turned his stomach to think that little
prick could’ve slipped his girl a drug and then used her. But he
couldn’t let himself think about that yet. He had to keep his arms
around her, convince her he would never hold that against her. “Yeah,”
he said. “There might’ve been.”

“Ever since that happened, I feel like trash. When you first started
talking to me in school? When I told you I’d been sick? I hadn’t been
sick. I’d been knocked up while I was passed out.”

“You are not trash,” he whispered softly, not trusting his voice.
“You’re an angel. Pure as gold. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That’s not how it feels. Tommy,” she said miserably, “I dated before
and I wouldn’t give it up—I was saving it for someone really special.
Someone like you—someone I really loved. And now I can’t.”

“No one else can ever take that away, Brenda. When…If…If it’s us and we
know it’s time and it’s right, it’ll be special. I promise.”

“How can it be? The first time should be so special. Now it won’t even
be the first time!”

He brushed her hair away from her eyes. “What can I do to show you that
I love you just the same? Respect you? Huh?”

“I don’t know….”

“I do. Come on, we’re going to take care of these horses. Then we’re
going to find a nice soft bale of hay and I’m going to hold you. Hold
you and kiss you until you believe me when I say I think you’re the best
thing that’s ever happened to me. Everything is going to be fine.”

“I was so scared to tell you.”

“I know, Bren. It’s okay now. I don’t want you to ever worry about that
again. Okay?”

An hour later, lying on the fresh hay in the stall, Tommy held his girl,
kissed her, touched her gently in the places she’d begun to allow and
told her how much he cared about her. He was careful not to try anything
more or do anything less, and after a while she curved against him in
their familiar way, trusting him. In case she wondered if she still
turned him on, it took absolutely no effort on his part to demonstrate
that he was just as easily aroused by her as ever before. Then when he
took her home, he kissed her on the front porch and told her as far as
he was concerned, she was perfect. Pure and perfect.

He might’ve been a little quiet at dinner, but around his house the past
couple of months, that went completely unnoticed. A little later he told
his dad he was going to run into town and would be back in an hour or
so. Walt probably assumed he was going to see Brenda.

He parked his truck around behind the bar, just in case the Carpenters
happened to be having an evening drink, something they did with their
friends the Bristols from time to time. He walked back to Mike’s RV and
knocked on the door. Mike opened it. “Can I talk to you a minute?”

“Sure. Wanna come inside?”

“How about out here?” Tom said.

Mike grabbed his coat and stepped outside.

“Remember those parties you were asking about?” Tom asked, standing
beside Mike but looking straight ahead.

“Yeah,” Mike said.

“You think there might’ve been a drug that made people pass out?”

“Very possible,” Mike said.

“Maybe things happened to people while they were passed out? Against
their will?” he asked, still looking straight ahead.

“Could be.”

Tom turned to look at Mike. “I bet I know who has some. I bet I can get
him to sell me some.”

“And how would you know this?” Mike asked.

Tom shrugged. “I’m just an investigative genius.”

“You’d do this? A buy? There’d have to be police, you know.”

“I know,” Tom said. “In fact, I’ll check and see if I can get some other
stuff. If I’m going to do this, might as well get it done right. Might
be meth or ecstasy or something. That interest you at all?” Tom asked.

“Pal, what interests me is getting anything that could hurt people off
the street. If you think you can help me do that, I’d sure appreciate it.”

“This what you’ve been looking for, asking all your questions?”

“Yup.”

“Then let’s do it,” Tom said.


    Fifteen

V anessa had asked Paul if he could stay until the baby came and he said
he could if she wanted him to. By his calculations, the house would be
finished at about the same time Vanni gave birth. Jack and Mel would
still have one or two things to do—carpet, appliances, paint—but the
general contractor wouldn’t be needed for that. And the house was
shaping up very well—the hardwood floors sanded and varnished, master
bath complete, plumbing and light fixtures in, walls textured for
painting, porch painted and sealed. Furniture deliveries were scheduled.
Mel was spending evenings packing dishes and things at the cabin.

And Vanni was getting huge.

She wasn’t crying so much these days. It seemed as though a lot of her
attention was focused on preparing to go into labor. Oh, there were
times she’d get a little weepy, which was certainly to be expected. But
she was so strong—Paul just admired the hell out of her.

When he came home from the job site one day, she met him in the foyer.
“Come with me,” she said. “I have to talk to you about something.”

“I should wash up first.”

“No, just come.” She took his hand and led him into the great room. She
sat in one of the overstuffed leather chairs and directed Paul to
another. This was the most animated Paul had seen her in a long time.
Her cheeks were bright; her eyes sparkled. “Paul, the baby is coming
very soon.”

He smiled. “That’s getting real obvious.”

“You’re my very best friend, Paul.”

“Thanks, Vanni,” he said, but he furrowed his eyebrows. Suspicious.

“I want you to be with me during the delivery.”

“With you how?” he asked.

“I want you to be the one to encourage me, coach me, coax me. Hold my
hand. Support me.”

“Um…Isn’t that Mel’s job?”

“Mel is going to be very much a coach, but she’s also going to be the
midwife and she’ll be busy with other things. Especially when the baby
is coming out. I need you to do this.”

“Vanni,” he said, scooting forward on his chair, “I’m a guy.”

“I know. Guys do this.”

“I can’t…Vanni, I shouldn’t…. Vanessa, listen. I can’t see you like
that. It wouldn’t be…appropriate.”

“Well, actually, I thought about my brother or my dad and frankly, that
really doesn’t appeal to me. So,” she said, lifting a video from the
table beside her, “I got us a childbirth movie from Mel.”

“Aw, no,” he said, pleading.

She stood up and popped it into the VCR, then sat down again with the
remote in her hand. “Jack delivered his own son,” she said.

“I know, but in case you’re interested, he wasn’t thrilled about it at
the time. And he refuses to do it again—he’s adamant about that. And,
Vanni, this isn’t my son. This is my best friend’s son.”

“Of course I know that, Paul. But since it is your best friend’s son,
he’d be so grateful.” She started the video. “Now, I want you to
concentrate on what the partner is doing. Don’t worry about the mother.
Most of the time while I’m in labor you’ll either be behind me, or
helping me walk or squat to use gravity to help with the dilating, or
reminding me to breathe properly. It’s not like you’re going to have
your face in the field of birth.”

“I’m starting to feel kind of weak,” he said. “Why don’t you ask Brie or
Paige, if you need someone for that?”

“I could do that, but to tell you the truth, I’m much closer to you. And
you’re here—right here. You can do this. We’ll watch the movie together
and if you have any questions, just ask me.”

He looked at the screen, his brows drawn together. He squinted. This was
an unattractive woman, giving birth. Well, not just yet—she was working
up to it. Her big belly was sticking out, which was not what made her
plain. It was the stringy hair, monobrow, baggy socks on her feet
and—“Vanni, she has very hairy legs.”

