by Robyn Carr
When he walked into the bar, Jack greeted him enthusiastically. “Hey, stranger! Long time. You and Marcie up for a little visit?”
“You could say that,” Ian said. “We weren’t planning to come up so soon after Erin got here, but she had a little accident.”
“You don’t say? What happened?”
“Freak accident, I guess. She stood up too fast, whacked her head on the deck railing, knocked herself out. Cold.”
Jack whistled. “And called you to come up?”
“Nah, the hospital called us. They said she was fine, they didn’t expect any problems, but since she was living alone out at the cabin with no phone, they wanted to keep her overnight for observation. You know—just in case. They said they’d release her if there was someone to pick her up, drive her home and spend the night with her.”
“So you rescued her. Nice brother-in-law.”
Ian grinned largely. “No, Jack. We rescued the hospital. Erin can be a little high maintenance sometimes. Can I have a cold beer?”
“Absolutely.” He drew a draft and put it on the bar. “You know, Ian, when something like that happens, you can always call me or Preacher. We’d have found someone to take care of her for you.”
“Thanks, Jack. I kind of figured that, but Marcie would’ve been jumpy all night, having no contact with her sister. Her hormones are a little wonky right now. You know?”
Jack grinned. “Oh, I’ve been there. How’s she doing?”
“Great, she’s doing great. We’re having a boy in August. She’s gorgeous, kind of in the way a toothpick that swallowed a pea is gorgeous. A toothpick with wild red hair.”
“And you?” Jack asked. “How do you like the cabin?”
“I think Paul outdid himself. I can hardly believe it’s the same place. Any chance you’ve seen it?”
Jack smirked. He gave the bar a wipe. “Pal, this is Virgin River. It’s what we do on Sundays after church—drive around and walk through new construction and remodels in progress. ’Course, we needed a guide with a key for your place…. Paul took us through a couple of times, hope you don’t mind. He’s real proud of that fireplace and the deck.” Jack whistled. “You gotta be asking yourself how you lived without that deck.”
Ian laughed. “If I’d even thought of some of those improvements, it would’ve been years before I could’ve made ’em. It took someone with Erin’s resources to pull off a job like that.”
“How you getting on with the grand dame?” Jack asked.
“Erin? Aw, I love Erin. I mean, I know she comes off as kind of demanding, but that’s Erin the lawyer and businesswoman. She’s devoted her whole life to protecting Marcie and Drew and there were a lot of times they needed someone as hardheaded as Erin.” He laughed. “She’ll be fine—nothing could crack that skull. She didn’t have to fix up that old cabin—she could’ve taken a long cruise or a three-month vacation at a Caribbean resort. I won’t even pretend to know what she’s got socked away, but she’s got a reputation as one of the best estate lawyers in five states. I bet she could’ve bought a small house on a beach. But Marcie loves that old place because it’s where we fell in love. I think Erin did it as much for us as herself. And Erin doesn’t want to be too far away in case the baby comes early.”
“Funny,” Jack said. “I thought she was kind of hard edged. Maybe I misjudged her.”
Ian just grinned. “I think you probably got her right, just not all sides of her. It takes a tough woman to bury both her parents, take care of a younger brother and sister when she was a kid herself, get them through the kind of difficult shit those two went through and become a successful lawyer on top of it. Plus, we have a common goal—we’d do anything to make sure Marcie is safe and happy.”
“So what’s she going to do up here for three months?” Jack wanted to know. “Isn’t this a little backwoods for your sister-in-law?”
Ian shook his head. “I don’t get it. She says it’s about time she had a vacation. She hasn’t taken more than a day off at a time in ten years. Probably more than ten years. No question, she deserves a vacation more than anyone, but this is really out of character.” He’d been turning a lot of ideas over in his mind without mentioning any of his concerns to Marcie; he didn’t want his pregnant wife all stirred up and worried. But he couldn’t help but wonder why Erin had behaved so radically—remodeling his cabin, committing to a three-month vacation and leave from her law practice, isolating herself like that. Was she sick? Depressed? Was her job in some sort of jeopardy? Was she dealing with something she didn’t feel she could share?
