A Virgin River Christmas (29 page)

“Why?”

“I don’t think the old man next door laid in his supply.” He started pulling out large cans and stacking them on the table till he had eight of them. He went to his trunk to get a duffel and loaded it up with the cans.

“That’s nice, Ian. Sharing with him like that.”

“Nah. I just don’t want a bad smell drifting over to my property. Keep my water going, will you? I’ll be right back.”

When Ian pulled up to Mike Jackson’s house, he found the man no more friendly or receptive than earlier, but he didn’t put up a fuss about the stew. He took it, nodded, and closed the door.

That moment was an epiphany. You can have it either way out here. You can get bonded with your town, your neighbors, belong to each other and have a connected existence where mutual reliance got you through the hard times. Or you could have it like this. If you never let anyone get near you, they soon got the message you wanted to be left alone. Out here, where neighbors were separated by miles, hills, big trees and, too often, hardship, no one fought for your friendship or your companionship. You’d have to at least meet people halfway.

Ian hadn’t given much of anything to the people around him here in Virgin River. He was just like his father. Thank God Marcie had ignored that…He’d have to change things—or he’d end up like his old neighbor, like old Raleigh.

Ian went home, where he had Marcie playing Abigail, and it was cute. There were just a few days left to them and he was going to make the most of the time they had together and, because he knew it was hard for her to go and bring an end to this mission of hers, he’d make it as easy on her as he could.

So he bathed, he ate, he held her against him for a little while and read aloud the spicy part of her romance novel, which was positively nothing compared to the real thing that followed. Then they spruced up a little and drove into Fortuna together to do some laundry. It was there that he told her his plan.

“Tomorrow, when I get home from delivering wood, I’m going to dig out your car for you and tow it into town, park it at Jack’s, put some chains in the trunk and show you how to put them on so you’re safe when you’re ready to head home. Please don’t get a wild hare while I’m not around and try to leave without a goodbye. It’s not safe for you to take the bug down the mountain without chains. Promise?”

“Promise,” she said.

“I want to be sure you’re safe. Taken care of.”

She looked down as he knew she would. Sad. Quiet. Marcie was hardly ever quiet.

With the sound of jeans clacking in the dryer and the hum of machines droning in the background he held her arms and turned her toward him. He lifted her chin with a finger. “We still have time, Marcie—time for you to be sure you’ve asked me everything on your mind so you feel right about going home. So you have peace of mind.”

“And you?” she asked him.

He ran a knuckle down her cheek. “My mind hasn’t felt this peaceful and calm in years. We’ll make the most of the time you’re here.” He gave her lips a little kiss. “I was so angry when I first faced you. I’m not angry anymore. You made things good for me.”

“An awful lot more passed between us than I ever imagined,” she said. “But I’m glad.”

“Then let’s fold our jeans and head back to town. I think we can get a toddy with Jack and Preacher before they close. Then we’ll go home, stoke the fire and if you want me to, I’ll read the dirty part of that book to you again.”

She slapped his arm. “Please, it’s not dirty! It’s romantic.”

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Very.” He pressed his lips against her forehead.

They went by Jack’s to find it was his last night in town before taking the family back to Sacramento for the holidays, so Mel was there, as was Jack’s sister, Brie, and her partner Mike Valenzuela. The mood was festive. Jack’s son, David, was asleep in Preacher’s quarters behind the bar and there was a lot of excitement about traveling for Christmas. Ian and Marcie ordered up beer and were pulled into the upbeat mood.

Doc didn’t seem to be around, so while Marcie used the kitchen phone to check in with her sister, Ian took a moment to speak to Mel about his neighbor and suggested he might not be doing well. She just smiled and said, “Thanks, Ian. Before I leave in the morning, I’ll speak to Doc and he’ll check on things out there. If he needs assistance, Doc will do what he can. But be warned—some of these old-timers don’t change their ways. They’re pigheaded about things like help, medical intervention, that sort of thing.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Ian said. “I was with old Raleigh when he went.”

