Praise for New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Robyn Carr

The American Library Association’s Booklist Reviews

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

“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.”

—RT Book Reviews 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

Also by Robyn Carr

The Virgin River Series PARADISE VALLEY TEMPTATION RIDGE SECOND CHANCE PASS A VIRGIN RIVER CHRISTMAS WHISPERING ROCK SHELTER MOUNTAIN VIRGIN RIVER

The Grace Valley Series DEEP IN THE VALLEY JUST OVER THE MOUNTAIN DOWN BY THE RIVER

Novels NEVER TOO LATE RUNAWAY MISTRESS BLUE SKIES THE WEDDING PARTY THE HOUSE ON OLIVE STREET

Look for Robyn Carr’s next novel

ANGEL’S PEAK

available February 2010

Forbidden Falls

Robyn Carr

www.mirabooks.co.uk

This book is dedicated to my daughter

and best friend, Jamie Lynn. Thank you for

being your wonderful self. I’m so proud of you.

Acknowledgments

I am deeply grateful for the continued and dedicated early readings and fantastic suggestions made by my friend Michelle Mazzanti of the Henderson District Public Libraries. I count on you more than you’ll ever know.

Kate Bandy and Sharon Lampert, my dear friends, my right arm and my left, thank you for early reads, traveling with me on book business and staking out bookstores to hand sell books.

Colleen Gleason, you scary-smart writer you, my deep appreciation for critiquing, brainstorming, reading early drafts and making the most terrific suggestions.

I have the most wonderful team assisting, keeping me straight, giving moral and professional support and I’d be so lost without you. Thank you, Nancy Berland of the Berland PR Agency, Liza Dawson of Liza Dawson Associates Inc., and Valerie Gray, executive editor of Mira Books. You are true goddesses.

Thanks to Jeanne Devlin of the Berland Agency and Cissy Hartley of Writerspace.com. I reap the benefits of your many hours of creative work. I am so lucky to have you in my camp.

It is with humble appreciation I’d like to thank the entire Harlequin team. I know that I have the fun job and you do all the heavy lifting and I am profoundly grateful. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for this wonderful opportunity to spend every day in Virgin River.

Thanks to the men and women who gather at the virtual Jack’s Bar online—your enthusiasm is often the bright light on a cloudy day. You’re like family and I enjoy your company so much.

And, finally, to the thousands of readers who have written with comments and suggestions, with your personal stories and encouragement, I am indebted to you. I take each e-mail very seriously and you’ll never know how much it means to me that you take the time to write. Bless you.

Below is an excerpt from ANGEL’S PEAK, the next book in the Virgin River series. Available February 2010.

Sean Riordan hadn’t seen his ex-girlfriend, Franci, in four years. The second she walked into the little bar, he knew with stunning clarity that he’d been a fool to let her go. He wasn’t about to be that stupid again. So he followed her.

He had just about caught up to her as she was unlocking the door of a small, silver sedan. “Franci?” he called out.

She jumped, turned and stared at him, wide-eyed.

“It is you,” he said.

She pulled her coat tighter around her. “Sean?”

“Yeah,” he said, laughing. “I can’t believe I’m running into you here, of all places. You look great. How long have you been here? In Arcata?”

“I … ah … don’t actually live in Arcata. I was just meeting some friends for dinner.”

He took another step toward her. “Franci, let me buy you a cup of coffee. Let’s catch up a little.”

“Ah … No, I don’t think so, Sean,” she said, shaking her head. “I’d better get—”

“I looked for you,” he said impulsively. “To say it was a mistake, the way we broke up. We should talk.”

“Listen, don’t even go there, Sean. It’s all in the past. No hard feelings,” she said. “So good luck and good—”

“Are you married or something?” he asked.

She was startled. “No. But I’m not looking to go back. Maybe you were able to just blow off our last discussion, but I—”

“I didn’t blow it off, Franci,” he said. “I looked for you and couldn’t find you anywhere. You got out of the air force and disappeared on me. That’s why I want to talk.”

“Well, I don’t,” she said. “I think you’ve probably said enough on that subject.”

“Franci, what the hell?” he asked, confused and a little angry by her immediate rebuff. “Can’t we have a conversation? We were together for two years! It was good, me and you. We never had anyone else, either one of us and—”

“And you said it wasn’t going any further,” she said, stiffening her back. “In fact, that was one of the nicer things you said. I’m glad you’re doing fine, you look just the same, happy as can be. Don’t push this. We decided. We’re over.”

“Come on. I don’t believe you mean that,” he said.

“Believe it,” she retorted. “You made a decision—you didn’t want a commitment to me and there you are—you don’t have one. Bye. Take care.”

She got in her car and slammed the door. He took two giant steps forward and heard the door locks click into place. She quickly backed out of her parking space and drove away.

Now that he’d seen her, he knew what he’d long suspected. He was far from over her. And he was damn sure going to get her back.

One

Recently ordained minister Noah Kincaid was surfing the Internet, killing time, when quite by chance, he happened to find a church being auctioned on eBay—in some little place he’d never heard of—Virgin River. He laughed at the very idea, but was intrigued. He’d been waiting patiently for an assignment to a church of his own and thought it couldn’t hurt to take a look at the place himself. If nothing else, it would be a good excuse to get out of town for a day and see something different. He’d heard Northern California was very beautiful.

The first thing that struck him was the overwhelming beauty of the mountains, redwoods and rivers. The town was a little washed out and the church was a wreck, but there was a peacefulness and simplicity there he couldn’t dismiss. Or forget. It seemed uncomplicated, fresh.

No one really noticed him in the little town; the local men he’d seen either had hair shorn in military fashion or ponytails and beards, just like the fishermen Noah had worked with over the years. He fit right in—he wore scuffed boots, his jeans were almost white with wear, ripped here and there, his denim shirt was thin on the elbows and frayed around the collar and cuffs. His black hair was too long and curled over his collar; he planned to get it cut the second he was assigned a church of his own. But for now, he fit right in, looking like any other laborer after a hard day’s work. He was fit and toned like the local Virgin River men; years of working on a fishing boat and dockside, dragging nets, hauling in tons of fresh catch will do that.

The church had been easy to locate and he hadn’t needed a key to get inside—it was boarded up and appeared to have been abandoned for years, but the side door wasn’t locked. The place had been stripped bare and filled with years of trash, probably litter from transients who’d taken shelter there at one time or another. Almost all the windows had been broken before being covered over with plywood. But when he got to the sanctuary, he discovered a stunning stained-glass window, boarded from the outside to keep it safe. It had been left untouched.

Afterward, he had driven the neighborhoods in town, which hadn’t taken long, had a cup of coffee at the only eating establishment, snapped a few digital pictures and left. When he got back to Seattle he contacted the woman who was auctioning the church on eBay, Hope McCrea. “That church has been boarded up for years,” she said in her gravelly voice. “This town has been without religion a long time.”

“You sure the town is in need of religion?” Noah asked her.

“Not entirely sure,” she answered. “But it could damn sure use some faith. That church needs to be opened up or razed to the ground. An empty church is bad mojo.”

Noah couldn’t agree more.

Despite being busy at the college where he taught, Noah couldn’t get Virgin River, or that church, out of his mind.

He took the idea of buying the church to the presbytery and found they were already well aware of its existence. He showed them his digital pictures and they agreed, there was great potential. Placing a minister there appealed to them; the population was just the right size to build a congregation and it was the only church in town. But the renovation, not to mention the accoutrements, would put the costs too high. There was no way they had the budget. They thanked Noah sincerely and promised him he would get his own church real soon.

What the presbytery didn’t know was that Noah had recently come into some money. To him, a small fortune. He was thirty-five and since the age of eighteen had been slaving and studying. While attending the university, he’d worked on boats, docks and in fish markets out of the Port of Seattle. A year ago his mother had passed and, to his surprise, had left him a hefty portion of her inheritance.

So, he offered to lighten the presbytery’s financial burden by taking on the renovation costs of the church as a donation if they would see fit to assign him as the pastor. The proposal was an appealing one for the Presbyterian church.

Before closing the deal, Noah called his closest friend, and the man responsible for talking him into the seminary in the first place. George Davenport thought he’d lost his mind. George was a retired Presbyterian minister who had been teaching for the last fifteen years at Seattle Pacific University. “I can think of a thousand ways for you to throw away that money,” George had said. “Go to Las Vegas, put it all on red. Or finance your own mission to Mexico. If those people needed a pastor, they’d go looking for one.”

“Funny that church is still standing there, useless, like it’s waiting for a rebirth. There must be a reason I happened to see it on eBay,” Noah said. “I’ve never looked at eBay before in my life.”

After much debate, George conceded, “If it’s structurally sound and the price is right, it might work out. You’d get a big tax write-off with the donated renovation cost, and a chance to serve a small, poor congregation in a hick mountain town that doesn’t get cell-phone reception. Sounds perfect for you.”

“There is no congregation, George,” Noah reminded him.

“Then you’ll have to gather one, son. If anyone can do it, you can. You were born to do it, and before you get all insulted, I’m not talking about your DNA. I’m talking about pure talent. I’ve seen the way you sell fish, I always thought there was a message there. Go—it’s what you want. Open your doors and your heart and give it all you’ve got. Besides, you’re the only ordained minister I know who has two nickels to rub together.”

So Noah inked the deal with the presbytery and hoped his mother wasn’t spinning in her grave. Truth be told, she’d always quietly supported him when, years back, he had been determined as hell to run away from the ministry. She had good reason. Noah’s father was a powerful, semifamous televangelist—and a cold, controlling man. Noah had run away while his mother could not.

If someone had told Noah seventeen years ago, when he fled his father’s house at the age of eighteen, that he would one day be a preacher himself, he’d have laughed in their face. Yet here he was. And he wanted that church. That wreck of a church in that peaceful, uncomplicated mountain town.

Several weeks later Noah was in his fifteen-year-old RV, which would be his home for a good long time, towing his twenty-year-old faded-blue Ford truck. En route to Northern California, he called George’s office, placing the call from his cell phone before the signal was lost in the mountains and tall trees. “I’m on my way into Virgin River, George.”

“Well, boy—how does it feel?” George asked with a deep chuckle in his voice. “Like you pulled off the sweetheart deal of the century, or like you’ll be dead broke and out in the street before you know what hit you?”

Noah laughed. “Not sure. I’ll be tapped out by the time the church is presentable. If I can’t drum up a congregation, I could be back in Seattle throwing fish before you know it,” he said, referring to an old job of his working the fish market on Seattle’s downtown wharf. He’d literally thrown large fish across the market. It had been like theater and it was where George had discovered him. “I’ll get started on the improvements right away and trust the presbytery won’t leave me out in the cold if no one shows up to services. I mean, if you can’t trust the church …”

That comment was answered with George’s hearty laughter. “They’re the last ones I’d trust. Those Presbyterians think too much! I know I wasn’t keen on this idea at first, Noah, but I wish you well,” George said. “I’m proud of you for taking a chance.”

“Thanks, George. I’ll keep in touch.”

“Noah,” George said soberly. “Good luck, son. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

It was the first of July when Noah rattled into Virgin River and pulled right up to the church. Parked there was a big old Suburban with the wheels jacked up and covered with mud. Standing beside it was a tiny old woman with wiry white hair and big glasses, a cigarette hanging from her lips. She wore great big tennis shoes that didn’t look as if they’d ever been white and, although it was summer, she had on a jacket with torn pockets. When he parked and got out of his RV, she tossed the cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. One of Virgin River’s stunning beauties, he thought wryly.

“Reverend Kincaid, I presume?” she said.

From the look on her face, Noah assumed she was expecting someone a bit more refined. Maybe someone who dressed in khakis and a crisp white button-down? Shiny loafers? Neatly trimmed hair? Clean shaven at least? His hair was shaggy, his whiskers itchy, and he had a healthy bit of motor oil on his jeans, a result of a stop a hundred miles back when he’d had to work on the RV. “Mrs. McCrea,” he answered, putting out his hand.

She shook it briefly, then put the keys in his palm. “Welcome. Would you like a tour?”

“Do I need keys?” he asked. “The building wasn’t locked the last time I was here. I looked it over pretty thoroughly.”

“You’ve seen it?” she asked, clearly startled.

“Sure did. I took a run down here before placing a bid on behalf of the Presbyterian church. The door wasn’t locked so I helped myself. All the presbytery really needed from you was the engineer’s report on the building’s structural competence. I gave them lots of pictures.”

She pushed her oversize glasses up on her nose. “What are you, a minister or some kind of secret agent?”

He grinned at her. “Did you think the presbytery bought it on faith?”

“I guess I didn’t see any other possibility. Well, if you’re all set, let’s go in to Jack’s—it’s time for my drink. Doctor’s orders. I’ll front you one.”

“Did the doctor order the smokes, too?” he asked with a smile.

“You’re damn straight, sonny. Don’t start on me.”

“I gotta meet this doctor,” Noah muttered, following her.

Hope stopped abruptly, looked at him over her shoulder as she adjusted her jacket and said, “He’s dead.” And with that she turned and stomped into Jack’s bar.

Noah had only been in town a couple of days before the need for cleaning supplies sent him in the direction of Fortuna. The narrow, winding mountain roads led him toward the freeway, and he marveled that he had managed to get his RV to Virgin River at all, especially while towing his truck. He wasn’t quite halfway to Fortuna before he had his first lesson in how dramatically different mountain life was from life in the city, the campus and the Seattle wharf.

He spied a motionless animal by the side of the road and by pure coincidence there was a wide space on the shoulder just ahead. He pulled over and got out of his truck. When he was within a few feet, he realized it was a dog; perhaps some family pet. He went closer. Flies were buzzing around the animal and some of its fur looked shiny with blood, but Noah detected a slight movement. He crouched near the dog, whose eyes were open and tongue hanging out of its parted mouth. The animal was breathing, but clearly near death. The condition of the poor beast tore at his heart.

Just then, an old truck pulled up and parked behind Noah’s vehicle and a man got out. Noah took him for a farmer or rancher; he wore jeans, boots, a cowboy hat, and walked with a hitch that suggested a sore back. “Got a problem there, bud?” the man asked.

Noah looked at him over his shoulder. “Dog,” he said. “Hit by a car, I guess. And a while ago. But it’s alive.”

The rancher crouched and took a closer look. “Hmmph,” he grunted. He stood. “Okay then. I’ll take care of it.”

Noah waved away the flies and gave the dog’s head and neck a stroke. “Easy now—help’s on the way.” He was still stroking the dog’s neck when the man’s boots came into view beside him, as well as the business end of a rifle, aimed at the dog’s chest. “Might want to move back, son,” the man said.

“Hey!” Noah shouted, pushing the rifle away. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to put that poor creature out of its misery,” the man said in a tone that indicated he found the question ludicrous. “What else you gonna do?”

“Take it to a vet,” Noah said, standing. “Maybe it can be helped!”

