A Virgin River Christmas (17 page)

“She did.”

For some reason unclear even to him, Ian did something he hadn’t done since finding himself in these mountains—he pushed on it a little bit. “She tell you anything about me?”

“Couple of things.”

“Like?”

“Like, you and me—we were in Fallujah about the same time.”

“Should’ve known. You have that jarhead look about you. Just so you’re clear—I don’t talk about that time.”

Jack smiled lazily. “Just so
you’re
clear, neither do I.”

“Hi, Erin,” Marcie said into the phone. “I’m just checking in.”

“Marcie, good God, where have you
been?
” she asked.

Marcie could just imagine Erin beginning to pace with the phone in her hand, something she did whenever she was stressed and not quite in control. “You know where I am. Right here, in Virgin River. I’m staying not far from here. Didn’t you get my messages? I talked to Drew and Mel Sheridan said she talked to you—”

“Some woman I’ve never heard of and don’t know called, yes,” she said. “She says you’re staying with him? You’re actually
staying
with him? Someplace without even a phone?”

Marcie sighed deeply. “Calm down—he doesn’t need a phone. He lives in a perfectly comfortable cabin on a ridge with an incredible view and he sort of…invited me to stay if I wanted to…”

“Sort of? If you wanted to? Marcie, what the hell’s going on?”

“I want you to listen to me, Erin. Listen and stop commanding. I found him, I want to get to know him, I want to understand him. Everything. I want to understand everything. And that takes time. And there’s no place I have to be right now.”

“This is making me nuts! My little sister, with some crazy stranger on an isolated mountain—”

“He is
not
crazy! He’s a good man! He’s been very generous with me! I’m completely safe, and there’s nothing about this to make you concerned. He goes to work every day and in the evenings when he’s back at the cabin, we talk a little bit. We’re just getting to know each other. Today we went to church and to the library. Stop hovering—you knew I was going to do this!”

“Let me talk to him,” Erin said. “Put him on the phone. I have a few questions.”

“No,” she said in a panicked gasp. “He can’t come to the phone—he’s out in the…the…restaurant. I’m an adult, and he doesn’t need your permission to invite me to stay in his cabin. You’re going to have to trust me!”

“It’s not trust and you know it—it’s him! I don’t know him, I only know that when you were up to your neck taking care of Bobby and Ian Buchanan was out of the Corps, he never even called to ask—”

“He saved Bobby’s life,” Marcie shot back. “He risked his life to save my husband. What more do I need to know? I want to thank him, I want to—”

“Saying thank you should take about five minutes,” Erin interrupted.

“I’m not talking about this anymore. I’ll call you in a few days—and work on calming down in the meantime. Erin, do not mess this up for me!” She disconnected the line with an angry poke of one finger.

And looked up into those dark, brooding eyes of Preacher’s. Beneath the scowl was a lift of his lips. “Well,” Preacher said. “That’s a new twist to the story. He saved your husband’s life? Hoorah.”

“I thought you knew,” she said.

“All I knew was you’re widowed,” he said. “How about this guy? He seem an okay guy?”

She took a breath. “Wild animals will eat out of his hand.”

“That a fact?” Preacher said. “I trust wild animals more than a lot of tame men. You should stay for dinner.”

“I was hoping to, but why?” she asked, thinking hard on the previous comment.

“It’s meat loaf night,” he said simply. “It’s the best ever.”

“Oh.”

“And it’s a special night. Mel, Jack’s wife, she found the perfect topper for that tree and now we can finally return the cherry picker. Half the town’s turning out for the lighting. Should’ve come a lot sooner, but we couldn’t do it until she was okay with the topper. The woman looked at every angel and sparkle-ball and star in three counties and rejected them all. But now she has it—so we’re going to fire it up. Next year, we’ll get it done earlier.”

“Cool.” Marcie smiled. “What time on the tree?”

He looked at his watch. “About an hour from now.”

Nine

M
arcie joined Ian at the bar and sat up beside him. Jack was there instantly. “What can I get you?” he asked with a wipe of the bar in front of her.

“I think—I’d like a glass of wine. How about a nice merlot? And two meat loaf dinners. And whatever you do, do not let this guy get the check—I invited him, and it’s my treat. My turn. He’s been feeding me since I got here.”

“You bet,” Jack said.

