A Virgin River Christmas (26 page)

Ian felt a slight, melancholy smile tug at his lips. “The same guy. One miserable son of a bitch.”

“There’s really no excuse for a guy like that,” she said. “It doesn’t cost you anything to be nice.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Really. He ought to be ashamed. Everyone has the option to be civil. Decent. I knew when I met him he was mean and ornery.”

“Next you’re going to say I won’t be free of that till I forgive him,” Ian said. “They always say, not for the person who has been horrible, but for yourself.”

“Not bloody likely, coming from me,” she said. “Now if he
asked
for forgiveness…”

“Hah. Not in your wildest dreams,” he said.

“I wouldn’t expect so. I met him, remember. None of what you told me surprises me.”

“Marcie, I don’t hate him, I swear to God. But I can’t see why I’d want to say, ‘I’m perfectly okay with you being the coldest SOB I’ve ever known.’ And I’m sure not looking to be around that again. What’s the point?”

She leaned forward and laid her head against his shoulder. “Hmm. Why would you? It’s not likely he’d change. Ian, there’s nothing you can do to change him. Now I understand. Now it will be all right.”

“What is it you think you understand?”

She held him close. “You were battle scarred. You’d lost your best friend, even though he was still alive—technically—a complication that probably made things even worse for you. Your relationship floundered. That happens so often after a soldier gets out of a war zone—been happening since World War I and earlier, I’m sure. Too bad that happened, but I don’t think you could have helped it…. You had to have a little time…”

“I know I could’ve used some help, but if anyone had offered to help me, I’d have broken his jaw,” Ian said.

“I’m sure. You probably had a lot of rage stored up at that time. Well-deserved rage. The least a person can do is try to empathize. Be patient. Your loved ones—”

“It turned out I didn’t have loved ones,” he said in a quiet voice.

“Well,” she said, lifting her head and looking into those lovely brown eyes. “You do now. And thank you—I wanted to understand what happened. That’s all I wanted, and you didn’t have to tell me, but you did.”

He pushed some of that wild red hair over her ear. “You had some fantasy about what would happen when you found me, admit it.”

“I did.” She grinned. “I tried to keep it to myself, and it didn’t include fabulous sex. I fantasized that I’d find you, tell you some things that would ease your mind and then I’d take you home.”

“Home?”

“To Chico, or wherever home is to you,” Marcie said. “A lot of your old squad checked in on Bobby, asked if I knew where you were. You’re not as alone as you think. But you’d have to go to some trouble to find them now. You went missing too long. When people think you don’t want them, they let you be.”

“Not all of them.” He laughed.

“Well, I told you—I can match you for stubborn.”

“So, tell me about this forgiveness thing you don’t get,” he prodded.

“Oh, Ian—I’m in the same spot as you. If someone did something horrible to me and never apologized or asked for forgiveness, I wouldn’t break my neck trying to forgive them. Those insurgents in Fallujah? I’m not working on loving them like brothers. If that’s what I have to do to be an okay person, I’m going to remain the baddest little carrottop on the playground.”

“What about God?”

“God understands everything. And even He made a mistake or two. Look at the size of avocado seeds—way too big. And pomegranates? Too many seeds. What a waste of fruit!”

He laughed loudly. “So what do you do to come to a peaceful place about those horrible people?”

She lifted her head and looked into his eyes without mirth. Her green eyes were warm and soft. Her smile was gentle. “We accept them as they are. And if we can’t love them like brothers, maybe we can understand and let them be their own problems. Holy Christ, isn’t that enough of a challenge? Accept him as he is, Ian—a miserable old son of a bitch who was hardly happy a day in his life, and it really had nothing to do with you.”

Though he fought it, he felt his eyes glisten with tears. Long seconds passed in which she met that clouded gaze fearlessly—not afraid of his roar, his rage or his tears. “How does someone so young and bad and wild get wisdom?” he asked in a whisper.

“Wisdom? What I get is struggle. I haven’t had it as bad as you, as hard as most people. I just do my best, that’s all. But I want to tell you something. I didn’t love you with just my body, Ian. My heart got in there. I hope you know that.”

“I know that.” He touched her lips briefly. Then he asked, “So, what’s wrong with him? My father? You said he was sick.”