“If that’s what worries you I can still manage to shave my legs, even
though I have to admit I’ve lost interest.”

The hospital gown on the woman was draped over her belly and legs in
such a way that when she started to rise into a sitting position,
spreading her thighs and grabbing them to bear down, she was covered.
Then the doctor or midwife or whoever was in charge flipped that gown
out of the way and there, right in Paul’s face, was the top of a baby’s
head emerging from the woman’s body. “Aw, man,” he whined, putting his
head in his hands.

“I said watch the coach—don’t worry about the woman,” Vanni lectured.

“It’s pretty damn hard to not look at that, Vanni,” he said.

“Concentrate.”

So he looked up and saw that behind the woman, supporting her, was a
man—presumably her husband—holding her shoulders and smiling and telling
her to push. But Paul’s gaze dropped, because how could he help it? And
there, again, was the baby’s head.

“This is cruel and unusual,” he muttered.

“You go to war and shoot animals in the woods—surely you can do this,”
she said, getting very bossy as she did so. “Big animals—you shoot big
animals. This is a lot nicer than that.”

“Depends entirely on what you’re used to,” he grumbled. He watched as
the man on the screen told the woman to pant, pant, pant and then push,
push, push. Well, how hard was that? And the woman was sweating as if
she had just run a marathon. She grabbed her own thighs again, pulled
herself up, bore down with a grunt and a snarl as if bench-pressing 350,
and holy shit! The head popped right out of her! “Aw, man,” he whined
again, ducking and swinging his head, bringing himself right to a
standing position, turning his back on the TV. “Vanessa, where is your
father?”

“I sent Dad and Tommy to the stable so we could watch this movie together.”

“Vanessa, I cannot do this. It’s not like I’ve been expecting to do this
for a long time. Or if you were like some stranger, a woman suddenly
having a baby in my taxicab or something—”

“Look, Paul,” she said, pointing. He glanced back at the screen over his
shoulder and saw the whole baby come sliding out, all gross and mucky,
right into the doctor’s hands. And the cord, still attached, was
threaded up inside the woman.

Paul sat down and put his head between his knees, because it would be so
embarrassing to faint and have her revive him. “Vanessa,” he said
miserably, “you are making the biggest mistake of your life here.”

Her hand was on his knee. “We can watch it several times until you get
used to it. Desensitized, as it were.”

“Please, God, no…”

“Well, if that’s what it takes…”

He lifted his head in time to see the cord had been cut, and the baby
was placed on the mother’s stomach when this horrible-looking thing he
knew to be a placenta came bubbling out. He thought, I’m gonna die.
Right here, right now.

Vanessa made a terrible sound and he thought, see! She can’t take it,
either! But when he looked at her, he realized that wasn’t the problem.
With one hand on her big belly and a grimace on her face, she looked as
if they were headed far too rapidly for real life.

“Oh-oh,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said. “Shew. It’s okay—we have plenty of time. We can watch
the movie again and again, if you need to.”

“No,” he said sternly. “I am never watching that movie again!”

“Then you’re good to go?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t say so, no.”

“Okay,” she said, clearly ignoring him. “I think you should go take a
shower. Clean up. I’ve been in labor all day, but the contractions are
getting serious now and I’m going to call Mel to touch base.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“We’re gonna do it, Paul. I know you won’t let me down.”

“I bet I will,” he said. “If I manage to stay upright through something
like that, it’ll be a miracle. I’m talking miracle!”

“I need you,” she said. “If Matt can’t be here with me, I need you to be
here with me. Please?”

Oh, goddamn it, he thought. She’s playing the Matt card.

“Please?”

“Vanni, I’d do anything for you, honey. But this is a mistake. A mistake.”

And she said, “Ohhhhh,” while she held her belly. He stared at her with
wide, horrified eyes while she tried to get through the contraction.

So that’s what he’d seen on her face when he walked in the door. She was
now having her baby and everything else was on the back burner. She was
focused, like a mother wolf protecting her pup—not a grieving widow, but
a mother. And she meant business. It amazed him how something like that
kicked in. When the contraction passed she looked at him with clear but
fierce aquamarine eyes and said, “Shower.” Then she stood, holding her
belly underneath, and went to the phone.

Paul went to his room, gathered clean clothes and headed down the hall
to the shower. He made it quick, but clean. He shaved. Then he thought,
I am shaving—why? To be smooth cheeked when I pass out? By the time he
was coming out with his dirty clothes to take back to his room, he heard
voices. Male voices down the hall and female voices in Vanni’s room. And
laughter—as if there was anything to laugh about!

He headed down the hall where there were men, where there would be
someone sympathetic who could get him out of this. There he found Jack
with David on his hip, Walt and Tommy. “Hey, there,” Jack said. “How you
doing?”

Paul got right up close to Jack. “Listen, Jack, you have no idea what
she wants me to do,” he said under his breath.

“Yeah, I do. She told everyone. Mel will be right out to get you as soon
as Vanni’s settled.”

“You’d be better at this than me,” he said.

“Yeah, I probably would.” Jack grinned. “But I wasn’t asked.”

“I can’t do this,” he whispered.

Jack clamped a hand on his back. “Sure you can. You’ll be fine. Count
your lucky stars—at least you have a midwife in there with you.” Jack
smiled. “It’ll be a good experience for you.”

“I’m sure you’re wrong about that.”

“Paul!” Mel called. “We’re ready for you.”

“Aw, Jesus.”

Jack leaned toward him. “Man-up, pal. Or they’ll never let you hear the
end of it.”

Reluctantly Paul went down the hall. Mel, grinning very happily, met him
outside Vanni’s bedroom door. “How we doing?” she asked.

“Not so good, Mel. I’m pretty sure I’m not up to this. I’m very
inexperienced.”

“All right, Paul, don’t worry. It’s going to be a while before the baby
comes, and right now all Vanni really needs is someone to rub her back,
help her remember to breathe through the contractions, maybe give her a
damp cloth for her forehead, or the back of the neck really helps
sometimes. That’s all.”

“I can do that part.”

“That’s good. If you can’t go the distance, that’s okay. Just get us
that far, okay?”

“I’ll do what I can,” he said. When he got into the room he was very
relieved to see Vanni, clothed in a gown that didn’t reveal anything,
sitting up in the bed, cross-legged, smiling. So he smiled back. “How
are you feeling?”

“Fine at the moment, thanks.”

“Vanni, you should have told me this was what you wanted a long time
ago. I’m totally unprepared to do this.”

“Don’t worry, Paul. You’ll be fine.”

