Praise for RITA®Award-winning author ROBYN CARR

The American Library Association’s Booklist names Virgin River one of 2007’s top ten romances.

“The Virgin River books are so compelling—I connected instantly with the characters and just wanted more and more and more.”

—#1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber

“Robyn Carr creates strong men, fascinating women and a community you’ll want to visit again and again. Who could ask for more?”

—New York Times bestselling author Sherryl Woods

“Virgin River is sexy, tense, emotional and satisfying. I can’t wait for more!”

—New York Times bestselling author Carla Neggers

“A thrilling debut of a series that promises much to come.”

—New York Times bestselling author Clive Cussler

“Jennifer is a beautifully drawn character whose interior journey is wonderful to behold.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Runaway Mistress

“This is one author who proves a Carr can fly.”

—Book Reviewer on Blue Skies

“Robyn Carr provides readers [with] a powerful, thought-provoking work of contemporary fiction.”

—Midwest Book Review on Deep in the Valley

“A remarkable storyteller.”

—Library Journal

“A warm, wonderful book about women’s friendships, love and family. I adored it!”

—Susan Elizabeth Phillips on The House on Olive Street

“A delightfully funny novel.”

—Midwest Book Review on The Wedding Party

Paradise Valley
Robyn Carr

A Virgin River Novel

www.mirabooks.co.uk

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Virgin River!

Many of you have written to ask if Virgin River is based on an actual town because, if it is, you’d like to move there! I hate to break it to you, but you’d better unpack those boxes—the town lives only in my mind.

Second Chance Pass, Temptation Ridge and Paradise Valley are the next three books in the VIRGIN RIVER series. You’ll be reacquainted with some old friends, as well as making some new ones. As in life itself, the series continues with stories of romantic fulfillment, of lessons learned and of some hard goodbyes. In your letters you’ve told me how much you’ve enjoyed the strong, handsome, virile men of Virgin River. You’ve admired the beauty, inner strength and intelligence of the women. But what I hear about most is your love for a place where commitment is law—and not just romantic commitment, but the bonding of brotherhood, the fealty of neighbors, the loyalty of an abiding friendship.

I know many of you have ties to the military, and the fact that the Virgin River men have served their country in times of war has added greatly to their charisma. Apart from their obvious sex appeal, it is their solid, emotional core that so many of you have responded to. These characters embody values we all regard as admirable. Honorable.

So, although Virgin River is a fictional town, it can be created in any heart. It’s a place where a glass is half-full, where people gain strength from shouldering their burdens and challenges, where people do the right thing simply because it’s the right thing to do.

Want to live in Virgin River? Just close your eyes and open your heart.

Robyn Carr

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Special thanks to my very own midwife consultant, Pam Glenn, and to Sharon Lampert, women’s health nurse practitioner, with deep appreciation for all the long talks, advice, reading, editing and most of all, for being extraordinary friends.

Chief Kris Kitna of Fortuna, California, Police Department, has been a wealth of information on local detail, law enforcement, firearms, hunting and so many other things. Special thanks for never tiring of my constant questions.

Debbie Gustavson, physical therapist extraordinaire, my gratitude for taking so much time to help me understand the physical, emotional and psychological stages in rehabilitation and recovery. Your patients are very, very lucky to have you. And I am blessed to have you as a friend.

Without Kate Bandy’s input on every fresh manuscript, I would be so lost. Thank you for all your time, your valuable comments, your undying support and a friendship that has sustained me for decades.

Michelle Mazzanti, thank you for reading early drafts and propping me up. Every comment offered was always spot-on and crucial to helping me craft a better book.

Special thanks to Rebecca (Beki) Keene and Sokreatrey (Ing) Cruz, my two dear Internet friends. Beki gets applause for helping to solve plot problems and Ing is a genius at coming up with character names. Your support through a million e-mails discussing characters and stories has been priceless.

Thanks again to Denise and Jeff Nicholl for reading and commenting on manuscripts, and for wonderful encouragement and friendship.

To Colleen Gleason, talented author and special friend, thank you for hand-selling so many copies of the Virgin River series. You are like a one-man band!

And a very special and heartfelt thanks to my editor, Valerie Gray, and to my agent, Liza Dawson. What a fabulous team. Your diligence and assistance at every turn made this little town and its people possible. I’m so grateful.

This book is dedicated to my son, Dr. Brian Carr,

U.S. Army Medical Corps. And to our armed forces,

to all the men and women who stand the watch.

I am very proud and personally grateful.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

One

Walt Booth was feeling lonely. He’d been widowed over five years ago when his kids were twenty-six and fourteen. Now that he was sixty-two, the kids were on their own. Vanessa was married to Paul and they lived on the property on the other side of the stable, and Tom had nearly completed his first year at West Point. Walt’s niece, Shelby, had been staying with him, but during the February freeze she had left to vacation in Maui before pursuing her education in San Francisco.

But that only scratched the surface. He’d recently begun a relationship with his neighbor, a beautiful, vivacious, mischievous movie star just a few years younger than he was. Muriel St. Claire. Their liaison was just getting interesting, just heating up, when she was lured back to Hollywood to make another film. He was left with her two Labrador retrievers and her two horses. He’d had one phone call since she’d departed for L.A. via private jet, a call in which he had heard the background noise of a party. There was music, chatter, laughter, the clinking of glasses, and Muriel sounded on top of the world.

The truth of the matter was, he’d gone and fallen in love with her. She had trapped him by being nothing like his perception of a movie star. She’d come to Virgin River almost a year ago, moved into an old farmhouse with her animals and restored it, almost entirely by herself. He’d never seen her in anything but slacks, usually jeans and boots, often painter’s overalls. She was a crackerjack horsewoman, an expert shot and was training her own bird dogs for hunting waterfowl. Earthy. Basic. Yet her wit was sophisticated and her beauty natural and unforgettable. And right now, while he sat by the window in his great room, scratching her dog behind the ear, she was making a movie with Jack Nicholson. The truth? He wondered if she’d come back.

His doorbell rang and he hefted himself up to answer it. Two weeks ago he’d felt like a sixteen-year old boy, looking forward to seeing Muriel every day. Today he felt old and short on time.

He opened the door to Luke Riordan and frowned. This was just about the last person he’d like to see right now. Luke and Shelby had had a romance that didn’t work out, which Walt suspected was her reason for leaving.

“Morning, General,” Luke said with a slight nod. “Got a minute?”

“I guess,” he said, standing back from the door. “Coffee?”

“No thanks, sir,” Luke said, stepping into the house. “It’s just that—Well, I owe you an apology.”

“That so?” Walt asked. He turned and walked back into the great room. The dogs spied Luke and immediately put the rush on him. Luce, the chocolate Lab, sat in front of him politely, but her tail wagged so violently it sent her whole body into a quiver, while Buff, less than a year old, lost all control and just barreled into him, jumping up and head butting for attention. “Buff! Down!” Walt admonished. It didn’t do much good. The yellow Lab was pretty much out of control where visitors were concerned.

“Whoa,” Luke laughed, grabbing the Lab behind the ears and sitting him down. “Got yourself some company here?”

“These are Muriel’s dogs. She’s out of town and I’m taking care of them.”

“Out of town?” Luke asked, straightening.

Walt sat in his chair and clicked the dogs back to his side by snapping his fingers. He didn’t volunteer any more information about Muriel’s whereabouts. With a Lab on each side of him, he indicated the chair facing his. “Take a seat, Riordan. I’m anxious to hear about this apology.”

Luke took his seat uneasily. “General Booth, sir, I’m the reason Shelby left a little over two weeks ago. I apologize, sir. She had every reason to think her future wasn’t secure with me and she left.”

Walt settled back. Shelby was twenty-five to Luke’s thirty-eight and Walt had been concerned that his niece’s involvement with this tough-edged Blackhawk pilot might end with her being hurt. “How does that not surprise me?” Walt said churlishly.

“I let her go, sir. I thought she might be better off. I hated to think she’d bet everything on someone like me.”

Walt smirked. He couldn’t have put it better himself. “I should’ve just shot you,” he said. “I gave it serious thought.”

Luke couldn’t suppress a huff of silent laughter. “I figured you did. Sir.” Luke hadn’t been out of the army quite long enough to relax about that rank thing. The general was a general till he died and was accorded appropriate respect, even when he acted like a son of a bitch and threatened Luke’s life.

“You should be apologizing to her, not me,” Walt said.

“I’ve taken care of that, sir. Unbelievably, I’m forgiven.”

“You talked to her?”

“Yes, sir. She came back. She was pissed as hell, but I threw myself on her mercy and she’s given me another chance. I plan to do better this time.”

Walt’s eyes had grown wide and his bushy black eyebrows shot up high. “She’s back?”

“Yes, sir. She said to tell you she’d be right over. She had something to take care of and I wanted a word with you first.”

“To apologize,” Walt groused. “I’d like to see my niece, if you don’t mind.”

“She’ll be here pretty soon. But there’s another thing. I’d like your permission to ask Shelby to be my wife.”

Walt ground his teeth. “You’re really pressing your luck.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half.” Luke chuckled before he could stop himself. “Almost thirty-nine years old and I’m buying into the whole program. It’s not even one of her conditions—it’s one of mine. General Booth, she’s everything to me. I can’t live without her. I thought I could and I tried, but it’s too late for me. I’m in love with Shelby. I’m going to be in love with her for the rest of my life.”

Walt was sitting straighter. He moved to the edge of his chair. “What about her education? What about a family? I think my niece wants a family and I heard you say that wasn’t—”

“You probably heard me say a lot of things I thought I meant and didn’t, sir. Shelby can have anything she wants, do anything she wants—I’ll support her. I’m not going to waste her time, sir. If she’ll marry me, I’ll give her everything I have, go anywhere she needs me to go. She won’t ever again leave my house thinking I don’t care about her. That could have been the biggest mistake of my lifetime.”

Walt smiled in spite of himself. “Learned your lesson, did you, boy?”

Luke didn’t mind so much being called a boy by this military icon, but the truth hit him pretty hard. “Oh, man,” he said, shaking his head. “You have no idea.”

Walt leaned back. “I like seeing you humbled a little bit, Riordan. What if I withhold my permission?”

“Oh, I’ll ask her anyway. I’ll tell her you disapprove and ask her to overlook that. But I’d like to do this right, sir. I’ve made enough mistakes—I don’t want to make one more.”

“Hmm,” Walt hummed. “I guess I can still be surprised….”

“Sir?”

“I didn’t figure you for intelligence.”

Luke just shook his head. Well, this was no less than he deserved. He’d taken the general’s niece into his bed, telling her he just wasn’t the kind of man who could settle down. He used every rationalization he could think of to make that all right, but he knew all along that was going to be real tough for the general to swallow. He also knew if Shelby were his niece, he wouldn’t have stood for it. Now Walt was obviously going to torture him for a while. Luke supposed it was his just due.

The front door opened and Shelby breezed in. Both men shot to their feet, but Luke got to her first, slipping an arm around her waist. “Take care of everything?” he asked quietly.

“Uh-huh,” she said, smiling up at him. “I got off easy.” Shelby had left Virgin River without saying goodbye to Luke’s helper, Art. That in itself wasn’t such a crime, but Art was a thirty-year-old man with Down syndrome and things like disappearing without an explanation or goodbye could seem like abandonment to him. “He wasn’t angry with me—just worried.”

Then she went to her uncle. “I’m sorry I didn’t call and let you know I was coming back, Uncle Walt. I had business to take care of with Luke first.”

Walt looked at her beautiful, shining face. Her hazel eyes glowed, her cheeks were flush with love. But looking at Shelby wasn’t the startling part. One look at Luke told the rest of the story. Luke had always had that bad-boy edge, an aura of danger and a short fuse. No more. All the rough edges had been ground down and his expression was docile as a puppy.

Walt just laughed as he pulled Shelby into his arms. He hugged her fiercely. “Shelby, Shelby,” he said. He held her away from him and, grinning, he said, “Looks like you’ve tamed him. He doesn’t have any fight left in him.”

“Thank God,” she said. “I don’t think I could take much more. He’s been a real handful. But Luke still needs a little work, so I’m going to be staying with him now. I’ll be over to help you with the horses every day, just like always.”

“That would be nice, honey,” he said. “There are a lot of horses. Muriel’s out of town and I’ve got the dogs and horses.”

Shelby reached down and gave each Lab a little scratch. “Where is she?”

“She’s gone back to Hollywood for a while. Going to make a movie.”

“Really?” Shelby asked, grinning hugely, her eyes lighting up. “Wow. How awesome.”

She would find that exciting news, Walt thought. He had told Muriel she had his devoted support in achieving everything her heart desired, but in fact he wasn’t feeling real supportive. He was feeling jealous and lonely and out of sorts. And this news about Shelby and Luke just added to his misery.

He shook it off. “Luke?” he asked, looking at the man. When he had Luke’s attention, Walt gave his chin a firm nod. And that was all it took to make Luke Riordan’s eyes light up as though beacons shone from within.

At 1:00 a.m. the phone rang next to Walt’s bed. He thought first of Shelby; she’d thrown her lot in with Luke and Walt hoped nothing had gone wrong. He thought next of Vanessa, Paul and little Matt, his grandson. Young Tom crossed his mind—but a middle-of-the-night phone call from West Point was highly unlikely.

“Walt?” came Muriel’s voice before he could gather his wits and say hello. “Darling, I’m sorry—I know what time it is.”

Darling? Did she call him darling? Oh, those Hollywood types probably called everyone darling. “It’s all right,” he said sleepily. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m okay. This is honestly the first chance I’ve had to call in days. But it’s not going to stay this crazy. I hope.”

“What’s going on?”

“Well, everything. The production company has been staging small parties in key places all over town, trying to create some preproduction buzz about the movie by having cast members show up. I’ve been researching the character, spending some time with the writer, rehearsing lines they’ll only rewrite the second I have them down, looking at wardrobe and set sketches with the production designer, and generally going out to lunch, drinks, dinner, drinks, and talking till midnight. Then I fall into bed and sleep like a dead woman till 5:00 a.m. when I get up and jump on the treadmill.”

He just shook his head in confusion. “What’s the treadmill got to do with anything?”

She laughed. “I have to be in good shape. And I don’t have the dogs or horses to help me do that. I hired my old trainer back to firm things up a bit. I know it doesn’t sound like it, but I’m working my ass off.”

“Well, stop going out for all those drinks and you’ll feel better.”

“I stick to club soda when I’m meeting with actors, producers, promoters, et cetera. They’re not catching me with my pants down.”

He smiled and felt instant shame for having baited her like that. And pride; she was a consummate professional—he should have known that. “That’s my girl.”

“Tell me what’s going on there.”