“Then you already know.” She smiled. “Have a nice Christmas, Ian.”

“You, too,” he said.

He hadn’t celebrated Christmas in a long time. The last time had been with Shelly before he left for Iraq. He’d given her a ring and suddenly the holiday became all about getting engaged.

His father had never been much about Christmas. It was Ian’s mother who made the holiday real, decorating, baking, fixing up gift baskets for everyone she knew, buying gifts that she’d given a lot of thought to. His dad always came up with something lame for his wife—a subscription to a women’s magazine, a sweater too ugly for words that she’d gush over, a couple of cookbooks. He was famous for caving in to something the house needed like a washer or vacuum cleaner and saying, “All right then, it’s an early Christmas present.” After his mother died, Christmas disappeared entirely. The tree didn’t come out, the lights didn’t go on the house, there was no special dinner. Ian was glad not to be around.

But on the Christmas Ian had given Shelly the ring, he’d also given her a necklace and a beautiful peignoir. He remembered the details now—that was when he decided he was
not
going to be like his father. He was going to be thoughtful.

For Ian, there still wouldn’t be a real Christmas this year, yet his spirits were higher than they had been in years. He didn’t have any decorations and would probably end up opening a can of Dinty Moore for his dinner. He was sorry he didn’t have a present for Marcie and relieved she’d had no opportunity or means to get one for him. But he liked that the town was not only getting into it, they were honoring the men and women who stood the watch. That in itself made it a joyous holiday.

To his surprise, he was starting to think in terms of things changing for him.
Because I’ve had these unusual, unexpected, illuminating weeks of Marcie.
She opened his eyes in so many ways. And then he started to laugh to himself, because his mind turned to septic tanks. What would it take to buy and have a septic tank installed, a hot water heater, an indoor bathroom? It would start with money—real money and not the hit and miss income of selling firewood in winter and moving furniture part-time in summer.

The guy who owned the moving company had offered him full-time work a couple of times because Ian was strong and fast, but he’d said no thank you. He now considered getting in touch with that guy and getting his name on the list for full-time. Maybe he’d even look around, see if there were other interested employers—he was fit and not afraid of work.

Then a little voice reminded him that he hadn’t filed a tax return in four years because he just didn’t care. He had slipped out of the functional world; could he really expect to slip back in?

For the right reasons, he thought. She’d taught him to laugh again. Just that alone warranted getting a full-time job and buying a septic tank, not because it would matter to Marcie. Because it would be good to improve, to live rather than exist. And hell—it had been a long time since an honest-to-God shower.

At that moment, she came out of the kitchen and hopped up on the bar stool beside Ian, and she wasn’t wearing her happy face. “Erin Elizabeth is getting a little pissy. She’s ready for me to get home. She’s past ready.”

“You can’t be surprised,” Ian said. “You did promise her.”

“I kind of put off telling her I’m staying here till Christmas Eve. It’s just a four-hour drive, or so.”

He slipped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. “It’s the right thing to do, Marcie. Your family loves you, needs you. You don’t want to take that for granted.”

“I know. Right now I just have too many
right things
to do. Heat your bath water, plow your fields…”

“Make me laugh…”

“Make you roar.” She smiled at him.

“No matter what you think right now, you’ll be glad once you’re home,” he said. “Familiar and comfortable and…Listen, when you told my father you were going to look for me, what did he say?”

“I told you,” she said, focusing on her beer. “He said I was probably wasting my time.”

“I know him too well—what else did he say?”

“Really, he was just a crotchety old—”

“Come on—you never hold back. The truth.”

She turned wide, innocent, troubled green eyes up to his. “He…He said if I found you, I should tell you he left the house and car to the paperboy.”

Unexpectedly, Ian erupted in laughter. He threw his head back and howled. Marcie just stared at him while he laughed until his eyes watered. His lips were still curved in a smile when he got it under control.

“That is
not
funny,” she said. “I think it’s awful.”

“But it’s so him,” Ian said. “I wonder if he burned all my baseball cards and letter jackets, or just gave them away.”