“Buddy, look at that dog. It’s emaciated, pretty much starved. That animal was half-dead before a car hit it. Wouldn’t be right to leave it to lie here, dying.” He aimed again.

Again Noah pushed the rifle away. “Where’s the nearest vet?” he asked. “I’ll take it. If the vet can’t help it, he can euthanize the dog without blowing it apart.”

The rancher scratched his chin and shook his head. “Nathaniel Jensen is off 36, just this side of Fortuna, but he’s a large-animal vet. He’s got dogs, though. If he can’t help, he can give you the name of someone who can. Or put it down for you. But, buddy, that dog isn’t going to make it to the vet.”

“How do I get there?” Noah asked.

“Turn left off 36 on Waycliff Road. You’ll see a sign for Jensen Stables and Vet Clinic, and Dr. Jensen. It’s only a few minutes down the hill.” He shook his head again. “This could all be over in thirty seconds.”

Noah ignored him and went back to his truck, opening the passenger door. He returned to the animal and lifted it into his arms, which is when he discovered it was a female. The blood was dried and didn’t soil him, but flies buzzed around the injury and he was pretty sure he’d end up with maggots on his clothes. He was about halfway to his truck when the rancher said, “Good luck there, buddy.”

“Yeah,” Noah grumbled. “Thanks.”

Dr. Nathaniel Jensen proved to be a friendly guy just a little younger than Noah and he was far more helpful than the old rancher had been. He looked the dog over for about sixty seconds before he said, “This looks like it could be Lucy. Her owner was a local rancher, killed in an accident up north, near Redding, months ago now. He was hauling a gelding; killed him and the horse. They never found his dog, a border collie. She might’ve been thrown and injured. Or maybe she got scared and bolted. Oh, man, if this is Lucy, I bet she was trying to find her way home.”

“Does she have family who will take care of her?”

“That’s the thing—old Silas was a widower. He had one daughter and she married a serviceman, moved away more than twenty years ago. Silas’s ranch and stable sold immediately. The remaining animals—horses and dogs—were sold or placed. I don’t think the daughter was even back here for the sale. I could call around, see if anyone knows where she is. But that could take time old Lucy doesn’t have. She didn’t take on any of her father’s other animals. And we don’t even know if this is—”

“Old Lucy?” Noah asked.

“I didn’t mean it like that. She’s not that old. Three or four, maybe. Silas had a pack of ranch dogs. Herders. But Lucy was a favorite and went everywhere with him. She’s a mess.”

“Can you do anything for her?”

“Listen, I can start an IV, treat her for a possible head injury, find the source of bleeding, clean her up, sedate her if she needs it, run some antibiotics, transfuse her if necessary—but you’re looking at a big expense that Silas’s only daughter might not be willing to pick up. People around here—farmers and ranchers—most of ‘em aren’t real sentimental about their dogs. They wouldn’t spend more than the animal’s worth.”

“I’m beginning to understand that,” Noah said, pulling out his wallet. He extracted a credit card and said, “I don’t have a phone yet—I just got here and there’s no reception for the cell. I’ll call in or stop by. Just do what you can do.”

“Nothing wrong with just letting her go, Noah,” he said gently. “As banged up as she is, that’s what most people would do. Even if she pulls through, there’s no guarantee she’ll be much of a dog.”

He stroked the dog’s head and thought, No guarantee any of us will be much of anything, but we still try. “Be sure to give her something good for pain, all right? I don’t want her to be in pain while you see what can be done.”

“You sure about this?” Nathaniel asked.

Noah smiled at him. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow afternoon. And thanks.”

The next day, Noah learned that Lucy had a few cracked ribs, a couple of lacerations and scrapes, was malnourished and infested with tics and maggots, and had a systemic infection. She might recover, Dr. Jensen said, but her condition was poor. If she did get stronger, Dr. Jensen insisted she should be spayed. So on top of everything else, poor Lucy was going to have a hysterectomy. He gave Nathaniel Jensen the phone number for the bar next door to the church, in case something came up. It turned out Doc Jensen knew the owner, Jack.

Noah soon discovered that Virgin River’s Communication Central was located right next door to the church—at Jack’s Bar. Jack was a very nice guy who seemed to know everyone and everything. He quizzed Noah briefly about his denomination, education, what plans he had for the church, and that was all it took for the entire town to be informed. Noah had expected some rude jokes and at the very least some good-natured ribbing about being the pastor who bought an old church on eBay, and he hadn’t been disappointed. But it also seemed the people in town were relieved to learn he was an ordained minister, since he looked pretty much like an out-of-work lumberjack; all the thin white scars on his hands and forearms from work on the boats and docks undoubtedly set him up as a man who did hard, physical labor.

Noah explained that the building officially belonged to the church but that it would be governed by a group of church elders once they were functional and had a congregation. Ownership would hopefully, in time, pass to the congregants, as they amassed and grew and gathered the funds to support it. His plans? “How about a low-key, friendly place for people to gather, support each other, worship together?” Noah had answered. “No revivals or animal sacrifices till we’re all better acquainted.” And then he had grinned.

Not only did Jack give him good press, which Noah appreciated, but in short order Jack began to feel like a friend. Noah checked in daily at Jack’s, usually having at least a cup of coffee, and through Jack he met many of the locals. And Jack’s phone was the hotline to the veterinarian. “Nate called in, Noah,” Jack reported. “That dog of yours is still hanging in there. Doing better.”

“She worth more than my truck yet?” Noah asked.

Jack laughed. “I saw that old truck, Noah. I suspect she was worth more than that when you scraped her off the road.”

“Funny,” Noah said. “That truck gets me where I’m going. Most of the time.”

Jack’s partner and cook, known as Preacher, invited Noah to jump on their satellite wireless-Internet connection so Noah could use his laptop for e-mails and research on the Net, but cautioned him against buying anything else Hope McCrea might be selling.

When he wasn’t cleaning out the church or getting himself settled in town, every other day Noah visited Lucy at Jensen’s Stables and Vet Clinic. Since the weather was warm, Nate was keeping her in an empty stall and Noah would spend an hour or so just sitting on the ground beside her, talking to her, petting her. By the time she’d been there a week it was apparent she was going to pull through. After ten days she was walking around, if slowly. “Don’t show me the bill,” Noah said to Nate Jensen during one of his visits. “I don’t want to cry in front of you.”

There was no parsonage for Noah to call home, but he was comfortable in the RV and he had the truck for getting around the mountains. He did a little door-knocking, letting the folks know he was new to town and planned to get that church going. He had hoped some volunteers would materialize to help with the cleanup, but he refrained from asking and so far no one had offered. People seemed extremely friendly, but Noah thought they might be holding off a little to see what kind of minister he stacked up to be. There was a good chance he wasn’t what they were looking for at all, but only time would tell.

He’d collected enough cakes and cookies for a bake sale. The women in town had been dropping by, bearing sweets and welcoming him to the neighborhood. Even though Noah had a scary-powerful sweet tooth, he was getting a little tired of feasting on desserts. He even gave a passing thought to holding a bake sale.

Another thing Noah did was visit the nearest hospital—Valley Hospital. He called on the sick and bereaved. Preaching might be his job, but bringing comfort was his calling.

Since there was no hospital chaplain, they relied on the local clergy to visit, so Noah just asked a hospital volunteer to point him toward anyone who might need a friendly visit. She looked him up and down doubtfully; he was dressed as usual in his jeans, boots and flannel shirt … He wore the T-shirt without holes. If he hadn’t had a Bible in his hand, he had the impression the volunteer would have seriously questioned him. Clearly, the pastors hereabouts must spruce up a bit before visiting the patients.

His first client was an elderly man, a real sourpuss, who eyed the Bible and said, “I ain’t in the mood.”

Noah laughed. “Since I can’t fit the Bible in my pocket, why don’t you tell me what you’d like to do. Talk, tell jokes, watch some TV?”

“Where you from, boy?” the old man asked.

“I’m from Ohio originally, most recently from—”

“No! I mean, what religion you from!”

“Oh. Presbyterian.”

“I ain’t been in a church in fifty years or more.”

“You don’t say,” Noah replied.

“But when I was, it sure as hell wasn’t Presbyterian!”

“I see.”

“I was born Catholic!”

“No kidding?” Noah said. “Well, let’s see.” He dug around in the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a rosary. He dangled it. “You have any use for this?”

“What the Sam Hill is a Presbyterian fella doing with one of those? You using those now?”

“No, we’re still sticking to the basics, but I’m a pretty all-purpose preacher. You want it?”

“I won’t use it,” he said defiantly. “You can leave it, but I won’t use it.”

“Sure,” Noah said. “So, what’s that you got on TV?”

“Andy Griffith,” he answered.

“All right! I love that show. You ever see that one when Barney had the motorcycle with the sidecar?” Noah moved into the room and took the chair beside the old man’s bed, draping the rosary across his arthritic hands.

“I seen it. You see the one where he locks himself in the cell?”

“Didn’t he do that every few weeks?” Noah asked with a smirk. “How about when Aunt Bea accidentally got drunk? You see that one?”

“Otis, the town drunk, now there’s a character,” the old fella said.

It took a while, but he learned this man was Salvatore Salentino, Sal for short. They went over their favorite episodes for a while, then Sal needed assistance to the bathroom, then he wanted to talk about his old truck, which he missed like crazy since being put in a nursing home. Next, he spoke about his grown daughter who’d moved out of the mountains and rarely came back. Then he got onto how much he hated computers. Finally, he asked Noah if he’d be back this way anytime soon because he was returning to the nursing home in a couple of days. “I could stop by there if you’d like me to, Sal,” Noah said.

“Can if you want,” the old fella said. “But don’t get the idea you’re going to turn me into some goddamn Presbyterian!”

Noah smiled and said, “Good grief, no. I just haven’t had anyone to watch Andy with in a long time.”

There wasn’t much to salvage in the old church. The pews had been removed, the appliances in the church kitchen ripped out, the pulpit, altar and baptistery gone, not an accessory in sight—all sold off when the church had closed its doors. There was, however, that incredible stained-glass window at the front of the church. It was an amazing, valuable work of art.

The first thing Noah had done when beginning the cleanup was borrow a ladder from Jack and tear the plywood off the outside of the church. The daylight revealed a far larger and more beautiful stained-glass window than he imagined a poor church could afford, and he was surprised it hadn’t been removed and sold or transported to another church. When he stared up at it, it gave him a feeling of purpose, of belonging. It was an image of Jesus, white robed, arms spread, palms out and accessible. On his shoulder was a dove. At his feet a lamb, a rabbit, a fawn. In the setting sun the light caught the eyes of Christ and created a beam of light that shone down into the church; a path of light in which he could see the dust motes dancing. He had no prie-dieu kneeler, but he would stand in front of that beautiful creation, hands deep in his pockets, staring up at the image and repeat the most beautiful prayer he knew. The prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi. Lord, make me an instrument of your peace….

By his third week in Virgin River, Lucy had been released into Noah’s care. Dr. Nathaniel Jensen gave him Lucy’s bill, and Noah folded it in half, stuffed it in the pocket of his Levi’s and refused to look at it until he had Lucy home. When he looked at the statement, he grabbed his heart. “Really, I should be able to drive you,” he said to the dog. Lucy licked his hand. “Remind me to keep my eyes on the road when I’m driving through the mountains,” he said.

Lucy was still a long way from being a frisky pup—she was on a special recovery diet, along with vitamins and antibiotics. She was a black-and-white border collie, maybe a bit of something else in the mix, and she had the most beautiful, large brown eyes that could look very pathetic and sad. Noah purchased a soft dog bed that he carried from the RV to the church office to accommodate her lingering aches and pains. Preacher agreed to fix a special chicken-and-rice meal for her twice a day, since Noah’s cooking facilities were a bit restricted in the RV. Lucy could manage the three steps up to the bar porch, where she took many of her meals, but she had a terrible struggle getting up the stairs to the church office. Noah usually ended up carrying her.

What with the community outreach, caring for Lucy and the slow progress on the church cleanup, Noah realized he was going to need some help. So, once the phone line was installed, he advertised for a pastor’s assistant. He fielded many more calls than he expected, but once he’d answered a few questions about hours, pay and benefits, most of the callers said “they’d get back to him.” The duties weren’t typical—there would be cleaning and painting, as well as setting up an office—and he guessed the callers found the work too hard. He made appointments for three women who hadn’t bothered to ask questions. With Lucy settled on her pallet beside the old desk that had been left behind, he prepared to interview the first round of candidates.

The first was Selma Hatchet, a portly woman of sixty who walked with a three-pronged cane. “You the pastor?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, rising. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Please, have a seat,” he said, indicating the chair that faced his desk. When they were both seated, they proceeded to visit a bit. The lady had raised a family and a couple of grandkids for her working daughter, done a great deal of volunteer work, and had been quite involved in the Grace Valley Presbyterian Church for the past twenty years.

“Mrs. Hatchet, this position will evolve into secretarial work, but right now it’s going to be a very physical job. I not only need help organizing an office and library, but scrubbing, painting, spackling and probably a lot of heavy lifting. It might not be what you’re looking for.”

She stiffened and lifted her chin. “I want to do the Lord’s work,” she said tightly. “I’ll willingly carry any load the Lord entrusts me with.”

Noah briefly wondered if Mrs. Hatchet thought he had workmen’s comp for when she threw out her back or took a tumble off a ladder. “Well, that’s admirable, but in this case the Lord’s work is going to be dirty, messy and the only praying will probably be for Bengay.”

He saw her to the door with a promise to be in touch.

The next applicant looked physically better suited to the hard work ahead and she was more than willing to pitch in, no matter how difficult or dirty the work. Rachael Nagel was in her midforties, a rancher’s wife who’d done her share of lifting and hauling, but she was a little scary. She had that pinched look of disapproval and began questioning him before he could get a word in edgewise. “You’re not going to be one of those liberal preachers, are you?”

Liberal was just about his middle name. Noah’s father was all about fire and brimstone, hell and damnation, and was probably the main reason Noah was not. “Um, I’ve been considered liberal by some, conservative by others.

Tell me, Mrs. Nagel, do you by chance play the piano or organ?”

“Never had time for anything frivolous with a ranch to run, but I raised seven children with a firm hand. I can make sure the doctrine of the church is followed to the letter.”

“What a wonderful gift,” he said. “I’ll be in touch.”

“You oughtn’t keep a dog like that in the church,” she pointed out. “You’re gonna end up with problems.”

“And where do you suggest I keep her?” he asked.

“Since you don’t have land, you could get an outdoor kennel. Or tie it to a tree.”

Noah knew right then Mrs. Nagel wouldn’t work out.

