A Virgin River Christmas (8 page)

The sixth customer was the police chief. He bought a cord from Ian every winter and must trust him by now because he paid cash in advance of delivery; other customers liked to see the wood before they shelled out the money for the delivery. “Got a good supply this winter, buddy?” the chief asked, pulling off his bills.

“Yes, sir. We’ll get you through. I’ll take this load right over.”

“Will you stack it up in the shed out back and put a little on the porch by the mudroom door for me?”

“You betcha. As usual,” Ian said, taking the money.

“You take care now,” the chief said. “Listen…There was this woman looking for a guy about your size, age…Aw, never mind…”

Ian smiled inwardly.
No, chief, couldn’t be me,
he thought. “I’ll get that wood over this morning.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

Twenty minutes later, a truck pulled up and Ian took his last order for wood, then was on his way to deliver his load to the chief. He made a stop for gas and a few supplies—broth cubes, half a roaster, an onion, some celery, a bag of frozen mixed vegetables, noodles, couple of small orange juices plus some fresh apples and oranges, coffee, bread, peanut butter and honey. He was back at the cabin before noon.

The room had chilled down because the stove hadn’t been fed, but she’d kicked off her covers and her little rump was sticking out—lavender and lace. Her face was glowing pink. He put down his groceries and fed the stove. Then he took her juice and more aspirin, waking her. He pulled the quilt over her and made her sit up.

“When are you leaving?” she asked him groggily.

“I’m back. Here, you have to take aspirin. You have a fever. Where are you sick, Marcie? Head, stomach, throat, chest? Where?”

“Ugh. I don’t know,” she said, struggling awake. “I think I’m just tired and achy. I’ll be fine.”

“Juice and aspirin,” he said, lifting her. “Come on now. You got a bug.”

“Ugh,” she said again, lifting up. “I’m sorry. I’ll be better in a little while. It’s probably just a little cold or something.” She took the aspirin—four this time—and washed it down with orange juice.

“I have to go out again, Marcie. There’s more juice on the table. You need that blue pot closer to the couch while I’m gone?”

“No,” she said, settling back against the couch. “I don’t like that pot.”

“I’m going to go see if I can get you some medicine. There’s an old doc in Virgin River—he might have some stuff on hand for cold and flu. It’ll take me almost a half hour to get there, the same coming back.”

“Virgin River,” she said dreamily, eyes closed. “Ian, they have the most beautiful Christmas tree…You should see it…”

“Yeah, right. I’ll be an hour or so. The fire should more than last, but will you try to keep the blanket on? Till I get back?”

“I’m just too warm for it…”

“You won’t be in a half hour, when that aspirin kicks in and drops your temperature. Can you just do this for me?”

Her eyes fluttered open. “I bet you’re really pissed at me right now, huh? I just wanted to find you, not make so much trouble for you.”

He brushed that wild red hair off her brow where a couple of curly red tendrils stuck to the dampness on her face. “I’m not pissed anymore, Marcie,” he said softly. “When you’re all over this flu, I’ll give you what for. How’s that?”

“Whatever. You can howl at me with that big, mean animal roar if you want to. I have a feeling you like doing that.”

He grinned in spite of himself. “I do,” he said. “I do like it.” Then he stood and said, “Stay covered and I’ll get back as soon as I can.”

When Ian pulled into town, the first thing he saw was the tree. Somehow he thought she might’ve been hallucinating from the fever, which had scared the hell out of him. But there it was—biggest damn thing he’d ever seen. The bottom third was decorated with red-white-and-blue balls, gold stars and some other stuff; the top part was still bare. He actually slowed the truck for a moment, taking it in. But what was that patriotic color scheme about? Did they do this every winter? Did they have some town kids in the war?

He shook it off; he had to get something for Marcie. The old doc used to come out to his place when old Raleigh was at the end and real sick, years ago now. Ian had to use Raleigh’s ancient truck to fetch the doctor; Raleigh had never even considered a phone. And neither had Ian.

When he walked into the doc’s house, he saw a young blonde at the desk. “Hi, there,” she said. She stood up and he noted the pregnant tummy.

“Hey. Doc around?”

“Sure. I’ll get him for you. I’ve been here less than two years—does he know you?”

“Sort of, yeah.”