“Well, he doesn’t deserve you,” she said in a pout, taking a sip of her beer.

“So, no talk about me going back to Chico to see him one last time before he dies?” he teased.

She looked startled. “Ian, I never wanted that. I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t see anything you didn’t see four or five years ago.”

“You deny that you wanted me to see him one last time…?”

“Ian, no! No, not that! I wanted
him
to see
you.
I wanted him to know you were all right—that no matter how mean he was, no matter how cruelly he treated you, you were good. Strong and good. Or, more specifically, I wanted you to let him know you were all that. I swear.”

“Why?” he asked, completely confused.

She put her hand over his. “Because of the kindness you have in you. He doesn’t deserve it, he’s done nothing to earn it, he’d never even thank you for it—but he’s on the decline and it would be a good thing to do—to let the old guy know that in spite of everything, you’re still a good and strong man with a heart and you’re not like him. You’ll never be like him. That’s all. I thought maybe someday down the road you’d think of that anyway, and I just didn’t want you to think of it when it was too late.” She smiled at him. “Not for him, for you.”

“You think you know me that well?”

“I do,” she said. “I’ve been watching you—with the wildlife, with the neighbors, with everything—it’s natural to you to do anything that takes heart and generosity. I bet that was the hardest thing for you to give up.”

On the morning of Christmas Eve, Ian didn’t get up to deliver wood. He could have loaded the truck and made one more sale and delivery before Christmas and get a better-than-usual price. Instead, he made the coffee and served a hot cup to Marcie. “It’s morning, sunshine. It’s a big day for you.”

“You’re not selling wood?” she asked sleepily, sitting up.

“Not today. Your coffee’s hot at no risk.” He grinned at her.

“Hmm,” she said, taking the cup. “You make a very adequate Abigail.”

“Tell me what I can do to make this easier for you.”

She sipped her coffee and thought for a moment. “Two things.”

“Name them.”

“Take me to town and leave me. Say goodbye to me and just go—don’t linger, don’t watch me drive away.”

He gave a nod. “If that’s how you want to do it.”

“And can you tell me—do you feel anything for me?”

He put his big hand against her wild curls. “I feel everything for you. But that won’t change the facts. We’re strangers from two separate worlds that won’t easily merge, and I’m still a guy with what you call issues—piles of them. Not really ready to make any rapid-fire changes, though I think I made some small ones in spite of myself. I have a lot less hair, for one thing.”

“You’ve come along nicely.” She gave him a little kiss. “I think if I had more time…”

He stilled her chin in his hand, commanding her attention. “Listen. I won’t kid you—you changed everything. Come back sometime if you feel like it. But if you don’t, I won’t hold it against you. Remember what you told me—that after you did this, after you found me and thanked me, asked me some questions and told me the things you had to be sure I knew, you were going to be free to move on. It’s okay, Marcie. Even after what passed between us.
Especially
after what passed between us—you can move on if you want to. I expect that.”

“And what if what I want is you?” she asked him.

“The only thing in the world that could possibly make me sad is if I couldn’t make you happy. That’s what scares me the most—that you would want me, and I’d let you down.”

“Why do you even think that way?”

“Just a sorry old habit,” he said.

“I bet you could break that habit if you’d just let yourself.”

He smiled. “That’s one of the best things about you—your eternal optimism.”

“Oh, Ian, that’s not optimism. It’s faith. You should give it a try sometime.”

Sixteen

A
t one o’clock Ian drove Marcie into town to where her little green VeeDub was parked. He showed her how to put the chains on her rear tires if she ran into snow. But right now the roads were clear as was the sky, and she was good to go if she left within the next couple of hours. Then he put his arms around her and gave her a long, loving kiss. He didn’t even look around to see if they were being watched. And he said, “Thank you, for matching me for stubborn.”

“I’m not all together about this,” she said. “This is really hard.”

“When you get closer to home, you’ll start to feel good about being with all of them. They were always there for you,” he reminded her.

“Good—”

He put a finger over her lips. “Shhh. Don’t say it. Drive carefully.”