“Probably not. I probably won’t be—”

He stopped talking as he noticed he didn’t have her attention anymore.
She was looking off into the distance, running her hands in circles over
her belly, breathing in with slow exhales. And after just a moment of
that, her face contorted and the breathing came faster, harder. Then
there was some groaning as the pain seized her. As the crescendo was
reached, it began to subside, back to the slow exhales and circular hand
movements, then eventually it went away and she looked back up at him
and smiled.

Mel came back into the room carrying towels. “How’s the back?”

She put a hand to her lower back and said, “Lots of pressure there, but
it’s okay.”

“Here,” Paul said. “Try to lean forward a little.” He pressed his
fingertips against the small of her back. “Does that help?”

“Oh, that’s good. Very good.” He moved his hands around the small of her
back, then up to her shoulders, massaging them. “Oh, that’s lovely,” she
murmured.

Mel stayed busy in the room, laying things out—instruments, blankets,
gloves, basin. While Vanni went into and through another contraction,
Mel simply organized her supplies, leaving Vanni’s contraction to Paul.
When Vanni couldn’t lean forward during the contraction, when it pushed
her back against the pillows, Paul just concentrated on massaging her
shoulders and upper arms and neck. He found himself saying, “Relax and
breathe, Vanni—in and out slowly. Good, good. How’s that?”

“Uh,” she said. “Uh, uh, uh! Ohhhhh.”

“Mel?” he asked.

“Yes, Paul?”

“Can’t you give her something?”

“No, Paul. She’s doing great.” Mel looked at her watch. “They’re coming
closer.” When the contraction passed she said, “Let’s get you up, Vanni.
Stand up for me—get a little help from gravity. Paul, let’s get her up.”

Vanni swung her legs over the side and with Paul’s assistance she stood
up. When the next contraction came, she had to sit on the edge of the
bed, which made it a little easier for Paul to rub her back. Mel slipped
out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her. As the contraction
passed, Paul urged her to stand again and they did that for a little
while, up and down, up and down. And then, just as Mel entered the room
again, Vanni let go with a great groan and her water broke, running in a
huge gush to the floor. It splashed on Paul’s shoes and soaked the carpet.

“Well, that’s a good sign. Here, let me spread out a couple of towels
and I’ll check you, see how we’re doing. By the way, a birthing party
has begun out there.”

“Really?” Vanni said. Then she groaned and bent over, panting.

“I’m sure it was completely unplanned, but when Jack leaked it that you
were in labor, Preacher and Paige came out—Christopher is watching a
video, but he’s falling asleep on the couch. Mike and Brie are here,
whipping up some snacks in the kitchen, keeping your dad and Tommy
company. Jack’s giving David his evening bottle, and…” She stopped
talking as she helped Vanni back onto the bed. Vanni’s knees came up,
Mel pulled the gloves on and with one hand on her belly and the other
disappearing between her legs, Mel said, “Well, now. Vanessa, you ought
to do this for a living. You’re making great progress. Stay like that if
you can—on your next contraction, I want to see if I can spread you a
little bit.” She looked up over her belly. “Grab Paul’s hand and
breathe—it isn’t going to feel good, but it might give us faster results.”

Paul got down on one knee at the side of the bed and held her hand,
looking into her eyes. “You doing okay?” he asked softly.

“I’m working very hard,” she said, breathless.

“I know. God, Vanni—I wish there was more I could do.”

“You’re doing so much, Paul. Oh! Here we go! Ughhhh.”

“Good girl,” Mel said. “Very good. Very good.” One gloved hand rested on
her belly, the other disappeared again between her legs. “Pant,” Mel said.

Vanni panted, but then inevitably she whimpered from the pain and Paul
instinctively put his lips against her forehead and held on.

“Okay, Vanessa,” Mel said, pulling out her hand. “You’re almost ready to
start pushing.” She snapped off her gloves.

Paul noticed that when Mel withdrew her hand, there was blood on the
glove. “Is that all right?” he asked. He gave a nod toward the glove.

“Perfectly normal,” she said. “We’ll be seeing a little more of that.
You hanging in there?”

“Yeah,” he said. And then he thought, I’ve been tricked pretty good.
Like I could leave her now. “Fine,” he said. “I’m going to get a damp
cloth, Vanni. Be right back.”

He went across the hall to the bathroom and first splashed cold water on
his own face, then wet and squeezed out a face-cloth and hurried back to
her. It was a done deal—he was in now. He glanced at his watch and was
amazed to see that three hours had passed since he’d come off the job
site. He heard the sound of the TV droning down the hall and laughter
from the kitchen. Soft, polite laughter.

When he got back he noticed that Vanni was showing the effects of hard
labor—her skin was glistening with sweat, her hair was damp and limp,
her face looked twisted with the pain. He knelt again; Mel had spread
some towels on the damp carpet, but the knees of his trousers were
already wet. He didn’t care. He mopped her brow and held her hand
through a few more contractions and then Mel gave the signal.

“Okay, Vanni—we’re going to do it. If you feel the urge, push on the
next one.”

“Thank God,” she said weakly.

“Paul, I want you to support her from behind, help raise her up a bit.
Vanni, you know what to do.”

Paul started to lift her and Vanessa said, “Not yet.” Then in a moment
she was lifted off the bed in a horrendous urge to bear down and,
remarkably, he didn’t have to be told it was time. He braced her from
behind while she gave a huge grunt and strained, holding her breath,
pushing for all she was worth. When she collapsed against the bed he
asked, “Is he out?”

“Nah. It’s going to take a while.”

“But on that movie…?”

“That wasn’t a first baby,” Mel said. “He came out way too easily. First
babies take time.”

“How much time?”

“However much they want.” Mel put her fetoscope in her ears, flipped
Vanni’s gown up over her belly and listened. She pulled the gown back
down and said, “He’s a strong one. He’s going to keep you up nights.”

Paul did his job—brow mopping, hand-holding, encouraging, supporting. It
went on for almost an hour and he watched as Vanni got more and more
tired and Mel stayed busy getting ready to catch that baby. While Paul
supported Vanni he heard Mel say, “Hold it a little longer…right where
you feel the pressure…. Okay, take a breath and push again…. Way to go!”
Mel spread out the baby towel on the bed, brought her clamps, suction,
scissors to the bed. Finally she said, “I think we’re going to hit pay
dirt on this next one, Vanni. Make it a good one.”

“Make it a good one, baby,” Paul heard himself say. “Ready, push. Push.
Push. Push.”

Mel handed Paul a blanket. “Spread this over Vanni’s tummy, Paul. When
the baby is delivered, that’s where he’s going. We’re going to dry him
off and then rewrap him in a clean, warm blanket. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said, mesmerized.

Vanni reared up again, pushing. Paul did his job, just as he’d been
instructed.

“All right!” Mel said. “We’re almost there! I think the next push is
going to do it, Vanni. Here we go now.”

