Shelter Mountain (Virgin River #2)

Shelter Mountain (Virgin River #2) Page 27

Author: Robyn Carr

“Maybe they had some kind of fight before she left,” Mel suggested to Jack. “Do you have any idea what’s going on with them?”

“Before or now?”

“Before,” she said.

“None whatsoever.”

“And now?”

“Right now I bet that old bar is shaking so hard it’s about to come off its moorings.”

When the last of the dishes were put up, the floor swept, the Open sign turned off and the door latched, Preacher trudged slowly up the stairs to his old room. When he got there he found Christopher was jumping on the bed while beside it Paige stood holding his pajama top, trying to get him to settle down after his bath. She threw a look over her shoulder with a wan smile that said she was coming to the end of her rope. After all, she’d been trapped in the plane and car with him much of the day.

“Okay, cowboy,” Preacher said, coming forward. He took the top out of Paige’s hands and held it for the boy. Christopher slipped his arms in and turned around so that Preacher could snap it up the back. “That a boy,” he said.

Paige put a hand on Preacher’s forearm and said, “Please tuck in the cowboy and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Christopher lunged at Preacher, jumping on him, arms around his neck and legs around his waist, hugging him tight. “Wanna kiss Mommy good-night?” Preacher asked.

Christopher leaned around Preacher a little, puckering, but didn’t let go. He got his kiss and Paige left them alone. “In you go,” Preacher said.

“Read,” he said.

“Aw, c’mon. It’s been a long day.”

“Read,” he said. “One page.”

“Okay, one page.” Preacher sat on the bed beside him and accepted the book. He read three pages. “Now you have to settle down.”

He started whining and wiggling around.

“Did someone give you sugar?” Preacher asked him. “Get into bed. Enough of this.” He tucked the covers around him and kissed his head. “See you happy in the morning.”

“G’night,” Christopher said, snuggling down in the bed.

When Preacher got downstairs he found Paige in the bar, at the table by the fire, and she had poured him a shot and herself a glass of wine. A new log had been added, an unspoken signal they would sit there together for a while. Her silky, light-brown hair caught a shine off the flame; her cheeks were pink and her curved lips soft and inviting. An ache of longing he couldn’t suppress spread through him.

“I poured your shot. And helped myself.”

“Thanks,” he said. “He’s a little wound up tonight. I asked him if anyone gave him sugar and then realized, it was me. Pie and ice cream, two helpings. And I think he had a cola, too.”

“Well, he’s exhausted, so as soon as he detoxes, he should be out like a light. It was a wonderful dinner, John. I think you outdid yourself.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to come back early.” He pulled out the chair and sat down with her. “Did something happen?”

She shook her head. “It was a fantastic visit. Jeannie’s husband is a great guy, great with Chris. She’s working like a dog in that shop of hers, but it’s going to be successful and she’s so proud of herself. Thank you again for doing that.”

“You missed her,” he said.

“And guess what?” she said, smiling. “After a few days, I missed you. I missed Mel and Jack, some of the others.” She laughed. “I missed the kitchen.”

“Did she offer you that job?” he asked tentatively.

“She did. I told her I’d keep it in mind, but I didn’t think I’d end up doing that.”

He was pretty sure he hadn’t heard right. “You have a better idea?” he asked.

She lifted one eyebrow. “You think a string of shops would make it in Virgin River?” she asked him. “Right now, I’m fine. Chris is fine. I’ve asked you before and I’m trusting you, John, to tell me the truth—you say it’s okay I’m here. And when it’s not really what’s good for you, for the bar, I hope you’ll tell me.”

“Paige, I wouldn’t lie to you. Have I ever lied to you?”

She laughed. “No, not really. But you have been known to delay the information.”

“Aw, not so much,” he said. “Paige, does he—does Christopher ask about him? His dad?”

She shook her head. “He asked about his Big Wheel.” She looked down. “I’m really worried about something, John. Between my brother, who is a copy of my scrappy dad, and Wes, I’m afraid Chris could get cursed with some nasty DNA thing that causes him to be angry, to hit, to hurt people. I’m really scared about it. Maybe you could look it up?”

“I could,” he said. “But I think you can see, he’s sweet and happy every day. It’s probably a good idea to keep an eye on that, though. I would.” He took a small sip of his drink. “Wes,” he said. “Does he have people somewhere? Family?”

“No one,” she said. “He grew up real rough. Foster homes, group homes. A lot of bouncing around.” She laughed ruefully. “I thought it was pretty admirable that someone who came up hard made something of himself. I was looking at the outside, ignoring the inside. He didn’t come through it—he brought it with him.”

He was silent, thinking. “I served with a guy who grew up in foster homes,” he finally said. “Had a really hard time as a kid. Sweetest guy you ever met. His childhood made him want a nicer life. You can never tell about that. Which way it’s gonna go. You just have to try your hardest to raise him right.” He grinned at her suddenly. “I can show you that ear-twist of my mom’s….”