“Not critical—but his maladies will get him sooner than later. He’s being treated with chemo for prostate cancer, he has Parkinson’s, had a mild stroke and I believe some dementia is settling in. But, be warned—he could have years.” Then she grinned.

“You—are—amazing.”

“You could come home with me, Ian. For Christmas.”

He was quiet for a moment. “No. I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not? Will the good people from the towns around here be without firewood? Would the cabin get snowed in?”

He smiled at her. “Baby, I’m not going to kid you—you changed my life, and all in ten days, but not enough to clean me up and take me back to Chico. Listen to me,” he said gently. “This is nice, you and me. But I think it’s a tryst that might never be anything more. This thing that happened between us—it wasn’t supposed to.”

“But you’re not sorry,” she said.

“You know I’m not sorry. I’m grateful.”

“I think if I stayed a little longer…”

“What? You’d get through to me? Transform me into some other kind of guy? Pluck me out of my run-down cabin and make a civilized man out of me?”

She shook her head. “Nothing like that ever occurred to me. You’re more civilized than most of the men I know. But lately I’ve been thinking if I stayed longer you’d laugh more. You’d sing to people instead of just to wildlife. You’d probably ask that librarian out for drinks.”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “After I found a way to convince her I’m not an idiot savant.”

“If I came back here to see you, would you lock me out and make me sleep in my car?”

He laughed and shook his head. “No.” But he thought,
she might come back once, maybe even twice.
Then it would stop, because he and this place wouldn’t change much. And he didn’t deserve her; she should have so much more than some beat-up old marine with issues who’d stuck himself in the woods.

“Since you won’t come back with me, I’m staying till Christmas Eve. I won’t leave at the crack of dawn, but I’ll get home in time for dinner. It’s just a few hours away.”

“Erin isn’t going to like that,” he said. “She’s ready for you right now.”

“She’ll have to wait. I’m doing the best I can. I don’t want to leave you. Ever.”

Instead of talking about it anymore, he asked her, “Is it too soon to make love again?”

“No,” she said, smiling.

He pulled her against him. It was better this way, he thought, that he not add the words
I love you
to the mix. This was hard enough on her. Instead, he kissed her as well as he could, his hands running over her body in a way that promised more loving.

In the morning when she woke, he had gone. He left a note. “Sweetheart. Selling wood, plowing some roads. I won’t be too long. Ian.”

“Sweetheart,” she whispered to herself. She folded it in half and quarters and found a safe place in her wallet to preserve it. Forever.

Fourteen

I
an unloaded his entire supply of firewood in short order and took delivery orders for three more half cords, which would take him another day to load, deliver and unload, giving people their cozy fires for Christmas. And his supply of cut and cure wood was running low, which was the plan. He’d cut and split and cured all spring, summer and fall and then, with luck, sell off his wood in a matter of weeks.

He was in Virgin River before noon. He parked by the bar, but he didn’t go in. Instead he walked up to that huge tree, taking a closer look at some of the unit badges. He looked around; he was alone. Then he pulled a few things out of his pocket. He’d fixed them up with short wires so they’d hook onto the branches. His unit badge—the same as Bobby’s. A Purple Heart and a Bronze Star—medals awarded for the highest bravery and valor. He fixed them onto the tree. It took him just a few moments.

“I’ll see those get back to you,” a voice said.

He whirled around and found himself facing Mel Sheridan. Her coat was pulled tight against the cold and occasional snow flurries, her hands plunged in her pockets. “I won’t be here at Christmas—we’re going to Jack’s family. But I can tell Paige—Preacher’s wife—to make sure when she rescues some of the badges that she holds on to your medals. It wouldn’t do to lose them. They’re important.”

“I’m not worried about what happens to them. I don’t have much use for them now.”

She laughed a little. “I’ve heard that before.”

“Oh?”

“My husband, for one. You guys, you’re peculiar in that way. You train to do the things that bring awards, then won’t display them. Jack—he was going to get rid of his until his father confiscated them to keep them safe. Jack said it wasn’t the medals, it was the men. So—if you can remember the men with the medals, good enough. I’ll see you get them back.”

“Thanks,” he said weakly. “I think they’re better off here.”

“For now,” Mel said. “I guess Marcie will have to head home, but in case you’re around Christmas Eve…”

“I heard,” he said. “A town thing. I don’t know…”

“Well, the town’s kind of easy—no RSVP required. If you get the itch.” She shrugged and smiled.