“Okay honey, here we go,” Paul said. In spite of himself, he was leaning
forward, watching, wanting to see this baby being born, wanting to be in
on this all the way now. He heard the baby cry, heard Mel exclaim
happily. He grabbed the blanket, did his job and out of the womb came
this mucky, squalling infant. Oh, man, he looked unhappy. “Whoa,” Paul
said with a laugh. “He’s pissed!”

Vanni laughed emotionally.

Paul stared in wonder at the new life, astonished by what she’d done.
Astonished that he’d been there. Then he remembered—he was supposed to
do things. Together, he and Mel dried the baby, and while he was helping
with that, he couldn’t help counting fingers and toes. He watched Mel
clamp and cut, then he wrapped the baby in a new, dry blanket and
carefully lifted him. Vanni was struggling to pull herself up a little
bit, trying to get the pillows behind her back. Paul held the baby in
one arm, assisted her with the other. Then he knelt beside the bed and
watched as Vanni snuggled the baby close, gently kissed his head. And,
Paul, not completely conscious, rested his lips against Vanni’s shoulder.

She turned her head and looked into his eyes. Vanni reached up a hand to
his face and wiped the tears from his cheeks. Tears he had absolutely no
idea were there.

“We’re in business,” Mel said. “Good job. Good, good job.”

Paul was exhausted. He lowered his head to Vanni’s shoulder and just lay
there for a moment, trying to imagine what she’d just been through. He
felt her fingers in his hair. “Oh, Vanni,” he whispered. He lifted his
head. “What you did.”

She started to smile, but then her face seemed to melt into a frown as
the tears rose to her eyes and began to run down her cheeks. She looked
up at Paul and whispered, “I wish he could see his son.”

Paul brushed at the tears on her cheeks. “He sees him, baby. He’s got
the best seat in the house.”

“Yeah,” she said, the tears flowing. “Yeah, I guess.”

Paul slipped his arm under her shoulders and held her to him while she
softly cried, and he unconsciously dropped his own tears onto her hair.

“Let’s get that baby on the breast, Vanessa. Redheads are such bleeders.”

“Yeah,” she said, tremulously. “Yeah, got it.” She was pulling at her
gown, but it seemed a little stuck and her hands were shaking. Paul gave
the gown a tug and up it came, exposing one breast, but he wasn’t
noticing it as if it was a breast. It was as if it was just another part
of delivering the baby. He helped her position the baby, who was
screaming madly. And then suddenly he stopped and started rooting. And
bang—he found it. “Ohhh,” Vanni said. “That’s it. Wow.” Then she looked
up at Paul and smiled. And the baby suckled, making precious little noises.

He hadn’t noticed that Mel was gone until she returned with a basin of
water and set it up on the changing table. She examined Vanni quickly,
covered her up again and said, “Okay, let me get this guy cleaned up for
a viewing. How you doing, Vanni?”

“Okay,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “I’m okay.”

Paul kissed her forehead. “You’re amazing, Vanessa.”

“You, too,” she whispered, and closed her eyes.

He stayed on his knees beside her bed while Mel took the baby, and for
the entire time she washed him, Paul watched Vanni’s face as she slowly
drifted into exhausted sleep. He gently kissed the tears from her
cheeks. A few minutes later Mel touched his shoulder. She was holding a
bundled baby and said, “Here you go. Take him to his grandfather and
uncle. I’ll put this room and Mom right.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely,” she said, handing him over. “You earned the right.”

 

Walt and Tommy were most impressed with their new addition, as was the
entire gathering. The camera came out and pictures were taken, the
blanket pulled back to watch him kick his little legs, to exclaim on the
size of his feet.

“Bet you could use a shot,” Preacher said to Paul.

“Whew, partner, you’ll never know,” he said, scrubbing a hand along the
back of his neck.

“What you got on your pants there, bud?”

Paul looked down. “I believe that’s amniotic fluid. The carpet’s going
to have to be shampooed in there.”

“No doubt.” Preacher tipped a bottle over a few glasses. “I’m going to
do that, you know. I’m going to be with Paige when the baby comes. I’m
dying to do that.”

“Well, I hope you’re more prepared than I was. It really took me by
surprise.”

“But you don’t regret it, do you?”

“Nah. It was awesome,” he said.

“That’s all I hear,” Preacher said. “These guys, they don’t want to do
it, but then afterward they think it was their idea. Zeke, you know—he’s
done it four times. He says he’d do it four more, but I think his wife
is going to shoot him before that can happen.”

“Zeke is a paramedic,” Paul said. “That might give him an edge.”

“Yeah,” Preacher said, sipping. “Also a sex maniac, I guess. A sex
maniac who loves kids.”

Jack joined them. “So—you made it.”

“Jack, you are my hero. It was such a challenge to just be there, I
don’t know how you delivered David. Honest to God, I don’t.”

“I had directions,” he said, lifting his glass. “I’m not doing it again,
however. I’m going to keep a really close eye on her next time. I want
to watch, that’s all.”

It was a celebration, albeit quiet and controlled so as not to get the
baby wailing or wake Vanessa, who had earned a little rest. Christopher
was out like a light on the couch, and David was asleep on Walt’s bed
with pillows stacked around him. Pretty soon Mel emerged and she was
congratulated on a job well done. Everyone had their turn to hold the
baby and then finally he was taken back to his room, his mother’s room.

They all gathered in the dining room with their celebratory drinks,
remnants of snacks still on the table. Paul stood in the doorway to the
kitchen. Brie sat on Mike’s lap, Paige leaned up against Preacher, his
big arm around her shoulders. Jack stood behind Mel, massaging her
shoulders. Walt had given Tom a beer, which he appeared to be handling
like a pro.

“So when are the Valenzuelas stepping up to the plate?” Walt asked.

“We’re working on it,” Mike said with a grin. Then he kissed Brie’s
cheek. “Aren’t we, baby?”

“Mike is working very hard.” She laughed.

“Oh, you wanna look out for that,” Preacher said. “Ask Mel. Crazy as it
seems, having sex every day isn’t a good way to get pregnant.”

“John!” Paige scolded.

Before she could get her scold out, at least three people echoed, “Every
day?”

“Well, Jesus, it’s not against the law, is it?” Preacher asked, making
everyone laugh the harder.

“Preacher, you are my hero, man,” Tommy said. “I wanna be just like you
when I grow up!”

Walt ruffled his hair. “My son is a damn liar. He wants to be just like
you yesterday!”

“It’s true,” Tom said. “I’m not all that keen on babies, but the rest of
it sounds pretty cool.”

It wasn’t long before people started to make noises about leaving,
looking around for Paul. It seemed he had slipped away. Jack went down
the hall and peeked into Vanessa’s room, to find her sleeping peacefully.

Jack told the birthing party to sit tight while he looked to see if Paul
had stepped outside for air. He put on his jacket and walked out around
the house and down past the stable and corral. He didn’t have to be
psychic to figure this out. It had been a long and emotional day for
Paul. He was standing up on that little hill not far from the house. The
one from which you could see a whole lot of the general’s land.