Ian turned toward her. “I’m not sure about staying long…”

“If you have an anxiety attack, we can go. But if you can hang in there a little while, I bet the meat loaf will amaze you. This cook, Preacher? He’s unbelievable. I had some of his venison chili when I first got to town and it almost made me pass out, it was so good.”

His lips curved in a smile. “You ate venison, Marcie?”

“I didn’t have a relationship with the deer,” she explained.

“You don’t have a relationship with my deer either,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but I have a relationship with you—you’ve seen me in my underwear. And you have a relationship with the deer. If you fed him to me, it would be like you shot and fed me your friend. Or something.”

Ian just drained his beer and smiled at her enough to show his teeth. “I wouldn’t shoot that particular buck,” he admitted. “But if I had a freezer, I’d shoot his brother.”

“There’s something off about that,” she said, just as Jack placed her wine in front of her. “Wouldn’t it be more logical if hunters didn’t get involved with their prey? Or their families? Oh, never mind—I can’t think about this before eating my meat loaf. Who knows who’s in it?”

Ian chuckled at her. “You’re right about one thing. Not a bad little bar here. I never checked it out before.”

“Toldja,” she said, sipping her wine. “What would you like to talk about?”

“We’ve talked all day. I haven’t talked this much in four years. I think I might be losing my voice.”

“I haven’t talked this little…”

“I kind of assumed that…”

Just then Jack delivered two steaming plates that he held with towels. He reached beneath the bar and produced a couple of sets of utensils wrapped in napkins and asked, “Another beer?”

“Why not?” Ian said in what was an unmistakably friendly voice. “The lady’s buying.” And then he put his napkin on his thigh.

Marcie stared at that thigh for a long moment. This was the sort of thing that had her confused. He looked a little crazy, till you got used to him. He could act as if he had needs barely above the animal kingdom, taking roughing it to the next level. When he was in his working clothes, he looked as if he barely subsisted. He could growl and snarl like a lunatic. But he had intelligent diction, good table manners, and while he might not be terribly social and on the quiet side, he had no trouble being around people. He was perfectly cordial.

She had expected a man completely screwed up by his past, by his war experiences, someone hard to reach and nearly impossible to change—a difficult situation, but easy to understand. Instead, what she found was someone pretty normal. It left her with many more questions than answers.

“You’re right about the food,” he said with a hum and a napkin to his lips and beard.

“Hmm,” she agreed, letting her eyes fall closed as she enjoyed mashed potatoes so creamy and wonderful, they were like ambrosia.

Ian finished quickly, sitting back and giving his belly a satisfied rub. Marcie just gave up, pushing her plate toward Ian. “I’m done. Go ahead. Help yourself.”

His eyes widened. “You sure?”

“Wait,” she said suddenly. She dipped her fork into the mashed potatoes and lifted it to his lips. “Try this.”

He lifted his brows, then let her put the fork into his mouth. He savored it. Then he said, “I think you got better potatoes.” And he smiled.

“Help yourself, Ian. I’m going to explode if I eat any more,” she said.

“Maybe a bite,” he said, dipping his fork a couple of times before he, too, had to admit defeat. They sat in silence for a few appreciative moments, finishing their drinks, satisfied. Happy. It occurred to her—they
were
happy.

The contentment was interrupted abruptly. Mel came into the bar with a baby on her hip. Marcie knew she was pregnant, but had no idea there was also a baby under a year old. The baby was all stropped up in a snowsuit, encased from his head to his toes in blue bunting. The smile on her face was brilliant. “Jack! Everyone! It’s time. Tell Preach to turn off the stove and get Christopher and come on! Come on, don’t make us wait!”

Ian’s eyes narrowed as he quizzed Marcie wordlessly. “They’re going to light the tree,” she said. “I’d love to see it.”

“Whatever jingles your bells,” he said.

“You’re not coming?”

“I’m pretty comfortable right here.”

She leveled him with her gaze. “Suit yourself,” she finally said. And she got off her stool to follow the people in the bar as they headed outside.

There was a formidable gathering there—cars and trucks double-parked all up and down the street. People were murmuring, laughing, greeting each other. There were lots of excited children running around.