His third applicant was Ellie Baldwin. Noah was sitting behind his desk when she walked into his ramshackle office. He paused before managing to get to his feet to greet her. She looked young, early twenties at best. And tall—almost six feet—without her shoes and hair. Most of that six feet was legs, which were sticking a long way out of a short flouncy skirt, her feet slipped into high-heeled sandals. She had very big hair, a ton of coppery curls that were streaked with gold and that fell to her shoulders and down her back. Not only was her yellow sweater tight and revealing, but a little bit of her purple bra was showing at the low décolletage … on purpose. This was a look he’d been seeing for a while—this showing of the bra, a push-up bra no less. He couldn’t deny it was a lovely sight, but he didn’t usually see this immodest style in a church.

She had a crinkled-up piece of newspaper in her hand. “I’m looking for Reverend Kincaid,” she said.

“I’m Noah Kincaid. How do you do?”

“You’re—”

“The pastor. And you must be Miss Baldwin.”

Her eyelashes were thick with black liner and mascara, her cheeks rouged, her lips red and glossy, her nails long and painted blue with sparkles, and a glance down those long legs revealed the polish on her toes matched her fingertips. She smiled at him when she came into the room. Then she turned away abruptly to take the gum out of her mouth, though he couldn’t tell where it went. But the image of her smile was immediately tattooed on his mind—it was beautiful. Also hopeful. But what was she thinking, coming to a job interview in a small-town church dressed all honky-tonk? And he thought, Aw, Jesus. Why me?

He stuck out his hand, hoping a wad of gum wouldn’t be left in it. “How are you?”

“Fine, thanks,” she said. “Have you filled the job yet?”

“I have a couple of promising applicants. But let’s talk about the job,” he said. He had a twinge of guilt—no way could he, a single minister of thirty-five, hire someone like this. People would never understand. Or worse, they’d assume they did understand. This interview was going to be a waste of time.

“Awww, is that your dog?” she asked, smiling down at Lucy.

“Meet Lucy,” he said. At the sound of her name, she lifted her head.

“Is she really old? She looks very tired.”

“She’s recovering from a bad accident. I found her by the side of the road and, presto, I became her new owner,” he said. “The job,” he went on, “isn’t limited to office work. As you can see, there’s a lot of renovation and repair going on here. This church won’t be ready for a congregation until some very heavy and very dirty work gets done. A couple of months’ worth, at least.”

She nodded. “Right,” she said. “Fine.”

His eyebrows lifted. “If you don’t mind me saying so, you look kind of fragile for that kind of work.”

She laughed and her whole face brightened. “Is that so? Well, this fragile girl has cleaned up a lot of dumps and lifted more than her share of heavy stuff, Your Reverence.”

He cleared his throat. “It’s Noah. Please. I’m not the pope.”

“I know that,” she scoffed. “I was being funny.”

“Ah. And so you were,” he admitted. “So, not only do I need an office set up and some appointment, phone, and calendar management, but also help with moving furniture, painting, cleaning, et cetera.”

“Got it,” she said.

He leaned forward. “Ms. Baldwin, why do you want this job?”

“Isn’t it a good job?” she asked. “There wasn’t much to the ad, but it sounded like a decent job in a decent line of work.”

“Sure. And you’re drawn to this line of work because …?”

“I need a change. Something a little more secure. Less stressful.”

“And your last or current job is … was …?”

“Dancer. The hours don’t work for me. I have kids. They’re with my ex right now, but I’d like a job I can do while they’re in school. Y’know?”

“But do you have secretarial experience?”

“For when we’re done plastering and painting and moving furniture? Sure. A lot. I have a list of previous jobs,” she said, pulling a pretty tattered, folded piece of paper out of her purse.

He glanced at it. He didn’t see dancer on there but, without asking, he suspected he knew what kind of dancer. Just the way she was dressed, decidedly not churchy, suggested way too much. But, she had also worked for a real estate broker, a property manager and a “Lawyer?” he asked, surprised.

“Uh-huh. Nice guy. I did a real good job for him. You can call him—he’ll tell you. He said he’d write me a letter of recommendation anytime I ask.”

“And you left that job because …?”

She looked away a bit uncomfortably. “He liked my work, I promise. But his wife wasn’t real crazy about me. But call him!” she said, looking back at him. “I did a good job there.”

The girl had worked everywhere. Everything from a loading dock to a convenience store. “How could you do all this stuff?” Noah asked, perplexed.

“Two jobs,” she shrugged. “Office work during the day, for the experience and benefits. Then a second job, part-time, at night and on weekends. I worked at a convenience store at night till it got held up, then I cleaned business offices with a cleaning crew. I have a lot of experience.”

“Loading dock?” he asked, glancing up from her résumé.

“For a big retailer. It was kind of temporary, till I could get a job that didn’t break all my nails.” And she smiled at him. “I don’t think there’s anything you could throw at me that I haven’t done.”

“Great,” he said. “Can I keep this?”

She looked a little panicked. “Could you just copy down stuff? Names and numbers or whatever you want? I had to go to some trouble to make that up and I only have the one copy.”

“Of course,” Noah said.

“I should probably get copies,” she said. “I don’t have a computer, myself. A friend helped me do that up.”

“No problem,” he said. And he made a point of copying some things off the page, though he had no intention of following up. When he looked up at her again, it was difficult not to notice that chest. He couldn’t escape the feeling those boobs were going to poke his eyes out. “Tell me something—any chance you play the piano or organ?”

“Organ? No. But my gramma taught me the piano, and hymns were her favorite. I could manage, probably. If I had time for a little practice. It’s been a while.”

“Church hymns?”

She grinned. “It’s what I grew up on, believe it or not.”

“Really?” Noah said, intrigued. Then he found himself just staring at her for a long, mesmerizing moment. “Um,” he started, collecting himself, “where do you live, Ms. Baldwin?”

She leaned forward, and her boobs nearly fell out of that tight sweater. He could feel his eyes bulge and his hands itch with temptation. “Ellie is fine,” she said. “I mean, if I don’t have to call you Your Reverence, you can call me Ellie. I have a place in Eureka right now, but I’d like to get my kids out of there. I’d like to move them someplace small and friendly where they can grow up safe, you know?”

“Do you mind me asking, how old are your kids?”

“Danielle is eight and Trevor is four.” She smiled proudly. “They’re amazing. Beautiful and smart and … Well,” she said, straightening. “Of course I’d think that. They’re also very healthy. I shouldn’t be missing work because they’re sick or anything.”

He was speechless. “You don’t look old enough to—” He stopped himself. It was none of his business.

“I started the family too young, I know that. But I’m sure glad I have them.”

After a moment of silence he said, “Yes. Absolutely. Well, listen, you have some very good qualifications here. Can I get back to you?”

Her face fell. “Yeah,” she said. “Sure.” And then she stood. “I wish you’d take it kind of serious. I need the job. I’ve looked everywhere for a job I can do while my kids are in school and it’s hell, you know? Sorry—you probably don’t say hell …”

He felt a smile tug at his lips. He almost said, Hell if I don’t.

“Really, I could do just about anything,” she said. “I’m a very hard worker.”

“You’re very qualified,” he said with a nod. “I’ll be in touch.” He stuck out his hand.

Eyes downcast, Ellie took it limply. “Thanks,” she said, looking totally disheartened.

Two

While Ellie made her own way out of his office and the church, Noah stayed behind his desk. He hadn’t really expected to immediately find someone he could hire, anyway. In fact, he thought the search would probably be long and difficult. But the last thing he’d expected was to interview someone who could do the job, and do it in a push-up bra and short skirt. Whoa, he thought. He was actually having a reaction. He shifted in his chair to get comfortable, trying to ignore his body’s response. Nature was a practical joker.

Reflecting on the past several weeks and remembering Ellie’s dejected posture as she left the interview got Noah thinking. When his wife, Merry, died a few years ago, the grief bit hard and the adjustment was terrible; marriage really worked for him and the loss was devastating. Merry’s death left him a thirty-year-old widower, just about the last thing he ever envisioned for himself. For a year he felt like a pebble banging around inside an empty tin can and then, with George’s encouragement, he headed for the seminary.

Noah had nurtured a lifelong aversion to the ministry because of his father whom he considered a mean-spirited hypocrite. Jasper Kincaid was a semifamous preacher who had his own cable television mission in Columbus, Ohio. Big-time church, big-time money, big-time fame and power. But Jasper had treated his wife and son with indifference, and that was on a good day. They were too often the objects of his anger and recriminations. No way was Noah ever going to follow in those footsteps.

“Stop judging how everyone else treats their faith and study your own,” George had counseled. “It took a bloody ton of it to get where you are today.”

Indeed. While still a teenager, Noah had fled his Ohio roots and headed for the Pacific Northwest. He worked as a laborer anywhere he could get work, but fell in love with the fishing industry, with the ocean and the livelihood it offered. While he worked, he also studied—sometimes as a part-time student, sometimes full-time.

His mother, too loyal and kindhearted to ever defy his father, stayed in touch and even visited. She wanted to give him money to assist with his education, but Noah refused. His mom met Merry only once and, for the first time in his life, Noah saw his mother weep with happiness that Noah should find a young woman so full of love and joy. Only two years later, his mother came, alone, to Merry’s funeral.

Noah and his father had spoken only once in the past seventeen years and that was at his mother’s funeral a year ago. He had no desire to reconcile with Jasper. He considered it a matter of survival.

Noah had been at his desk about an hour, trying to write up a schedule for himself but doing nothing but thinking and remembering, when he looked at his watch. Three o’clock. There wouldn’t be a crowd at Jack’s at this time of day and he thought maybe a cup of coffee was in order. He gave Lucy a pat on the head and promised to be back soon.

When he walked into the bar, he was surprised to see Ellie Baldwin seated at a table not far from the empty hearth. A cup of coffee sat in front of her, her hands were folded in her lap and she gazed out the window. Instead of looking brassy and sexy, she looked a little lost. Noah lifted a hand in her direction, but she was deep in thought and didn’t even notice him. So he went up to the bar.

“Hey, Noah,” Jack said.

“What’s she doing here?” Noah asked.

Jack shrugged. “Disappointed, I think. But what are you gonna do?” Jack put a mug in front of Noah and poured coffee without being asked.

“Disappointed?” Noah asked.

“She said she didn’t get the job.”

“I said I’d get back to her about that,” Noah said.

“Maybe that’s not what she heard, Noah.”

“Hmm.” He took a sip of coffee. “How about two slices of pie, right over there.”

“Sure thing,” Jack said.

Noah migrated to Ellie’s table. He stood there until she looked up at him. Oh, man, he was in trouble. Her eyes were red rimmed and wet, her mascara a little smeared. Grant that I may not so much seek to be understood as to understand. “You mind if I join you?” he asked.

She straightened and her eyes immediately cleared and narrowed. She was one tough customer. “Knock yourself out,” she said coolly.

He pulled out a chair and set his coffee cup in front of him. “You seem upset, Ellie. Was it something I said?”

“It was something you didn’t say,” she replied.

“Oh? What was that?”

“You’re hired,” she said.

“I thought I should give all the applicants a fair shot.”

“Are you kidding me? I sat in my car outside waiting for my turn. I saw the other applicants—all two of them. One could barely get up the stairs; not a good bet for moving furniture. The other one had such a mean schnobble, she could break glass with her face.”

“Schnobble?” he asked.

“What my gramma used to call a sourpuss. Now, that’s a church lady, all right—if you’re looking for one as mean as a junkyard dog.”

He laughed before he could reel it in. “Who knew you were checking out the competition.” Jack brought the pie, put it in front of them and got the heck out of there. Noah lifted a fork. “Pretty accurate, too. But I told you I’d get in touch.”

“If you do, it’ll be to say I didn’t get the job.”

He was quiet a moment, then he said, “Have some pie. Nobody makes pie like Preacher.”

“Preacher? You made the pie?”

“No, the cook—he goes by the nickname Preacher. That could lead to problems.” He nodded toward the plate. “Try it.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I’m not hungry.”

“Give it a chance, you’ll be amazed. And between bites, tell me why I don’t get the benefit of the doubt.”

Slowly, reluctantly, she took a bite of blackberry pie. She chewed and swallowed, but clearly the ambrosia of Preacher’s pie was lost on her. After one bite, she put down the fork and her hands went back into her lap. Noah had to concentrate to focus on her eyes. That cleavage was killing him. “No hard feelings,” she said quietly. “I haven’t had much luck in the job market lately. I think it’s made me a little cranky.”

“Well, what are you looking for?” he asked, digging into his pie.

“Anything proper,” she said. “It’s like I said, it’s for my kids.”

“And they’ll benefit from their mom having a proper job?”

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. “Look, it’s kind of personal—my kids are going through a hard time. I don’t think I should talk about it. No way I want people to know all that stuff …”

Noah considered this for a second and against his better judgment he said, “If you feel like talking about it, Ellie, you can trust me with a confidence.”

“How can I be sure of that?” she asked with a lift of one eyebrow.

He sat back and smirked. “I’m a minister. I took Secret Keeping 101.”

“But you’re not my minister,” she reminded him. “It’s all pretty messy.”

“And of course I never hear anything messy in this job,” he said sarcastically. “I don’t mean to pry. I was just offering you a chance to—”

“I lost my kids,” she blurted. “My ex-husband filed for custody and got it. It shouldn’t have happened, but it did. I was dancing in a club where some of the girls take off their clothes sometimes.” She shrugged. “Not sometimes—all the time. They think the more they’re willing to take off, the better the tips, and that was usually true.” She swallowed and looked away, her eyes threatening to fill again. “My tips were about average.”

“You were an exotic dancer?” he asked.

She looked back at him. “There was nothing exotic about it.”

Truthfully, she looked like someone who’d be more than comfortable taking it off. Noah was hardly shocked; while he was working his way through seminary, he had a casual little ministry down on the docks. His best customers were bums, strippers, homeless people, addicts and others.

“Are they okay with their dad?” Noah asked with as much sensitivity as possible.

The question got an instant reaction out of her. Her face became angry and hard, erasing some of the youthful beauty buried under too much makeup. “He’s not their dad. He was their stepdad for less than three months, and this isn’t about giving them a good life, it’s about holding them hostage. He wants me, that’s what he wants. I dated him for quite a while and I thought he was a nice, normal guy, but he’s not. He’s weird, abusive, mean and controlling, so we got out.

“After we left him, I found myself a real nice setup—I rented half a duplex next to a great lady who could keep the kids at night while I worked. I needed the sitter, she needed the extra money and we had a good arrangement. She was super to the kids, they hardly knew I was gone. I fixed dinner and left at six, she got their baths, read with them and put them to bed, then she’d nod off on the couch till I got home. It was one of the first times I could afford both the rent and the babysitting on just one job. But Arnie wanted us back. He doesn’t like it when things don’t go his way. Taking my kids away from me was the only thing he could think of. He’s one of those people who has to be in charge all the time. In control.”

Noah’s fork was frozen in midair. After all that, all he could say was, “Abusive?”

