“I’ll take care of that,” Ian said.
But she continued. When it was in a nice little square, she stacked her library books on the table. “I didn’t finish,” she said. “I was just getting to the good part, too. The page is marked. Thanks for everything. I mean, you’ve done so much for me.”
“I didn’t do hardly anything at all,” he said. “I didn’t change anything.”
“Yeah, you did. You cooked for me, took care of me, gave me medicine, protected me…But, well, I know I’ve been a lot of trouble…”
“It wasn’t a big deal” was all he said.
“To me it was.”
And he didn’t respond.
She hefted her duffel, backpack and purse and went out the door, leaving Erin to grab the sleeping bag. She threw her things in the backseat of Erin’s car and got in the passenger seat.
She wished he’d roared at Erin and scared her away. But Erin would’ve come back with the whole sheriff’s department unlike Marcie, who just ate a sandwich and nearly froze to death.
“Go into the town—I want to say goodbye to my friends.”
“Virgin River?” Erin asked.
“Yes.”
“Listen, Marcie…”
“And don’t talk to me. Don’t even look at me.”
Eleven
E rin pulled up in front of Jack’s bar and said, “Don’t be long. We’ll be driving at night as it is.”
Marcie didn’t respond, she just stomped inside. Obviously not trusting her, Erin was right behind her. Jack started to smile, then his smile froze as he took in Marcie’s scorched face and fried hair. “Whoa,” he said.
She jumped up on a stool. “Broken propane stove. Don’t ask.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said.
“Beer.”
“Coming right up.”
He poured a draft and greeted Erin. “Hello again. I guess you found the place, no problem.”
“Thank God,” she said. “Do you have any idea of the living conditions out there?”
He chuckled. “I’m sure it’s not that unusual for the mountains. I lived pretty lean while I was building the bar.”
“There’s no indoor bathroom!”
“Also not too unusual. You have to redig that outhouse every few years, too. And I suppose you know—we don’t have sewer lines that reach that far up and out. It would have to be a septic system, but a man all alone might just brave the cold in winter. Same with cable and electric—you need a satellite dish and generator. There are probably hundreds of cabins just like that out there.”
“Then what’s the point?”
“Oh, if you’d looked around, you wouldn’t ask.”
The door opened and Mel came into the bar, David on her hip. She jumped up beside Marcie and passed the baby across the bar to her husband. Then she gave him a little kiss and turned a smile to Marcie. She jumped in surprise.
“I got a little burn,” Marcie said.
“Boy howdy. What are you putting on it?”
“Some kind of horse liniment Ian had. It relieved it immediately.”
“Ah. Methylsulphonymethane. People around here use it for damn near everything. It’s famous for cell repair. I guess Doc’s right—you’re in good hands.”
“Well, not anymore. Mel, meet my sister, Erin. Erin, meet Mel Sheridan. I believe you spoke.”
“Yes, of course. How do you do. Nice of you to call for Marcie.”
“It was my pleasure. I’ve enjoyed getting to know your sister.”
“And you tended her while she had the flu?”
“With Doc, yes. She seems to be doing just fine—don’t worry about that.”
Jack had situated David in his backpack so he could serve and handle his son at the same time. Preacher brought out a rack of clean flatware to place under the bar, nodded hello to everyone, lifted curious brows toward Marcie, but then disappeared. Mike Valenzuela came in the back door, went behind the bar to help himself to a draft and was introduced to Erin. When he looked at Marcie, his face froze in surprise.
“The propane stove,” she explained wearily. “I turned on the gas first, lit the match second.”
“Bet you get that in the right order next time,” he said, taking a drink of his beer before going back to the kitchen.
Mel happened to glance down and noted Erin’s boots. “Holy smoke, I used to own a pair of those,” she said. “I kind of miss them, too. I killed them the first spring I was in this town, traipsing around the ranches and vineyards.”