“Shelby came back,” he said.

Silence answered him. “She did?” Muriel finally asked in a shocked breath.

“Yes, ma’am. And apparently Luke did enough groveling to satisfy her, because she’s moved in with him. And this morning he paid me a visit, asked my permission to propose.”

“Get out of town! Did you grant it?”

“No. I told him to go to hell. I should have just shot him. I told him that.”

“Oh, you’d like me to believe you’re that kind of bully, wouldn’t you?”

“The silly girl seems to love him. And you should see him. Whipped into shape that fast. I bet if we pulled up his shirt, there would be lash marks all over his back. He’s limp as a noodle.”

“I bet he’s not,” she said with a laugh. “Well, good for Shelby. That maneuver never worked for me. When I stomped off into the night, they just said, ‘Okay, bah-bye.’”

“What’s Jack Whatshisname like?”

“Are you ever going to say his last name?” she asked with a deep sigh.

“No.”

“He’s a nice man. Professional, punctual, talented, and very much enjoys the way people fall at his feet. And they should. He’s got the gift. I like him. I think working with him again will be a good experience.”

“Muriel,” he said softly, “when are you coming home?”

Equally soft, she answered, “I don’t know, Walt. And yes, I miss you.”

Jack’s bar was the place in Virgin River where the locals gathered. Not that everyone was there every night, but you could always count on seeing a friend there. There was a military backbone to this community since Jack Sheridan, a Marine who’d done his twenty, had opened the bar. Following him to the town was one of his best friends, John Middleton, known as Preacher, who was his partner and the cook at the bar. Next to arrive was Mike Valenzuela who’d served with Jack in Iraq twice and was now the town constable. Walt’s son-in-law, Paul, was one of Jack’s boys from way back and had also served with him twice. Even Luke Riordan, being ex-army, was welcomed into this brotherhood. It was the kind of place Walt felt he belonged.

Since Muriel had left, he’d been going low profile, generally fixing himself a little dinner at home by himself. Since talking with her for a while last night, he was feeling a little more secure about things and decided on Jack’s for dinner. In fact, he got there a bit early, before the dinner crowd. The TV perched high in the corner was on so Jack and anyone who cared could keep up with the news, with the action in Iraq.

Jack was toting his son David in the backpack while he served. “General,” he greeted. “Good to see you, sir. Been a while.”

“I guess it has,” Walt said, hopping up on a stool. “What do you hear from Iraq?”

“Rick writes at least every couple of weeks. He doesn’t scare me, but CNN and Fox News make me shiver. There were just a couple of big bombings over there. Casualties on our side.”

Jack had a young protégé who’d entered the Marine Corps at eighteen and after a year of special training, had deployed to Iraq. The boy was like a son to Jack.

“You’ll get a kick out of this, sir. I’m getting computer literate. E-mail is sometimes quick and easy for Rick when he’s near a computer and I don’t want to miss out on anything. Preacher’s been after me for years—he has the books on the computer. And of course Mel needs one at home. So…I’ve finally had a conversion.”

“Welcome aboard,” Walt laughed.

“I suppose you’ve been spending time with the neighbor lady.” Jack put the general’s preferred brew in front of him without being asked.

“As a matter of fact, Muriel has left town for a while and I’m taking care of the dogs and horses.” Walt said this with a touch of pride. The studio contract had provided for help with her dogs on location and someone to stay at the farmhouse and take care of the horses, but Walt didn’t want these valuable extensions of Muriel in the hands of strangers and had asked her to trust him to do the job. “She’s gone back to Hollywood to make a movie. I imagine she’ll have long weekends here and there, but it’ll probably be close to six months before they’re done.”

“No kidding?” Jack said. “I had no idea.”

“It was pretty sudden.”

“Must’ve been sudden.”

“Oh-ho,” Walt said, sipping his beer. “One minute she was considering a script she described as having possibilities for her if the right people were involved. The next minute I was driving her to the airport.”

“Whoa.”

“My exact reaction,” Walt said. “I’ve spoken with her a couple of times. She’s hard at work. And the animals are fine.”

Jack smiled. “Gives you some time on your hands, then.”

Walt just nodded. It was hard after all these years to regress. He’d forced himself to get used to living a single man’s life after his wife died. In fact, he had never expected to find another woman to fill that space. But once Muriel had, it astonished him how quickly he got used to female companionship. And not just any companion, but a woman who seemed perfect for him. While she was here, riding, shooting, hunting, refurbishing her house, he realized they were made for each other. But the minute the call came from Hollywood he began to think he’d been ridiculous to imagine they had anything in common. It was so easy for her to pack up her cosmetics and dainties, board a fancy Lear and take off for another kind of life.

“I saw Shelby and Luke the other night. They came by for a beer and a take-out dinner. Looks like things are back on track there,” Jack said.

“I guess so,” Walt said. “Do they look content?”

Jack leaned toward him. “In every sense of the word,” he said. Then he laughed. “Took Luke lots longer to bite the dust than I gave him credit for.”

“I just want Shelby to be in good hands,” Walt said.

“Oh, General, there’s no question about that. Luke gave up the fight.” And he grinned. “He’s all hers.”

“Better be,” Walt growled. “I wouldn’t mind shooting him.”

Jack laughed at him. Walt put the fear of God in a lot of men, but there was no evidence he’d actually done any physical harm. However, he had enough hot air in him to float a balloon.

Only a moment later, Mike V came in the back door and sat up next to Walt. Then came Paul, whose approach was always signaled by the banging of his muddy boots on the porch before coming inside. Walt remembered why this place soothed him; a few men enjoying a beer at the end of the day, Jack with his coffee cup—male camaraderie. And then Mel came in, the baby tucked under her coat.

After she said hello to everyone, she asked Mike, “Brie coming out to dinner?”

“Not tonight. She’s going to get the baby settled early, if possible. Little Ness likes to burn the midnight oil.”

Mel looked at Paul. “Vanni?”

He shook his head. “Vanni’s cooking tonight.”

“And Abby?” Mel asked, speaking of their houseguest.

Paul shook his head. “Cameron’s taking her over to Grace Valley for an ultrasound, and he offered to take her to Fortuna for something to eat afterward, just to get her out of the house.”

“Ah,” Mel said. “I knew he had an errand and I’m on call till he gets back. That’s nice of him to do for Abby.”

Paul nodded. Then with a semitortured look he tried to conceal, he turned to Walt. “Vanni mentioned Muriel’s out of town, sir. Would you like some dinner?”

Walt looked him up and down shrewdly. Paul had his wife all to himself for a change and was going to begrudgingly invite her father to join them? “I don’t think so, son. Though the deep sincerity of your offer touches me.”

Everyone laughed but for an indignant Paul. “Aw, come on, I was really nice about that! Sir.”

“You were a peach,” Walt said, knowing he was getting a little grumpy. “I’ll just sit here and have dinner with Jack.”

“Where’s Muriel, Walt?” Mel asked.

He was tired of explaining about this, and it hadn’t been all that long. “Making a movie,” he said unhappily.

“Really? How exciting! Since she was looking forward to a long break from that, it must be quite an important film.”

“Yeah, so she says. Jack Whatshisname is the star.”

“Jack What’s…Jack who?”

“You know. Big star. Cuckoo’s Nest guy…”

“Nicholson? Holy shit,” Mel said.

“Melinda, we were going to stop saying shit in front of the kids,” Jack patiently reminded her, glancing over his shoulder toward David in the backpack.

“Oh shit, I forgot. But, Walt, that’s really something, isn’t it? I mean, he’s huge. This must be a thrill for her.”

Walt got a fairly dangerous gleam in his eye. “I suppose she’s thrilled to the heart of her bottom.”

“Well, no wonder you’re so pissy,” Mel said with a laugh. “Jack, since everyone’s clearing out, I’m going to get some dinner from Preacher to take home. I’ll get the kids fed and settled. Can you sneak away quickly if I get a call? Since Cameron’s headed for Grace Valley, I need to be on call for medical emergencies.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mel,” Mike said. “I’m going home, I’ll back you up. If you get a call before Jack locks up, just holler. I’ll walk over and sit with the kids.”

“Thanks, Mike. Jack? Want to help me get loaded up?”

“Sure, babe. Let me get this little guy into his jacket and I’ll give you a hand. Walt, I’ll have your dinner in a minute.”

“Take your time,” he said. “I have a beer to finish.” And wounds to lick, he thought.

Cameron Michaels found himself in a very unique position—trying to court a woman who was pregnant with his twins. They met a few months ago in Grants Pass when a series of strange circumstances brought them together. It was a night of unforgettable bliss. Neither of them thought they’d ever see the other again.

He’d been at the Davenport Hotel Steak House because that’s where he and the partners in his former pediatric practice liked to have dinner together every other month or so and she was there for one of her best friends’ wedding. Nikki Jorgensen had married Joe Benson and the reception was at that hotel; Vanni was the matron of honor and Abby an attendant. One thing led to another and Abby fled to the hotel bar to escape all that true love and mush at the reception. Cameron had no idea some of his friends from Virgin River were in the banquet room when he met Abby in the bar. It was a fling—the kind of fling Cameron thought he’d outgrown and Abby had never before in her life considered. And of course it had to lead to pregnancy, something they were both carefully trying to prevent.

When she came to Virgin River to sit out her pregnancy, Cameron was the last person she expected to run into. But Cameron had ties to Virgin River and loved the place. He had known old Doc Mullins, deceased a few months ago, Mel and Jack Sheridan, Vanni and Paul. He saw a chance for a change of lifestyle and decided to give Virgin River a year. No small part of that decision was the fact that he couldn’t find the woman he’d had a wonderful night of love with. How strange that he ended up in the same town she’d chosen to hide out in. Cameron was certified in family practice and pediatrics and his service to Virgin River was invaluable.

Right now the complications in his relationship with Abby were extreme. Abby was in hiding because she’d been legally married when she met Cameron, though she hadn’t seen her husband in almost a year. The husband was a semifamous rock star who’d had her sign a prenup promising fidelity or there would be no alimony. When the divorce was final, he’d also left her with a hefty pile of credit-card bills and she needed his money to pay off his debts. If anyone found out she’d conceived the twins before the divorce was final, she’d be in a deep financial mess.

Cameron was trying to take it nice and slow. Abby had lots of reasons to fear rushing into a serious relationship. The first time she did that, she ended up married to an unfaithful jerk who tied her up with a binding prenuptial agreement. The second time she’d thrown caution to the wind, she’d gotten pregnant. With twins.

So Cameron had called her and said, “Mel would like you to have an ultrasound and meet Dr. Stone, the OB in Grace Valley. I thought maybe I could take you and then, if you’d like, we could have dinner in Fortuna. Something simple and quiet. Just a chance for you to get out. And for us to spend an hour or two together.”

And she had said, “That’s a very nice offer, but why don’t I just take myself to Grace Valley, meet the doctor, have the ultrasound and come back home?”

“Because, Abby, I’d like to see the ultrasound.” When that statement was answered with silence, he said, “It’s typical for Mel to take an OB consult to meet John Stone—he won’t think there’s anything unusual about me taking you. This can be our secret as long as that’s what you need, but really—we have to spend a little time together at some point. Talk, like we did before all this happened. Get to know each other. Again.”

He could hear the reluctance in her voice when she finally accepted. What the hell? He’d backed her into a corner. He knew the babies were his and he wasn’t going to give them up. He couldn’t force her into a romantic relationship, he wouldn’t force her to acknowledge the relationship that produced the babies, but he wasn’t going away quietly. They were his children. It meant a lot to him.

She meant a lot to him. But he couldn’t make her fall in love with him.

Cameron arranged for the ultrasound to be scheduled for the end of the day, when John was done with his appointments. It would be logical to go have dinner after that. He picked her up at 4:00 p.m. and conversation was a little lumpy and strained on the way over. He’d prepared a script: Tell me about growing up. I’d like to hear about your flight-attendant years. What are your plans for after the babies are born?

But none of that worked out because she took the conversation in another direction right off the bat. “I need to tell you something, Cameron. Vanessa has guessed about our secret. She remembered that I slipped away from the reception and of course she knew you lived in Grants Pass. It must have been something in the way you looked at me or spoke to me, but she knew. She was very direct. She told me you were a good man and deserved a chance.”

He was speechless. “God bless Vanessa,” he finally said in a breath.

“Yes, well, I trust her and I know she has good judgment, but that doesn’t eliminate certain difficult facts. One, even though I slept with you, I don’t really know you. We’re probably highly incompatible. And two, I’m still hung out to dry by a nasty little prenup. An unfair, diabolical prenup that was the closest thing to a swindle I know. And three, Vanessa is sworn to secrecy because I don’t want anyone to know about us. I’m pretty embarrassed about what I did. I can’t afford to risk word leaking back to my rotten ex.”

“Well,” he said. “That certainly spells it out for me.”

“I intend to protect these children to the best of my ability.”

He reached across the front seat and gave her hand a pat. “I really appreciate that, Abby. That’s courageous of you.” She looked at him and saw that his eyes had grown very dark, almost navy blue. And dead serious. “So do I.”

And from there all the way to Grace Valley they traveled in silence.

John Stone was as cordial as he could possibly be, happy to see Cam and delighted to meet Abby. They talked for a while about how he’d like to follow the pregnancy closely, along with Mel, because he assumed the babies would come early. It was important to be sure the babies were in position for a vaginal birth, and ultrasounds would be required. John didn’t want her to be too far from a neonatal intensive care unit if they came too early or if a C-section was required. He asked her to step up her appointments for caution’s sake.

And then he set her up for the ultrasound. “Little early to determine the sex of the babies. Do you want to know if it’s obvious?”

“Yes. Sure,” she answered.

He’d barely gotten started when he laughed. “Whoa,” he chortled. “Right out in front, we got ourselves one boy. He’s blocking the other one, but in a couple of months they’ll be bigger, move around a little more and we’ll get a better view.”

And Cameron, who had seen and done so much medically, especially where children were concerned, began to lose the edge of control he’d always managed to maintain. His eyes clouded; his heart pounded. A son! Oh God, a son! He tried to blink back the emotion, but couldn’t seem to stop it. He grabbed Abby’s hand and squeezed it. “Look, Abby,” he said in a whisper. “That one in front, the bossy one taking over, it’s a boy.”

Thank God she was emotional, too. It might take the focus off him. “My God,” she whispered.

“They look perfect,” John said. “And you’re on target for July second, but if we make thirty-six weeks, we’re in good shape. They look good, Abby.” He was poking her belly, trying to get them to move around, directing the wand to check their internal organs, their limbs, their skulls. “I’m going to have Mel draw some blood, check for things like Down syndrome, spina bifida, a few other genetic abnormalities. But there’s no reason for you to be less than completely optimistic.”