“Mean,” she said. “He doesn’t hit, but he’s real rigid, demanding as hell and says hurtful things. You don’t like what’s on your plate, you go to bed hungry after you’re called a whole bunch of names. You don’t snap to attention, and you’re called stupid and idiot. Don’t rinse the dishes and wipe the table just perfect, you go to bed without stories or playtime. There’s no TV in the house, no talking at the table, no playing outside unless an adult is standing over you. No sleeping together—that’s dirty.” Her eyes watered. “Trevor is only four! And even when I did manage to get a place where they had their own room, they were always crawling in with me! It’s what kids do!”

Noah couldn’t move. She was pushing some buttons he didn’t feel like having pushed. He started hearing his father’s voice. What do I ask of you besides respect and decency? You have to learn discipline and restraint for your own good before you’re completely lost! No dessert/football/summer camp/TV/friends/et cetera et cetera et cetera!

Her voice lowered and calmed. “Danielle is only eight, and she’s expected to make sure everything is perfectly tidy and clean. And if it isn’t exactly how he wants it, which she’s just too young to do, he calls her names and takes away privileges.” Her laugh had a hollowing. “They’re not things I call privileges—like dinner? Like reading before bed? A privilege? I call it a necessity. How’s Danielle going to grow up smarter than me if she doesn’t get to read?”

Noah cleared his throat. “And this is better for them than a mother who dances for a living?”

She shrugged and looked down for a second. “It was the kind of dancing I did, I guess.” But she met his eyes when she said, “I don’t see the problem. It’s not like I took the kids to the club. It’s not an illegal place.”

“And the judge awarded custody to their stepfather?”

Her lips curved in a cynical smile. “The judge isn’t such a good tipper, either,” she said.

Noah felt sick. He put down his fork. “How did the judge figure in this, Ellie? Did you know him before?”

“He came into the club sometimes. He asked to buy me dinner a few times and I said no—he’s an old man! And besides, we don’t date customers. I explained that, but he wasn’t happy with the answer. But he fixed me, didn’t he?”

“Did the judge tell you that if you found a ‘proper’ job, you could have custody again?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “He said he couldn’t, in good conscience, leave the children in the hands of a stripper when there was a better alternative. All he knows about Arnie is that he’s a principal for a private school. He doesn’t know the real Arnie. The real Arnie can have a mean mouth on him. The judge said this was just temporary—he’d look at the custody again in ninety days.” She glanced away. “Eighty-two and counting.”

“Are you seeing your kids?”

She nodded and that’s when things fell apart for her; she couldn’t keep the tears back. One big one rolled down each cheek. “Every Saturday, just during the day. They can’t even spend the night with me. They’ve never been away from me before. I’ve never spent a single night away from them since they were born, except to work! Do you know the only reason why I haven’t done something like snatch them and run? Because Arnie is obsessed with winning, with having his way. I believe he’d hunt me down and have me locked up. And that would be even worse for the kids than this.”

Noah’s pie sat untouched, as well. He didn’t feel so hot. “Have you tried to get help, Ellie? Like legal aid?”

“Sure,” she said. “They were very nice to me. But there’s not a lot they can do with the decision at this point. Their advice was to try to find an acceptable job. They said they’d go back to court with me, maybe even sooner than ninety days, and they’d make sure I got my kids back. And make sure Arnie didn’t get any visitation—we were only married three months and they’re not his kids. Once I have my kids back legally, I’m running for my life. I’ll go as far as I have to go. I’ll change our names. I’m never letting something like this happen to them again. I made a lot of mistakes … I know I’m not the best mother—the best mother wouldn’t dance for strange men. But I love my kids. I take as good care of them as I can and I love them. And they are, for God’s sake, going to be able to read before bed!”

He smiled at her. “I think that’s something a good mother would insist on.”

“I try. I do everything I can. What else you going to do? It’s really hard when you have to work two jobs. At least at the club, I didn’t have to have a second job to make ends meet. And it was a job I could do while they were asleep.”

“Ellie, do you mind if I ask—how old are you?”

“Twenty-five.”

Well, she said she had them too young, he thought. “Where’s their biological dad?”

She shook her head and heaved a defeated sigh. “Oh, what the hell, you’re not giving me that church job anyway. A church job would really kick ass, but—” She took a breath. “This is all part of that Secret Keeping 101, right?”

“You bet.”

“I got pregnant in high school and then my boyfriend got killed in a motorcycle accident before we could even get married. It took me a long time to pick up the pieces and then I made my second big mistake—Trevor’s daddy went to prison when I was just barely pregnant. Robbery. He had a cigar lighter that looked exactly like a gun—how about that? He decided to play a joke on a store owner and ask for the bank deposit. We don’t have any contact at all and never will. And then, as if I couldn’t be smart even once in my life, I married Arnie Gunterson.”

“Wow,” Noah said. “Why’d you marry him?”

“Come on, he didn’t act crazy when I was getting to know him. He was real nice. And he offered me something I’d never had before—a chance to live in a real house and stay home to take care of my kids. He treated me careful, with respect. He never even tried anything, he was saving himself for marriage—remind me never to fall for that one again! I didn’t know there was anything wrong with him. I mean, I knew he wasn’t fun. But the last fun one, Chip, was a laugh a minute, all the way to jail.” She took a breath. “Honest to God, I don’t even know why Arnie wants me. I wasn’t married to him for three days before he started acting all jealous, asking every day if I talked to any men, acting as if he didn’t even really like me. But he wanted me there, in his house, taking orders. And I don’t take orders very well. I must have been like a bad dream to him and he still wouldn’t let me go.

“But you know what? I’m going to figure this out. I’m going to get on my feet, get my kids back, and we’re going to be fine. There have been three men in my life, one of ‘em dead and two of ‘em too lousy to talk about, and that’s the total number of men there ever will be until I drop dead. How’s that? I don’t care what it takes, I’m getting ahead of this. My gramma always used to say the stuff that doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. Pastor Kincaid, meet Hercules Baldwin.”

Right away Noah’s thought was, You might’ve sworn off men, but I bet they haven’t sworn off you—not with

that face and body. Shew. He was starting to feel a little warm. Let me seek to understand rather than to be understood. Where there is despair, let me offer hope. And dear God, could you please get her to cover up that cleavage for a while?

“Look, Your Reverence, I just need a job like this for ninety days. That’s all. Maybe even less. I just have to convince the judge I’m a good mother, that I have a proper job, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”

“You know the judge shouldn’t have been able to take them from you without a pretty exhaustive investigation, right? You know he overstepped his authority, right? Did the legal-aid people explain all that?” Noah asked her.

“That the judge went his own way on this because he could?” she asked. “Oh, yeah, I know he was just screwing with me. And it was also explained that challenging him right now could drag things out even longer—it would make his decision more of an issue than the custody. And believe me, I don’t cut him any slack here, but he doesn’t realize what he’s doing to the kids by giving Arnie control any more than I did when I married Arnie. I’m sure he didn’t think it would be horrible for them. That’s no excuse for ignoring some real important rules, like giving the kids a lawyer of their own … That isn’t going to happen twice, I promise!”

He thought for a second, studying his pie. He looked up. “Ellie, I’d like to ask you a question and I don’t think there’s a way to do it that won’t be offensive. I apologize for that. Could there be any other possible reason the judge chose your ex-husband as the guardian?”

“Like?” she asked, as if confused.

He shrugged. “Problems with the law? Parenting problems? You know …”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t drink or smoke. I don’t do drugs. The only law I ever broke was not getting my license tags renewed on time because I didn’t have the money. I have a potty mouth, but not in front of the kids … I hardly ever slip. I don’t leave my children alone, and I’ve lost jobs when the sitter stood me up. I can’t give my kids everything I want to, but I take care of them the best I can.”

“You understand, I can’t even consider you for the job unless I ask.”

“I can do your stupid job,” she said defiantly. “And you can bet I’ll do a damn good job. No one has ever complained about my work. I work hard. I always do two days’ work in one, just in case one of the kids gets a fever or something and I have to call in sick to stay with them. I swear to God, if there’s one thing I’m not, it’s lazy!”

“You know, Ellie, the pay I’m able to afford is low. Very modest,” he said. “There are some benefits, but they’re not the greatest.”

“I figured,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t care about that.”

“How would you make that work? You obviously need money.”

“I’ll make changes,” she said. “Give up the duplex. Find one room somewhere. I don’t need a house when I can’t have my kids overnight. We’ve lived in one room before and we could do it again.” She shrugged. “Cozy. We just curl up and tickle and laugh and play and—” Again her eyes misted over. “I’ll manage whatever life throws at me. That’s what I’m used to doing.”

“The church job—it’s not a piece of cake,” he said. “I need help with heavy jobs. You saw the place. I have to fix it up before I even get to the preaching part.”

She flashed him a smile. “Sounds like fun. More fun than listening to a lot of bible beating.”

“At least I’m not going to have to work at getting you to come out of your shy little shell,” Noah said, and she laughed. “You’re in a tight spot. You need just under three months to get back to the judge and for me to find someone permanent. We could try it. But it’s not going to be easy.” On either one of us, he thought.

“Do I seem like someone who knows what to do with easy?”

He smiled and shook his head. He knew better; this was a bad idea. But the kid deserved a break, didn’t she? He dared a glance down from her eyes. A tremor ran though him. She sure didn’t look like a church secretary. But then, he didn’t look like a preacher. “You’re out of work right now?” he asked.

“I quit the day the judge gave Arnie the kids. I have to find something right away.”

“Tomorrow’s Thursday. If you want to start then, you can. But like I said, it’s dirty work. Do you have … ah … Jeans? Sweatshirts? Some shoes that aren’t high heels?”

“Sure,” she said, beaming. “Cool. I haven’t been in a church in years!”

“No kidding? I’d never have guessed. Well, people will have certain expectations …”

“Okay, no swearing. I’ll be totally polite. And I’ll leave my pasties and G-string at home.” Noah went completely red and she burst out laughing. “I don’t have pasties and G-strings. That club? It wasn’t that bad.”

“Just out of curiosity, what was your part?” he asked.

“Well,” she said, rolling her eyes upward. “That’s the interesting thing—sometimes a certain costume or look does more for the guys than being totally naked. The two most popular outfits were the cheerleading costume and the candy striper’s costume. The men—they really go for pom-poms.” Ellie looked at Noah. “Hey—are you all right?”

“Fine. I’m fine,” Noah said weakly. He’d been in his share of strip clubs, but not for a while. And he hadn’t had much female companionship lately, either. Until today, he hadn’t realized how much he missed that. “Now, try that pie.”

“Thanks,” she said. “Are you just doing this to be nice?”

“Pretty much. Are you conning me?”

“Out of a job that’s really hard and pays practically nothing?” she asked. “Why? So I can steal and hock a crucifix? Please. If I could figure out how to con someone, I’d go after that judge. What a jackass he turned out to be. Oops. Sorry. I’m going to have to work on my language, huh?”

“Probably,” Noah grumbled.

After finishing their pie, Noah and Ellie stood, shook hands, and she left. Noah took the empty plates and cups over to Jack at the bar.

“She seemed a lot happier when she left than when she came in, if you know what I mean,” Jack said.

“She assumed she wouldn’t get the job at the church,” Noah said. “Not exactly church-secretary material, I guess.”

“I guess,” Jack said. “Nice-enough girl, though.”

“She needs a job,” Noah said.

“That a fact?”

“What she needs is a break. And it turns out she has all the qualifications.”

Jack grinned. “I couldn’t help but notice.”

Noah sat on a stool. “Better give me a beer….”

“You bet. What’s your pleasure?”

“I’m flexible.”

Jack drew him a cold draft. “You gave her the job, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Noah admitted.

“Whoa, this is going to be fun.”

“For who, exactly?” Noah asked.

Jack laughed at him. “I only talked to her a minute, but she seems okay, don’t you think?”

“She could be a little rough around the edges for a church job.”

“Ya think?” Jack asked with a laugh. “So could you, Noah. But you’re an old softie. You sure she’s not just using you?”

“At eight dollars an hour? Come on. I’m going to have to pray for forgiveness all night for taking advantage of her.”

“Well, there’s a point.”

“But we’re going to have to do something about those … Maybe a shawl? A nice big, concealing shawl?”

“I don’t know, Noah. How about a tarp?”

“God help me.” Noah took a drink of the beer. “Jack, it’s been a real trip, getting to know you and the town. But when the locals get a load of the pastor’s assistant, I’m going to be run out on a rail.”

“Easy, Noah. This is Virgin River. We like things a little on the interesting side. You’ll manage.”

Noah took another drink of his beer. “Let’s hope so,” he muttered.

For her first day of work at the church, Ellie chose to wear something conservative. She dressed in overalls with a white, sleeveless tank top underneath that laced up the front. She slipped into sneakers, pulled her plentiful, curly, copper-colored hair up in a clip, lined her lips and eyes and off she went to Virgin River.

“I’m here,” she yelled as she walked into the church.

“I’m in the basement,” Noah yelled back.

She clomped down the steps, jumping off the bottom step. Noah was patching cracks in the unfinished cinder-block wall, a plasterer’s hawk with a mound of wet cement in one hand, a putty knife in the other. Lucy lay not far away on her bed, lifting her head and wagging her tail as Ellie came down the stairs. Noah smiled at her, then his smile froze. He looked her slowly up and down. And again.

“What?” she demanded hotly, hands on her hips.

“Nothing,” he said, turning away.

“No. What? What’s the matter?”

He turned back slowly, put his tools down on top of the ladder and approached her. “I don’t know how to say this. I think it would be in the best interests of both of us if you’d dress a little more … conservatively.”

She looked down at herself. “More conservatively than overalls?” she asked.

He felt a laugh escape in spite of himself. He shook his head. “Ellie, I’ve never seen anybody look that good in overalls before.”

“And this is a bad thing?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“It’s provocative,” he tried to explain. “Sexy. People who work around churches usually dress a little more … What’s the best way to put this …?”

“Frumpy? Dumpy? Ugly?”

“Without some of their bra showing, for one thing.”

“Well now, Reverend, just where have you been? Because this happens to be in style. And I’ll do any work you give me, but you really shouldn’t be telling me what to wear. The last guy I was with tried to do me over. He liked me well enough when he was trying to get my attention, but the second I married him, he wanted to cover me up so no one would notice I had a body!”

“The husband?”

“The very same. It didn’t work for him and it’s not going to work for you. You didn’t say anything about a dress code. Maybe I’ll turn you in to the Better Business Bureau or something.”

“I think you mean the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. Or maybe you should go straight to the American Civil Liberties Union.” He stepped toward her. “Ellie,” he said, using his tender but firm minister voice. “I’m a single man. You’re a very beautiful young woman. I would like it if the good people of Virgin River assumed you were given this job solely because of your qualifications and not because you’re eye candy. Tomorrow, could you please wear something less distracting?”

