Author: Robyn Carr

Mel walked behind the bar and got up on her toes to kiss Jack. “I don’t think she wants to go shopping. Tell her I went ahead—I have to cover up the baby.”

“You do that.”

“Um, Jack? I don’t quite know how to explain this to you. You and I have such different life experiences with things like this….”

“Starting with, I would never hit a woman.”

“That’s lovely, Jack. That’s not what I mean. Hmm,” she said, looking skyward. “It might be easiest for you if you thought of Paige as a POW.”

“A POW?” he asked, looking startled and confused at once.

“That’s the closest thing I can think of that you can relate to. I’ll be back as soon as I have a bagful of elastic waistbands, okay?”

“Sure. Okay.”

A couple of hours later, with still plenty of time before the dinner hour, Jack was sitting on the porch, tying off flies for fishing. Paige came onto the porch holding a slice of fresh apple pie on a plate. He took it and said, “Oohh, still warm…”

“I’m sorry about before, Jack. I’m a little embarrassed.”

He looked up at her, saw a sweet, docile face—the face of a devoted young mother, a pregnant woman running to protect her unborn baby. And, as he had been instructed by Mel, he imagined an enforced barricade, deprivation, regular beatings, fear of death—for years. It was not only hard to imagine a young woman like Paige, so helpful and tender, going through something like that, it was impossible to imagine the kind of man who might subject her to it. “Don’t worry about that, okay? We all have our moments.”

“No, we don’t. Only I—”

He cut her off, laughing. “Oh, don’t go there. Don’t go the ‘only I have this baggage’ route. Ask Mel—not long before I married her, I had a fantastic meltdown. Come to think of it, so did she!” Then he frowned slightly. “On second thought—could you take my word for it?”

Paige tilted her head. “She wouldn’t want to be asked about that?”

“Nah, I don’t think she’d mind. It just pisses me off—the way she never tells me anything, and I just lay it all out there. I don’t know how she does it.”

“That’s okay, Jack.” She laughed. “I won’t ask. I apologize, however.”

“No need, Paige. I just hope you feel better.”

John took the supply list, Chris and Paige to Eureka. They went to Target first so the groceries wouldn’t go bad in the truck while they shopped. She bought a few things—underwear, jeans, shirts. John held Chris’s hand outside the dressing room while she tried things on. They stopped at the bookstore. John spent some time in the history section, picking up a couple of books—the same type she’d seen on his bookshelf. Then when he came to the children’s section to see if they were ready to go, Paige put up the books they’d been looking at and said, “Okay.”

“Maybe we should get a new book or two,” he said.

“We have his favorites,” she said.

“We could use two new ones,” he said. “Okay if I do this?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said.

Maybe the best part of the outing was the drive. She’d come into Virgin River at night, in the rain, and except for her quick trip to Grace Valley along the back mountain roads, hadn’t seen much of the countryside. John took them for a little drive along the high cliffs of the Pacific Coast—so different up here in the north than in L.A. He passed through a redwood grove, then up into the mountains toward Virgin River.

She looked over at him as he drove; he was grinning. “Why are you smiling?” she asked him.

He turned to look at her. “I’ve never been shopping with a woman before,” he said. “I didn’t hate it.”

Five

During her stay in Virgin River, Paige started out in the bedroom above the kitchen, reluctant to step outside. Next the kitchen, then the bar, then late evenings with John in front of the fire, talking. And then she’d begun working, getting to know the locals. Gradually her circle widened until she’d been to the corner store a few times, then she’d gone to the little library, open on Tuesdays, to get picture books for Chris and novels for herself.

In only three weeks, she no longer felt like a guest. A newcomer, certainly, but for the first time in years, at ease with her surroundings. The days were long, the work wasn’t light. Her legs hurt again, and this time she was grateful for the opportunity to spend this kind of physical energy rather than being locked up and emotionally drained from the constant tension and uncertainty of her life. She fixed her own breakfast and lunch, ate dinner in the kitchen with Rick and John between hustling meals and doing dishes, and it felt good.

After Chris was asleep, she read for a couple of hours, and actually fell into the story, something she hadn’t been able to do in years. She left her sleeping boy to go downstairs to get herself a glass of milk, smiling as she descended the stairs—there was always a night-light on in the kitchen, welcoming her. She noticed a glow from the bar and peeked in. John sat in the darkened bar at the table in front of the fire, his feet up on the open hearth. She walked into the room.

“Isn’t this awful late for you?” she asked.

He jumped in surprise, put his feet on the floor and sat up straight. “Paige! I didn’t hear you come down.”

“Just prowling around, getting a glass of milk. What’s the matter? Can’t sleep?”

“Having a little trouble, yeah. I’ll go in a minute.”

“Want some company?” He had a strange look on his face. “Oh, I guess you want a little time to yourself.”

“That’s okay…” he said.