She looked up into Cam’s eyes, he looked down into hers. Both of them had tears on their cheeks. Cameron gently wiped hers away.

“Oh boy,” John said.

Cameron looked up. “Listen, John, whatever it is you think you might know, you don’t know anything. Am I clear?”

“Everything in this clinic is confidential,” John said. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No,” Abby and Cam said in unison.

“Well then,” John said. “You have at least one boy on the way. And my lips are sealed. But damn—those are some good-looking babies.” He grinned. “I can’t wait. How about you?”

The first ten minutes of the car ride from Grace Valley to Fortuna for dinner were silent but for the sound of Abby’s completely irritated, shallow breathing. Finally, through clenched teeth, she said, “I can’t believe you did that!”

He knew exactly what he’d done. “I was overwhelmed.” No apology, no further explanation.

“And now Dr. Stone knows!”

“So what? I’m the father!”

“You gave me your word that you wouldn’t divulge! You said it could be my secret as long as I wanted it to be!”

“Vanessa knows!”

“That’s because she guessed!”

“And John guessed when I got tears in my eyes at the sight of my son!”

“It’s my son! You’re just a sperm donor who wanted a quick roll in the hay with some chick you met in a bar!”

Cameron drove a few hundred yards and then slowly pulled off to the side of the road. He turned the car around and headed back in the direction they’d come.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m taking you home,” he said.

“Fine!” she retorted. “That’s fine with me!” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared out the window into the deepening dusk. And it was a long, long ride back to Virgin River in silence.

When Cameron got to Walt’s property, he didn’t go immediately down the road toward Vanni and Paul’s. He stopped the car as the road veered around the back of the stable. He turned off the ignition and pivoted in the driver’s seat, facing her. “Do you remember the night we met, Abby? And the conversation we had before going to the room? It was about that list you had—the one about what you were looking for in a man?”

She glowered at him and nodded, grudgingly.

“An important item was manners. You might want to remember that.”

“Listen, Cameron—you got me into this mess and—”

“I had help,” he said firmly. “Lots of help.”

“Just take me home. Please,” she said just as firmly.

“In a minute. You need to listen to me now. Pay attention, Abby. If being considerate and accommodating isn’t going to work with you, I can change my approach. Regardless what nasty twist you put on things, I never intended to be a sperm donor. Nor was it my idea that we never see each other again after that night we spent together. I looked for you. I wanted more time with you. I never saw it as a quick roll in the hay. That was your doing when you disappeared on me, refused to contact me, even though you promised you would.

“It’s very important that you understand something,” he went on. “I’ll try to work with you as much as you allow me to, but if you try to separate me from my children, I’ll fight. I’ll come after you. I’ll launch a search that will make Columbus look like a novice. So don’t even think about pulling something sneaky. Whether you like it or not, we’re in this together.”

“Take me home. Please.”

“Did you hear me?”

“I heard,” she said. “Now I’d really like to go home.”

He turned back toward the road and pulled around the stable to the front of Vanni and Paul’s house, Abby’s current residence. When she went to jump out of the car to flee, he grabbed her wrist and held her back. She turned and looked at him with a little panic in her eyes. “Abby, I can’t make you like me, but I can make you allow me to be a father to my children. I know a hundred ways. Please remember that.”

Without reply, she pulled her wrist from his grasp and exited the car. Cam watched her walk up the porch and into the house. He sat for a moment, took a deep breath and turned on the dome light to look at his watch. Just after six-thirty. Mel was on call tonight until he checked in, and there were seldom any calls. Doc Mullins had managed a forty-year practice on one whiskey at the end of the day and Cam needed one. Bad.

He turned around and headed for Jack’s.

Abby walked into Vanni’s house and leaned her back against the closed front door. Vanni and Paul were in the great room, both of them on the floor with the baby. She looked at the scene of domestic tranquility and burst into tears.

Paul and Vanni were both instantly on their feet.

“Oh my God,” Vanni said, rushing to her, Paul on her heels. “Was the ultrasound all right?”

“Beautiful. Dr. Stone said they’re perfect.”

“Why in the world are you crying?”

“I had a fight with Cam,” she said, tears running down her cheeks, her words caught on a sob.

“Cam?” Paul asked, confused.

“I was upset. He got all teary when he saw the ultrasound—one of them is for sure a boy. I hated that he got emotional in front of John Stone and I lost my temper.”

“Oh, Abby…”

“He got emotional?” Paul repeated, more confused. “Cameron?”

“Vanni—I called him a sperm donor! I was so mean.”

“Oh, Abby!”

“Sperm donor?” Paul said, totally lost.

“He laid it out for me, very seriously. Angrily. He’s not getting out of my way on this. He’s going to be a problem—as if I don’t have enough problems.” She leaned toward Vanni and wept on her shoulder. “He said he can’t make me like him, but he won’t let me take the babies away from him!”

“Like him?” Paul said. “Babies? What the hell’s going on here?”

Vanni looked over her shoulder at Paul. “Cameron’s the father—don’t tell anyone.”

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Abby stressed tearfully.

Paul was quiet for a long moment while Vanni just held Abby, comforting her. Finally he found his voice. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I didn’t mean to be so hostile,” Abby wept. “Maybe it’s pregnancy.”

“Sure it is, honey,” Vanni comforted.

“Wait a minute,” Paul attempted. “Wait a minute here.”

“Long story, Paul,” Vanni said. “Just don’t tell anyone. I’ll explain later, okay?”

“But I thought they just met!” Paul said.

“Obviously they didn’t just meet. Don’t be a dimwit. I’ll tell you about it later, after Abby gets calmed down.”

Paul turned away from them and went to pick little Matt up from the floor where he played. “Must be a long story,” he muttered. “Very, very long. Say, about five months long?”

“Abby, you’re going to have to apologize,” Vanni was saying. “You can’t be like that to him. I mean, you don’t have to be in love with him or anything, but you have to be civil. He has his rights. And he’s not a bad guy. In fact, he’s a very good guy.”

“I know, I know. It just got under my skin that I’m in charge of carrying these babies and giving birth to them and I still have no control! None! I just lost it.”

“Well, when you tell him that, everything will be—”

“Um, ladies?” Paul said from behind them. “You’re going to be at this a while, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Paul,” Vanni said. “Sorry.”

“Oh God,” Abby erupted. “You were going to have sex! You were alone for the first time in forever and were going to have sex, and I came home early and ruined everything.”

“It’s all right, baby,” Vanni said. “We can have sex anytime.”

Paul ran a hand around the back of his neck. “Well, actually…” Having sex at all around here was a lucky shot, with a baby, a houseguest and the general popping in, something that would be happening more now, with Muriel out of town. Anytime was pure fiction.

Paul pushed little Matt at Vanni. “Know what? I’m going to step out for a while. Go have a cup of coffee with Jack or something. You two get yourselves settled down. Hmm?”

“Sure,” Vanni said, taking charge of the baby. “Probably a good idea.”

As Paul was going out the door, Vanni was asking Abby, “Have you eaten, honey? Let me get you a little something to eat and we can talk about this.”

Two

Cameron walked into Jack’s and found at least a dozen people at different tables finishing up dinner. He sat up at the bar.

“Hey, Doc,” Jack greeted, slapping a napkin down. “How’s it going?”

“Great,” Cameron said unenthusiastically. “Can I have a scotch? Neat. Something good. Good and powerful.”

“Sure. Long day?” Jack asked as he turned to select a label that might do the trick.

“It got long. Don’t worry—I’ll have some dinner and coffee and take your wife off the hook for on-call.”

“We have that all worked out, Doc. But I thought you had dinner out with Abby tonight.”

“That didn’t exactly work out.”

Jack laughed. “That should thrill Paul. He had the idea he was going to be alone with his wife.”

“Yeah, well, it was beyond my control,” Cameron said. “Believe me.”

“Everything all right?”

“Dandy,” he said. He lifted his drink. “Swell.”

Cameron hadn’t even sipped his drink when Paul walked in. He sat next to Cam and put his elbows on the bar. “What you got there?” he asked Cameron.

“Scotch.”

“Gimme a Crown. Same recipe,” Paul said to Jack.

Jack got down a glass and poured. “I could’ve sworn you had plans for the evening,” he said to Paul.

“I thought so,” he said. He lifted his glass and took a drink. “But then Abby came home, having some kind of emotional crisis, and Vanni got all hooked up in that.” Paul glared briefly at Cameron. “Lots of crying. Carrying on.”

Cameron turned toward him. “I did not do anything to bring that on,” he said rather harshly. “I was completely courteous. Thoughtful. I was wonderful.”

“I know that,” Paul said. “I gather she brought it on herself. She said she lost her temper. Said some rude things. Mean things.” He sipped. “You’re gonna have to let it go, man. Cut her some slack. For being pregnant and out of her mind. You know?”

Jack was leaning on the bar, listening closely to this conversation that was, thankfully, not overheard by other dinner customers. Only Paul and Cameron were at the bar.

“I handled it the best way I could,” Cameron said.

“She said she feels like she has to do everything—having the babies and everything—and feels like she has no control.”

“She has no control?” Cameron asked hotly. Then he laughed bitterly.

“Yeah, well, she’s feeling real bad about it now.”

“Is that so?” Cameron said. “Well, guess what? I feel real bad about what she said, too.” Then he looked back into his drink and sulked.

“Come on,” Jack said. “What the hell could she have said?”

Cameron looked up from his drink. “She called me an unkind name.”

Jack laughed at him. “Well, you’re a big boy. What could a little pregnant girl call you that would get you so riled up?”

“Never mind. It’s over.”

“How about—sperm donor,” Paul supplied.

Cameron shot Paul an angry look. “Way to go, dipshit. Anybody ever tell you you have a big mouth?”

“When Vanni said not to tell, I didn’t think she meant you. I mean, you know. Right?”

Cameron glanced at Jack.

“Don’t worry about Jack,” Paul said. “He doesn’t talk. Well, he does, but when he has specific orders not to, he can manage to keep his mouth shut.”

Then Jack, caution drawing every word, said, “Now, why in the world would she say something like that to you?”

“I can’t imagine,” Cameron said, pouting.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better about things, Vanessa called me a dimwit for asking just about the same question.” He took a drink. “Apparently we have ourselves a situation. Dad.”

“Whoa,” Jack said, straightening up. He reached for another glass and tipped the bottle over it. Jack usually waited until closing to partake, but it seemed appropriate to commiserate with these two. “Was everything all right with the ultrasound?” he asked warily.

“Fine,” Cameron said, sipping. “Babies look great.”

“And at least one’s a boy,” Paul said, picking up his drink. After a swallow he found Cameron glaring at him again. “What? I wasn’t told not to tell that.”

“You are a dimwit,” Cameron patiently pointed out.

“Yeah? Well, I’m a dimwit who was going to get lucky once the baby was tucked in, until you got Abby all upset and crying and—” He stopped suddenly. He shook his head dismally.

“Gentlemen, I propose a toast,” Jack said, lifting his glass. “Let’s drink to silence. If this conversation ever leaves this bar, we’re all going to die. Skinless.”

“Silence,” the other men agreed.

“All right,” Jack said, “since there’s a pact of silence, I just want to know when this could have happened. How this could have happened.”

Cameron put down his glass. “The weekend of Joe Benson’s wedding in Grants Pass. And, in the usual way.”

“You weren’t at that wedding,” Paul pointed out.

“I had dinner at the hotel restaurant that night. I met her in the bar. Now, that’s all I’m saying about it. And if you let on to Abby that I said that much, my situation is only going to get more impossible. You follow me here, Paul?”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“Do about it?”

“Well,” he said, looking over each shoulder to make sure they weren’t being overheard, then leaning close to whisper. Jack, of course, leaned down to not miss a word. “She’s pregnant. You’re the father. Anything come to mind there, bud? Like maybe marriage?”

Cameron put down his drink impatiently. “Pay attention, Paul. I couldn’t even get her to go to Fortuna to eat at a restaurant with me. She hates me. I was a perfect gentleman, back then and tonight, but she hates me. She called me a sperm donor.”

“Whew,” Paul said.

“Whew,” said Jack.

All three men lifted their glasses in misery.

Vanessa put water for tea on the stove for Abby and while it heated she put little Matt down in his bed with his bottle. When she got back to the kitchen, Abby was blowing her nose, wiping her eyes. While Vanni let the tea steep, she put some leftover roast beef, potatoes and carrots on a plate and warmed it in the microwave. She put the tea in front of her friend and left the dinner in the microwave. Vanni pulled herself a beer out of the refrigerator and sat down opposite Abby. “Done crying yet?” she asked.

Abby nodded. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Well, I do. My emotions were so crazy when I was pregnant, I don’t know how anyone could stand to be around me. I was a complete wreck.”

“I should be so ashamed,” Abby said with a sniff. “You had it so much worse.”

“That has nothing to do with it,” Vanni said. “You’ve got a good bit of stress right now. Between being unmarried and having all those bills and that horrible prenup, it’s small wonder you’re a bit…reactive.”

Abby blew her nose. “I complain about having no control, then I lose control. It makes no sense.”

“Abby, I’m not known for wisdom, I’m best known for having the worst goddamn temper. Direct quote from my husband who has no temper at all. I want you to know, I’ll stand by you and support you, no matter what your next move is. But, here’s what I think you should do. I think you should go to the clinic first thing in the morning and apologize to Cameron. I think you should have a frank talk with him about how you two are going to manage parenting these children. You two only have to make one commitment—that’s to them. This can’t go on. You’re not going to let them go, and neither is he. You have to find a way to work together, whether you’re friends or not. But so much better if you’re friends. For them. Huh?”

“It just makes me so furious!” Abby got out, another tear rolling down her cheek.

“What makes you so furious?”

“That he ended up here! That he found me out! That now, in addition to everything else, I have to find a way to deal with him! I just wanted to have my babies, take them to my mother’s and get on with my life.”

“Yeah? Well, Abby, you have no right.”

Abby looked up, eyes wide and glassy, a tissue scrunched in her hand.

“Listen, I told you I knew Cameron before Paul finally stepped up to the plate and told me how he felt about me. Well, I can’t say I knew him all that well back then—we had two very platonic dates. But we did a lot of talking and I learned that he really expected he’d be married with a family by now. He wanted a wife, children. He loves kids so much that he did a second residency in pediatrics. He—”

“Yeah, I know all that….”

“Abby, just listen to me. We’ve been good friends for a long time, you and me. We flew together, partied together, cried over the miserable losers we’d hooked our hearts on together. When I think of some of the jackasses we thought we could turn into husbands…God, it makes me shudder.