Paul glanced over his shoulder as he heard the frozen ground crunching
beneath Jack’s boots. Then he looked back at the gorgeous headstone. It
read “Matt Rutledge, beloved husband, father, son, brother, friend.”
Jack put his hand on Paul’s shoulder. “He’d be glad you were there,
standing in for him.”

“I was just telling him about it and I thought, shit, I don’t even know
how much of him is in there.”

“None,” Jack said. “He’s moved on.”

Paul hit his chest with a fist. “I still have him here.”

“Of course. Everyone who loved him has him there. I think that’s the point.”

“I shouldn’t have been the one tonight. It should’ve been him. She
misses him so much.”

“Look, we all have different paths, Paul. His led him there, yours led
you here.”

Paul sniffed and wiped at his face. “The house is about done,” he said.
“Vanni will be up and around in no time and I can’t hang around here
anymore. I have to get back. To Grants Pass.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “But you’ll be back pretty soon. You have strong ties
here.”

“I don’t know about that….”

“Give her time, Paul. It’s still a little raw, but that’s going to change.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, looking at him in the dark.

“Oh, Jesus, I wondered. You don’t remember. You got a little drunk
and—No, you got a lot drunk and kind of let it slip about how you saw
her first.”

“No. I couldn’t have.”

“Take it easy. Just to me. You had the discretion to pass out before you
told anyone else. So listen to me for once, okay? Because this is
important. You already know this, but right now you think you’re the
only man who’s ever been in this position. I married a widow. Remember?
It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t quick—getting over that long, ugly hump of
wondering where I fit in. It was goddamn humbling, if you want the
truth. But, Paul, it was worth every sleepless night I invested. It’s
just that it takes whatever time it takes.”

Paul thought a minute. He fixed his lips tight, as if he were
struggling. “I have to get back to Grants Pass.”

“But you come back here before long,” Jack said. “Come back regular. I’m
telling you, if you don’t, you’ll regret it.”

“But I can’t stay much longer, Jack. It’s eating me up. I gotta get out
of here. He was my best friend, and he’s dead, and I helped his baby
into the world, and—”

“And you want his woman. I know this is a rough patch, Paul, but if
you’re the kind of guy who cuts and runs, oh man, you’re going to hate
yourself.” Paul hung his head. “Come on,” Jack said. “People want to say
good-night. They want to pat you on the back one more time.”

“Can’t you just leave me out here?”

“Nah,” he said, turning Paul away from the grave with a hand behind his
neck. “The general wants to tell you—Matt picked a name. They’ve made a
few adjustments on account of his death—adjustments that were Vanessa’s
idea. Matt wanted to name him Paul. But they’ve settled on Matthew Paul.
I think you should drink to it. And think to it.”


    Sixteen

T om was quiet while he brushed down the horses with Brenda, but it
didn’t matter because she was talking a mile a minute. He’d invited her
out to see the new baby, just a week old, and she was all jazzed about
that. Then they took a quick ride and he listened to her go on and on
about the cheerleading tryouts for her senior year that were coming up.
He had already agreed to take her to the prom, though it was only
February, and she had a million things to say about that. When the
horses were put away, he grabbed her hand and led her into the tack
room. He sat on the bench, pulled her onto his lap and kissed her
deeply, lovingly. And he said, “I have to tell you something.”

“What?”

“I love you. I know you believe that. And I want you like mad, which you
can’t help but believe. But I’m going to do something—even though it
might cost me everything. You and whatever I have with you.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I talked to the police,” he said.

She jumped right off his lap. “What?” she asked in disbelief, shaking
her head to try to make it go away. “No.”

He tried to pull her back onto his lap, but she skittered out of his
reach, the look on her face one of sheer horror. So he stood up and
faced her. “Not just Mike. Other police. A special detective unit, as it
turns out. I’m going to help them get the guy who gave you the
drug—because there was a guy and there was a drug.”

“No,” she said again, shaking her head. “You can’t know that any more
than I do.”

“Yeah, we both know. It might even come back on you, but I’m not sure
how. You might be asked what you know about it, and you’ll say whatever
you want. Maybe you won’t say anything. But I had to, Brenda.”

Tears immediately ran down her cheeks and she stepped back another step.
“No, you didn’t have to!”

“Yeah, I did, and I’ll tell you why. Because I want to sleep at night.
Because I don’t want to try to imagine that sometime this summer or next
year some poor slob like me is holding the girl he loves while she cries
her heart out over being raped. I don’t want to think of some poor
girl—a good girl who’s saving herself—waking up pregnant when she
probably wouldn’t have even scored a hangover! I’m not going to lie
awake at night and wonder if there are a couple of kids like me and you,
in love and playing it so carefully, so straight, getting ripped up by
this asshole. I’m going to try to stop him even if you never speak to me
again.”

“But I told you, I don’t know what happened! There’s nothing I can do!
And even if I could, I don’t want to! God, Tommy, I don’t want anyone to
know!”

“I don’t blame you. I didn’t tell the police about you, but that’s going
to be irrelevant. Eventually they’re going to want to hear from every
kid who went to every one of those keggers and parties, to know what
happened to them. And I’m sorry for that—you’ll handle it however you
want to. But I’m not letting this guy do it to anyone else’s girl. I’m
sorry you’re mad, but I’m not sorry I did it.”

“I hate you!”

“I had to.”

“I hate you!”

“Yeah,” he said, hanging his head. He lifted his head. “Well, I love
you, and I’m sorry this upsets you. I hope someday, like in about a
million years, you’ll think back about this and even if you still hate
me, maybe you’ll have some respect for me doing the right thing.”

She started to sob, shaking her head until her pretty, silky light brown
hair fell over her face. “Why did you do this? Why? Now it’s going to
get out. I shouldn’t have told you—I thought I could trust you! Now
everyone will think I’m just a slut!” He reached for her and she pulled
back. “Don’t touch me! Don’t you ever touch me!”

But he pulled her against him anyway and held her while she cried. And
oh, man, she cried so hard he thought she was going to throw up. She
started to gag, in fact, but he hung on until she exhausted herself. And
he still hung on. “Why?” she kept saying to him. “Why? It wasn’t for you
to do—it was for me to do if I wanted to.”

“Yeah? And if it happens to someone else because you didn’t say
anything? And if someone dies?” he asked, but he asked gently even as he
held her. “I don’t care that you aren’t saying anything about it. That’s
your choice. You know what—you go ahead and hate me. You blame me if you
want to, when we both know the real bad guy isn’t me. Thing is, I have
to live with myself.”

She pulled out of his arms. “Well, I just hope you can.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “I can,” he said. “Come on, I’ll
take you home.”