Paige smiled at him, sipped her wine. She’d had a lot of late-night talks with Jeannie about John, about Virgin River. Jeannie put in real long days at her shop and Paige had tried to help out by cleaning up the house and starting dinner. But her old best friend, though she may have been tired, sat up and listened to the saga of meeting John, of John’s confrontation with Wes, of visiting her family in L.A. and John holding up to them—holding her up. John and Chris. Jeannie saw the bear with the blue-and-gray flannel leg. She had stroked it and said, “Oh, God. I’ve never known a guy who does something like this. This is amazing.”

“It’s one of the first things that convinced me to stay. The way he is with Chris.”

“That’s really awesome,” Jeannie said. “But you can’t stay there forever because of how he is with your child, you know.”

“That isn’t all there is,” she said softly. “It’s how he is with me. But he’s so quiet. So…reluctant. I don’t know if he’s just shy or if he’s a big Boy Scout, doing the right thing and counting the days till I leave and he’s free of this obligation….”

Jeannie had laughed and said, “Make him tell you.”

“Huh?”

“You’ve completely forgotten how to flirt. No surprise. Let him know you want to be there. You love it there, and he’s the biggest draw. Let him know he makes you feel wonderful. Be coy but get him the message—you’re a girl ready for a guy like him. If you flirt with him a little and he’s not interested, he’s going to set you straight eventually. If he’s really shy, you don’t want to confront him and scare him off. So, what have you got to do in the meantime?”

Paige said to John, “You’re sure it’s okay that we’re still here? I mean, with the holidays coming…”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you here,” he said.

“That’s good,” she said. She took a final sip of her wine, stood and kissed his forehead. She let her lips linger there. “This is the only place I want to be. By the way, the hair is sexy. Very sexy.”

With that, she went through the kitchen and up the back stairs to her room. And he thought, I’m going to pass out.

Late in the year the salmon and sturgeon fishing on the Virgin was at a peak, and fishermen came in droves to the river, which meant the bar had plenty of visitors. Many of those who traveled to this part of the world had been here before and had at least a passing acquaintance with Jack and Preacher. But they met with delight the new face on the scene.

Paige was alive with happiness. She delivered drinks and meals, bussed tables, laughed with the patrons and, it did not go at all unnoticed, threw adoring looks at Preacher when they were both in the same room at the same time.

The conversation in the bar always seemed to center around the size of the catch, the conditions on the river, the weather. But something that also came up was Preacher’s apparent catch.

A couple of fishermen were seated at the bar where Jack served when Paige took a tray of dirty dishes back to the kitchen. “This place gets better-looking all the time,” one of them commented to Jack. “Business is bound to pick up on account of the new help. Where’d Preacher find this young beauty?”

“I think she found him,” Jack said, lifting his coffee cup.

“Shouldn’t he be smiling a lot more?”

“You know Preach—he doesn’t like to show too much emotion.”

As for Paige, she thought John was responding to her, in small ways. He certainly wasn’t pushing her away, and she took that as encouragement. Lips touched cheeks and brows more often; there was the occasional embrace. The best part of her day, her life, was that time after the last patron left the bar and John flipped off the Open sign. Christopher was bathed, dishes were done, bedtime story was read, then she and John would spend their private time together. Talking in soft tones in front of a late-night fire. He had begun giving her a very brief kiss on the lips as she headed toward the stairs and he to his room in the back of the grill.

He was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Soon, she hoped, he would realize that what she felt for him was not just gratitude.

Jack had been watching Rick closely. He hadn’t expected him to be carefree, but the boy’s troubled frown seemed to grow deeper and Jack was determined he wasn’t going to let Rick be swallowed up by this, his one mistake.

“You look like a man who needs to go fishing,” Jack said.

“I need to work,” Rick returned.

“I’m a really good boss,” Jack said, grinning. “I’m willing to keep you on the clock if you’re willing to talk about it.”

“You’ll be sorry,” he said. “I’m such a mess, a world-class psychiatrist couldn’t straighten me out.”

“Good thing you have me, then,” Jack said. “Get your gear.”

It was their way that they didn’t broach the subject right off. They drove out to the river, got into their waders and began casting. There were a lot of fishermen this time of year, but that wasn’t a problem; they simply staked out their own little piece of river where they could quietly talk without being overheard above the rushing water. After a little while, a little casting, Jack said, “Lay it on me, pal. What’s eating you?”

“I don’t think I can do it, Jack. I can’t give up my son.”

“Whoa,” Jack said. He hadn’t prepared himself for that, but probably he should have. Where was Mel when he needed her? “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t have a freaking clue,” Rick said. “I saw him on the ultrasound, kicking around in there. I saw his penis. My son. I can’t have someone else raising him. Not when I made him. I’d worry all the time. You know?”

It was not as though Jack had a hard time understanding those feelings. “I’ve heard of adoptions where you can stay in touch, stay involved.”