“As your friend, I can be honest with you. And as my friend, you owe it to me to hear me out. Abby, you have no right. You have as much responsibility as he does for this situation you’re in. And he has as much right as you to be a parent here. I think it would have been a tragedy for Cameron if you’d succeeded in disappearing with his children. He deserves to be able to tell his family he’s going to be a father. His mother deserves to know she’s going to be a grandmother. It might be complicated and imperfect, but I bet it’s one of the best things in his life right now. I think that if a problem arises in working this out so you can parent your children together, the problem will be you. Not him.”

Abby was speechless for a moment. “Wow,” she finally said.

“That’s harsh, I know. But, Abby, that’s the truth as I see it. You don’t have to marry him, you don’t have to love him, but you do have to let him be a father to his children. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He doesn’t deserve your rage. Kid Crawford, your sleazy ex-husband, you go ahead and hate him if you want. But I can’t sit quiet while you punish Cameron. He’s a good soul. And if he hadn’t turned up here, running into you by the sheerest accident, I would consider it your responsibility to find him and tell him the truth.”

Abby leaned across the table toward Vanessa. “Listen,” she said pleadingly, “are you sure you’d be so sane and logical if you were in this mess?”

“Eventually,” Vanni said easily. “It might be hard to get to sane and logical, but I’m not worried—you’ll eventually get there, yourself. Because Cameron won’t ever do anything to hurt you. You’ll at least share parenting, and he’s so great with children, he’ll be a wonderful father. Do you have any idea how many women wish they had parenting partners that wonderful? Get it together, Abby. You’re stuck with this and it’s not a bad deal to be stuck with. What if they were Kid Crawford’s babies?” She stood up and went to the microwave, giving it another forty-five seconds to rewarm the dinner. “Let’s get some decent food in your stomach, a good night’s sleep, and tomorrow you can start mending your fences.”

When Abby went to bed, she lay awake for a very long time, just thinking. She knew Vanessa was right about almost everything. Of course Abby had to be more cooperative with Cameron, and she had no real concern about Cameron’s ability to be a decent parent. If she hadn’t guessed that much when she met him a few months ago, she certainly knew it now. He took her crap and still honored her needs, protecting her privacy, trying to keep her from panic and fear. His attention was a hundred percent aimed at the welfare of the children.

And there was the rub. Despite what she said, Abby still had memories of their night together in Grants Pass that made her skin turn hot. Cameron was a dream lover. His every word and action made her feel adored. In his hands satisfaction had been complete, shatteringly perfect. He was just the kind of man every woman hoped for.

He was probably exactly that way with every woman he coaxed into bed. The charm, the sensitivity, the power, even the humor. After all, once he realized he was face-to-face with her and she carried his babies, he hadn’t said he thought himself to be in love with her. He’d demanded his paternal rights but hadn’t suggested marriage.

He had said he’d looked for her. Wanted more time with her…

She flopped over in bed. She had to let him off the hook for that love-and-marriage thing—she’d have laughed off any declarations of love anyway and she’d never have agreed to marry him, a virtual stranger. That would be crazy.

But he was right, and Vanni was right. He’d been considerate of her feelings and she had been a shrew. Her children would be better off with a good father they could be proud of, than they would be with no father at all. These ideas cost her quite a lot of sleep that night.

She was up very early, but she didn’t beat Paul to the kitchen. He was having a cup of coffee as dawn was just barely peeking over the horizon. He looked over the rim of the cup with round eyes. “I apologize,” she said before even saying good-morning. “I was a little crazy last night, but I’m going to the clinic first thing this morning to apologize to Cameron and try to work with him on our…project.”

He smiled slightly. “I guess that’s a good idea. Considering.”

“Got any better ideas?” she asked.

“Abby, I don’t know anything about having babies,” Paul said. “I just know that when little Matt was coming I worried so much about him. Vanni was so upset and sad, I worried that might hurt the baby in some way. I think Mel was worried, too, but she told me that if being worried and scared caused serious problems, there wouldn’t have been a single healthy birth in the history of the world. I just wish you could be happy.” He cleared his throat. “I bet Cameron’s on your side. Bet he wishes that, too.”

She tilted her head and just smiled at him. “You’re right. I have to work on that. After all, I have some problems, but they’re under control at the moment. And I’m going to move forward with Cameron. If he doesn’t hate me too much…”

“Oh, he doesn’t.” She shot him a questioning look. “I’m sure he doesn’t,” he amended. He smiled lamely.

“I wish I could have a good strong cup of coffee,” Abby said, looking jealously at Paul’s big mug.

He laughed at her. “See, that by itself could make you cranky. All the things you give up to be a good mother.”

Vanessa was barely up with the baby when Abby was shrugging into her coat to leave the house. She thought if she got to the clinic before they opened, she could have a word with Cameron in private. She wasn’t sure what that word was going to be besides, “Sorry.”

She had to bang on the door more than once and finally, she saw a shadow approaching. She glanced at her watch; it was only seven-thirty and they weren’t due to open for business till nine. When he opened the door, her first word was right on. “Oh, sorry.”

He was wearing sweatpants, his chest and feet bare, a towel slung around his neck and his hair wet from the shower. She flushed a little, remembering that wide, hard chest as it had been pressed against her breasts. And those muscular arms that had held him up over her to keep from crushing her with his weight.

“I wanted to get here early, but I think I got here too early,” she said.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, opening the door for her. “You all right?”

“Well, I guess so.”

“What’s wrong, Abby?” he asked, looking instantly concerned. “Are you sick? In pain? Anything physically wrong?”

“I was a bitch. I came to apologize.”

“Oh,” he said, letting out a slow breath. “Forget it. You were upset. We were both upset. Having twins isn’t stress free. Let’s let it go.”

“I thought maybe we could talk a minute, if you have time.”

He gave her a small smile. “How about a cup of herbal tea?”

“I’d rather have a strong cup of coffee with a little Irish Mist and lots of cream, but I suppose that’s out of the question….”

He laughed lightly. “Bad idea. But there’s tea in the kitchen. Mel has it on hand for the pregnant girls.”

“That’s me,” she said. “Mel’s not a tea drinker?”

“Oh, no. Mel’s a hard-core caffeine junkie. She’d take it in the vein if she could.”

“I relate. I might be in withdrawal. That could be half the problem.”

“The tea is herbal, so it’s also decaf.”

“Beautiful,” she said sarcastically. “One blow after another.”

And this time his laugh was a little stronger. “Come to the kitchen. Have you had breakfast?”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll save that for after we’ve talked a bit.”

He filled the kettle and glanced over his shoulder. “Something about this little mission of yours upsetting your stomach?”

“Something about two babies is upsetting my stomach. Double morning sickness. It’ll pass.” She sat down. “I’ve already thrown up this morning, so we’re safe for a while.”

Cameron stared down at the kettle on the stove. She wouldn’t understand this, but he wished he could have been there for that. He’d like to be around for even the worst parts of the pregnancy; he’d like to be the one she complained to, blamed, criticized and harangued. Even though he was already getting plenty of that, he hated that she suffered her upset without his arms around her, comforting her as she calmed down. Crazy as it was, he wanted to watch her turn pea green, shoot for the bathroom, come out white as a sheet and fall into his arms. He’d like to be the partner, not the silent partner. He’d like to feel her big belly pressed up against him at night, waking him with the romping inside. He turned around and looked at her. “Would you like some soda crackers?”

“No, thank you.”

“You’re still having morning sickness at five months?”

“’Fraid so. Mel said it happens. Some of us are lucky. And I’m double lucky. My hormones have obviously gone wild.”

He got a cup and tea bag ready, poured himself a cup of high-test coffee, strong the way Mel liked it, and sat at the table with her.

“I don’t know where to start,” she said. “Cameron, I was mean and horrible last night and I’m sorry. I think I felt out of control. I’m not really angry with you. I’m not afraid you’d be a terrible father. It’s just this mess of mine. I’d like to keep you out of it. I’d like to keep the babies out of it.”

“I understand.”

“That night…The night this happened…” She took a breath. “I was upset, depressed, didn’t know which way to turn…. I never meant for something like that to happen. I shouldn’t have let it happen. It’s all my fault.”

“Abby, there’s no fault,” he said. He reached for her hand, but the teakettle whistled and he pulled back. He stood and fixed up her tea, bringing it to her. He got a spoon, cream and sugar. Then he sat down again while she dunked the tea bag. “Listen, it wasn’t about fault. We’re adults. We were adults that night, and it wasn’t a bad night. It was nice.”

“It was a mistake,” she said. “That isn’t the way I get to know men.”

“I know that. It isn’t the way I get to know women either,” he said. “We deserve a second chance.”

She sighed. “Which is the point. Vanni sat me down last night. She gave me a stern talking-to. If we’re both going to be parents, we have to at least get along. I can’t treat you like the enemy—you’ve been nothing but nice to me. I guess I just don’t know how to go about that—the getting along part. The part where you get to be the father without anyone knowing you’re the father.”

“We should have just talked about it. Because I have some ideas about that.”

Her eyes shot open wide. “You do?”

“I do,” he said.

She leaned her chin on her hand. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

“First of all, we don’t have to explain anything to anyone, ever. There’s the starting point. We can be friendly now without any suspicion. We can see each other casually, become friends. Abby, you’re a beautiful, sexy, funny woman. You’re carrying twins and I’m a pediatrician. I love babies and beautiful women. The fact that you’re a single pregnant woman wouldn’t scare me off—why would it? For someone like me to be attracted to someone like you, even if we hadn’t had our history, isn’t so strange. People are likely to think it’s a Lifetime movie. Nothing but happy endings.”

“I don’t know about that,” she said.

“Well, I’m not embarrassed by what happened. If we wanted to, we could just say we met in Grants Pass while you were visiting your good friend, we got to know each other, we got along. We didn’t date long, but there was an attraction and…well…these things happen. The details aren’t important and none of anyone’s business but ours.”

“These things happen,” she repeated, shaking her head.

“It’s not mysterious. In fact, it’s not a crime. The few people who know aren’t going to tip off Kid Crawford, if that’s what has you panicked.”

“Few people?” she asked.

“It’s up to a few. There was Mel, Vanni and Dr. Stone. Now there’s Paul, and thanks to a little time we had at the bar together last night, Jack. Jack’s the only wild card, I think, and he won’t say anything because he doesn’t want to have to deal with Mel on that issue. Paul doesn’t want Vanni to kill him, so he’s airtight.”

“Shew,” she said.

“Thing is, it might get out eventually. It’s kind of funny in a way—”

“Funny?”

“Think about it—two strangers are sitting alone in a bar, feeling sorry for themselves, and not only do they get together and find a lot of comfort in each other, they start a family. And not just a baby, but twins. Then they end up in the same small town. No one would believe it. I know it wasn’t planned, but I’m not sorry about the outcome.”

She looked angry. At least indignant. “Well, I’m sorry!”

“No, you’re not. You hate the complications, but there are twins coming and I’m going to be around to help you with that. One’s a boy. I hope the other one’s a girl. These might be the only kids I get, and I hope I get one of each.” He grinned stupidly and knew it.

“You know, if you had all these legal and financial things hanging on you, you wouldn’t be so cavalier.”

“I think we should see a lawyer,” he said.

“I have a lawyer!”

“I’m not sure you have a good one. You got screwed.”

“Listen, Cameron, I can’t afford another lawyer. The last one almost wiped me out. I pulled all my retirement funds, cashed in my stock, which wasn’t much, sold my condo…”

“I’ll take care of it.”

She was struck dumb. “Why would you do that?”

“Because, Abby, it’s in my best interest to help you get this monkey off your back. If we have a clean slate, maybe we can work as a team.” He sat back. “That’s my hope.”

“I don’t want you to do that,” she said sternly. “I don’t want to owe you that much.”

He just shrugged. “You’re stuck with me either way. They’re mine as much as they’re yours.”

“What a godawful, stinking mess,” she said, pouting and lifting the cup to her lips.

Cameron was silent. Frowning. When she put the cup down, she looked at him and said, “What now?”

He shook his head and said, “You wouldn’t want to hear about some of the sad things I’ve seen in my practice. Abby, you’re worried about all the wrong things—about who’s going to pay for the lawyer, about being embarrassed that we didn’t have a long relationship before this happened. Give thanks. The babies are healthy and strong and, so far as we can tell, perfect.”

Her hand went to her tummy. “Are you the calm and reasonable one because you’re not the pregnant one?” she asked.

“No, sweetheart. Because I’m the desperate one. You’re holding the prize.”

By the time Jack got home at the end of a long day, the children were asleep and Mel was on the computer. He kissed her, then went to the kitchen and looked through the mail. He found a letter from Rick.

Since the boy was thirteen, Jack had looked out for him, tried to help him into manhood with strength and courage, with goodness. It was with a combination of pride and trepidation that he had sent him off to the Marine Corps at the age of eighteen. It was Rick’s decision, one hundred percent. Jack never fought him on it, though he had wanted to send Rick to college and had put aside money for that.

Now Rick was in Iraq where Jack had served two tours in his own Marine career. Rick sent a letter home to Jack sometimes as often as every two weeks, at least once a month, and he usually sent it to the bar so that everyone could hear the latest news. He also wrote to his grandmother, who was his only family, and his girl, Liz, who lived in Eureka.

But this letter hadn’t gone to the bar. Jack ripped it open at once.

Dear Jack,

God, I’m sorry to do this to you. I gotta get this out—and I don’t want my grandma or Liz upset. But you know about this stuff. You know how it is, and I have to lay it on someone who won’t freak out. You would’ve gotten some of this on the news, but you wouldn’t have known it had anything to do with me. We moved on Haditha Dam, doing house-to-house searches, trying to root out al Qaeda insurgents, and one of the squads right in front of us was obliterated by a bomb. A truck bomb. There was only one survivor in that squad, and they were a tight squad. Tighter than ours. One survivor, Jack. Holy Jesus, I think I’d rather be dead than watch eleven of my best friends blow up. I knew some of them. Sonny was waiting for a baby, Gravis was engaged, and Dom was this little Italian kid who was just scared shitless all the time. He wanted to go home so bad, he cried. Cried. But his whole squad was holding him up, taking care of him, trying to bolster him and prop him up all the time. They never cut anyone out of their fold—no matter what kind of problem they had. The guy that made it, the one guy, he has a girlfriend back home, and he’ll get back to her, but he’s going to be messed up. But he doesn’t even get to leave yet—they’re moving him to another squad. Holy God, I hope they move him out of the worst of this shit—it’s horrible.

They were right in front of us, Jack. Another two minutes, it would’ve been us. I can’t hardly sleep since that happened. A couple of my boys puked and one fainted, I think. He got back on his feet real fast and denied it, but I think he really passed out. There was so much screaming I couldn’t tell if it was me or the rest of them. It was all black and cloudy and then it was all blood. I wanted to die on the spot. I hit the ground because there was so much shooting I didn’t know for sure I wouldn’t take one from my own platoon.