The next day after school Tom drove his little red truck over to Jordan
Whitley’s house. He ran up on the porch and knocked on the door. Jordan
answered and Tom said, “Hey. Got my stuff?”

“Yeah, man,” he said, laughing. “You’re gonna love it.” He reached into
his pocket and pulled out a little baggie and an envelope. When Tom
reached for it he said, “Hey, forget something?”

“Oh, yeah. How much did you say?”

“Just a hundy, man. You’re gonna be so happy.”

“What we have here?” Tom asked.

“Roofies, ecstasy, meth. Made to order.”

“I changed my mind about the meth,” he said, and Jordan took back the
little baggie. “So, I get a discount right?”

“Sorry, pal. They don’t exactly give refunds.”

“Ah,” Tom said. “You use this stuff a lot?” he asked. “The roofies?”

Jordan shrugged. “Coupla times. Just for kicks, you know.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “Just for kicks.” He handed him a wad of
bills, accepted the drugs and stepped out of the way.

A detective came around from each side of the house, plainclothes,
badges out and aimed at Jordan. One was a young woman in a ball cap with
a ponytail strung through the back—she looked not much older than Tom.
She could have passed for a college girl, young looking and petite. The
other undercover cop was a great big guy in jeans and a jacket. Both had
guns, cuffs and tasers on their belts. “Police!” the girl said. “Jordan
Whitley, you’re under arrest. We have a search warrant. Turn around,
hands up against the house.”

The look on his face was priceless. It almost made Tom smile. Pure,
horrified shock. “Hey!” he yelled. “Hey, what’s up with this!” But
before he could even finish his sentence this little bitty girl had him
whirled around, his legs kicked apart and was patting him down while the
big guy stood over him, daring him to move.

While they cuffed him, he looked over his shoulder at Tom. “You’re gonna
be so sorry, man.”

“Yeah, probably,” he said. “But I’ll never regret it.” Then he handed
the envelope to the big detective and walked down the porch steps to his
truck just as a patrol car pulled up and a uniformed officer got out.
Down the street was a dark SUV with tinted windows, an unmarked police
vehicle. Inside, watching the arrest, would be Detective Delaney and
Mike. Tom went home to tell his family what he’d done.

 

Paul’s fifth wheel was hooked up to the back of his truck, and his bags
were packed and sitting out on the front walk of the general’s house.
Before going outside to leave, he put his arms around Vanessa and drew
her against him, baby and all, and kissed her cheek. “Please come back
very soon,” she whispered. “I could never have gotten through this
without you.”

“I couldn’t have gotten through it without you, too,” he said. “You’ll
be okay now, Vanni. If you need me, you just call.”

“I’m going to miss you more than you realize. You’ve been like one of
the family,” she said.

“I know,” he said, and he thought, that’s why I have to go now. Because
I can’t be like that to her anymore. Like a brother. It’s killing me.
“Thank you for making me feel so welcome, so much a part of everything.”

“It was natural, Paul. It felt right, having you here. Now that the
house is done, I’m afraid you won’t be around too much, and that’s gonna
be awful.”

“Nah, I’ll be around. I come down regularly to meet up with the boys, to
hunt or fish or play poker. Even if there’s no building to do here,
there’s always that.”

“I’ll be taking the baby up to Grants Pass to see Matt’s folks. I’ll
call you, okay?”

“You’d better,” he said. He kissed her forehead, then leaned down to
kiss the baby’s forehead. “I’ll talk to you soon, I’m sure.”

He went out front where the general and Tom waited, and Vanessa
followed. He shook Walt’s hand. “Thank you for everything, sir.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “We’re in your debt.”

Paul gave his hand to Tom, then pulled him in for a hug. “I’m damn proud
of you, son,” he said. “It was a hard thing, what you did. I hope it all
works out okay.” And as Paul said that, the general patted his son’s back.

“Thanks,” Tom said, but he looked down when he said it. Then, raising
his head, he said, “I’m going to miss you, man.”

“Yeah, me too, bud. Maybe I’ll get down here for graduation or something.”

“You know you’re welcome anytime. Standing reservation,” Walt said.

Paul nodded, picked up his duffel and suitcase, walked out to the road
and threw them in the backseat of the extended-cab truck. He gave a wave
and a toot of the horn as he drove off. He watched in the rearview
mirror as Walt put an arm around Tom’s shoulders and led him away. But
Vanessa stayed, patting the little bundle she pressed to her shoulder,
watching as he drove away.

Maybe someday, he thought. Maybe someday.

 

Jack put the last of the boxes from the cabin into the back of his truck
and leaned into the cab to blow the horn. Mel came out of the cabin and
just stood on the porch, turning in a circle. She brushed a little
imaginary dust off the arm of one of the Adirondack chairs. He shook his
head and smiled. She was having a really hard time leaving, even though
the new house was big and beautiful.

“Mel, come on,” he called.

“Coming,” she said. But she stood there a while longer. She was getting
a nice little tummy on her now. She wore jeans, boots and a yellow
sweater pulled down over her belly, her golden hair falling in thick
curls over her shoulders and down her back. She was such a little thing;
she could look like a pregnant teenager, standing up there like that.
But as Jack knew too well, this was no girl. His woman was all woman.

He went to her because she wasn’t moving very fast. He took the porch
steps in one long stride, lifted her chin and saw that she had tears in
her eyes. “You going to cry again?”

“No,” she insisted.

He chuckled. “We own the place now, Mel. You’re not giving it up.”

“I’m just remembering,” she said. “Remember that night you brought me
home and put me to bed after I’d had a couple of whiskeys on an empty
stomach?”

“I remember.”

“And you left fishing gear for me to find when I woke up in the morning?”

“Yes,” he said, happy with the picture in his head of her wearing her
brand-new waders and casting into the yard from the Adirondack chair. “I
really thought I was going to get lucky that night.”

“You got lucky in that cabin more times than I can count,” she said.
“David was born in that bed,” she said.

“Talk about getting lucky.” He laughed and pulled her into his arms.
“Anytime you want to sneak out here and revisit the past, I’m your man.”

“I’m remembering how it was when I first got here—there was a bird’s
nest in the oven.” She looked up at him. “You rebuilt this whole cabin
for me—trying to get me to stay.”

“The second I saw you, I was doomed. I don’t know what would have become
of me if you hadn’t stayed.”

“You’d have fewer children, I think. Jack, I had so many happy days and
nights in this little cabin. My whole life was changed here.”

“And mine. Now come on, honey. We have a new house waiting.”

“Do you think we’ll be as happy in that new house as we’ve been here?”

He kissed her nose. “I guarantee it. Now, come on.”