“I’ll do my best,” she said in a huff. “But this is what I have, and there’s not much I can do about that. Especially on what you’re paying me.”

“Just think ‘baggy,’” he advised.

“We’re going to have a problem there,” she said. “I don’t buy my clothes baggy. Or ugly. Or dumpy. And you can bet your sweet a … butt I left behind the clothes Arnie thought I should wear.” She just shook her head in disgust. “I don’t know what you’re complaining about. You know how many guys would rather have something nice to look at than a girl in a flour sack? Guess you didn’t get to Count Your Blessings 101.” She cocked her head and lifted her eyebrows.

“I’m counting,” he said. But his eyes bore down on hers seriously. He was not giving an inch. “Just an ounce of discretion. Do what you can.”

She took a deep breath. “Let’s just get to work. Tomorrow I’ll look as awful as possible. How’s that?”

“Perfect. Why don’t you get started by sweeping up in the kitchen. It’s large enough for a dozen people to work in there together—it’s a big room. The appliances are all gone, but it’s going to have to be cleaned up before I can put down new flooring and paint. It’s accumulated a good ten years of dirt. Some of my household things are being delivered in a few weeks. After I get the walls patched, textured and painted, and put down flooring over the concrete, I can store my shipment and other things down here while we work on the upstairs.”

“Sure, fine. Are there supplies somewhere?”

“Already in the kitchen.”

“I’m on it, Rev,” she said with a salute, turning on her heel to march off toward the kitchen, treating him to a little skip and fanny wiggle on her way.

Noah grimaced. He looked down at Lucy, who lifted her head and wagged her tail—maybe in sympathy, so he gave her a pat on the head. That went well, he thought. He’d offended Ellie and judged her all at the same time. He already knew she was forced to pinch pennies and couldn’t buy new clothes for a job of cleaning and painting. Besides, the absolute truth was, she was a pleasure to look at. And frankly, you could see more skin and curves on prime-time TV. So what was he afraid of? That stodgy church ladies were going to get uptight, seeing her around town, knowing she was helping him work on the church?

The girl’s having a hard enough time, going up against a judge who is, himself, a patron of the very strip joint he condemns her for working in. She was taking a low-paying church job just to gain enough credibility to get her kids back—credibility she shouldn’t need. Any woman her age willing to work more than one job to afford the most rudimentary stuff of life, having never been separated from her children before except to work, should be plenty convincing.

For a second he wondered if he’d been sucked in by her lost soul. “Pah,” he scoffed aloud. Ellie didn’t seem at all lost. She was a fighter, and that impressed him. He barely knew her and he already admired her. Plus, it was good that she was sassy; she shouldn’t let anyone tell her what to wear.

He was right about one thing, however. She was distracting, even when she wasn’t in the same room. It wasn’t just the visible edges of her bra. Her thick, curly hair, pulled up and cascading down, her creamy skin, sultry, deep brown eyes, full lips, teasing smile, long legs, narrow waist, perfect hips and nice round booty—all that added up to an appearance that couldn’t help but bring sex to mind. And it reminded Noah that he’d been on a serious sex diet for the past few years. Not exactly a starvation diet, but still …

He climbed back up on his ladder and continued to patch the walls while Ellie worked in the kitchen. And while he worked he thought a lot about what had brought him here to this run-down church in Virgin River.

He thought back to something his mom used to ask him from time to time. “What are your goals, Noah?” she had asked.

“I will never be a minister, Mom. Never.”

After a long period of silence, she said, “I’m relieved. I think your father and I have thoroughly ruined you for that.”

As he continued to repair and patch the walls, Noah smiled at the irony—he was embarking on a career he never thought he would have. It was a shame that his mom and Merry weren’t here to see this. They had always supported him and he knew the irony of his current situation would not have been lost on them, either.

Even though it had been a few years since her death, Noah still missed Merry sometimes. Their couple of years together had been magic. She had been such a free spirit; she made him laugh, brought him wisdom and optimism. She was edgy and fun—she took chances and encouraged him to do the same. Merry was a committed soul who cared deeply and loyally about her “causes,” as he called them, and all the people in her life. After she was gone he made a point of remaining in touch with her family. Her parents and siblings were a great support to him even as they contended with their own grief.

The whole idea of considering going back to the seminary came from George, who described it as a combination of dredging the soul for the innermost spirituality, personal faith, teaching, counseling, community and theater. Only George could come up with a combination like that. “You’ve had those leanings anyway,” George had said. “Just check it out.”

“But I will never preach,” Noah said.

“Not that many ordained ministers do,” George said with a shrug. “They’re therapists, minister to sick and needy folk, teach—there are more options than I can list. But along the way you might find out a thing or two about yourself. No harm there.”

In short, Noah was convinced. During his studies, he found out he was meant to try to hold a group of believers together in faith, to lend a hand, to communicate, to educate, to bring hope. To be a friend. There was only one thing that was required of him that he could not do—and that was to forgive his father.

Just last year his mother passed. She had slipped away in the night, having had a stroke at the age of seventy. Noah attended the funeral, even though he hated the idea of seeing his father. But it was the only time in Noah’s life he could remember having the last word with his dad.

Jasper said to him, within the hearing of many others, “Do you see what leaving the family and the faith did? It killed your mother.”

Without missing a beat, Noah replied, “You should be aware that Mother and I have been in touch ever since I left home. She visited twice even though I wouldn’t come back. She was always there for me and we loved one another profoundly. The truth is, I think staying with you was what killed her.”

The shock on his father’s face was priceless; and the insult bit Jasper deep. It had obviously never occurred to Jasper that his wife would keep secrets from him. Maybe it was just that he paid so little attention to her, he was unaware that she kept a close relationship with her son. The reading of the will hammered Jasper with a few more home truths—Inez Kincaid had brought a trust fund to her marriage to a poor preacher who was ten years her junior. Her personal wealth had helped Jasper build a big following, televise his services, evangelize and collect members. She willed half of the fund to Noah. Jasper had expected to receive all of it.

And now Noah was going to run through a great deal of his inheritance fixing up this old church.

He looked in the direction of the kitchen. Another free spirit, he admitted to himself. In a completely different form.

There was a crash, a splash, and Ellie said, “Fuck.”

Lucy came to her feet and Noah looked up. “Very funny,” he said to God. “That kind of thing isn’t going to go over well.” Then he walked to the kitchen, Lucy beside him.

He stood in the doorway and watched as Ellie used the rag mop to try to capture the flood that resulted from a tipped bucket. But that wasn’t where his focus was—he frowned and looked at his watch. The morning had passed without him even realizing it. He’d been completely lost in thought. And while he’d been thinking of his past and patching wall cracks, Ellie had been working like a demon.

The huge, restaurant-size kitchen almost glowed. The floor had been swept, mopped, and was being mopped again. She’d done some things that had made an enormous difference—the high windows were cleaned and spotless, the frames scrubbed of dust, spiderwebs and dirt. The countertops were scoured and disinfected. The cupboards were washed out with their doors standing open. The few remaining kitchenware items that had been abandoned were washed and drying in a dish drain she’d found; all four deep sinks were scrubbed clean, the faucets shining. The room didn’t look like new, but it was clean and fresh and ready for painting and flooring.

She squeezed her mop, straightened and wiped a hand across her forehead, pushing up a curl that just bounced back to hang over one eye. She blew out of her lower lip to cool her face, making that curl flutter in her breath. “Let me guess,” she said. “You heard me say fuck. Sorry. I’ll try not to say it. But I bet if you’d dumped a big pail of nasty mop water on your clean floor, you would have said fuck, too.”

He laughed and just shook his head. “Maybe. It looks good in here, Ellie. Who knew you could do something like this with long, blue, sparkly fingernails.”

“I figured you meant for me to clean it, so I cleaned it.”

“It’s fantastic. I bet you’re hungry. It’s after one.”

She got a very strange look on her face, as though a thought just came to mind or she’d forgotten something. Then she just continued mopping. “Nah, I don’t think I could eat. I really pigged out on pizza last night and I’m still stuffed.”

“I’m going next door for a sandwich. Come with me.”

“Nah, go on. I’ll just finish up here. If I do a good job, maybe you’ll let me out of here early or something. I have to get looking for a new place to live.”

“You can leave whenever you’ve had enough—you’ve done an incredible job. I’ve been chipping away at the dirt in this place for weeks and it looks like you conquered it in no time at all.”

She straightened again. She pushed that curl back. Her neck and chest were damp with perspiration, which made her look even sexier. She smiled almost shyly. “I cleaned office buildings and sometimes houses for cash—under the table. One of my many second jobs. I don’t think it was listed on that sheet of jobs.”

“Résumé,” he corrected, then damned himself for being so uppity. Why couldn’t he just accept her the way she was?

“Résumé,” she agreed. “I got some great tips from the girls who had more experience than me. Clean is good. Fast and clean makes more money.”

He laughed with genuine pleasure. “You’ve been in the trenches,” he said with appreciation. Admiration. “Come on—let me buy you a sandwich. If you’re not real hungry, Preacher will make you half, but it’s your first day working for me. My treat—come on.”

Three

For someone who had stuffed herself on pizza the night before, Ellie seemed to have no trouble packing away a very large chicken-salad sandwich and some of Preacher’s potato salad. Noah doubted the pizza story. He picked up their plates and carried them to the bar, and when he returned he said, “Jack’s bringing chocolate cake.”

Her hands were on her flat belly. “Oh, man, I couldn’t …” “Just a bite or two,” he said. “So—you said you were raised on hymns. Tell me about that. I mean, if you want to.”

“Sure, I’ll tell you. I grew up with my gramma. What a peach—you’d have liked her. My mother wasn’t … isn’t … very stable. When I was born, she was clueless, so my gramma took over and my mother left and I stayed. When I was seven, Gram started teaching me to play the piano. It was a real old piano and about the only thing worth a dime in the house, but we had a neighbor guy who kept it tuned. Gramma hummed gospel tunes all day long and she loved it if I could figure out one of those old-time hymns. ‘The Old Rugged Cross,’ ‘Amazing

Grace,’ ‘Great Is Thy Faithfulness …’ ‘Course, I would have rather played Elton John, John Lennon or Billy Joel, but for her I tried.”

“Where was your mother?” he asked just as the cake arrived.

“Jumping from man to man,” she said, lifting her fork.

“Were there more children?”

“No.” She laughed. “She figured out that much. When I got pregnant in high school, my gramma must have been scared to death that I was just following in her footsteps. I wasn’t really, but it must have looked like I was.”

“Well,” he said patiently, “what were you doing?”

She sighed. She shook her head. “Trying,” she finally said. “Trying my hardest. I got pregnant at sixteen. I was three months pregnant with Danielle and trying to throw together a fast, cheap wedding to my nineteen-year-old boyfriend when he was killed. It wasn’t his fault, either. His family sued the driver of the car that killed him, and they won. They were supposed to set something aside for Danielle, but I guess it slipped their minds.” That last was delivered with a dubious look on her face. “By the time she was three, I’d gotten my GED and had finally stopped feeling sorry for myself long enough to meet someone I liked—a guy who made nighttime bread deliveries to the convenience store when I worked there. Like some kind of curse, I was three months pregnant when he pulled that stupid robbery stunt.”

Noah chewed on the cake and this history for a second. He had a million questions, but the one that popped out was, “You didn’t have any intuition about him, that he was capable of a felony?”

“Ha, he wasn’t. He was an idiot. He was out with his friends, drinking. Twenty-two, drunk, and he thought he was funny—putting his lighter that looked exactly like a revolver—into the hardware-store owner’s chest and saying, ‘Hand over the money.’ The store owner was going to drop off his deposit for the night when my dipshit boyfriend decided to be cute. Didn’t quite work out for him, though. I guess the judge had no sense of humor. He was convicted. Did time.”

“Did?”

“He’s either out by now or due to get out.”

“Can’t he help you with his son? With the kids?” Noah asked.

“Oh, please. No, he can’t. And besides, I’m not going back that way. In fact, I’m not going back. Period.”

He smiled at her. “Have you always been this stubborn? This strong willed?”

“Uh-huh. For all the good it’s done me.”

“So—where did the husband come in? If that’s not too personal?”

“Nothing personal about it, Rev. I was a working mom with two little kids and two jobs. He was new in the area and came into the real estate office, looking for something to rent or buy. I was the office manager. Our agents didn’t find him anything, but he kept coming back, was real nice, real friendly. I thought he was a stand-up guy. Trevor was only two, my gramma had died a year before, and I was having a real hard time holding everything together. I didn’t rush into anything—I made him act nice for six months. I didn’t have much time to date, but I never had a single date alone with him—if he asked me out for dinner, I told him the kids went where I went, and that wasn’t a problem for him. He did a lot of talking about wanting to be a family man and just hadn’t found the right woman yet. I took that as a good sign.” For a moment she looked away and couldn’t connect eyes with Noah. “I knew I didn’t love him, but I was so tired,” she said softly. “So scared I wouldn’t be able to take care of my kids with my gramma gone. My kids saw more of the babysitter than they saw of me.”

She looked back at Noah and said, “I married him and quit my job because he wanted to take care of us. It didn’t take two days before I knew I’d made a big mistake. He insisted I dress real dowdy and awful. He had rules. He needed to be right about everything. Ridiculous demands. He started trying to get me to give up my independence on the first day! He wanted me to sell my car, and he took his computer to work, out of my reach. He doled out money for food … It was terrible. And I wouldn’t play along, which made him so frustrated and angry. I mean, I knew in two days it was a bad deal, but I gave it almost three months. Then I packed up our stuff while he was at work, picked up Danielle from his private school, and we were history. I went back to an old boss, the lawyer, to draft a divorce petition. That gave poor old Arnie the impression I had a rich, classy lawyer. I didn’t ask for anything, so he couldn’t contest it. I just wanted out.”

“He didn’t fight it, then,” Noah said.

“Not legally. But he threatened me. He said if I went through with it, he’d be my worst nightmare. We had been divorced for about nine months when he made a case for custody. There’s where I wasn’t too smart—I couldn’t see how he had a leg to stand on. He wasn’t their father, we’d lived with him less than three months, and I didn’t think I needed any help keeping my own kids. And, like I said before, I’d never done better for myself workwise. I had a good job, made good money, was taking good care of my kids. That club is totally legal. Maybe it’s not tasteful, but it’s legal. Most of the women dancing in there are single moms. That judge—he had it out for me. Maybe I should’ve let him buy me dinner.”

Noah’s eyes narrowed and he glowered. “He didn’t want dinner.”

“Yeah, that’s why I said no,” she said.

“You were blindsided,” he said.

“Yeah. There’s so much I don’t know. I should have called my old boss again. I did call him afterward. What a nice guy. He said there wasn’t much he could do for me, but gave me the name of a friend of his who worked for a legal-defense office that did charity work. He called them for me, and that brings us to today. Hey,” she said, “this is still part of the silence pact, right?”