“No, I understand. You’ve been here alone all this time and now you have people underfoot. I’ll just see you in the—”

“Sit down, Paige,” he said, somber. Unhappy.

“Is everything all right?” she asked, pulling out a chair.

He shook his head. “It’s not so good. I didn’t want to do this tonight. I wanted to save this for morning.”

“Did I do something?” she asked, frowning. “Is there something I need to—”

“You’re perfect,” he said. “It’s not you—you’re perfect. I got some bad news a little while ago. Wes did it—what you expected. He finally did it. Reported you and Chris missing. Almost two weeks ago.”

She was stunned speechless for a moment. She sank weakly into the chair. While she was settling in, growing more comfortable with her surroundings, her new friends, he had crossed her mind often. She’d look over her shoulder; she couldn’t help it. A shudder would pass through her now and then and often her heart would start to beat a little wildly and she’d have to focus her energy on breathing evenly, reminding herself he was nowhere near, and it would pass.

She closed her eyes briefly. “I’ll go up and pack,” she said softly. “I’d better get going. Get back to the plan…”

“Don’t pack yet, Paige,” he said. “Let’s talk about it.”

She shook her head. “There’s nothing to talk about, John. He’s after me—I have to get us away. I can’t afford to take a chance.”

“If you run, you’re taking a bigger chance. If they pick you up, they’re going to take Chris to him and arrest you. You have to do it, Paige. Face him down,” Preacher said. “I’ll help. I’ll find a way to get you through this.”

“There’s only one way through this—I have to get out of here. You said it yourself, he’ll outsmart me.”

“I never said that,” he argued. “I said you’re not devious. But I think you can beat him. I know a couple of people—my buddy the cop, for one. There’s a judge in Grace Valley I’ve been fishing with—I know he’ll help if he can. Jack’s little sister, Brie, is a lawyer—a hotshot lawyer in the state capital—and she knows everyone. Brie—she’s so smart, it’s scary. We have to ask some of these people how you can get out of this mess and have a real life. I’ll see it through with you, till you’re free and safe.”

She sat forward in her chair. “Listen, why are you doing this? What do you think you’ll get out of it?”

“Me? Sleep, that’s what. When this is over, I’ll sleep at night knowing you’re not getting beat up, knowing Chris isn’t growing up mean, learning how to beat on women. Paige, I saw. That first night, when I brought you clean towels, the door was open a little and you had your shirt pulled…” He stopped and hung his head. Then he raised it and looked her dead in the eye and said, “That was no little slap. No little argument.”

She looked down into her lap. It was unbearable to think he’d seen that awful mess.

“Listen,” he said, lifting her chin with a finger. “I was okay with my life until you walked in the door that night, with your kid and your bruises. It was all right with me to fish and cook and clean up—I never minded being alone. I’m never going to get married, have kids of my own—I know that. But I can do something about this—”

“This isn’t your business!”

“It is now! Even if you’re not counting on me, that kid is! He counts on me every day, from the time he comes running down here in his jammies until he’s finally sound asleep! When you and Chris leave here, I’m going to know we did everything we could to keep you safe from that bastard!” He took a breath. “Sorry,” he said. “I can sound as scary as I look.”

“You don’t look scary,” she said so softly he barely heard. “And if this doesn’t work?”

He straightened. “Then I’ll help you get to someplace safe. I’ll do whatever it takes. Jesus Christ, Paige, if I don’t do this, what am I gonna do with my life? When something like this hits me square in the face and I ignore it, what am I worth then, huh?”

She gazed at his pleading expression and shook her head almost sadly. “How do you know you’ll never get married and have kids?” she asked him.

“C’mon,” he said, frustrated.

“Really.”

“To start with, there’s not a single unmarried woman over eighteen and under sixty in this town—that might be one clue.”

“There’re lots of towns…”

“Jesus, do we have to make this about me? Your kid, he’s the only kid ever came near me. Christ, they hide behind their mothers when they see me.”

She smiled at him. “You’re swearing like mad. I bet your mother’s turning in her grave….”

“Spinning,” he agreed. Then, pleadingly, “I know you’re scared. Are you too scared to try to stare the bastard in the eye and face him down if I swear I have your back? If you have lots of help?” He took a breath. “Did you know, when you come face-to-face with a bear, you never run? You straighten up tall as you can. Puff up and try to make yourself big. Make a lot of noise. Act tough, even if you’re not tough.” He shook his head. “You’d have trouble doing that, little as you are. But you should think about the theory. If you act like you’re not scared and you have help, good and strong and smart help—you might get this behind you. We’ll help. The judge, Mel, Jack, Brie. Mike.”

“Mike?” she asked.

“My buddy the cop. Mike.” He swallowed. “He says what you really have to do right now is turn yourself in—maybe not to the police. But to someone in the law, someone who will listen to your story. I’m thinking a lawyer, or the judge.”