With a heavy sigh she walked down the porch steps with him and got into
the truck. She watched out the window dreamily as they drove through
town and up the drive that had become her drive, feeling moody and
nostalgic as though she was moving to another state when it was really
less than a twenty-minute drive. She sighed again as she got out of the
truck and walked toward the new porch, the new house.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her back. Then, lifting her into his
arms, he carried her into the house and stood just inside the doorway,
holding her. It was fabulous—Paul had clearly outdone himself. The
floors were shiny hardwood, the ceiling of the great room was vaulted
and beamed, the new tan leather furniture that sat around the stone
hearth was lush and inviting. He walked farther into the house, past a
beautiful, huge modern kitchen, which he believed would be the center of
many gatherings in the future. Silver appliances, black granite
counters, dark polished oak cabinets and a long oak table that could
seat ten or more.

“What are you doing?” she asked him.

He carried her into a spacious master bedroom with king-size bed and
large, man-sized bureaus. “Taking a little tour.” He pointed her toward
the big new bed. “How do you like your new playpen?”

“Jack,” she said, laughing and tightening her arms around his neck.

He kissed her, a long, deep and lusty kiss. “I think we have time to
christen the new house before Brie and Mike bring David out.”

“Oh, Jack, we have things to do around here.”

“We certainly do,” he said, laying her gently on the bed and leaning
down to pull off her boots. “Yes, we do.”

 

The sheriff’s department’s detectives were extremely cooperative in
letting Mike listen in on some of the interviews they conducted with
both Jordan Whitley, Brendan Lancaster and students who may or may not
have been victimized by the suspects. He considered it very fortunate
that only three Virgin River girls seemed to have fallen prey, because
there were others around Valley High School who appeared to be
suspiciously likely to have been drugged and raped. And, as Tom had
suspected, there were more drugs involved—what was referred to as white
dope. Two short weeks after these young men were apprehended a fount of
information and piles of reports had been generated and confessions were
falling like raindrops around the county ADA.

Brie’s reputation as a prosecutor extended beyond the boundaries of the
Sacramento Valley, and when she offered her services as a consultant to
the local district attorney, they welcomed her help gratefully. The one
thing she never thought she’d be able to do she did extremely well—she
assisted in interviewing teenage girls who were likely rape victims. Her
skills were impressive, but it was her compassion and finesse that
probably assisted in prepping at least one girl for a possible trial.
Carra Jean Winslow knew exactly what had happened to her, and who had
raped her.

The most interesting thing to Mike—and so unsurprising as well—was that
these boys, Whitley and Lancaster, were singularly unimpressive. They
were neither clever nor savvy—they were simply idiots with access to
dangerous drugs and the opportunity to use them. Lancaster had been
present at a couple of raves held in a larger town down the coast where
he had located and purchased GHB, sharing his wealth with Whitley. He
also had a local marijuana dealer he worked with, and traded pot for
meth and ecstasy. He had the stuff and was dealing. It boiled down to
teens in search of a good time and the misfortune to have ended up being
around these two losers.

It didn’t take Lancaster long to flip and turn on his suppliers. This
delighted Delaney, who’d been looking hard for white-dope dealers. He
was also willing to flip on Whitley—he was pretty much the only witness
to the rapes. Unfortunately for Whitley, the only person he could turn
over was Lancaster—so it looked as if the rape charges might stick.

No names of teenagers were published in the local papers, but that
didn’t keep the word from spreading. In Virgin River, Mike found some of
his neighbors wanted to express their gratitude for his work. He was
given a case of good wine, half a butchered calf, a dozen jars of canned
tomatoes that were put up last summer. He pulled a couple of bottles of
wine from the case for Brie, but took the rest of the wine and produce
to Preacher. Since he’d taken his job, Jack and Preacher hadn’t allowed
him to pay anything for his meals at the bar. That was the way things
worked around here. All for one, one for all…

Mike leaned against his SUV, waiting outside the sheriff’s department
for someone, a young woman who had just completed her third round of
questions with detectives. When Brenda Carpenter came out, a svelte
young blue-jeaned girl with a book bag slung over her shoulder, he
pushed off the car. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she returned.

“I talked your dad into letting me give you a lift home. I thought maybe
you and I could have a few minutes.”

“What for?” she asked with a shrug. “There can’t possibly be anything
more you want to ask me. Not now.”

He opened the passenger door for her. “Nah. No more questions. But I
might want to tell you a couple of things.”

She gave a heavy sigh, but needing that ride, she got in. Mike hurried
to the driver’s side, because once they were under way, she couldn’t
refuse to go with him. “Brenda, it was very brave, what you did,” he said.

“I didn’t have that much of a choice,” she said.

“Well, but you did. You could have lied, you could have refused to talk
to anyone, you could have feigned sick…. I can think of a hundred ways
you could’ve been unhelpful—but you gutted it out. And knowing what that
meant to you, I just wanted to thank you.”

She looked at him. “Why thank me?” she asked.

“Well, it’s my town—you’re my family, my people. If I’m doing my job, I
try to make sure you’re safe. Believe me, I know from personal
experience how hard it is to answer some of those questions.”

“Yeah. Your wife,” she said. “You must think I’m a pretty big sissy for
holding out so long after what your wife was brave enough to do.”

“Not at all, Brenda. Number one, my wife is thirty-one. Number two,
she’s not only a lawyer, but one with experience in prosecuting
dangerous criminals. Three—she had some serious backup in me and Jack
and many others. You’re just a kid who was never sure what happened to
you. You were up against a lot.”

“Thanks. I guess.”

“Really, kiddo. For me and Brie—we’ve been through some scary stuff and
have kind of thick hides by now. Now all we want is a peaceful life in a
peaceful town.” He laughed. “Jesus, I hope that’s not asking too much.”

She was quiet for a long moment. “I’m sorry you went through all that. I
know what it’s like.”

“Thank you, I know you do,” he said. “Hopefully it’s behind us now. We
want a family, you know. You get to be my age, you don’t want to miss
too many chances at that.”

“Were you proud of her? Your wife?”

“Oh, kid,” he said in a breath. “She was amazing. She was so afraid, so
sick inside, so vulnerable…. But one thing you learn as you get
older—it’s usually better to face the threat and the fear than try to
dodge it. In the end the most important thing is that you have no regrets.”

“Because it’s never as bad as you fear?” she asked.

He laughed. “Did someone tell you that? Because sometimes it is as bad
as you fear, or even worse. And sometimes you have to do it anyway,
because the kind of life you’re left with if you don’t isn’t really of
the same value. Brie is a perfect example of that. She went after that
guy for raping women, knowing that if she couldn’t get him, he would be
free to hurt more women and even free to go after her. But ignoring him
would not only have the same effect, she would have to add to it that
she never tried to do the right thing. Double pain. Double regret. To
try your hardest and then fail—no shame in that. To do nothing? It just
ends up being harder to live with.”

“The detective said he doesn’t know what will happen to those
guys…Doesn’t even know if there will be a trial.”