Right after the bomb and all the shooting, an Army Cobra came in and bombed the shit out of one of the buildings. Debris everywhere, really heavy stuff. Big hunks of cement and wood, flying like missiles through the air.

This place is like hell sometimes. I’m sorry to write you this stuff. Don’t tell anyone—don’t get anyone scared or upset. My grandma and Liz can’t know this shit. We just have to keep them thinking positive.

And then—if all that crap isn’t bad enough, I think I killed a guy. We couldn’t recover a body, but I saw a sniper and I nailed him. If he managed to crawl away, he didn’t get far because he left behind too much blood to make it out alive. I didn’t believe this could happen, because I was so far away, but I saw the look on his face. And for just one second I thought, why’d I get him before he got me? War can’t be luck. Not with the amount of training we put ourselves through.

My squad’s all shook up. Hell, the battalion’s all torn up. Since I’ve been over here, I haven’t seen an American die—and then eleven of them went up in one giant explosion. Jack, it was the worst thing I’ve ever seen. And then I killed a guy.

I’m sorry. I had to tell you. Don’t get anyone upset with this. Burn this.

Jack, I’m not scared. Sometimes I get nervous, my adrenaline gets pumping real hard, it works on my brain a lot, but I’m okay. I don’t want you to worry that I’m scared and will do something stupid—I use the fear to keep me sharp. Some of the boys are terrified, but it’s real easy to see it isn’t going to do them any good to give in to that.

I’m still okay. But I had to write this to someone who could take it, someone who’d understand, because it’s so freaking awful and if I keep it in my gut, it’s going to eat me alive.

Rick

Jack’s hands shook as he read. And reread. He had fallen into a kitchen chair. He felt his wife’s small hand on his shoulder and turned his eyes up to her.

“What is it?” she asked him.

“It’s from Rick. It’s not good. It can’t be shared with anyone, he says.”

She held out her hand. “That doesn’t include me,” she said.

“Mel, it’s very ugly.”

“I need to know what makes your hands shake, Jack. We get through things together.”

“Yeah,” he said wearily. He handed her the letter, let her read. Before she got to the end, tears were running down her cheeks. “Dear God in heaven,” she whispered. “Our poor boy. God, all the poor boys.”

Jack was up until three in the morning, writing to Rick, telling him he could send any kind of letter he wanted, Jack would always be there to read it. He wrote anything he could think of to pump him up, tell him how proud he was, how completely sure he was going to make all the right decisions. He praised him for his ability to empathize with his boys—the ones who survived, the ones who were having a hard time. And he wrote, “Yeah, buddy, we’ve all seen some bad, bad stuff. When you’re home, you’ll better appreciate all the good stuff. I swear to God.”

And then Jack went back to his previous practice of writing a letter a day to Rick. Anything to keep him going, keep him positive.

A few days later, at about four in the afternoon, before the dinner crowd showed up and the bar was quiet, she came in. Liz. Rick’s girl. She stood just inside the door and smiled at Jack. Jack smiled back. What irony that she should turn up just a few days after Jack had received that letter, the one that threatened to rob him of any hope for a good night’s sleep till he had his boy home.

The first time he’d seen Liz she had been a fourteen-year-old hottie. She wore tight tops, skirts the size of napkins, high-heeled boots and heavy, dramatic makeup. His boy Rick went right over the edge. Despite all Jack’s counseling, Rick ended up in trouble with the girl; he just didn’t get that condom out of his pocket in time.

The next time Jack saw Liz, she had been so different. She actually looked younger than the first time. A pregnant child; a little girl of fifteen with no makeup, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt pulled over her pregnant tummy, her hair pulled back in a childish ponytail. And that was the real Liz, the girl Ricky loved and stood by. That was the girl who got him in so much trouble at school while he made himself late to every class making sure he got her past the sniggering girls in the hallway and into her classroom. Rick never once complained. He wanted nothing so much as to do right by her.

Jack had been so proud of the way the boy stuck with her, protected her, was there for her through everything. Then their baby had been stillborn—a tragedy, a horrible way for these kids to grow up. But they’d been so strong, so brave.

And this was what Liz had become—a beautiful young woman, almost eighteen. She was so lovely it almost took his breath away. Her hair was long, light brown with blond highlights, her eyes sparkling. She still wore daringly tight clothes, but she’d started adding tasteful elements, like today’s tan suede jacket. She wasn’t the showy, seductive nymphet anymore. And her makeup was light, only enhancing her natural beauty, rather than making her look like a too-young hooker, thank God.

She walked up to the bar, jumped up on a stool and leaned toward him to give him a friendly peck on the cheek. “How are you?” she asked.

“Never mind me. How about you?”

“Good. I graduate in June. I have straight As. Rick will be happy about that.”

“Are you happy about that?” he asked with a laugh.

“I’m very proud of it. I didn’t think I could do it.”

“But…are you doing it for Rick?”

“Well, I was,” she said with a nod. “But I have to admit, I like the feeling. School was so easy for Ricky—he always got straight As without hardly trying. I’d like to think I’m almost as smart as he is, even if I do have to work at it real hard.” She smiled at Jack. “But, I signed up for community college in the fall.”

“Good for you. Nothing wrong with hard work. If it’s any comfort, it never came easy to me, either. Any idea what you’d like to be when you grow up?”

“None whatsoever. Well, I know some things—I know I want to be with Rick. When he’s ready.” She sighed. “Jack, sometimes I miss him so much.”

“Me, too, kiddo. What do you hear from him these days?” he asked, praying she wouldn’t ask him the same question.

“I got a letter last week. I think he’s having a hard time. He won’t tell me anything bad, but there’s a certain…something. I can’t describe it. It’s like he’s having trouble writing things down, and he keeps repeating the same things over and over. I just hope he’s all right.”

“Lizzie, men who serve, even when they’re not real close to the action, tend to bring home some issues with them. Know what I mean, honey?”

“I know.” She dropped her gaze briefly. “I’m trying to read about it, but it’s scary.”

“There are groups, Liz. Military spouses who get together to support each other. You could check it out.”

“Oh, I couldn’t, Jack. I’m not a wife. They wouldn’t—”

He smiled. “Bet they would. You’re not the only girlfriend waiting for her guy to come home. If you think it could help you understand some things, you should give it a shot.”

“Do you think that would make it easier for Rick?” she asked.

Nothing is going to make this easier, Jack thought. But he didn’t say it. He smiled. “Maybe. The point is, if it helps you, it might end up helping him. Why not at least ask? If you can find a group in your area?”

“I guess I could check. Does it cost anything?”

He frowned. “I doubt it. Why? Is that a problem?”

“I’m saving every penny Aunt Connie pays me for helping in the store. When Rick gets his R & R, I want to meet him. I’ll go anywhere. I got a passport.”

Jack was momentarily stunned. That had never occurred to him—that Rick would spend his leave anywhere but Virgin River, and that Liz would travel to see him. The shock must have shown on his face, because she smiled.

“I’ve never been anywhere,” she said quietly. “Anywhere at all.”

“This is kind of a big step.”

“Bigger than spending nights with him at his grandma’s house? Bigger than having a baby with him? Than promising I’ll love him forever? Come on, Jack.” She laughed. “By now you should be used to this. We’re not giving each other up.”

Jack smiled at her, but he was thinking, All I want in this world is for everything to work out for you two now. You’ve earned it. Burying a baby, going to war, being left behind. You’ve gone through things some couples married twenty years haven’t gone through—and held it together. God, no one deserves it more. But he said, “Liz, things usually work out the way they’re supposed to. You need to have faith and think positive.”

Three

Since moving part of his family’s construction company to Virgin River, business had been good for Paul Haggerty. He was working on a new construction, a forty-five-hundred-square-foot house for a couple from Arizona. It would be their second home; the people were obviously stinking rich. He’d snagged the job out from under the local contractors by promising to deliver the finished home ahead of schedule. With the reputation of his family’s company in Grants Pass plus a little tour of a couple of his completed properties, it was a quick contract. In addition to getting the job, he’d convinced them to talk to Joe Benson, his best friend and architect from Grants Pass, about a design.

Now he had to deliver.

He had a couple of houses and three renovations in production. But business was only as good as his crews. He’d hired some solid, skilled people, and when someone messed up, didn’t show for work or couldn’t follow orders, he didn’t screw around—they were gone. Which meant the hiring and firing was a continual process.

He kept his office in a construction trailer at the big homesite. That was the project that was taking the most time. The weather was warming up a little, but it was still brisk in the mountains in March. He looked up from the schedule on his clipboard to see a man walking toward him holding a folded newspaper. Another job applicant. Well, good. With any luck he’d be hireable.

The man was good-sized and appeared strong. He wore an odd-looking cowboy hat, jeans, denim jacket and boots, looking so much like everyone else up here in the mountains. He was clean shaven and his clothes appeared to be fresh; Paul took that as a positive sign.

When he got up in front of Paul he stopped and said, “Hi. I’m looking for the boss at Haggerty Construction.”

Paul put out his hand. “Paul Haggerty. How you doin’?”

The man accepted the shake. “Dan Brady. Good. You?”

“Excellent. What can I do for you?”

“You advertised for a drywall man and painter. That spot filled yet?”

“I can always use help with that, if you have what I need. Let me get you an application.” Paul turned away to go into the trailer.

“Mr. Haggerty,” Dan said, stopping him.

Paul turned. He was used to being in charge, but he didn’t think he’d ever get used to being called mister by a man his age or older.

“I don’t want to waste your time or mine. I served some felony time. If that’s going to stop you cold, let’s not go through the routine.”

“For what?” Paul asked.

“Farming the wrong produce, you might say.”

“Anything else on your sheet?” Paul asked.

“Yeah. I turned myself in.”

“Any other arrests? Of any kind? Even misdemeanor?”

“That’s it. Isn’t that about enough?”

Paul didn’t respond or react. He’d keep secret the fact that he’d feel better hiring a pot grower than someone who’d had a bunch of DUIs. One thing that could really mess up the works and get people hurt was drinking on the job. “Do you have a parole or probation officer you report to?” Paul asked.

“I do,” he said. “Parole. I was released early, if that matters.”

“How long have you been out?”

“Not long. Six weeks. I checked in with the family and relocated.”

“Why here?” Paul wondered aloud.

“Because Virgin River is known for discouraging marijuana growing.”

“Well, Dan, my business isn’t limited to Virgin River. There’s lots of work around these mountains and I’m willing to take any good bid if I have the crews to cover it. There could be a job in a place that caters to illegal growing, like Clear River. That going to be a problem for you? Or for me?”

Dan grinned. “Old acquaintances of mine aren’t likely to be doing honest work. I think it’ll be all right.” Then he shook his head. “One of ’em might order up a big house, however. I just hope not.”

Paul laughed in spite of himself. He wasn’t going to be doing business in cash. If that ever came up, they’d have to use a bank, and growers didn’t like banks. “Then the next step is your application. I’d like to see what you’ve done in construction, then we’ll talk.”

“Thank you, Mr. Haggerty. Thank you very much.”

Paul got him an application, gave him a pen and clipboard. Dan sat on the steps to the trailer and filled it out. A half hour later he handed it to Paul who scanned it.

“You’ve had a lot of construction experience,” he said, surprised. He looked up. “Marine Corps?”

“Yes, sir. I started working construction at eighteen, Marine Corps at twenty-five.”

“The Corps came kind of late for you. A lot of us went in younger…”

“I thought about it for a long time first. And the military benefits seemed worth the time. Not a lot of benefits in the construction trade.”

“I offer medical benefits for full-time crew,” Paul said.

“That’s no longer a priority,” he said.

“You have an address in Sebastapol.”

“That’s my folks’ place—my permanent address. I haven’t found anything around here yet, but I have the camper shell, so I’m good while I look.”

“You’re a framer, too. I need framers.”

“I could probably do it, but I have an unsteady leg. Since Iraq. I do a lot of other things that don’t go fifteen feet off the ground and that would probably keep your workman’s comp manageable.”

Paul pondered the application for a good two minutes. The guy looked real good on paper. He’d been a felon, but then again, Paul had fought wildfire as a volunteer beside incarcerated felons recruited for that purpose. “What are the chances of getting a letter of recommendation?”

“Slim. But the sheriff’s department might be willing to confirm that I was a cooperative suspect. I guess my parole officer might step up. I could ask, but you know that won’t guarantee I’d be a good employee.”

“How bad you want a job?” Paul asked without looking up.

“Bad.”

“Bad enough to take a urine test every now and then?”

Dan Brady laughed. “Sure. But I can make that easy on you. I can sign a release to give you access to the parole officer’s random urine test, then you don’t have to pay for a lab. I don’t do drugs. Never did.”

“Then why?” Paul asked, mystified.

“Money,” he said with a shrug. “It was for the money.”

“Do you regret it?” Paul asked.

Dan Brady paused a long moment before he said, “I have a list of regrets about a hundred miles long. That would fall in there somewhere. At the time, I needed the money. Times were hard.”

“Are times still hard?” Paul asked.

“Those times are past. Oh, I still need money, but it’s all different now. Prison changed a lot of things, believe me.”

“Says here you do just about everything—drywall, texturing, painting, plumbing, wiring, counters, roofing—”

“Roofing—there’s that high-up thing again. Sorry, you have to know the truth, my unsteady leg can take me by surprise. I’ll do anything, but you should have the truth about that for both our sakes. One, I don’t want a broken back, and two, you don’t want an injured jobber on your insurance.”

“When was the last time you took a fall from that leg?”

“Well,” Dan said, scratching his chin, “a couple of years ago, I fell in my mother’s upstairs bathroom, and that wasn’t even high beams. I didn’t hurt myself much, but one minute I was standing up, the next I was on my ass. Like I said, I could get up there on the roof, if that’s the price of getting the job, but I’ve made it a policy to stay close to the ground if at all possible. In case.”

Paul laughed. “How’d you like the Marines?”

“The truth? I think I was a decent Marine, but I didn’t love it. I got mostly shit assignments. I went to Iraq right off the bat, when things were as bad as they could get. When I was discharged, it was one of the happiest days of my life.”

“I did my four and joined the reserves and went back to Iraq a second time. One of us was smarter. I vote for you. But that felony thing—”

“I understand….”

“What if I give you a shot? Think I’ll regret it?”

“Nope. I’m good in construction. Before I started doing it for a living, I helped my dad build our house. And I’ll pee in a cup for you. I don’t steal or get in fights. But if I were you, I’d keep me close to the ground. I’ll get a lot more done.”

