Author: Robyn Carr

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay?” he repeated, surprised.

“Okay. I’m terrified, but okay.” She shuddered. “It’s your way or running, hiding. Either way, the danger is pretty much the same. Him.” Then, quietly, “Thank you. For offering. To help.”

“It feels good to help,” he said. “Just do it for Chris. Let’s get him outta this mess.”

“Yeah, I’ll try that,” she said, but her voice was shaky.

Preacher didn’t look like the kind of guy who could use looking after, watching over, but this is what Jack did. It was partly out of habit—he’d had the big man’s back since they were in the Marines together; Preacher had served under him twice, the first and second Iraq conflicts.

There was another reason Jack was watching closely right now, and that was because Preacher was changing. Jack recognized it at once because it hadn’t been so long since he went through similar changes—although Jack had known exactly what was happening to him, and he suspected that Preacher did not.

After twenty years in the Marine Corps and three in Virgin River, Jack had never formed a strong attachment with a woman. It never occurred to him to settle down, commit to one woman. The closest he’d ever come was one woman at a time. And then Mel came to town to work alongside old Doc Mullins and before she’d been here a week, Jack was cooked. It was the right time, the right woman, the right circumstances. And while it shook him, startled him to feel what he was feeling, it never confused him. It was unmistakable. He’d fallen in love with such a horrendous crash it surprised him that the redwoods hadn’t trembled, as though an earthquake shook them.

It had happened almost as quickly to Preacher. Paige appeared that rainy night just three weeks ago with her child and her bruises and Jack could sense a fire in Preacher right away. At first it appeared to be an intense need to right a wrong, to protect—typical of Preacher. He was that kind of man—tough on the outside and soft on the inside. Justice and loyalty—those values were everything to him. But in the days since what he saw had evolved. Preacher watched over Paige with an intensity that spoke of something more than the goodness of his heart. He would glance at her and his eyes would grow dark. Glow. He’d shake himself, look away, and his brow would furrow as though he were trying to make sense of feelings he hadn’t had before.

Jack and Preacher had such different histories with the opposite sex. Jack had never done well with abstinence—he had always had a woman somewhere. He was driven by those needs. But Preacher was solitary. And while a very private person, he wasn’t secretive. In fact, he was candid. Transparent. Jack was sure that if he’d had women around, Jack would know about it. No, he was fairly sure—this was a first for Preacher. He was powerfully attracted to a woman and didn’t have any idea what to do about it.

Jack watched Paige, as well, because he cared deeply about his friend. This was a kindhearted and vulnerable woman, and she was tender toward Preacher—but it was entirely possible it was no more than gratitude. If she were ever able to put the threats she faced behind her, she would probably go away. Back to a family somewhere, perhaps. Or even some new place.

For now, they were inseparable. The three of them. Preacher kept Paige and Christopher under his protective wing, as though danger loomed nearby and might strike at any moment. When there were no patrons in the bar, Preacher and Paige sat at one of the tables and talked or played cribbage; if Christopher wasn’t napping, he was on Preacher’s knee. When the place was busy, fishermen dropping in for drinks or dinner after a long day on the Virgin, Paige and her son would be in the kitchen with Preacher, helping out or just keeping him company. She worked in the bar, apparently content with her duties and constantly checking with Preacher to ask what he’d like her to do.

It was obvious what Preacher was beginning to feel. Not so obvious what Paige was feeling. And no time presented itself in which Jack could talk to Preacher privately. Of course, he wasn’t sure what he’d say, anyway. But there was one thing Jack had heard—these domestic situations were probably more dangerous than war. Volatile, unpredictable, lethal. Cops often said they’d rather walk into an armed robbery than a domestic. Jack didn’t want anything bad to happen to this woman—he liked her. But he also didn’t want anything bad to happen to Preacher.

With this on his mind, he wanted to talk to his wife about it. “I’m going to step out for a while,” Jack said to Preacher. “You got the bar?”

“Got it,” he said.

Jack walked across the street to Doc’s where he found Mel and Doc playing gin at the kitchen table. Mel had a nice little stack of pennies sitting by her hand. When she saw him standing there, her blue eyes sparkled and she smiled at him. “When you’re done with the game, can you go for a ride with me?” he asked.

“Where?”

He shrugged. “Just for a ride. Me and you. The sun’s out for a change.”

“You can be done right now,” Doc said. “I haven’t had gin once.” He threw his cards down and stood up.

“You need to work on your sportsmanship,” she told him.

“I need to work on my cheating,” Doc returned, heading out of the kitchen.

Mel got her coat and walked outside with Jack. “Where are we going?” she asked again.

“Just for a ride. Tell me about your morning.”

They held hands as they walked out to Jack’s truck and he opened the door for her. When he was in beside her and driving, she said, “We haven’t had anything very interesting. This nasty weather we’ve been having seems to be bringing out the viruses—lots of runny noses, coughs, fevers. We’re running through the decongestant. I think I feel a cold coming on.”