Marcie found herself at the back of the crowd, not out of shyness but because she wanted to see the entire height of the tree and get the full effect. She felt a longing to have Ian at her side, but his reluctance was easy to understand—nothing like the holidays to bring back dark memories of loved ones lost, families in unstable places, loneliness, bittersweet memories.

Mel was suddenly at her side, jiggling the baby.

“I thought you were expecting your first,” Marcie said with a bit of melancholy. There had been a time she’d seen a family in her future, but when Bobby was injured, everything went away—all the hopes and dreams and fantasies.

“This is David, my son. I wasn’t expecting to be expecting so soon again, but it is what it is. I’m knocked up.” She laughed. “You’d think a midwife would have a better handle on things.”

“I assume you’re happy about it?” Marcie asked boldly.

“It took a little getting used to, but the baby moves now. That seems to change even the most reluctant mommy. How’s it going? I see you got Ian into town. Did you finally speak with your sister?”

“I’m doing fine, and yes, I talked to Erin. She’s over-protective, but she can’t help it. She’s seven years older than me, nine years older than my little brother, and when we lost our parents, she took over. Since I was fifteen, she’s raised me. Got me through every rough patch of my life. Really, it kills me to defy her like this—but I’m not sorry I did this. Now that Bobby’s gone, she’d like me to snap out of it, sense the freedom, do all the things she feels were denied me—go back to school, get a career, marry one of her successful friends or something. She’s so conservative—I’m a little too crazy for her. This thing I’m doing—she thinks I’m nuts.”

“But do
you
think you’re nuts?” Mel asked.

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “But every day that passes, I learn more about myself. I don’t want to get all gooey, but this is a spiritual journey. I thought it was about Ian, but it might be that Ian is right where he should be and I’m the one who needs to face a few things about my life.”

“Aw, honey,” Mel said. “That’s not gooey. If we had time, I’d tell you about some of the crazy things I’ve done to try to get myself grounded.”

“That would be nice,” she said, reaching out to run a knuckle along David’s pink cheek.

“Oh, look! It’s going to happen,” Mel whispered. “David, look,” she said, turning the baby’s head. “Look at the tree!”

Marcie noticed that Jack was crouched behind the huge tree, a couple of extension cords in his hands. He connected them and the most amazing tree in the world came to life. It was adorned in red, white and blue streamers that ran from the top to the bottom; red, white and blue balls glittered amid white lights—a million white lights. And between them were the gold stars. And patches, visible only by the sparkling gold trim that illuminated them, representing hundreds of military units who stood the watch. But the thing that mesmerized Marcie was the star on top.

It wasn’t the typical gold star that often topped Christmas trees—it was a white beacon. And it was
powerful.
It actually cast a glow, as though it was a real star in the heavens. It created a path of light.

Her hand went to her throat to catch the tightness there. It was glorious. “That star,” she whispered in sheer awe.

“I know,” Mel said. “I had everyone in town looking for something like that. I hope it lights their way home.”

“All of them,” she whispered. “All of them.” And she thought of Bobby, finally home after his struggle. And Ian? Could it light Ian’s way home, too?

“How did you get all the unit patches?” Marcie asked.

“Jack and the boys contacted all their old friends. We made phone calls, wrote letters and faxed them. The tree was a sudden decision. Boys from around here have gone into the military—one very close to Jack and me not so long ago. And Vanni’s husband, lost to us in Baghdad…He was in Jack’s squad several years ago. This is for him, too. And his wife. This just couldn’t wait. We had to hurry to get it done, and we did. The whole town pitched in. Doc’s clinic was a disaster.” She laughed. “He groused, but I think it made him secretly happy.”

“It’s truly amazing.”

The oohs and ahhs subsided and people started to sing. The first carol was “Silent Night,” and then “Away in a Manger.” Marcie glanced toward the bar, missing Ian, wanting him to be with her to see the star. She smiled to see him standing on the porch of the bar, hands in his pants pockets, looking up to the top of the tree. And she thought—what will be will be. I promise, I won’t get in the way of it.

People started drifting away about a half hour later, having been through a repertoire of about ten well-known songs. Mel took her baby into the bar, and it wasn’t all that long before Marcie stood in the street with only a few people remaining, all of them looking closely at the tree as Ian continued to watch from the porch. He finally walked down the steps toward the tree and went right up to it, taking a close look at the ornaments and the unit badges. She knew what he would see—a remembrance. A tribute.