Paul smiled and put out his hand. “Well, what the hell, Dan. You paid your debt. But I am going to check in with the parole officer, just to get another read on you.”

Dan put out a hand. “Knock yourself out there, sir. He thinks I have potential.”

“Then we’re off to an excellent start. If you have any talent, you’re coming on at a good time. This company is young and growing.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I’ll do my best.”

Dan Brady worked the rest of the week for Haggerty Construction. He was moved around so Paul could see his work. He did some drywall and texturing, hung a couple of big, carved front doors with leaded-glass windows, spackled, fitted countertop, even helped with some wiring. “Do you do everything in construction?” Paul finally asked.

“Just about,” Dan answered with a shrug. “I started when I was fifteen, trained by the toughest boss in construction. The man was a tyrant.” Then he grinned proudly.

“Your dad,” Paul said.

“You work for him, too?” Dan asked facetiously.

“Tell you what, you stay out of trouble, you might work out.” Then Paul slapped him on the back.

Dan worked on Saturday as well; they were pressed for time on the big house. But the crew supervisor told everyone to knock off at two in the afternoon and be back Monday morning bright and early.

Dan had less than forty-eight hours to get a few things done. He had to do some laundry, buy some nonperishable food he could keep in his camper shell, and he should see what he could find out about renting a room, apartment or small house. But first, he was due a beer. He might be able to accomplish more than one chore by stopping in that little bar in Virgin River. The guy who owned the place might know if there was anything to lease in the area. Just on principle, Dan didn’t want to ask his new boss.

He walked into the bar and a couple of seconds later Jack came out from the back.

“Aw, Jesus Christ,” Jack said. “You again.”

Dan took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “Nice to see you, too.”

“Aw, man—you’re the one. Paul hired you!” Jack stepped up behind the bar, hands on his hips. “He said he hired a big guy who wore a funny-looking cowboy hat. Guess he doesn’t know a Shady Brady when he sees one.”

Dan just shook his head and gave a half smile. “You hold some kind of grudge or something? What’d I ever do to you?”

“Just seems like when you’re around, there’s some kind of trouble.”

“Yeah, and sometimes when I’m around, someone needs a lift. Didn’t I pick you up off a dirt road in the middle of a wildfire? Jesus, some people have no gratitude. Can I get a beer or are you going to glare at me all day?”

“You got clean money this time? I don’t take money that smells like fresh-cut cannabis.”

“Didn’t you get the word? I’m rehabilitated. I work construction, and that’s all.”

Jack lifted one eyebrow. “You went to jail?”

“For a while, yeah. Paul didn’t tell you?” Jack shook his head. “How about that,” Dan said. “He’s a gentleman, too.”

Jack pulled a cold Heineken out of the cooler, remembering the man’s preferred brew, popped the cap and put a chilled glass on the bar. “Listen, he’s a good man. He works hard, he’s honest, he treats people right. He’s a family man and has good friends around here. Real good friends. You better not screw with him.” Jack nodded at the beer. “You need a Beam to go with that?” It was usually a boilermaker—Heineken and Jim Beam.

Dan smiled. “No thanks, this is fine. Look, buddy, all I want to do for your friend is construction. He gave me a job. I need a job.” He put out his hand. “Dan Brady.”

“Brady?” Jack asked with a laugh. “Had to be Brady.”

“Interesting, huh?” He put the hat on the bar. “My signature.”

Jack hesitated a moment before he put his hand out and shook Dan’s. “Jack Sheridan.”

“Yeah, I know. Now, can we move on? No reason we have to go head to head every time we see each other. I’m hoping to live here. At least for a while.”

“Why here?” Jack asked suspiciously.

“I’m not likely to run into any old business associates in here.” He grinned. “The bartender won’t take stinky money.”

“You saying we understand each other?” Jack asked.

“I never had a problem understanding you, pal. Fact is, if this were my bar, I wouldn’t have taken my money either. But that’s all in the past. And I need some information, if you have it.”

“We’ll see,” Jack said.

“First of all, I’m bedding down in a camper shell and it’s fine, but I thought you might know of something to rent around here.”

Jack knew of a number of possibilities. Luke Riordan had six cabins on the river, recently updated. There was a couple in town who let out a room over their garage from time to time. And Jack had his cabin in the woods. But there was a vast difference between giving the man a job and watching him work and inviting him to spend the night. “Sorry,” Jack said. “That’s the thing about these mountain towns. Rentals and property sales come up so seldom, Paul’s company is doing well. People have to build from scratch or remodel.”

Dan watched Jack’s eyes as he said this and he knew he wasn’t getting the whole truth. He didn’t blame the guy. It was going to take a while to prove he wasn’t a low-life criminal. He knew there’d be a price when he made the decision to enter the marijuana trade. Right now he could probably get assistance from someone still growing, but Dan didn’t want to go that route. He meant it when he said that was in the past.

“Okay,” Dan said, “I get that. And like I said, I’m not uncomfortable. I park at a rest stop at night. There’s hot water and facilities. What are your hours of operation? I’m looking for an occasional hot meal and a packed lunch to take on the job.”

“We can handle that for you. I’m usually here by six-thirty and Preacher lives on the property. He has the coffee on by six. We stay open till about nine at night, later if someone asks us to stay open. If you let Preacher know in advance, he can have a packed lunch ready for you in the early morning. If you need any—” The phone rang in the kitchen. “Give me a second. I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” Dan said.

While Jack was gone, Dan wondered, just curiously, if the till was locked. Would Jack Sheridan leave him alone in the bar with a money drawer open? Did he trust him a little bit, or not at all? He wouldn’t blame Jack if it took him some time to warm up to Dan—after all, this was the first hour of the first day they had a legitimate relationship. But Dan and Jack had history. Lots of history. And it wasn’t all so good.

The first time they’d crossed paths, Dan had to get the local midwife to help him with a birth gone bad at an illegal grow site. That midwife was Jack’s woman, and that whole episode went over like a turd in a punch bowl. The next time they came into contact, Dan had actually rear-ended that same midwife, and she was nine months pregnant. Again, not an auspicious beginning for their friendship.

But then he’d redeemed himself. Dan was in the area when some local men were searching for Preacher’s wife, who’d been abducted by her homicidal ex-husband. It hadn’t been Dan’s plan to save the day, but the rest of these louts couldn’t hack it and someone had to act. So Dan whopped the ex-husband on the head with his flashlight, knocked him cold and facilitated rescue.

Then there was the forest fire last summer. By the sheerest coincidence, Jack was sitting by the side of the road, hurt and dehydrated, as Dan was making his escape from a couple of lunatic growers. He picked Jack up and got him to safety.

Jack had apparently forgotten the good parts. Or decided they weren’t good enough.

Shortly after that fire, there had been a warrant for Dan’s arrest and that’s when he’d turned himself in. By virtue of being highly cooperative, he’d only served six months of a three-year sentence. But still, he was now and forever an ex-con.

His beer was long gone. Whoever was on the phone must be important or Jack Sheridan wouldn’t leave someone he didn’t trust alone in his bar. Hell, he wouldn’t even take his money if it smelled like—

His thought was cut off as Jack wandered back into the bar, his face white and his eyes unfocused. He clutched a piece of paper in his hand and he didn’t look at Dan. He didn’t go behind the bar, but stood just outside the kitchen door and stared blankly at nothing.

“Hey, man,” Dan said. “Hey, Sheridan.”

Jack didn’t respond. He was a million miles away.

Dan got up and approached him warily. He looked weird, and weird could sometimes mean unstable. Unstable could mean anything.

“Sheridan? What’s up, man?”

Jack’s unfocused eyes slowly pivoted toward Dan. He licked his dry lips, blinked a couple of times. “My boy, Rick,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

“What?” Dan asked a little frantically. He’d had a boy of his own once. He’d probably worn those same eyes at the time. “What about your boy Rick?”

“Rick,” he said, and lifted the piece of paper on which he’d scrawled notes. Haditha, Al Anbar, hostile, critical, grenade, Landstuhl Medical Center, Germany.

“Shit,” Dan said. “Hey! Snap out of it! What happened?” He gave Jack a couple of pats on the cheeks, carefully. He didn’t slap him; Jack might be reactive enough to coldcock him. “Whoa, buddy.” He grabbed a bottle off the glass shelf behind the bar and tipped a shot over a glass. “Hey,” he said, lifting the glass to Jack’s lips. “Come on, burn it down, buddy. Get a grip.”

Jack’s shaking hand came up to grab the glass. He closed his eyes, threw back the shot and kept his eyes closed for a long moment. When he opened them, they were burning with a feral gleam.

“Something happen to your son, Jack?” Dan asked.

He shook his head. “Rick is like a son. He’s in the Corps in Iraq.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Dan said, looking down at the paper. “Haditha, in Iraq. Landstuhl Medical. Been there.”

“He’s wounded. He might not make it.” He shook his head. “I gotta think straight,” he said to himself.

“Jesus,” Dan said. He shot into the kitchen. “Anybody back here? Hey! Anybody back here?”

In a second a woman came through a door into the kitchen. He recognized her. She was the woman who’d been abducted—Paige. The last time he’d seen her, she was pregnant. “What is it?” she asked, confused.

“Gimme a hand out here, huh?”

She followed him into the bar. Jack was leaning against the cupboard behind the bar and a little sanity had crept back into his eyes.

“Somebody named Rick is hurt in Iraq,” Dan said. “Can you find Jack’s wife? Call her or something?”

“I’m all right,” Jack said. But Paige bolted to the kitchen. “I just have to think. I was in his file as next of kin, probably because his grandmother is old and sick. Lance Corporal Sudder, they said. Took a grenade in Haditha. They got him out of surgery in Iraq and transported him to Germany, but he’s not in good shape. They had to resuscitate twice and there will be more surgery,” he said. “I have to think.”

“Whew, have another one. Slow down the brain a little,” Dan said, pouring a half a shot of something, he wasn’t even sure what.

He handed it to Jack, and Jack threw it back. He shut his eyes hard. A single tear escaped and ran down his cheek. He opened his eyes again and looked at Dan through slits. “Black Label,” he said hoarsely. “You act like you own the place.”

Dan laughed out loud. “There you are. You on my planet now? What happened?”

“Gimme some water. I’m getting there.”

Dan poured a water and Jack took a big drink. By the time he lowered the glass, Paige was standing in the kitchen doorway. Dan glanced at her.

“My husband has gone for some supplies,” she said almost apologetically. “The kids are napping. I called Mel at home and told her to come right now. It’s Saturday, the clinic isn’t open.”

“I’m okay now,” Jack said. “Rick was wounded in Haditha. He’s hurt real bad. Legs, head, torso, miscellaneous injuries. They airlifted him to Germany. I have to tell Lydie Sudder and Liz.” He looked at Dan. “Liz is his girlfriend. Then I have to go.”

“Go?” Dan asked.

“I’ll have to get to Germany. This is my fault. Kid never would’ve gone into the Corps if it hadn’t been for me and all my boys, here all the time, making him think it’s just one big goddamn party. Shit.” He swiveled his eyes to Dan’s. “They said he’s bad. He might not make it. That I should be prepared for that.”

“You got phone numbers on this paper, buddy. Once your brain is engaged again, call back and get some more numbers so you can check in at Landstuhl, find out how he’s doing. You had a big shock. You need to get stable.”

“I need a cup of coffee,” Jack said. “I had to think a second who Lance Corporal Sudder was. God, my worst nightmare.”

“Sit down on a stool,” Dan said. “I’ll fix you a cup of coffee.”

Jack looked at Paige. “Try to get Mel before she makes the drive. Tell her I’m just coming home in a little while.”

Without a word, Paige went back into the kitchen to use the phone.

Jack sat up at the bar, a place he was never seen. In his usual place behind the bar stood Dan, serving up coffee in a big mug. He didn’t ask any more questions and didn’t need to.

“Ricky turned up when he was thirteen and I’d just started working on the bar. It was a shithole then. I slept in the rubble while I tried to get it straight. He was small back then—his face was covered with freckles and he couldn’t shut his mouth for five minutes.” Jack laughed and shook his head, remembering. “I let him hang around because his mom and dad were dead and he just had his grandma. And the goofy kid sucked me in. He’s twenty now. No more freckles. Six-two. Strong…”

“Gotta remember he’s strong, Jack,” Dan said. “Don’t give up on him.”

“He shouldn’t have done it, joined the Marines, but he was first in every training program, he was good….”

“Is,” Dan corrected. “Get it together, man.”

“Is good,” Jack repeated. He took a deep drink of hot coffee. “I don’t know what I can tell Lydie and Liz….”

“You tell them he’s hurt bad, in the hospital, and you’re going there. That’s what you tell them. You don’t give anyone permission to give up. If the worst happens, then you’ll tell them the worst. You don’t tell them the worst before it happens.”

“You should’ve seen him, man,” Jack said, drinking more coffee, smiling. “I taught him to hold a hammer, fish, shoot. He was such a little nerd at first, all gangles and pimples and that damn giggling, I thought he might stay that way forever. But he grew up fast—turned out to be a little faster in the saddle than was good. Whew. I felt like a father to that kid—”

“Feel,” Dan corrected. “Feel like a father…”

“I do, that’s a fact.”

Paige popped her head back into the bar. “She’s already on her way, Jack.”

“Aw, we shouldn’t have bothered her.”

“She needs to be here,” Dan said. Paige withdrew again, leaving them alone. “She’ll go with you to see the grandmother, the girlfriend. Then you’ll go see Rick. You think you’re together enough to do that? To go to Germany? Because if you’re nuts or in some flashback, you can’t chance it. It wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Jack took a drink from his coffee cup, then slowly raised his eyes. “I won’t let him down. I think I was in shock for a minute.”

“Yeah,” Dan said.

Dan stood behind the bar while Jack sat as a customer. Dan refilled his coffee mug, then pulled another Heineken out of the cooler, but this time he drank it from the bottle. For a few minutes they talked quietly about Rick and what he meant to Jack. About the letter not so long ago that described how dangerous it had been in Haditha lately.

The sound of boots on the bar’s porch brought Jack off the stool and toward the door. He pulled it open and there stood Mel, her eyes wide and her mouth open slightly. “Ricky?” she asked in a breath.

“Wounded in Iraq. He’s had surgery to stabilize him, but I’m not even sure on what. He had leg, torso and head injuries and has been airlifted to Germany, to a military hospital there. Mel—”

“Are you all right?” she asked him.

“I’m coming around. It knocked the wind out of me. Where are the kids?”

“Mike came over from next door—they’re sleeping.”

“I have to tell Lydie and Liz.”