“They don’t even know if they’ll do time. I think almost all the drug
charges were pled down for information that will help the police with
bigger cases. I don’t think they pled down any of the sexual assault,
but if I were Whitley’s lawyer, I’d talk him into a plea agreement
rather than a trial. He goes to trial, he’s so cooked.”

“No time?” she asked.

“Don’t worry, Brenda—he’s over eighteen, barely. He’s outta here—he
won’t be back in school with you. Since he made bail, he’s been in
another city with his father. He isn’t going to be back here. He’d get
tarred and feathered.”

“What if…?” She stopped and thought a second. “What if I’d come forward
sooner? Would I have saved anyone?”

“Don’t know,” he answered. “But, honey, when your number was called, you
stood up, you told the truth and you helped get the job done. You should
be very proud of yourself. I’m very proud of you. We all are.”

 

The next afternoon at about four, Mike drove out to the general’s house.
He parked in front, but saw that there was someone down by the corral,
forearms leaning on the top rail, one booted foot hoisted onto the
bottom. That was who Mike was looking for and he walked down the small
hill. “Tom,” he said to the boy’s back.

The boy turned, saw it was him and said, “How you doing?”

“Good. How about you?” Mike asked, joining him at the fence, aping his
stance, one foot on the bottom rail, forearms on the top.

“Getting by,” Tom said.

“You having any trouble at school?” Mike asked.

“Nah,” he said. “There’s a lot of talk, but I’m not answering any
questions.”

“What kind of talk?” Mike asked.

Tom shrugged. “Some people think they know that I got him caught, but no
one’s sure. Well, no one but Brenda.”

“You did a good piece of work there, Tom. I know that was tough.”

Tom gave a huff of unamused laughter. “Yeah, but then again, no. I felt
like I had two choices—turn him over or just beat the living shit out of
him.”

“I would’ve felt exactly that way.”

“Is it coming together? You guys get the little prick?”

“Yeah, he is totally gotten. He started spilling his guts almost
immediately. For a while there he thought he could put it on
Lancaster—but it turns out that Lancaster liked getting drunk and high,
while it was Whitley’s project to get the girls.”

Tom winced. “Beautiful. I should’ve just killed him.”

“It wouldn’t have worn well on you. So, you’re hanging in there?”

He shrugged. “I go to basic training with the Army right after
graduation. Then the Point. I’ll manage.”

“There’s lots of stuff going on between now and then. Prom and stuff…”

“Nah. I’m just doing time. I’ll be gone before you know it.”

“What about Brenda?” Mike asked.

“There’s no girl, man. I sold her out. She’s finished with me.”

“You sure about that?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “We don’t talk. She won’t even look at me.”

“I saw her over at the sheriff’s department—she wears that bracelet you
gave her. The pretty one with her name on it.”

“I know. I think she’s punishing me with it. Gives me false hope.”

“Maybe that wasn’t quite it,” Mike said. “Maybe she was just scared and
mad, but not really finished.”

“I wish,” he said, leaning on the rail and looking down. “Nah, she said
she hated me, and she’s pretty much acting like it.”

“You regret what you did?”

“No, can’t get there,” he said. “That guy had to be stopped. That stuff
can’t happen. It’s wrong.” He coughed. “I knew there was a price.”

Mike clamped a hand on his back. “Tom, a man who will do what he has to
do even though there’s a price, that’s a man I want at my back when
there’s trouble. You did the right thing.”

“Sure,” he said inconsolably. “Glad you got him,” he added.

“I brought someone to see you,” Mike said.

Tom straightened. “Yeah? Who?”

Mike inclined his head over his shoulder and Tom turned. Behind him
about twenty feet stood Brenda, her hands clasped in front of her. Tom
looked at Brenda, at Mike, at Brenda again.

“Oh, God,” Tom said. “Brenda?”

He took a couple of steps toward her and she ran to him. Mike stepped
back and watched with a melancholy smile on his face. Tom snatched her
up into his arms, lifting her clear of the ground. She hugged his neck
while he held her tight and he heard what sounded like laughter mixed up
with tears. And then of course the sound was muffled because it was
buried in kisses that were desperate and heartfelt.

“You can probably give her a ride home later,” Mike said, though no one
acknowledged that they’d heard. He shook his head in silent laughter and
started back up the hill. As he was nearing the house, he looked up to
see the general in one of his big picture windows. Walt slowly lifted a
hand toward Mike and saluted him.

Mike returned the salute.

 

When Mike got back to town, it was already dinnertime. He was ready for
a beer, but he went to the RV first to see if Brie was back from helping
her brother and sister-in-law at the new house—a work in progress with
wallpapering, unpacking, cleaning, settling. And he found she was there,
wearing her bathrobe, patting dry her long hair with a towel. Every time
his eyes even fell on her, he felt himself swell with pride that she
would choose him.

It had been a long six weeks since the trial in Sacramento. The color
was back in her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes. Assisting the ADA in
Humboldt County was gratifying for her; she was proud she could
contribute. And she was enjoying the help she could give Mel and Jack,
having a good time with her little nephew. It was so satisfying to know
she felt secure and at peace once again. To have her in his life, to
hold her and tell her he adored her, this was enough to make him feel as
any king might feel.

“You’re back,” he said, going to her for a kiss.

“They’re very close to being all settled now. I papered the new baby’s
bedroom, with no help from Davie, I might add.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Ravenous. You?”

“It’s been a long day,” he admitted.

“And all that date-rape business? It’s still falling into place for the
ADA?”

“Better than I could have hoped, acting alone as I was. They’re doing a
fantastic job with it, and you were instrumental in that. These people
can have it behind them soon.”

“Which means we’ll have it behind us,” she said.

He threaded a hand under her long hair, gently massaging her neck.
“There will be more cases for you, mija. Your skills are so valuable
here. Thank you for that.”

“We have other things to do, Miguel. For one thing, there’s that baby.
We need to get to work on that baby.”

His grin was immediate and huge. “I thought I had been working on the
baby,” he said.

“You’ve been doing your best, I’m sure, if a little distracted by work.
Now that all this stuff is handled, we can give it serious attention.”

“How do you feel about takeout?”

“Excellent idea,” she said, standing to loosen the belt around her robe.

A year and a half ago Mike Valenzuela lay in a coma in an L.A. hospital,
his family wondering if he would live, and Brie Sheridan was trying to
survive the reality of her husband abandoning her for another woman, and
a few months later trying to recover from a violent crime. Neither had
dared hope they would come out of these traumas with their health and
sanity, much less a love that felt eternal. A love so fulfilling and
endless that anything seemed possible. And yet for both of them,
something had been born that exceeded their wildest fantasies.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” he asked her.

“That’s the best part,” she answered. “I do.”

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ISBN: 9781426801716

WHISPERING ROCK

Copyright © 2007 by Robyn Carr.

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