She smiled over her shoulder and went to Doc’s office. Momentarily, the old man was limping toward him, glasses perched on his nose, wild white eyebrows spiking. “Afternoon,” Doc said.

“Hey, Doc,” Ian said, putting out a hand. “Any chance you have anything on hand for a flu bug?”

“Sorry, son—I can’t remember the name. The face I know. You’re…?”

“Buchanan. Ian Buchanan from out on Clint Mountain. The old Raleigh place. I was the one taking care of him at the end.”

“Right,” he said. “That’s right. What’s your complaint?”

“It’s not me, Doc. I’ve got a visitor who showed up yesterday and she took sick in the night. Fever, chills, aches, sore throat…I’m giving her aspirin and juice. I didn’t want to bring her out in this cold—the heater in the truck isn’t too good. But if you have any medicine—”

“I’m chock full of medicine, boy—but I usually like to make my own diagnosis.”

“It’s way out there—You remember.”

“Yeah, yeah, can’t hardly forget that old coot. No problem—I get around. Let me stock up a bag and I’ll follow you back. Most roads out that way are a goddamn mystery.”

Ian felt the roll of bills in his pocket shrink. He was ahead for the winter, but if he ended up needing a lot of diesel fuel and propane through the cold months, he wouldn’t stay that way for long. Then in the spring, the tax bill would come on the property. Summers were easy; they weren’t hot summers but he didn’t need to heat food or water, daylight lasted a lot longer and so did his fuel. He conserved cash for possible truck repairs and things like that. He worked for a moving company on and off in the summer and was paid cash under the table. That gave him time for a garden, fishing and cutting down trees for the winter firewood. He’d get by fine if no major crisis came along—like a serious illness.

Really, the cost didn’t matter. No matter what she needed, even if it was the hospital, he’d find a way. He couldn’t let her be sick. In less than twenty-four hours, all he really wanted was to see her smile like she had in that old picture Bobby had shown him.

He was barely conscious that the woman in the office had made a phone call and shrugged into her coat.

When Doc returned with his bag, he frowned at her. It was more like a glower. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“With you. Jack has David and this is a woman. You’ll end up wanting me there.”

“You’re pregnant and don’t need to be around flu.”

She laughed and her face lit up so pretty. “Like I haven’t been drenched in flu since the cold and rain hit. Gimme a break. Let’s go.” And she headed out the door.

“Damn pigheaded woman,” Doc muttered. “She’d never take an order from me, but you’d think a little friendly advice would be welcome—” Ian held the door open for him. “Women are nothing but a pain in the—Why I never married. Not quite true, no one would have me.” He stopped and navigated the stairs down the porch with his cane.

“Um, Doc—you wanna lock up?” Ian asked.

“Nah. I locked up the drugs and Jack and Preacher are across the street. They smell trouble and they’re armed to the teeth. It’s a dead fool that bothers my place.”

“Hmm,” Ian said. They had it all worked out in this little town. Made him wonder just what that felt like. He hadn’t had things all worked out in a long, long time.

There was a shiny Hummer sitting beside his old truck and the pregnant blonde was at the wheel, waiting. They must do a brisk business these days to afford a ride like that. The roll of bills in his pocket shrank again.

Ian opened the door for Doc Mullins and Mel and once again, Marcie slept so soundly she didn’t realize he was back. “I’ll just check the stove for wood and then wait outside,” he said.

Mel pulled a chair from the table and put it by the couch, giving it a tap so Doc would take a seat. Then she gently jostled Marcie’s shoulder and called out to her, talking over Doc’s shoulder. “Marcie, can you wake up? Come on, open your eyes.”

When Marcie’s eyes came open, Mel smiled. “Hi there. Not feeling so good, huh? You remember me—Mel Sheridan from Virgin River. I’m the one who was dragged off a ladder in the middle of town by a brute.”

“Yes,” Marcie said. “Sure.” And she came awake with a dry cough, turning her head aside.

“This is Doc Mullins. I work with him. He’s a family practitioner. I’m a nurse practitioner and midwife. Ian came for us. His diagnosis is flu. What’s yours?”

“Ugh. It’s probably just a bad cold.”