“First Lydie,” Mel said. “Then we’ll go home and while you pack, I’ll get on the computer and find you plane tickets. Then we’ll go to Eureka to see Liz. We’ll go in two cars, I’ll take the kids with me. When you head for the airport, I’ll bring the kids home. Unless you need me with you in Germany. Thing is, I don’t have the kids on my passport. Shit, how dumb was that, with Rick in Iraq! Why didn’t I take care of that? Well, maybe I should come. I can fly to L.A., get the passport handled in a day, and—”

“Mel, stop. You’re not dragging the kids to Germany,” Jack said. “Come on, let’s get going.” He held the door for her.

As she was leaving, she looked over her shoulder at the man behind the bar.

“I’ll—ah—leave a few bucks on the bar,” Dan said. “And help the lady in the kitchen till her husband gets back, if she needs me.”

“Don’t worry about the few bucks, unless you want to pitch in for that Black Label you threw down my throat,” Jack said with a weak smile.

“Thank you,” Mel said.

“Hey—” Dan shrugged “—glad I was here.”

Jack started to leave, but then he stopped again and looked at Dan. “The thing that did it, the thing that knocked me out for a while…When I told the sergeant who called that I’d get right over to Germany, he asked me if I didn’t want to wait until Rick was out of surgery, until they knew his condition, in case he didn’t make it. And I said no, I wasn’t waiting. I was either going to see him or bring him home. Just thinking that? It put me in shock.”

“Well, stop thinking it now,” Dan said. “Get going. Remember, he’s strong.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “Yeah.”

“Jack. Remember, you’re strong, too.”

Lydie reacted exactly as Mel expected. She gasped, got teary and twisted her hands, asking questions for which Jack had no answers. But then she straightened her neck and stiffened her spine and began to pray. “I’ll be all right,” she said bravely. “When you get there, tell Ricky his grandma is fine and praying for him. He worries about me too much. I don’t want him to worry when he should be working on getting better.”

“I’ll come by and check on you later today,” Mel said. “Don’t get upset and forget to test your blood, take your insulin and eat. Promise me.”

“I promise. Now go. Don’t waste your time here. He needs you.”

Liz was another story. After booking a flight and packing a duffel, Mel and Jack drove to Eureka in separate vehicles. Liz met them at the door before they were halfway down the walk. “Is he alive?” she asked before they even told her why they were there. Her eyes were as big as hubcaps and frightened. “Is he alive?”

They couldn’t even get in the door. “He was wounded, Liz,” Jack said. “He’s seriously hurt, but he’s in the hospital. They airlifted him out of Iraq and he should be in Germany soon. I’m going to see him, and when I get there, I’ll call you immediately and tell you his condition. I’ll—”

“Take me,” she said, whirling around and fleeing back into the house. Over her shoulder she said, “I knew all day. I knew. I couldn’t get him off my mind and I was worried all day. I worry a lot, but not like lately. I have a passport and—”

“Liz! No!” Mel said. “Now stop, honey. Let Jack—”

“No, if Jack won’t let me go with him, I’ll go by myself. I’ve never been on a plane, but I’ll figure it out. I have to go, I have to be there for him, I have to—”

“Maybe she should,” Jack said quietly.

Mel tugged on his sleeve to bring his ear to her lips. “Jack, what if you get there and it’s the worst case? You shouldn’t have to deal with all this.”

“It’s not going to be worst case,” Jack said. “And if it helps Rick…Maybe it’ll help Rick.” He looked at Liz. “You have a computer?”

“Of course.”

“You pack. Mel will get you a ticket. You have to hurry. We have to drive to Redding.”

“I knew all day long,” she whispered. “I have almost a thousand dollars saved.”

“Where’s the computer?”

“In here. In my bedroom. Will it cost more than a thousand dollars? Because I could borrow some from my aunt Connie.”

Jack took the baby out of Mel’s arms, hanging on to both children, freeing her. “Put it on the card, Mel. Get her a ticket on my flight if you can.” Mel just looked up at him with a large question in her eyes. “It’s his girl. He loves her. And she knew all day. There’s a bond. He’d probably rather have her there than me. Besides, we have to get it straight, how you act around someone who’s been critically wounded. Liz is up to it.”

“Liz, will your mom be okay with this? You’ll miss a bunch of school.”

“I’ll call her. She’s got her cell phone. It doesn’t matter—I’ll make up school. This is Rick. I have to be there with him.”

“Liz,” Mel said. “What if it’s terrible? What if he’s not okay?”

She threw a soft suitcase on the bed and looked at Mel with clear, determined eyes. “Then I have to be there even more.”

Mel sighed and sat down at the computer.

By the time Mel left Jack and Liz to begin their long journey to Frankfurt, her kids were just about psychotic from waking too early from naps, being hungry, having been transported all over the place. It would make sense to just go home and try to settle them, but she couldn’t. She had to speak to Connie, Liz’s aunt. She should tell Preacher and Paul, Marines who felt close to Rick. She should tell Cameron to look out for Lydie, since he was living at the clinic and Lydie was just down the street.

And after that she would go home to a lonely house and two fussy kids. It wasn’t typical for Mel to feel totally frazzled, but she did. She loved Rick as much as Jack did.

She went first to Connie, but didn’t stay long. Then to the bar where Preacher already had the news from his wife. He wondered if he should close the bar. “The word is going to travel,” Mel said. “And we’re not going to hear anything for twenty-four hours or so. Stay busy. Everyone loves Ricky. If it’s not your fanciest dinner tonight, no one will complain.”

“My dinners tend to get fancier when there’s trouble….”

Next, Mel checked on Lydie, who was doing remarkably well under the circumstances, but by the time she got to the clinic to talk to Cameron, her kids were screaming and tears were running down her cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said, coming down the stairs in his jeans and T-shirt. “What’s going on here?” he asked. He immediately took David off her hands so they could each comfort one child.

“God,” she said, trying to sniff back emotion. “You’ve heard us talk about Rick, right?”

“Sure. Is he all right?”

“He is not all right. He was critically wounded in Iraq. Jack and Rick’s girlfriend, Liz, have rushed off to Germany, where he’s been airlifted for surgery. My kids have been slung around all afternoon so we could get the two of them on their way, and I just realized I haven’t let myself feel it yet. He’s like Jack’s boy. He’s like my boy. And these two are absolutely insane. I need to rock and feed and tell more people who are close to Ricky and I—” She started to cry. “I’m so worried and scared I could just die.”

Cameron put an arm around her shoulders. “Come on, Mel. Let’s rock and feed and cry if you need to. I’ll make you tea or hot milk or—”

“Tea or hot milk?” she asked through her tears. “Great.”

“I have a beer in the refrigerator,” he offered, wiping her cheeks with his thumb.

“Better,” she sniffed. “I came for a reason, not just to cry. I didn’t plan that part. Lydie Sudder, down the street, that’s Rick’s grandma. His only living family. And she’s—”

“I know all about Lydie. Diabetic, failing vision, high blood pressure, and her heart—”

“I just want you to be alert to her. It’s not as though pounding on her door at two in the morning to see if she’s all right is going to help. But I checked on her and told her to call one of us if she had any problems related to this scary news. I told her to call a pager. I can’t go home yet. I still have to call on Vanni and Paul.”

He led her into the clinic’s kitchen and deftly pulled a couple of the prepared bottles she kept there out of the refrigerator. Emma was almost a year old, David two, and both of them were happy with the cold milk. Then he handed Mel a beer with a smile.

“How about dinner for these two?”

“Right now they’re just tired to the bone and need some calm. But I can’t sit around here too long.”

Cam had David in his arms while Mel held Emma. Both children settled down quickly with their bottles and some warm, calm arms holding them. Mel sniffled a couple of times, but having her children under control and a quiet place to sit calmed even her.

“You should have seen Liz,” she said softly. “She’s never been on a plane before, much less to Europe. She packed in ten minutes. She kept asking me questions while I was trying to get her a ticket on the computer. She’d ask, ‘Hair dryer?’ and I’d answer yes. ‘Cold or warm there?’ and I said cold. Ten minutes and she was ready to go. She’s loved him since she was fourteen.”

“Do you know anything about his injuries?” Cam quietly asked.

“Not a lot, no.” She repeated what Jack had told her. “I wanted to go with him, but I have a passport problem and two small children. I still wanted to go. In the end, Liz went. Seventeen-year-old Liz. And I was jealous.”

He laughed at her. “It was probably good that she went, if it’ll help the boy.”

“That’s what Jack said. But suddenly I feel abandoned. I know it’s stupid, but I still felt it.”

“It’s not stupid, Mel. It’s the real deal. Thing is, there’s just no help for it. Why don’t you leave the kids with me while you make your calls to deliver the news.”

She shook her head and laughed hollowly. “That makes perfect sense, but because of this I just can’t be separated from my kids. I have to have them near.”

“I see,” Cameron said. “Tell you what—I’ll follow you out to Haggerty’s, then to your place. I’ll help you with the kids, get them fed and settled. We’ll make a sandwich. And when all is calm and quiet, I’ll take off.” He grinned. “I didn’t have plans for tonight anyway. And I’m wearing the pager.”

“I have baby food,” she said. “I don’t know what grown-up food I have.”

He laughed again. “You’re hopeless. Fine. I’ll make us a couple of sandwiches here, pack them, and we’ll go get the job done. Do you have chips?”

“I don’t know,” she answered.

“Is Jack completely in charge of the food at your house?”

“Pretty much,” she admitted, taking a drink of her beer. She snuggled Emma, calmed down, sniffed back her tears, and thanks to Cameron’s offer of help, felt a lot better about the rest of her mission.

“I have chips,” he said.

She smiled at him. She’d spent so much time being grateful to Cameron, the doctor, for practicing medicine in her town, she hadn’t realized how great Cameron, the person, really was. “You’ve turned into my good friend,” she said. “Like Doc.”

“That’s very nice,” he replied. “Thank you.”

It was a very long night and day before the phone rang at the Sheridan house and Mel lunged for it. She said hello and heard Jack’s gravelly voice. “Baby.”

“Jack! What do you know?”

“He’s going to be all right. He cracked his head, lost a spleen, is scraped up all to hell, but the injuries are apparently not life threatening at this point.”

“Was he burned?” Mel asked, thinking about a grenade and the heat.

“No. Pitched through the air, though. But not burned.”

“Oh, thank God!”

“Mel, he lost his leg.”

“Was the damage too severe? Was it inoperable?” she asked.

“He lost it in the explosion. There wasn’t a chance. Losing the leg was what almost killed him. He lost a lot of blood.”

“Oh, poor Rick. Where’d they amputate? Above or below the knee?”

“Above. But they saved a lot of thigh and femur. He’s still in recovery. We haven’t seen him yet, but he’s going to be all right, Mel. Mel,” he said, then paused. “This is rough. We’re not family. Liz isn’t a spouse and I’m not his father. We’re not getting a lot of help, if you know what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I do.”

“I don’t know if they’re going to let us bring him home. He might be transferred to some military medical facility for rehab. If I was his father, I could probably bring him home and take him to the nearest hospital for rehab. If I’d just worked with Lydie to adopt him legally before all this—”

She heard the regret in his voice. Jack felt as if he’d let Rick down. “Jack, just see Rick, let him know you’re there, find out how he’s doing medically, with pain and trauma. Decisions about where he’s going next will come when they come.”

“I know.”

“And Jack? You might want to sleep. I hear the exhaustion in your voice. You have to be strong for Rick. Very strong. You can’t cave in to things like pity, worry…”

“I’ll be strong.”

“How’s Liz holding up?”

“Better than me. She was so relieved to hear he’s going to be all right, she started to cry and laugh at the same time. She doesn’t quite get it, that she’s not getting him back right away. And when she does, he won’t be the same.”

“You both just need to see him. He’s not going to be himself for a while.” She paused. “I wish I was there with you, Jack. I could help. And I miss you so much.”

“Are the kids okay?” he asked.

“They’re fine, Jack. We’re all fine. Just missing you, that’s all. But you’re where you have to be.”

“Really, if I could just get him home, with our family, I’d feel so much better.”

“That will come.” She took a deep breath. “He needs to finish this journey. He needs the rehab, a prosthetic leg. Some counseling.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “Yeah, I know.”

“Would you like me to tell people? Or would you like to make calls yourself?”

“Will you do it, Mel? Lydie, Connie and the boys? If you can call Preach, Mike and Paul, they can call the squad. Are you up to it?”

“Of course, darling. I’ll make the calls right now. Everyone is waiting. Will you do something for me?”

“Anything I can.”

“When you see Rick, please tell him I love him. And I’m proud of him. Tell him I’ll do anything in my power to help him. And tell him…No, it’s too soon for that….”

“For what?”

She took a breath. “When I lived in Los Angeles, I worked with a doctor in emergency for almost a year before I learned he wore a prosthetic leg. He was quick, confident, strong and very talented. It’s not only possible, it’s probable. It’s just that…I’m sure getting there’s a real bitch.”

Blessedly, Mel had a very slow Monday morning in the clinic. Cameron had a couple of walk-ins, but Mel busied herself with paperwork and the children. It was lunchtime when a familiar guy walked in. He pulled off his Shady Brady inside the door. “Hi,” he said.

She rose from the desk behind the reception counter. “Hi. How are you?”

“Fine. Good. Um, I was just wondering if you’d heard anything from your husband. About the kid. Rick.”

“Yes,” she said, walking toward him. “He’s going to be all right. He has multiple injuries, all treatable. He’s got head injuries that aren’t a threat, he lost a spleen, is scraped up real bad but not burned, and he lost a leg in the explosion.”

The man’s eyes grew wide and shocked at that last. Then, when he collected himself, he asked, “Above or below?”

She knew exactly what he meant and wondered about his association with amputees. “Above the knee. Sounds like you know something about that.”

“In fact, I was sent to Landstuhl after an injury and got cozy with a lot of guys who lost limbs. Below the knee was easy compared to—Well, you know.”

“He’s got a lot of rehab ahead, but the outlook is potentially positive. He’s safe for now.”

“Hmm,” he said, dropping his gaze, shaking his head. “Good. He made it through. Poor kid. What did your husband say—that he’s twenty years old?”

“Just barely. And the sweetest kid you’ll ever meet. Nice of you to inquire.”

“I’ve been thinking about that whole scene. Shook old Jack up pretty good. I haven’t seen him very often over the past few years, but I’ve never seen him shook up like that.”

“Rick’s pretty special. Listen, speaking of the past few years—I think about that woman and baby a lot.”

“Listen,” he said. “I’m sorry I had to lie to you, but that baby had nothing to do with me. I knew about the woman—I knew her man left her out there, ready to pop. I checked on her a couple of times and knew she had a sketchy past, like a lot of us, and she refused to go to a clinic. She said it would be all right, but I found her in a mess.”