“Absolutely, Ellie. I don’t gossip.”

“Because I’m not ashamed of anything, but I’m not stupid. All the stuff I’ve screwed up? I’m bound to be judged pretty hard by people who don’t know me. But it’s not even that—it’s the kids. I don’t want them judged because I—”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Our conversations are private.” He concentrated for a minute on the chocolate cake, which didn’t get as much appreciation as it deserved.

Noah had a lot of experience counseling people who were down on their luck, many of them actually in need of food and shelter. He’d seen worse than what Ellie was going through, but just the same he was mighty impressed by her toughness, her fearlessness. She wasn’t dependent on him for anything. All she needed was a job chit to take back to that crooked judge in eighty-one days, collect her kids and get on with her life. Meantime, he’d help her any way he could. He was glad he’d taken a chance on her.

“I’m not embarrassed I had that job, you know,” she said, lifting a bite of cake to her mouth. He lifted his eyes to hers. “The owner of the club—he’s a great guy who liked to take good care of his girls. And the funny thing was, the ones who didn’t mind getting right down to cracks and nipples weren’t always the most popular ones….”

One end of Noah’s mouth lifted in a half smile. Ellie laughed.

“I guess I’m a little too straightforward for you, huh?” she asked. “Thing is, all I had to do was wiggle around with those pom-poms or the white nurse’s hose held up with a garter belt and I did just fine. I think Madonna wore less on stage half the time than I did in that club. The people were usually nice, the customers didn’t give us any trouble. ‘Course, we had a plus-size bouncer, just in case. It was just work. It paid the bills. It’s not something I wanted to do forever. I was always on the lookout for something better.”

“You shouldn’t have lost your kids over that job,” he said. “Worst case, they should have been left with you with visits from Child Welfare. They would have seen in no time that the job wasn’t damaging to the children. That was crap, what happened to you.”

She just looked at him for a long moment. Then very quietly she said, “Thanks. I guess coming from you, that’s saying something.”

“Coming from me?” he said, lifting one dark brow.

“You being a minister, and everything. I know you don’t approve of that kind of place—or of the women in it.”

He gave a shrug. “Ellie, I don’t have an opinion about your last job. There’s plenty about it to admire,” he said.

“Like?”

“Like a mother who would do just about anything to take care of her kids.”

“Well, be real clear about that, Rev. If I hadn’t lucked into that job, I would have done just about anything. When it comes to the kids, I’m all out of false pride.”

Soon, he thought, I’m going to see her kids. And I bet I see something remarkable.

“Do you ever want kids?” she asked.

“I did,” he said quietly. A bunch of them, if possible.

And so did Merry—she wanted them right away. “I think this little town church is going to be my kid for a while.”

“Sometimes I think the deal I got with Arnie was just what I deserved. I married him because I thought he was safe for me and the kids. He seemed all right, he made a decent living, he was okay that I had children while a lot of guys run for their lives when they find out you come with kids. I wasn’t attracted to him, I wasn’t in love with him. So maybe that’s what I deserved, huh?”

Noah didn’t have to consider it. “Never think that,” he said. “No one deserves cruelty of any kind. Not on their worst day.”

Just then, the door opened and Mel came into the bar. She went first to Jack, lifting herself up to lean over the bar and give him a kiss. Then she turned and looked at Noah and Ellie. “Mel,” Noah called. “Got a minute?”

She walked over to their table. “Mel Sheridan, this is Ellie Baldwin. She’s helping out in the church for a while.”

“Nice to meet you,” Mel said, putting out her hand. “Jack said there was someone new in town. How’s it going over there?”

“It’s my first day, so it’s looking pretty ugly,” Ellie said honestly.

“Well, it’s not my first day, but Ellie got more done this morning than I’ve managed in the last week. She’s a whirlwind.”

“Good for you. Very cute top, by the way.”

Ellie looked down, then lifted an eyebrow toward Noah before she said, “Thanks. Target. Under twenty bucks.”

“Really? I need to get over there one of these days. They usually have good buys. So, Ellie—where do you live?”

“I’m in Eureka now, but I have to find something closer—I can’t afford the gas. Would you happen to know of anything? Nearby?”

Mel pulled up a chair. “I can sure ask around. What are you looking for?”

“My kids are with my ex-husband right now, so all I need is a bed and a roof. Really, one room would do it for me. Something cheap, but not scary. His Holiness here doesn’t exactly pay a lot.”

Mel laughed. “I know one thing that qualifies as cheap and real nice, but I think it might flunk the scary test. Right at the end of the block, nicest house down there, Jo Ellen and Nick Fitch have a great one-room efficiency over the garage. I don’t think they’ve rented it out in a long time. Jo Ellen’s a doll, a very nice lady. But she’s married to a groper.”

“Is that so? How serious a groper?” Ellie asked.

“The first time I met him, he treated me to a major butt grope while I had my back turned.”

Hearing this exchange, Jack put a cup of coffee in front of his wife and used the pot to refill Ellie’s and Noah’s cups. “Mel drop-kicked him,” Jack inserted. “It was a beautiful sight. I think that’s when I really fell in love with her.”

Ellie grinned widely. “What did you do to him?”

“I got lucky, that’s all. I took a little self-defense course in college, I didn’t think I even remembered any of it. But he snuck up on me and I just reacted. I threw him an elbow in the gut and then under the chin. One little swipe behind his heels and he was flat on his ass. Sorry, Noah—I meant to say butt. Butt’s okay, right?”

Noah looked up at Jack. “The women in this place are rougher on the language than the men.”

“Tell me about it,” Jack said. “We now have a swear jar at home. David’s college education will be paid for and we’ll have a trip to Bermuda by the end of the year.”

“I might have to put a swear jar in the church,” Noah said.

“I could teach you that move,” Mel said to Ellie, taking a sip from her cup.

“Thanks. I have some moves of my own, too. So, this guy—is he dangerous? Or just frisky?” Ellie asked.

“I don’t think he’s dangerous, but I couldn’t guarantee it,” Mel answered. “I’d hate myself forever if you came to any harm from him. But, as the gossip goes, he’s been slapped down by several women in this town. Too bad Jo Ellen hasn’t hit him over the head with a big club. I can’t believe she puts up with that behavior. Really, she’s such a nice person.”

“Nick might have ideas all the time, but I think he’s only frisky when he drinks,” Jack said. “His problems usually come up during a party. Most of the time, when the town gets together, they do it here, they have food and drinks, and Nick loses his head.”

“It’s out of the question, Ellie,” Noah said. “You can’t even consider it.”

“It could work,” Ellie said. “Mel, would you be willing to introduce me to them, be there when I ask about the room? I’d have to have a look at him, too. See if I think I could take him.”

“This isn’t happening,” Noah muttered.

“Sure,” Mel said. “I’m positive he’s still scared of me. I know he’s been slapped, but I hold the sole distinction of taking him down.”

“And she put a boot on his chest to hold him down while she threatened his life,” Jack said. “I’m telling you, I almost exploded with lust. I had to marry her.”

Ellie sipped her coffee. “Well, I’m bigger than you are,” she said to Mel. “And I have Mace.”

“We could try starting with a firm warning,” Mel suggested.

“You can’t be serious,” Noah said. “You’d rent from a guy who’s a known molester?”

“Okay, let’s be totally straight here—is this just an idiot who gets stupid and cops a feel? Or has he left a trail of wounded victims in his path?” Ellie asked.

“So far as I know, he’s a laughingstock,” Mel said. “But there’s no guarantee that wouldn’t escalate. Luke Riordan has some cabins on the river—vacation rentals. Also one-room efficiencies with kitchenettes, but I’m sure they’re more expensive. And from what I hear, he’s done a brisk summer business—full or almost full all the time with early reservations for hunting season.”

“I’m on a tight budget,” Ellie said.

“No reason to be afraid of Nick,” Jack said. “I could take you down there and introduce you, threaten to sic my wife on him if he steps out of line.”

“I bet one knee in the nuts straightens him right out,” Ellie said.

There was a strange sound from Noah, something of a growl. “I don’t like this idea at all. If this guy got fresh with you, I’d have to deal with him. That wouldn’t be good.”

“Horsefeathers,” Ellie said. “I can take care of myself.”

This wouldn’t be the best time to bring up the fact that she was having a tough time doing exactly that—taking care of herself. And in almost exactly twenty-four hours Noah was already feeling the urge to deck the imbecile who would dare put a hand on her. It had been years since he’d been in a fight; it wasn’t nice for ministers to fight. He was supposed to counsel and pray his way out of tight spots.

One corner of his mouth lifted. Actually, he was competent in a fight. Didn’t bother him in the least to engage, as long as it was fair.

Noah looked over at Ellie. She hadn’t completed her first day of work and already she was complicating his nice uncomplicated ministry.

Right at the end of the main street in Virgin River was a beautiful two-story home, freshly painted a pale yellow with white trim, just like three other houses on the block. But this one was large and pampered—it looked almost new. The porch was wide, the lawn was lush and green, summer flowers grew thick and healthy along the walk and tall trees shaded the house from the summer sun. It had white shutters and rocking chairs on the porch. The driveway went around the side of the house to a detached two-car garage. There was a staircase on the outside leading to the room upstairs.

Mel had called Jo Ellen, learned the room was available to the right person and had set up an appointment. Noah would not be left behind, and so it was that the three of them stood on the porch of the lovely house and rang the bell. Jo Ellen Fitch came to the door with a smile on her face, but the second she saw Ellie, she gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Then she shot a pleading look at Mel, which Mel completely ignored. Even dressed in overalls, no makeup, and her hair pulled up, Ellie was a striking young woman. She had a beautiful face and a drop-dead-gorgeous body that she made no attempt to downplay.

“Hey, Jo,” Mel said. “This is Ellie Baldwin, who’s looking for a room. And this is Reverend Noah Kincaid. You might have heard about him—he’s the new minister, fixing up the old church. Ellie works for him and needs a place to live. So, what do you think? Want to show her the room?”

“Ohhhh, Mel,” she said miserably.

“You can make up your mind about me later, Mrs. Fitch,” Ellie said, taking charge. “First things first—let’s see if I like the room. How about that?”

“Sure,” she said a bit nervously. She opened her front door, keys to the room in hand, and began to lead them toward the garage. Then she stopped suddenly and turned. “Oh, I apologize. How do you do, Reverend Kincaid? Miss Baldwin. This way.” When they entered the room, Ellie went into a kind of daze. It was perfectly lovely—a double bed with two bedside tables against one wall, a small bathroom with a tub and shower, and on one wall a minirefrigerator, two-burner stove, microwave, sink and a few cupboards. At the foot of the bed was a chest. A comfortable chair and ottoman sat in the corner. There was no closet, but rather a large armoire for clothes. It was finer than anything Ellie had ever lived in. In her life.

“We don’t have a TV in here or anything,” Jo Ellen said.

The bed had a yellow floral comforter and lots of fat, decorative pillows. There was a picture of a meadow and barn over the bed, a full-length mirror on the bathroom door, a reading lamp behind the overstuffed chair. Ellie sighed. She fell in love with the room at once. “Does that phone work?” she asked.

“It does,” Jo said. “It’s a private line.”

There was the sound of a car in the driveway, followed by the slamming of the car door.

“Are there some plates and glasses?” Ellie asked. “A couple of pans?”

“Yes, some. Not much. And towels. This is kind of a one-person room.”

“What a coincidence.” Ellie laughed. “I’m exactly one person.”

“Nothing extra comes with the room,” Jo said. “No housekeeping. You’re on your own. There’s no washer or dryer. I mean, it’s not a bed-and-breakfast—you’d have to take care of all your own needs. Meals, laundry, that sort of thing.”

There were feet on the stairs.

“I understand. There’s probably a coin laundry somewhere nearby.”

The door opened and Nick walked into the room. “Well, I thought there was company here.” He smiled.

Ellie smiled back. He was probably her height, wasn’t all that bad looking and he was fit. His salt-and-pepper hair was still thick, his brows heavy and graying. He wore a short-sleeved shirt—light blue—with a bad tie that he’d loosened, nice dress jeans and boots. His eyes glittered approvingly and he smiled at Ellie.

Jo Ellen cleared her throat and made introductions; everyone shook hands. “How much is the room, Mrs. Fitch?” Ellie asked.

Jo Ellen opened her mouth to speak, when Nick interrupted her. “Honey, is a hundred a month too much?” Nick asked his wife.

“We usually—”

“How does that sound, Ellie?” Nick asked her.

“Very reasonable,” she said. “If you find me acceptable.”

“There won’t be a problem, if you work for the preacher, here,” Nick said.

“How soon can I move in?”

“It’s ready when you are,” he said. And he slipped an arm around his wife’s waist and gave her a squeeze. “Right, honey?”

“Thank you,” Ellie said. “I didn’t bring any money or checks with me today. Can I settle up with you tomorrow?”

“That would be fine,” Jo said, clearly not happy.

“Oh, thank you. I think this will be perfect for me.”

“If you’re sure …”

“Oh, I’m sure,” she said. But when she looked between Mel and Noah, she saw doubtful expressions. Their expressions could have to do with that lascivious gleam in Nick’s eye. “I’ll see you sometime tomorrow, Mrs. Fitch.”

“Sure,” Jo said, standing aside so everyone could go single file down the stairs. Noah followed Mel. Nick held the door open for his wife, then for Ellie.

“Oh, Mr. Fitch—can I talk to you a second?” Ellie asked.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he said.

She spoke to him at the top of the staircase while the others descended. They all stopped at the bottom while Nick listened to Ellie and actually seemed to back away from her. But she was smiling the entire time, smiling with a glow. Then she grabbed his hand in both of hers to shake it vigorously, and hurried down the stairs to join the others.

Everyone said their goodbyes. Nick and Jo Ellen went into their house while Noah, Ellie and Mel began walking back toward the bar and the church. “You sure about this, Ellie?” Mel asked.

“Absolutely, it’s going to be great. I love the room. The price is terrific, I’m going to save a ton in gas, I can walk to work. And I’ll be close enough to sneak away from the reverend here and catch a nap.”

“You got a glimpse of Nick,” Mel said.

“I did. He agreed I’ll be totally safe in that room.”

Mel lifted a brow. “I didn’t see his lips move, actually.”

“Trust me,” Ellie said. And then she walked on. “It’s going to work out perfectly.” When they got to the bar, Mel said goodbye. “Thank you so much, Mel,” Ellie said, waving.

Noah walked Ellie to her little PT Cruiser that sat in front of the church. “What went on while you two were out of earshot?” he asked Ellie.

“Oh, Your Righteousness, you probably don’t want to know. What if it makes you an accessory to the crime or something?”

He sighed heavily. Impatiently. “Just lay it on me, Ellie.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. Come on. You smiled the whole time.”