“That’s nice,” he said. “I have to go. There’s an old guy, neighbor of mine, who doesn’t have a plow…”

“Good of you to look out for him, Ian.”

“I don’t really, I just—”

He stopped abruptly at the sight of Jack, Preacher and Mike coming out of the bar in a big hurry, jacketed up, carrying rifles and duffel bags.

“Jack?” Mel asked.

He continued toward his extended cab truck. “Travis Goesel wandered off yesterday. Didn’t make it home. Family’s been looking all over their farm and grazing land.” He threw a duffel in his truck bed. “David’s with Brie.”

“Wandered off?” Mel asked. “Travis wandered off?”

“He was tracking a cat. Mountain lion killed his dog, so he grabbed his rifle and he went after it. Kid’s a good tracker and excellent shot. And too smart to be out all night in this snow.”

“Where’s the Goesel farm?” Ian asked before he could stop himself.

“You know the Pauper’s Pond area?”

“Sort of. The river that runs past my place feeds a couple creeks and a pond out there. I’m east of their property a few miles. That cat’s been around my place.”

“What makes you think it’s the same cat?” Jack asked.

“Aggressive one—he didn’t run off like they usually do.”

“That a fact? You must know that area. Any chance you could lend a hand?”

Ian wanted nothing so much as to get back to the girl. Especially if that cat was out there with blood lust.

“The kid’s sixteen,” Jack went on. “He’s big and strong. But I agree with his father—this isn’t good. I don’t know what’s worse, the mountain lion getting him or the cold.”

“Okay,” Ian said. “If the boy’s smart, he’s not walking uphill toward my place. I can start at the base of the mountain and work west. You can start in the west and work east. Will that help? A kid that age could walk miles.”

“His father, brothers and some neighbors are all over that farm—we can work the outside acreage.” Jack pulled his duffel out of the truck bed. “Preach and Mike can go together on the west side of Goesel’s farm, I’ll go with you on the east.”

“I don’t have hardly any heat in that truck,” Ian said.

“Yeah, but you got a plow. I love the plow. That could come in real handy. I’m gonna get one of those to mount on my truck. I have myself a long road into our new house.”

Ian looked at Mel. “I left Marcie early this morning when I went to deliver firewood. She won’t know why I’m not back. If she tried to get to town in that car of hers…”

“When David lies down for his nap, I’ll run out there and tell her what’s going on. Would that help?”

“Tell her she’s going to want to stay in. She doesn’t like that. She doesn’t like making do and not traveling to the outdoor facilities. You’d better tell her about that mountain lion, that he’s around and he’s not getting any more shy.”

“I’ll do that. You just be real careful out there. Jack!” she yelled. “You be careful!”

Jack grinned at Mel. “I’ll be back real soon, Melinda. Travis has presents under the tree—we have to get him home. You just keep that little bun in the oven warm. Come on, Buchanan. Let’s do it.”

The men left town in two trucks—Ian took Jack and Preacher took Mike. They headed out the same highway, and then at a fork that led to the farm, Mike and Preacher took their truck off to the left while Ian and Jack kept going past the farm. “How much land you have sitting under that cabin?” Jack asked Ian.

“Six hundred and sixty acres,” Ian said. Jack whistled. “It’s all mountain and trees in a restricted-logging area. So it’s a lot of nothing.”

“Nothing but quiet and pretty.”

“There’s a stream,” Ian said. “Good fishing. Good hunting. And I harvest the trees for firewood, a little here and there. I think the old man, Raleigh, homesteaded.”

“How’d you know him?” Jack asked.

Ian laughed. “I was wandering around the mountains, camping, hunting rabbit, on a fool’s mission, when winter hit the mountains real sudden. Raleigh was older than God already and couldn’t hardly chop his own wood, so he gave me a roof for some help on the land.”

“Good deal for you!”

“Yeah, the joke was on me. He got real sick and what he needed was a nurse in addition to everything else.”

Jack grinned at him. “You must’ a stuck it out if you’re in the cabin.”

Ian shrugged. “I never saw that coming—he wrote some kind of will that old Doc had to witness. If he hadn’t done that, I might’ve figured out what to do with myself by now.”