The guy who owned the moving company had offered him full-time work a couple of times because Ian was strong and fast, but he’d said no thank you. He now considered getting in touch with that guy and getting his name on the list for full-time. Maybe he’d even look around, see if there were other interested employers—he was fit and not afraid of work.
Then a little voice reminded him that he hadn’t filed a tax return in four years because he just didn’t care. He had slipped out of the functional world; could he really expect to slip back in?
For the right reasons, he thought. She’d taught him to laugh again. Just that alone warranted getting a full-time job and buying a septic tank, not because it would matter to Marcie. Because it would be good to improve, to live rather than exist. And hell—it had been a long time since an honest-to-God shower.
At that moment, she came out of the kitchen and hopped up on the bar stool beside Ian, and she wasn’t wearing her happy face. “Erin Elizabeth is getting a little pissy. She’s ready for me to get home. She’s past ready.”
“You can’t be surprised,” Ian said. “You did promise her.”
“I kind of put off telling her I’m staying here till Christmas Eve. It’s just a four-hour drive, or so.”
He slipped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. “It’s the right thing to do, Marcie. Your family loves you, needs you. You don’t want to take that for granted.”
“I know. Right now I just have too many right things to do. Heat your bath water, plow your fields…”
“Make me laugh…”
“Make you roar.” She smiled at him.
“No matter what you think right now, you’ll be glad once you’re home,” he said. “Familiar and comfortable and…Listen, when you told my father you were going to look for me, what did he say?”
“I told you,” she said, focusing on her beer. “He said I was probably wasting my time.”
“I know him too well—what else did he say?”
“Really, he was just a crotchety old—”
“Come on—you never hold back. The truth.”
She turned wide, innocent, troubled green eyes up to his. “He…He said if I found you, I should tell you he left the house and car to the paperboy.”
Unexpectedly, Ian erupted in laughter. He threw his head back and howled. Marcie just stared at him while he laughed until his eyes watered. His lips were still curved in a smile when he got it under control.
“That is not funny,” she said. “I think it’s awful.”
“But it’s so him,” Ian said. “I wonder if he burned all my baseball cards and letter jackets, or just gave them away.”
“Well, he doesn’t deserve you,” she said in a pout, taking a sip of her beer.
“So, no talk about me going back to Chico to see him one last time before he dies?” he teased.
She looked startled. “Ian, I never wanted that. I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t see anything you didn’t see four or five years ago.”
“You deny that you wanted me to see him one last time…？”
“Ian, no! No, not that! I wanted him to see you. I wanted him to know you were all right—that no matter how mean he was, no matter how cruelly he treated you, you were good. Strong and good. Or, more specifically, I wanted you to let him know you were all that. I swear.”
“Why?” he asked, completely confused.
She put her hand over his. “Because of the kindness you have in you. He doesn’t deserve it, he’s done nothing to earn it, he’d never even thank you for it—but he’s on the decline and it would be a good thing to do—to let the old guy know that in spite of everything, you’re still a good and strong man with a heart and you’re not like him. You’ll never be like him. That’s all. I thought maybe someday down the road you’d think of that anyway, and I just didn’t want you to think of it when it was too late.” She smiled at him. “Not for him, for you.”
“You think you know me that well?”
“I do,” she said. “I’ve been watching you—with the wildlife, with the neighbors, with everything—it’s natural to you to do anything that takes heart and generosity. I bet that was the hardest thing for you to give up.”
On the morning of Christmas Eve, Ian didn’t get up to deliver wood. He could have loaded the truck and made one more sale and delivery before Christmas and get a better-than-usual price. Instead, he made the coffee and served a hot cup to Marcie. “It’s morning, sunshine. It’s a big day for you.” “You’re not selling wood?” she asked sleepily, sitting up.