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth? Why’d you let me think it was yours?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t know if you’d help otherwise. And I did get her on a bus. If she didn’t run out on that sister, they were willing to take her in, help her. Sorry, that was about all I could do.”

“You could have done nothing,” Mel said. She smiled. “If you’d done nothing, it would’ve been a disaster. She and the baby—”

“Yeah, well, I gave it a shot. Glad it worked out. Hope things work out for Rick, too.”

“So how come you’re around here twice in the same week?” she asked him.

It brought a grin out of him and she remembered, way back to that scary night, when he’d said, Tough little broad, arentcha? He had grinned just like that. “I got a job with the construction company. Haggerty’s.”

“A real job?” she asked, eyes wide. “Where they take taxes out of your check and everything?”

“And everything,” he said, smiling.

“You live around here?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Exactly. I’m staying in a camper until something comes up for rent. If you hear of anything…”

“Sure,” she said. “If I hear of something, I’ll let Paul know.”

“Thanks. You take care.” He turned to go.

“I never did get a name.”

He turned back. “Dan,” he said. “Dan Brady.”

Four

Rick was just about twenty-four hours post surgical when he was allowed a visitor. Jack and Liz had to negotiate. “Let me go,” Jack said firmly. “Let me see what we’re dealing with. He’s hurting, he’s drugged, the prognosis is good from our perspective, but he lost a limb and that’s gonna be hard.”

“I just want to see him, touch him, that’s all,” she said. “I don’t care about anything but that he’s alive.”

“Please,” Jack said. “I know how you’re feeling right now, but I’ve been down this road before and wounded Marines are unpredictable. Sometimes they’re just grateful to be alive, sometimes they can be real loose canons. If he’s unstable and angry, let him unload that on me first.”

“Will you tell him I love him?”

“Sure, honey. I’ve only got ten minutes with him. Let me get the lay of the land. If he’s mentally stable, you’ll go in next.”

She bit her lip and nodded reluctantly; he could just imagine how crappy that made her feel, but Jack couldn’t be sure how Rick was going to take to either one of them being here. Logically, he should want his closest people near him. But getting blown up and waking up in a hospital ward could skew someone’s sense of logic something fierce.

It was a small ward, only six beds. But six where there should only be four. Hospitals catering to the war-wounded were crowded, even with the number of wounded decreased. He spotted Rick right off—a white bandage wrapped around his head, his face cut and scraped, a bandaged stump where there had been a right leg. He wore green scrub pants, the right leg cut off, no shirt and his sheet was kicked away. There was a surgical bandage on his side; the spleenectomy, Jack assumed. An IV dangled above him; Jack hoped there was plenty of morphine in it.

He looked around; green walls, white linoleum floors, that hospital smell of disinfectant and medicine. There was a guy in a circular bed with pins in his skull, a guy with a thigh-high cast on one leg, another sitting up in bed who looked for all the world to be uninjured, though there was a wheelchair beside his bed, a young man with his arm in an elevated cast level with his shoulder and a man flat on his back, in traction. And Rick. It was clearly an orthopedics ward. Jack nodded at the other patients as he entered and they returned the nod, grim-faced. Right away he knew, they weren’t angry—it was that Rick was the newest patient and they were waiting to see what happened next.

He stared down at the boy and saw the tears on his cheeks and his mouth parted in a dark slit as he took breaths slowly and deeply.

“Rick?” he said softly.

Rick’s eyes opened. “Jack,” he said in a whisper.

“You have a lot of pain, son?”

He winced and nodded, squeezing out another tear.

“Did they tell you about your condition?” Jack asked him.

He nodded. “When did it happen?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

“’Bout a day ago. They got you right up here. You’re out of Iraq, you’re in Germany. You know where you are, son?”

Rick gritted his teeth and nodded.

“Remember anything?” Jack asked.

“I…Ah…I remember someone screaming at me. He kept saying don’t you give up, don’t you quit. Fucker. I ever see him again, I’m going to kill him.”

Jack felt himself almost laugh; at least he had fight in him.

“I brought Liz.”

Rick’s eyes came open instantly. “No,” he said in a breath. “No.”

“If I hadn’t brought her, she was going to try to make it on her own. She needs to see you’re okay, Rick.”

“I don’t want her here! Just get her out of here!”

“Listen,” Jack said, leaning over the bed. “I could no more leave her behind than—”

As Jack put a hand down on the mattress beside Rick, Rick let go a howl of pain that nearly shook the walls. Jack jumped back in shock and fear, but Rick just kept screaming and flailing around. The nurse was beside the bed instantly. “I didn’t touch anything,” Jack said apologetically.

The nurse ignored him and just talked to Rick. “Deep breaths, I’m upping the drip a little. Deep breaths, hang on, it’ll kick in right away. Come on now, just breathe.” Still, it took a moment for Rick to calm down. The howling ended with some soft whimpering that finally gave way to a couple of moans.

The nurse turned toward Jack. “Did you sit on the bed?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “I leaned a hand on the bed, but I wasn’t anywhere near him.”

“Phantom pain,” she said. “You probably leaned your hand where the leg used to be. It’s spooky, but it’s the real deal. He felt it and it hurt.”

“Jesus.”

“Better if you just don’t touch anything. The first forty-eight hours are real rocky, but it’s going to get better. Is this your first experience with an amputee?”

“Yeah,” Jack said weakly.

“I have some pamphlets. Why don’t you take a couple of hours to look through the literature. I think he’s going to rest for a while now. I just gave him a nice boost.”

Jack followed her to the nurses’ station, glad to see someone was willing to be helpful to him there. When Liz saw them leave the ward together, she was immediately tailing them. Jack turned and asked her to give him just a minute with the nurse and continued on, leaving her behind. The nurse handed him some pamphlets and he asked, “You take care of a lot of these guys?”

“Full-time,” she said with a little nod of her head.

“Help me out with something here,” Jack said. “I just told him I brought his girl and he freaked out. Told me to get her out of here. Right up to the injury, there was no problem between him and the girl.”

She frowned. “Reactions like that usually come later, after the reality settles in. This soon after the injury, patients are just being stabilized, they’re struggling with the pain and trying to get a fix on what their condition is. His response might be connected to pain and drugs. But later…Not too unusual, I’m sorry to say. Some men and women adjust so well, it’s astonishing. Sometimes the new amputee is very needy, desperate for confirmation that he’s still worth loving. Sometimes he doesn’t even want to chance it, pushing loved ones away. There are a lot of psychological and emotional adjustments to go along with the physical. Everything from the pain and fear to self-esteem issues. You’re going to have to learn about all this, and be patient.”

“How long does that go on?” Jack asked. “The adjustment?”

“Purely individual. But you should see what you can learn about this for now. And maybe you can help get the young lady through it?”

“Aw crap, what am I going to tell her?”

“I always recommend you start with the truth. This isn’t an easy time for anyone. Try to watch those expectations. But you could tell her most of what the corporal is feeling is beyond his control. He’ll need help getting through it. And yet, he might resist help. It’s a contradictory process for some.”

“When are you going to get him up, out of bed?”

“We had him up, briefly. He didn’t like it. He’s still in a lot of pain.”

“God, I need my wife here.” In fact, he couldn’t remember a time he needed her quite this bad. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll look through this stuff right away.”

He turned to go back to Liz. The second he noticed she didn’t seem to be where he’d left her, he heard the screaming. “Get out! Just get out of here! I don’t want you here! Go away! Get out!”

“Oh, Jesus,” he muttered, running for the ward. He stopped in the doorway and what he saw emptied him out inside. Liz stood beside Rick’s bed, her hands over her face, her beautiful long hair hanging down like a curtain, her shoulders quaking with her sobs while Rick nearly came off the bed, screaming at her. Jack moved quickly, put his arms around her and pulled her away. When they were back in the hall he held her against him protectively while she cried. He’d never felt so helpless in his life. It almost felt as though if he crouched down, he could scoop up the pieces of her broken heart off the floor.

The same nurse was beside them again. “I’m going to give him something to calm him down a little bit. And I’m going to tell him you’ve left the hospital for now. Let’s give him some space. Like I said, the first forty-eight hours are real rocky.”

“No shit,” Jack muttered. “Come on, honey,” he said, pulling Liz down the hall and away.

Jack took Liz as far as the main floor of the hospital where he found a quiet corner in the waiting room. He just held her hand while she cried. She whispered why why why breathlessly, sobbing almost uncontrollably. It was a long time before she could stop long enough to ask, “Why did he tell me to go away? Why?”

Jack squeezed her hand. “We’re not going to talk about what just happened until you calm down and we’re out of here. We need quiet. Privacy. Take your time.”

“I just don’t understand,” she whimpered.

“Lots of things are going to be hard to understand,” he said, giving her hair a stroke. “And if you think I have any inside track on this, you’re going to be disappointed.” He showed her the pamphlets the nurse had given him. “We have some reading to do, and some talking to do. Then we need food and sleep. Can’t stay on top of this emotional roller coaster without those two things.”

An hour later they were seated in a restaurant eating bratwurst, potatoes and kraut. Jack was having a very tall beer, and Liz, a glass of water with her meal. She picked at her food, her stomach upset. She seemed to be barely holding it together and every so often a tear would escape and roll pathetically down her cheek. Her fingers continually wandered to that diamond pendant necklace Rick had given her, the promise diamond.

“I’m not sure the best way to handle this,” Jack said. “Here’s my idea. See if you agree with it. I’ll go back tomorrow and spend some time with him. I won’t mention what happened until he turns the corner on the pain a little more. We can’t take too much personally while he’s on such heavy drugs. Might be he comes out of that drug haze and feels a little more in control.”

“And if he doesn’t? What if he won’t see me?” she asked, and as she spoke, her eyes filled up with tears again.

“Like I said, we’ll get through the influence of anesthesia and pain drugs before we revisit the issue. We can’t really judge his feelings while he’s on that morphine planet. But he’ll get used to the morphine pretty quick and it won’t make him insane anymore. Then he’ll see you. He will. The nurse said this sort of thing happens a lot, but usually later on. Some patients get real clingy, need a lot of reassurance that they’re still lovable, some actually have such an inferiority complex about their body image, they push loved ones away. Like they don’t deserve love even when it’s offered.”

“Why couldn’t he be a clingy one?” she said softly.

Jack actually laughed. “Rick? We both know why. Because he’s too damn proud for his own good, that’s why. Liz, honey, there’s no reason Rick can’t have a completely full, productive life. There’s almost nothing a guy with a prosthetic limb can’t do. I’ve seen news stories on guys with fake legs running marathons. And Rick will learn, he will. He’ll do whatever he wants…eventually. But if I know my boy, he’s going to be a giant pain in the ass getting there.”

She laughed through some tears.

“Mel told me this story. She said it was too soon to tell Rick, and she didn’t know the half of that. She said she worked with a doctor in the emergency room back in L.A. for a year before she realized he had a prosthetic leg. She never did say how she found out. I don’t know what you know about big-city trauma centers, but those docs have to be fast and strong and steady. And I don’t know how well you know Mel, but she’s demanding as all hell. If she worked with a doc who didn’t pull his weight in any way, she’d be all over him.” He took a drink of his beer. “Yeah, she didn’t know about the guy’s leg for a year. What does that tell you?”

“There’s hope?”

“You bet. But, Liz, it isn’t going to be easy on Rick. He’s dealing with way more than just the leg—he’s been to war. And if it’s not easy on Rick, it’s not going to be easy on us. What do you think of my idea? We give him a little time to settle down? Get through the drug haze before we push on him? We don’t need another crazy outburst.”

“I guess that’s okay,” she said. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’m so disappointed.”

“Aw, honey, I know. Believe me, I never saw that coming.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help by being here. I thought he’d be glad to know how much I love him.”

“I bet when we’re through the worst of this, he will be.”

She was shaking her head. “I don’t know.”

“My idea?” Jack pushed. “You’ll have some time on your hands. I don’t think you should try to see him until the timing is better. Not just for him, honey. For you, too.”

“But I want to go with you. I won’t go in his room until he says it’s okay, but I want to be there. In case.”

“You sure the temptation won’t be too strong?” he asked her. “Because I think until we get a little stability here, you shouldn’t even peek in the room.”

“I’ll stay in the waiting room downstairs. I brought my backpack with school stuff. And they have a TV—I saw an English news program on it. I’ll try to be patient. I promise.”

“Good for you. You done eating? We can share this reading material. And I want you to get some rest so you can deal with these ups and downs.”

“Okay,” she said with a small smile.

Two hours later, Jack stepped outside the hotel and used his cell phone to call Mel. It was nine hours earlier in California and she was at the clinic. When she answered, he just said, “Baby.”

“Jack! Did you see him?”

He took a breath. “Mel, he’s going to recover. But it was the worst experience of my life. I shouldn’t have brought Liz. He took her apart. Ripped her heart out.”

Over his thirty-five-year military career, Walt Booth had seen hundreds of injured soldiers. He’d made dozens and dozens of goodwill visits to hospitals; he’d attended many wheelchair-basketball games and races. He had nothing but respect and admiration for the men and women who turned their physical disabilities into productive lives.

But something about Rick Sudder’s injuries got to him. He didn’t even know Rick that well. It was probably all about the timing. Walt’s son was army now. Rick and Tom were only a year apart in age and had become friends. Sometimes when Walt thought about Rick coming home with one leg, he got confused in his mind and pictured Tom. He hated that. It cost him sleep. There was no logical reason for it. Tom was tucked away at West Point, working his butt off, studying day and night, not in a war zone.

He knew he was affected, that it showed on him. Vanni had asked him if he was all right and he admitted the truth—thinking about that strong and vital young man dealing with an injury like this was working on him, grieving him. Muriel had asked him what was wrong in one of their phone calls and he laid it out for her—Jack and Liz had gone to Germany to be there for Rick when he was waking up after surgery and he worried about all of them. “This war is a hellish business,” he had said. “And, Muriel, there’s always a war somewhere. That was my life’s work, staying on top of the wars. And Rick, he’s such a nice young man. So proud and dedicated. I hate to think of his suffering.”

She’d been so lovely in her response, consoling him, praising his sensitivity. But what he really wanted was to wrap his arms around her and hold her close. He had no idea how long it would be until he could do that again.

They didn’t even talk every day. When he called her, he almost always got her voice mail; when she called him, it was usually very early or very late. Sometimes she called him while she was on the treadmill, killing two birds with one stone, and the huffing and puffing was too annoying for him to listen to.

He soldiered on. It was what he was trained to do. The bar in Virgin River was a little sparse and quiet these days, but he dropped by to see if there was any news from Jack. Sometimes he had dinner with Vanni, Paul and Abby at their house. And he tended Muriel’s horses twice a day, letting them into the corral after feeding them, mucking their stalls, brushing them down, checking their hooves.

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