“Yeah, that part wasn’t so easy. I wanted to smack him just from the look in his eye. I said, I know about you, so don’t try anything. My boyfriend is a six-foot-five-inch bouncer in a mean bar and my father is a judge, and if you even exhale within twenty feet of my boobs, I’m going to have your nuts on a platter. And then I’m going to call my boyfriend and my father.”

Noah was speechless for just a second, but then he burst out laughing. “You didn’t!”

“Of course I did. I think that’s called a preemptive strike. Isn’t that what it’s called?”

“You’re out of your mind,” he said, laughing in appreciation.

“I got that room for a hundred bucks a month. And it’s a great room.”

He shook his head. “You think that threat will hold?”

She peered at him, lifting a corner of her mouth and an eyebrow at the same time. “That bouncer? He’s a friend. I babysat for him and his wife a couple of times. He’d come out here and scare the bejesus out of that imbecile if I asked him to. But before we even get to that, Mr. Nick has a date with my knee. And I know how to do that.”

Noah just chuckled and shook his head.

“I just want that room. It’s the best room I’ve ever seen. My gramma and I slept on a pullout sofa together my whole life. The only thing that could make that room prettier would be if my kids came with it.”

Noah sobered. Two sentences hit him in the gut—she slept on a pullout sofa bed her entire life? With her grandmother? They must have lived in one room. And her kids? It must have been so traumatic to leave her children with a guy she knew didn’t love them. When they got better acquainted, he meant to ask more about that. “So,” he said. “When will you move in?”

“Oh, right away. I’ll bring money and my stuff tomorrow. It’ll just take one trip. Can I have a little time in the morning to unload the car? I’d like to do it when Mr. Hands is at work. I plan to avoid him.”

“What about the duplex?” he asked.

“That nice lady next door owns it. She’ll let me go without a problem. She understands my situation. She’s on my side.”

“You can move in one trip?” he asked, looking at her car.

She turned to look at him. “Noah, the kids have their clothes and toys with them. I have very little to move. Believe me, I live a one-trip existence.”

“My car is full of stuff,” Ellie said to Noah when she arrived at the church the next morning. Then she crouched in front of Lucy, grabbed her head in her hands and kissed her snout, receiving a lick in return. “Morning, girlfriend. You’re looking better every day.” Then to Noah, “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to take an hour to tote it up the stairs to my new residence. I just want to wait until Mr. Fitch has gone to work.”

“Ellie,” he asked, “did you leave anything behind? Or in storage somewhere?”

“Nah, that’s it. I travel light. So, what’s on the schedule for today?”

He tried not to let it show that he felt something cinch in his chest at the very idea she could fit all her worldly goods in the little PT Cruiser she drove. Up until he married, while working and going to school, he’d had next to nothing, but that was different. He liked having a light load; it was all part of the changes he wanted to make in his life. But Ellie had a family! What about her grandmother’s house, her grandmother’s furniture—the pullout sofa and piano? But asking about that would have to wait. He said, “Well, I’d like you to get started painting the bathrooms today, if you think you can do it.”

“Of course I can do it. I should probably change clothes. Around nine, I’ll go move my stuff, but I’ll wait till later to put it away. I’ll grab something old and ratty to put on and get started. You have the paint?”

“Some yellow, some white, some blue. Can you work with that?”

She made a face. “How were you planning to use them? One blue bathroom, one yellow, white trim? Because that’s very boring.”

He looked at her long fingernails. Today was hot pink with sparkles. He looked down—she was wearing tennis shoes, but somehow he knew her toes matched her nails. Against his better judgment he said, “Use it any way you like.”

“Good deal. Do you have any masking tape? Any caulking?”

“Yes, why?”

“Straight lines and edges. Just out of curiosity, how’d you settle on those colors?”

“They were on sale,” he said.

She shifted her weight to one foot. “Have you ever actually had a church before?”

“Not exactly.”

“Listen, I’ll make something work with those colors. Even though they’re pretty dorky colors….”

He had a fleeting thought that this was not the woman to be lecturing him about good taste in anything. “Aren’t you the least bit afraid I might take that personally? Maybe I’m sensitive about the colors I picked.”

“No,” she said, tilting her head and peering at him. “You’re not gay.”

He smiled at her. “You sure about that?”

And she smiled, her hands on her hips. “Obviously. Or you’d have chosen more interesting colors.”

He sighed heavily. He watched her walk toward the upstairs bathroom in her shrink-wrap jeans. He squinted. He followed, Lucy ever at his side. She had a tattoo peeking out of the back of her low-rise jeans, right in the small of her back. “I … ah … have an old painting shirt you can throw over your clothes, if you’d like. Would that help?”

“Sure, thanks. After I get my stuff out of the car, I’ll put on my old sweats. You have all the supplies for me to get started?”

“Stacked outside the bathroom in the hall.”

“Super. I’ll start up here and, when I’m done, I can move it downstairs. Let me check it out, make sure you have everything I’ll need.” She knelt on one knee, checking out the supplies, showing more of that tattoo, but he still wasn’t able to make out what it was. She looked over her shoulder. “Noah, can you round up the masking tape and caulk? And get me a screwdriver and hammer, please?”

“Screwdriver? Hammer?”

“I’m going to take the door and mirror off. Open paint cans.”

“By yourself?” he asked. “Want me to help with that?”

“No. Just get me what I need.”

“Sure,” he said. But he stood there, his eyes riveted on that tattoo.

She looked over her shoulder again. “It’s called a tramp stamp,” she said. “I got it when I was fifteen, to be cool.”

“I know what it’s called. I just can’t make out what it is.”

“It’s vines in the shape of my name, and I’m not showing you any more of it. Let’s get this show on the road, huh?”

“Right,” he said, going off to his toolbox. And he thought, I’m taking orders from her. Why am I not the least bit surprised?

After he delivered what she asked for, she completely ignored him, so he took Lucy to his office. He heard Ellie humming, moving around the drop cloth, pounding at the hinges to remove the door. She didn’t ask questions, nor did she need any help with the heavy door or with the mirror over the sink. He could hear her peeling off strips of masking tape for the borders. Completely self-sufficient and low maintenance. That’s what a good pastor’s assistant was, whether painting or managing the office. Now, that did surprise him.

Before sitting down to make a renovation list, Noah decided to tour the old building once more. The church was large but simple. Upstairs was a sanctuary that could hold about three hundred people. There were large double doors at the east end of the church that opened onto a foyer. From here, four wide stairs led up to the sanctuary level and a wider foyer—wide enough for a staging area, as for the gathering of a bridal party. Large interior double doors opened to the aisle, which led toward the stained-glass window, then two more steps led up to a deep stage that had room for the altar, the pulpit, a couple of choir pews. Up here Noah would find room for the piano that had been Merry’s.

There were doors to the right and left at the front of the church. To the left was the pastor’s office—a room large enough for his desk, shelves and filing cabinets plus a big round table for meetings. Outside that office, the stairs led down to the basement and a side exit door. On the other side of the sanctuary was another room of equal size that could serve as a secretary’s office and library. Right next to that room was the upstairs bathroom. Just a sink and toilet, of course, but it had taken the strain off his RV bath facilities. They seemed to be in perfect working order, even though they hadn’t been used in years. And that was it—no classrooms. But the basement could be divided with movable panels.

Noah went to his office and set about making a list of things to talk about with the local builder. Paul Haggerty was a friend of Jack’s and was going to work on the remodel. That big basement room with a kitchen would make a great community hall, once finished. Right now the walls were plain cinder block and needed texturing. The ceiling was stained from mystery leaks that should be checked out before new ceiling panels were hung. The floor was hard, cold concrete and could use a sub-floor covered in tile.

The sanctuary was in pretty good shape, if a little beat up. If he rented a sander, he could finish the hardwood floors himself, but the ceiling was much too high and would require scaffolding.

He had ordered pews, an altar, a pulpit, a baptistery and a new desk for his office. The pews were an extravagance—they could make do with folding chairs. But the pews would be beautiful; he wanted them and there was enough money. Once done, the sanctuary would be breathtaking. And while Noah would enjoy doing all the work himself, it was his mission to get the church open for business as soon as possible. Paul could undoubtedly help with that.

Maybe while Paul was handling the walls and ceiling of the sanctuary, he could be painting the offices. He and Ellie, he thought. He heard her faint humming. She seemed completely capable. If the bathroom didn’t end up painted in stripes or polka dots, he might ask for her input on colors for the offices.

She popped her head into his office. “I’m going to run home, unload the car, change into painting clothes and come back. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take you up on that offer of your old shirt.”

“You bet. I’ll have it here when you get back.”

Less than an hour later, she was back wearing sweats and a tank top. It seemed everything Ellie owned fit snugly, without a pleat, gather or wrinkle to spare or rattle around in. Fitted to that extraordinary body with those incredibly long legs Ellie managed to make old sweats look sexy. She’d had two children—how’d she manage her flat stomach and high, full breasts? Surgery? Somehow he couldn’t imagine her spending money on plastic surgery if she didn’t even own a couch.

He handed her one of his blue work shirts, already decorated with a little old paint. He was very happy to see her put it over her sweats and tank. Then he observed with some consternation that she looked every bit as pretty and sexy in that oversize shirt. Thank goodness she got right back to work. Humming. Sometimes actually singing, too softly for him to make out words, but it was very pleasant. Every once in a while Lucy meandered from his office to the bathroom and Noah would hear Ellie say, “Hey there, girlfriend. How’s it going? Bored?”

Around eleven in the morning, he checked on Ellie. In just a couple of hours, she had taped off all the edges and was almost done trimming the baseboards in white. When she heard him in the doorway, she looked up from her place on the floor and a coppery curl fell over her forehead. He couldn’t help but smile at her—she looked cute as the dickens with her hair piled on top of her head and drowning in his shirt. Besides, there wasn’t a bubble or streak on those baseboards. It was perfect.

“Are you extra happy today?” he asked.

“I might be,” she said, smiling. “I talked to my kids last night and gave them my new phone number. I’ll talk to them tonight and then tomorrow I’ll pick them up at eight in the morning for the day. I’m thinking of showing them my new apartment.”

“That’s right, tomorrow’s Saturday. Your day off.”

“Seventy-nine days to go.”

“You’re doing a very nice job there, Ellie.”

“Thanks. I know how to paint. I have a knack.”

“Lucky me. I’m going to put that talent to good use. Listen, I have some errands to do. I might not be back before you’re through today. I’m going to leave Lucy in the RV. I want you to help yourself to the lunch fixings in the refrigerator in the RV. There’s sandwich stuff and fruit, bottled water and soda.”

She wiggled around to her knees. “You don’t have to do that, Rev. Really.”

“I know I don’t have to, but it seems only fair. I could either raise your pay to eight twenty-five an hour or offer you lunch. I went with the lunch idea.”

“You’re actually a very nice guy, aren’t you?”

“Ellie, I’m a man of God. Don’t you expect nice?” Then he grinned.

“Does God know you’re throwing his name around to impress people?” she asked.

He laughed. “The RV is unlocked. Take a nice long break. Would you mind letting Lucy out to do her business? And try not to get paint on my dog or my La-Z-Boy.”

“You have a La-Z-Boy? Oh, brother. You’re certainly not gay….”

“How did they sound when you talked to them?” he asked. He hadn’t planned to ask, but it popped out. “The kids—how did they sound?”

“Well, fair. Not happy. They were a little emotional. They want me to come and get them right now and they’re having a real hard time understanding why I can’t. But they didn’t sound scared or hurt or anything. And I was as nice to Arnie as I could manage—I told him I was working things out so the judge would be happy with my job, and that I had a new place that was small but perfect. He was a jerk, but he promised to take good care of the kids. ‘They’re in better hands than they were, Ellie,’” she mimicked. “School starts soon and he goes to his office every day, getting ready for classes to start, and takes them with him. The school secretary keeps an eye on them. They miss me, but they’re safe. I think.”

“This must be very tough for you.”

“Yes, it is, but I’ll have them tomorrow. I’ll be able to see how they’re really doing.” And then she smiled at him.

Four

The only plan Noah had for Saturday morning was to take life slow and easy. While Ellie was with her kids, the church would be quiet. He began the day with a leisurely cup of coffee, checked his e-mail, listened to his stomach growl. “Is that you or me?” he asked Lucy. He heard it again. “Okay, me. We should think about breakfast.” He looked at Lucy. “I’m talking to a dog.”

Lucy looked at him with questioning eyes.

“Let’s go to Jack’s,” he said. And Lucy followed obligingly.

While Lucy had her breakfast on the porch, Noah had his at the bar. He sat beside a local rancher and commiserated on the price of fuel, visited with Preacher for a while and discussed next week’s menu ideas, listened to Jack brag about the great progress his young protégé, Rick, was making as he adjusted to a prosthetic leg. Then he took his coffee out to the porch to soak in a little of that sunshine.

One of the best things about having a dog, Noah had realized, was that she usually drew a crowd, and that meant he got to know a lot of people. Noah had noticed the majority of dogs around these parts were herders, working dogs. One of his favorite visitors was young Christopher, Preacher’s son. Chris had a pup named Comet, a border collie by the looks of him and, at a few months of age, was already almost as large as Lucy. Since dogs weren’t allowed in the bar, Chris and Comet visited with Noah and Lucy on the porch.

Around noon, Noah finally ambled back over to the church, intending to take his good old time with the newspaper. He got set up in the church office, glanced at the lists on his desk before spreading out the weekend edition. He could, of course, help out with the painting of the bathrooms, but he didn’t want Ellie to think her work was less than adequate, so he gave up on that idea and got back to the sports pages.

He heard a sound and cocked his head to listen. There was movement in the church, so he went off to investigate, but Lucy beat him to it—she was already looking in the doorway of the upstairs bathroom, tail wagging.

There was Ellie, wearing his long, oversize blue work shirt, painting the top half of the bathroom walls yellow. She must have heard Noah approach, but she didn’t say a word. She didn’t even turn to look at him. And she wasn’t humming. She was working that paint roller with a vengeance.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Painting,” she said.

“What about the kids?”

She stopped and looked at him and her expression was at once furious and completely broken. “He wouldn’t let me have them.”

“What? Why?”

She lowered the roller to the pan on the floor. “He wouldn’t let them speak to me on the phone last night and wouldn’t let them come with me this morning. He said they had misbehaved and were grounded. They were disrespectful to him by complaining to me that they wanted to leave. My God, they’re babies! They want their mother! When I told him we had a court order, he told me to take it to the judge.”

“Ellie, did you call the judge?”

She rolled her eyes before leveling them at him. “A—the judge is not on my side, and B—he’s not around on Saturdays.”

“How about the police?”

“The police? Now come on, Rev. Do the police get into stuff like this?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been in situations in the past where they have, though not in this state. He has to turn over the kids on your scheduled days. He’s been ordered by the court. He’s in contempt. He could go to jail. Or at least be fined or something.”