“Are you sick?”

“No, but my head is stuffy and one ear is plugged. And I can’t take the decongestant because of you-know-who.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be working in a doctor’s office right now. All those germs,” he said.

“Oh, stop.” She laughed. She smoothed her hands over her little pooch of a tummy. “You’re going to be a little on the overprotective side.”

They drove out of town to the west for about ten minutes and Jack turned off the road, then he stopped. “It’s bumpy. The road sucks. That okay?”

“As long as I don’t hit my head on the ceiling, we’re okay. What is this?”

“Something I came across and wanted to show you. Hang on and I’ll go slow. We’re going up.” And up and up, along a winding dirt road wide enough for only one vehicle, through the trees. Then momentarily they broke out in a big, grassy clearing from which you could see for miles. “I thought you’d love this view.”

“Oh. My,” she said, taken with it. She looked across fenced pastures, ranches, farms, orchards, a vineyard. Behind them the pine-covered hills rose and in front of them, the hill sloped down to the valley.

“Come on,” he said, opening his door.

They got out and stood on this grassy knoll, looking out across the foothills and valley below. Off in the far distance what appeared to be clouds rolled in from the Pacific Coast. Jack put an arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him. “Jack, this is beautiful. I didn’t even know this place was here.”

“Me, neither. Mel, what if this spot, right where we’re standing—what if this spot was your front porch?”

She snapped her head up to look at him, her mouth open slightly, her eyes wide. She said his name in a breath. “Jack!”

“I think I can get it. It’s the Bristols’ land—too craggy for planting, too far from their pastures and too much forest for grazing. And we don’t need much—just a couple of acres, maybe.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Jack,” she said again. “You’ve been looking for land.”

He laughed. “I’ve been sneaking around the back acreage of neighbors’ properties, looking for a good piece someone might be talked out of. A view, a good yard, somewhere where the deer might wander right up to the house, destroy your vegetable garden…”

“I’ve never had a vegetable garden.”

“You like it?”

“I love it,” she said. “I love you.”

He moved behind her and slipped his arms around her. His hands went under her jacket, under her sweater to where the jeans she could no longer close were gaping open. He put his large hands over her tummy and she put her hands over his, leaning back against him. They stood and looked out across the beautiful land, and then there was a little movement within her. These tiny flutters had just begun. “I’m sorry you can’t feel that yet,” she whispered. “The baby just fluttered.”

He bent to kiss her neck. “She likes it.”

“How can you not? Oh, Jack, you shouldn’t have shown it to me. Now if you can’t get Fish and Carrie Bristol to part with it, my heart will break.” She pressed down on his hands.

“Think positive,” he said. He gently massaged her tummy. “I thought men were supposed to get all freaked out when their wives were pregnant. Not want to touch them. Not want to have sex.”

“Not all men,” she said.

“God, I want you more than ever,” he said, kissing her neck again.

“That—” she laughed “—is simply impossible.”

“Want to christen the new home site?”

She laughed at him. “I’m not going back to Doc’s with grass stains on my butt. Control yourself.”

“I’m going to build you a house here,” he said. “First thing I’m going to do is get the road graded and widened, then have the land excavated. I can’t do that myself. While that’s happening, we’re going to have some plans drawn up. I’ll need help with the foundation, but after that—”

“Jack, stop. You have to buy the land first.”

He turned her around. “I’m going to build you a house here, Mel.”

“Okay,” she said. “You just do that.”

Eventually, they went back to the truck, but they sat there a long while, silent, looking out over the valley. Mel was remembering last March when she arrived, a recent widow looking for a fresh start, and the first thing she thought was that she’d made a terrible mistake in coming to this washedout little town. She wasn’t made to live in the woods—she was a city girl. Now she looked out at the most glorious landscape in America and knew she would never leave it.

Next March, their baby would arrive, a baby John Stone, her OB, said would be a girl. How far she had traveled, emotionally and physically. From a woman who thought she’d never love again, to a woman in the most intense romantic relationship she could imagine. From a woman who thought she’d never have a child to mother.

“You’re very quiet,” she said to her husband.

“Yeah. I think too much,” he said. “Mel. Talk to me about something. Help me with something.”

“Oh, you didn’t bring me out here to show me the view. No—you would have surprised me with this later, when you were sure you had it locked up. You wanted some privacy,” she said. “What’s bothering you?”

“I’ve been watching Preacher,” he said.

“Ah. Lots of people have.”

“What’s up with that?”

“Well, it seems pretty apparent. He’s growing very attached to his houseguests.”

“Yeah. That’s what I think, too. I have a feeling he doesn’t know what hit him.”

She reached for Jack’s hand. “He’ll work it out.”

“Mel, I’m not sure the looks Paige gives him mean anything but thank you. I mean, Preacher—he’s the kind of guy you want around when someone’s about to take you out.”