“But your nose ain’t running,” Doc said. “Sit up for me, girl. I have to hear your chest.” While Doc slid the cold stethoscope under the flannel shirt to listen to her lungs, she treated him to a deep, brittle cough. When she recovered, she took a few deep breaths for him, then sat patiently while he looked in her ears and throat, taking her temperature and palpating her glands.

Mel said, “So, you found your man.”

“I did,” Marcie said. “Your husband told you?”

“Uh-huh. I don’t tell patient business without permission, but Jack’s an open book unless he has specific instructions to keep a secret. How’d Ian take to being found?”

“Thoroughly pissed him off. You should hear him—he can roar like a Siberian tiger. It’s kind of amazing. Scared the liver out of me at first.”

“And now?” Mel asked.

She looked up at Mel. “He saved my life. He said I almost froze to death and he brought me in and warmed me up. He went for you…”

“He said he didn’t want to bring you to town because the heater in his truck isn’t working very well. But I have a good heater and we have a couple of beds at the clinic—”

“Can’t I just stay here?” she asked.

“Are you sure?”

“I came all this way…I’ve been looking for him…”

“You can come to town with us until you feel better, then decide what to do. You can come back if you have unfinished business here. If you need a little backup, there’s my husband and me.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’d rather see this through, then I’ll go home.” And what she didn’t say was that she was a little afraid he might disappear again.

“But do you feel safe with him? It’s pretty rugged out here. Your tiger doesn’t have a lot of creature comforts.”

“I don’t think Ian has much, being out here like this. But it’s enough, isn’t it? It’s warm, there’s food, he made me tea, bought me orange juice. He gave me aspirin…”

“I don’t know him, Marcie,” Mel said. “And from what I hear, you don’t know him either. He’s a recluse—does he even have any friends?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “He has me.”

“Do I take that to mean he’s not roaring at you anymore?” Mel asked.

“I hope so. I think he’s all calmed down.”

“I don’t want to leave you in a bad place. That would be irresponsible of me.”

Marcie smiled a little. “When he was loading his truck with firewood to sell, he was singing. You should have heard him. He has the most beautiful voice. I knew when I heard that voice that he’s ferocious on the outside, but on the inside he’s a tender soul. And I think he’s proving I’m right, in spite of himself.”

“Of course, it’s your decision,” Mel said. “But there’s help if you need it.”

“Flu,” Doc said shortly. “Boy’s good—he should practice medicine. You’ll be all right after a couple of days of feeling like crap. I’m going to give you an antibiotic injection, although it will only treat any bacterial infection you might’ve picked up as a result of a viral flu. You’ll have to ride it out, but you’re young and healthy and seem to have a decent nurse. Ian took good care of the old man who lived here before him. He’s up to the job.”

“That may be,” Mel said. “But before I leave, I’m going to make sure he wants to do that. I’m going to have to ask him, Marcie. If he doesn’t want to take care of you through this illness, he shouldn’t have to—not when there’s an alternative. If his means are slim and he’s not inclined—”

“All right,” she said. “But when you ask him, will you please tell him I have eighty dollars I can give him? For anything I eat or drink?”

Mel smiled. “I’ll be sure to tell him that.”

“And can I ask a favor?”

“Sure. Ask away.”

“Any chance you have an older sister?”

“I certainly do.”

“Well, so do I—Erin Elizabeth. Our mother died when I was only four and our dad when I was fifteen. Erin’s seven years older and took complete responsibility for my younger brother and me. She’s a good person, if a little on the bossy side. She was adamantly opposed to me looking for Ian by myself. In the end there wasn’t much she could do to stop me—I
am
an adult, though she might argue that. Our compromise was that I check in every couple of days and, believe me, she’s more than ready for me to call off the hunt. Erin doesn’t mean to be, but she’s controlling. Sometimes a little hard to take…”

“Well, I have an older sister who can fill that bill. And heavens, you
saw
Jack!”

Marcie smiled. “I saw. Yes, I suppose you can relate. I need someone to call Erin, tell her that I found Ian, that I’m safe and sound and staying with him for a little while. If you could just explain he has no phone, so I’ll call her the next time I’m in town, it might give her a little peace of mind.”

“Is that the extent of your family?” Mel asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Me and Erin and our brother, Drew. But I also have my late husband’s family and there are a million of them. Just because he’s gone now, they won’t ever give me up. I’m far from alone, believe me. If I write down the number, will you call for me?”