“Oh, your lips to God’s ears. Listen,” she said, “I’m pissed as hell about this, plus my kids are all torn up. I left them crying and begging and clawing for me with Arnie holding them back and threatening them. But I’m afraid of him, you know? Afraid he’ll take it out on them or something.”

Noah thought for a second. Then he said, “Wait a minute—did he suggest you resolve this problem by moving back in with him?”

“Not exactly, but he did say we could’ve been a family if I hadn’t been so impossible. That’s not true, by the way. I tried—for two months and twenty-six days. He’s the stubbornest, most unreasonable man I’ve ever—”

He grabbed her hand. “Come on,” he said, pulling her out of the bathroom.

“What the hell …? What are you doing?”

He stopped right at his office door and slowly unbuttoned the paint-splattered work shirt that she wore. “We’re gonna go get your kids. It’s your day.”

He hung the shirt on his office doorknob. He looked at her low-cut, sleeveless T-shirt, her tight jeans. He sighed. Well, this was Ellie. No doubt this had always been Ellie. And he was in a position he’d never been in before in his life—he liked her just fine the way she was. The fact that he worried about the judgment of others made him furious with himself.

“I have to rinse my roller, my pan …”

“No time. Let’s go,” he said.

“Noah,” she said, pulling back. “If the paint dries on the roller …”

“I’ll get you a new roller tomorrow,” he said. He crouched and looked deeply into Lucy’s eyes. “You stay here. Take a nap. No painting.” Then he pulled Ellie out of the side door of the church. “If you’re right, and it sounds like you are, he wants you back. Ellie, do you think he cares about your kids? Do you think he wants them, on any level?”

“The kids annoy him. He doesn’t do things with them, like play or read or anything. He wants them quiet, neat, invisible. All kids annoy him. Really, he’s the last person who should be the principal of an elementary school….”

“Private school, you said.”

“Yeah, private. More money there, he said.”

Noah’s brain was working. Maybe a small private school wasn’t so picky about things like credentials, and past work problems. Noah wondered what Arnie’s employment history would reveal. “He’s punishing you, Ellie. Don’t buckle. Let’s go get your kids.”

“What are you going to do?” she wanted to know.

“I’m going to do to him what you did to Nick Fitch— but I’m going to do it in a pure ministerial, manipulative and threatening kind of way.” He grinned. “We’ll have to take your car so we have room for the kids. I’ll drive. Now, where are we going?”

Noah pulled into a neighborhood in Redway, just north of Garberville. The houses were a lot alike in shape and size, but were painted a variety of colors. Most had two stories with dormer windows, porches, detached garages and front walks. Some boasted pampered lawns and summer flowers, some weren’t quite so well loved. They were all what Noah would consider small—maybe three bedrooms, as well as attics and basements. They were all nestled into tall trees.

Noah drove very slowly because kids were playing in the street. There were a few riding their bikes around in circles while a group in the center appeared to be playing kickball. A couple of parents were busy with the usual Saturday chores—cutting the lawn, digging in the garden, washing the car.

“It’s that house,” she said, pointing. “There’s a black SUV in the driveway.”

“Are your kids out here?” he asked. As he drove slowly down the street, the legion of kids separated to let his car pass.

“No. Arnie doesn’t let them play outside unsupervised. And he doesn’t have time to supervise, so they never had a chance to make friends.”

“Do you have any idea what I should expect?” Noah asked.

She took a breath. “He’s a chameleon, Noah. He fooled me for quite a while. The school secretary worships him, she thinks he’s a kind, devout man, who’s strict and doesn’t put up with bad behavior, but he’s beyond strict. He can be nice when it suits him. His favorite saying is, ‘Speak softly and carry a big stick.’ His other favorite is, ‘Children should be seen and not heard.’ By now the neighbors hate him because he’s antisocial and wouldn’t allow the kids to interact with their kids. He’ll probably be very nice to you, but don’t fall for it.”

Like that’s new to me, Noah thought. A lot of people treated him with deference and extreme politeness when they’d prefer not to talk to him at all. They were talking to the minister, not the man. Not only that, but his father had been that kind of man—a charmer at church and a demon at home. That experience gave him an edge—he knew exactly what he would be dealing with.

“If there’s no TV in the house, what’s he doing in there?”

“He’s on his laptop all the time. All the time. He carries it around with him. When I got too close and might see what he was doing, he’d close it. My babysitter, from the duplex? She said he might be playing games. You know—real complicated games that have other people online from all over the place? Or maybe he’s looking at dirty pictures. Lord, I have no idea. But that’s what keeps him busy all the time.”

“Interesting,” Noah said. “I’m on my laptop a lot, too. But you can read over my shoulder anytime and just get bored to death.” He pulled alongside the curb at the front walk. “Do me a favor and stay in the car, for right now at least.”

“Why?” she asked, already out of her seat belt.

“Because I’m going to give him a chance to preserve his manhood, which will be hard for him to do in front of you. Let me try reasoning with him.”

“Oh, you better watch out.”

“I’m not a naive goody-goody, Ellie. Ministers deal with more dysfunctional people than strippers do, believe me.”

“I bet you’re right,” she agreed.

“Stay in the car and don’t ruin my show.” And with that, he got out and strode purposefully up the walk.

It shouldn’t have surprised him that his knock was not answered. He rang the bell, he knocked again, he rang and knocked and hoped it was becoming increasingly obvious that he wasn’t going to stop. Finally the door opened and the man standing there looked completely composed and not in the least ruffled. Ellie hadn’t mentioned he was a big, ugly guy. Oh, man, how Arnie must have lusted after Ellie! This was not a guy who had a long line of women waiting to hook up with him.

Arnie smiled without showing any teeth and there was a slight tic in his jaw.

“Arnie Gunterson?” Noah asked, putting out his hand.

“Arnold Gunterson,” he said. “Normally when people don’t answer the door, they’re either not at home or not interested in company.”

“I’m Reverend Noah Kincaid, and I knew you were home because your car’s in the driveway,” he said, his hand still out.

Arnie burst out laughing, but there was not an ounce of humor in his eyes. “Reverend?” he asked, looking Noah up and down. So what if he was wearing worn jeans and a plaid flannel shirt over a waffled, gray, long-sleeved T-shirt? “Reverend of what? The church of hope and BS?”

Noah tried to ignore him, though it did briefly cross his mind to get that haircut and some of what he always called “town clothes.” “Forgive me for being so determined, but it is imperative I speak with you before calling the police department,” Noah said.

“Why would you go to the police? Is it against the law not to answer the door?”

Noah finally pulled back his hand. Arnie was six feet or so and broad shouldered, but he was thick around the middle. He looked about forty years old and had an awful big head. His light brown hair was going thin, but it was neatly combed back from a long, wide forehead. His face was slightly flushed, suggesting he had high blood pressure or had been holding in some anger. Noah glanced at the hands that hung at Arnie’s sides; they were loose and relaxed. “Not at all, Mr. Gunterson. It’s against the law to defy a court-ordered visitation agreement. Miss Baldwin is in my car. She’s my employee, she works for the Virgin River Presbyterian Church now. And while she was willing to let the matter go, I thought it was important for her to see her children, and I insisted on stepping in.”

“You shouldn’t have. The situation is under control.”

Noah laughed indulgently. “Unfortunately, that’s not true,” he said. “She needs to see the kids and, from what she told me about her attempt to pick them up this morning, they need to see her. I am sure we can work it out. If we talked about it.”

Arnie’s eyebrows came together in a frown. “Is that what you thought? Well, the kids are having time-out. We had talked about how they would behave if they wanted a special day with their mother. No crying, yelling, complaining or throwing fits. No begging. They haven’t been with me very long, so acting appropriately is new to them. Their mother never bothered to discipline them. Or take care of them at all, for that matter. I’m sure they’ll be on their good behavior by next weekend, but I thank you for your concern.” He backed into the house and attempted to close the door in Noah’s face.

But Noah’s hand came out fast, hitting the door and preventing it from closing. “But see, that’s not in the court orders—concessions, loopholes and time-outs. I have a copy if you’ve lost yours,” he lied. “You have custody for ninety days until the judge revisits the issue, and your ex-wife has a visit every Saturday from 8:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. It’s a legal document, Mr. Gunterson. At the very least, I’ll get us an escort from the police or sheriff’s department. But if we have to haggle over this more than five more minutes, I’ll get help from the police. And I’ll be in court Monday morning with Miss Baldwin and an attorney. Because you can’t do this to her or the children. It’s cruel. We have to work it out. Or fight it out.”

Arnie smiled meanly. “Well now. I guess she’s got you under her spell.”

Noah returned the smile and met his eyes. Noah was determined to set a good example by his behavior, but nothing would have felt better than dragging this son of a bitch out of the house and beating the crap out of him. I could wipe the floor with him; he’s totally out of shape, Noah thought. He’s just a big fat bully. Yet all Noah said was, “Entirely.”

Arnie chuckled. “You’re going to pay for that. See, Ellie has a very strong tendency to stretch the truth. She’s not usually honest with the facts. Believing what she says usually carries a big price. You just have no idea.”

If there was one thing Noah had figured out in only a couple of days, Ellie was painfully honest. She could have come up with much more flattering tales about her predicament than she had. “I’ll probably pay a visit to the judge anyway, just to assure him that Miss Baldwin has herself a good job with the local church, has a nice little apartment right on the same street for very affordable rent and has already collected some well-respected friends around town. I might let that go another week or two, depending. You could sweeten the pot by letting the kids pack an overnight bag.” Noah glowered at Arnie meaningfully. “Since they missed most of the day with their mom, and all. Mr. Gunterson, knowing how decent and fair-minded you are, wouldn’t that be a generous gesture on your part? The judge would have a hard time believing you’re just a cruel, vindictive bastard if you did something nice like that.” And then Noah smiled. Meanly.

Arnie was speechless for a moment. “You really don’t know who you’re dealing with, do you?”

Noah let out his breath slowly. Unfortunately he did. He grew up with one of them. “I just thought we’d both be happiest if we negotiated. Met each other halfway. Because if we go head-to-head, physically or legally, I’m going to win. Trust me. Now—give the kids a break here.”

“If I do that, it’ll take me all week to get ‘em back into shape.”

Noah pushed the door open a little more, pushing it against Arnie. “Watch that, Arnold,” he threatened. “You’re already on thin ice here. You’re not going to get away with anything. You treat those kids harshly and it’s going to come back on you so hard, you’ll never forget it.”

“Like it’s my fault they haven’t been raised right?”

“I said, go real easy on them. And I mean it.”

“Are you threatening me?” he asked coolly, totally unafraid.

“You’re damn straight. Now, get the kids. I’m getting tired of trying so hard with you.”

Arnie seemed to think about this. Then he said, “You sure you’re a preacher?”

“Complete with two master’s degrees, a ton of money and a load of local influence.” He faced him down squarely. Noah was just a hair taller than Arnie, but his arms and shoulders were strong, his neck thick, his chest hard, and while Arnie had that generous spare tire, Noah had a six-pack. He looked Arnie in the eyes easily. And there was only one, maybe two lies in what he had said, and he considered them small ones. His money did not amount to a lot after spending on the church, and he thought maybe his influence went as far as the local bartender. Period. But what the heck. These were innocent children. And no matter what Ellie had done for a living, this bastard was bad. Yet there was nothing about Ellie that was bad. Just nothing.

Noah’s little secret was—he had a bit of a temper. It didn’t take all that much to push his buttons—especially over matters of injustice. He’d been trying real hard to be one of those turn-the-other-cheek kind of guys, but it wasn’t going that well. Injustice like this ranked right up there as something that made him fighting mad. And he was damn sure going to research Arnold a little further.

“Stay out here,” Arnie said. “I’ll get the kids ready. And don’t ever pull this again or you’ll be sorry.”

Noah wanted to slap back many retorts and threats. But he said nothing. He stood. And stood. And stood. He cast a glance over his shoulder at Ellie, waiting impatiently in the car, confusion and anxiety all over her face. It was a good ten minutes before the door opened again.

Arnie appeared alone in the doorway. He looked behind him and said, “Stay! I said stay!” as if the kids were dogs in training. Then to Noah he said, “She can keep them overnight if she’ll get them back by four tomorrow afternoon.”

“We can do that. I’ll make sure of it. And I’ll come along to bring them home, just so we’re sure we’re all on the same page here.” From the look on Arnie’s face it was pretty clear that he understood the subtext of Noah’s comments.

“So, you’re sleeping with her?” Arnie asked.

Noah was momentarily stunned. “Did you seriously ask me that?” he said, shocked. He shook his head and laughed unhappily. “You know, she’s my employee. People can respect and help each other without there being a sexual agenda. Did you know that?”

“Not with Ellie,” he said. “She’s a tramp.”

Noah ground his teeth, his eyes narrowed and his fists clenched. He was seconds away from the happiest moment of his life, when he broke this guy’s nose. But there was a miracle. He didn’t move at all, and simply said, “Let the kids go to their mother now.”

Arnie stepped back, gave his head a nod and let the kids past. “Mind your manners,” he called after them, and his voice was controlled, civil, as though he meant well. It made Noah’s head spin. It was just as Ellie had said, this guy had two sides—both of them creepy.

The children each carried small backpacks for overnight, and they tried to walk slowly, until they were halfway to the car, until Ellie’s door came open, and then they lost control and broke into a run. Ellie fell to her knees and they flung themselves into her arms.

There was so much kissing and hugging and crying, it made Noah nervous. He saw that Arnie watched for a moment, then closed the door. He heard the dead bolt slide. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” Noah said, trying to shepherd them into the car. “Kids in the back, seat belts, come on, let’s go.”

“In the car, kids,” Ellie said. “This is Reverend Kincaid, my new boss. This is Danielle and Trevor.”

“Noah,” he said. “Just call me Noah. Come on, let’s get outta here, huh?”

When he was behind the wheel, his brain went into overdrive. Would Arnie call the police and insist the kids had been kidnapped by a small-town preacher? Would they suffer even more when they were returned because Arnie felt he had lost ground? What could happen to these kids a few weeks down the road? Was there any way to assure their safety? How would Ellie survive if something happened to them and she felt it was her fault?

Noah listened as Ellie and the kids discussed the situation. “He said we were good enough today so we could spend the night. But we have to be back by four.”

“Did he?” Ellie asked Noah. “Did he say they could stay over?”

“He said we have to mind our manners and behave if we ever want another visit. Mommy, I have been doing my manners,” Danielle said. “I’ve been doing my please and thank-yous, I’ve been keeping Trevor from crying at night.”

Noah thought furiously, that son of a bitch let them think they had earned their visit by being “good.”

“Oh, baby,” Ellie said, tears in her voice. “Trevor, have you been scared?”

He nodded piteously and reached for his mother, the seat belt holding him in place.

“It’s okay, Trev—you’re very brave,” she told him, holding his hand. “Did you bring your books?”

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