“Maybe she won’t last a week up here alone. But listen, if there’s ever anything you think I should know about Erin, will you give me a call?”
“You’re worried,” Jack said. When Ian looked shocked, Jack just shrugged and said, “I’m a bartender. We learn this stuff.”
“I don’t know if I’m worried,” Ian said. “It’s the kind of thing I’d do…something me and Marcie would do in a second if we could, and love it. But it just isn’t like Erin. She’s not used to downtime. Even on a Saturday in the park or by the pool, her cell phone rings all day long. This is pretty cold turkey.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her, buddy,” Jack said. “Maybe it’ll be good for her.”
Ian took home oven-roasted chicken, small red potatoes sprinkled with parsley, green bean casserole covered in baby onion rings—homemade—and frosted brownies. He also stopped by Connie and Ron’s Corner Store for whole milk, eggs, butter, bread, bacon, coffee and a six-pack. Marcie and Ian were only staying overnight, but he was going to have real food for breakfast before getting back on the road.
After dinner they sat on the deck and watched the sun set over the mountains on the far side of the ridge. Ian reclined on the chaise lounge and Marcie sat between his spread legs. He threaded his arms under hers so he could rub her belly while she leaned back against his chest. Erin sat on the opposite lounge, alone, of course. As the sun lowered, the June night at five thousand feet got chilly and the crickets came out.
Erin went inside and returned with two throws from the couch, one for her little sister and one to wrap around her own shoulders. She sat back on her chaise and said, “When you were here before, you two, and there was no computer or phone or TV, how did you pass the time? What kinds of things did you do? Besides practice for making junior there.”
“We were pretty much snowed in,” Marcie said. “And it was a lot of work to cook the bathwater. Ian worked early in the morning, before the sun was up, so he went to bed really early. But he went to the library almost every week and brought home books. When I was here, I went with him and got some books of my own. I read during the day and he read for a while every night.” She turned her head to look up at Ian. “I like to read sexy romances, and after Ian and I became friends, he read me the love scenes out loud. It was hot!”
“I brought along some books I’ve been trying to find time to read,” Erin said. “They’re not like that, though.”
“I can imagine. Try picking up a book with a woman kind of slung over a man’s arm on the cover. Or maybe a ball gown with a décolletage. Or some shapely legs with stiletto heels. You might not get smarter, but you’ll definitely want to get to the end!”
“Maybe I will…”
“Are you bored yet?” Marcie asked. “I was bored while Ian worked—except for my dangerous trips to the loo out back and the hard work of cooking bathwater. Until I got my library books.”
“Not at all,” Erin lied. “There are so many things I’ve never had time to do that now I can finally do. I’m going to spend some time on the coast, for one thing. I can’t wait to hit some of the antique stores around here. I’m going to do some writing—nothing entertaining to you, just law stuff, but I might actually come up with a book. I’ve been thinking about that for years with no time to even outline.” She shivered and pulled her throw more tightly around her. “I have to hand it to you, Ian—I don’t know when I’ve seen a m
ore beautiful place.” And a little while later she said, “I’m going in. Can I get anyone anything?”
“Not for me.”
“I’m fine,” Ian said.
When Erin had gone inside, Marcie snuggled against Ian and whispered, “She’s already bored.”
And Ian said, “Maybe this will all be over in another week. Maybe she’ll just come home.”
Inside the cabin, curled up in the corner of the leather sofa with her throw around her shoulders, Erin listened to Marcie and Ian murmuring just outside on the deck. Two and a half years ago, Marcie came up to this mountain in search of Ian. It was supposed to be about closure, but it turned into a new beginning for both of them, and Marcie brought him home.
A year and a half ago, right at Christmastime, they married, but they stayed on with Erin and Drew in the house Marcie, Drew and Erin were raised in. Ian had gone back to college, studying music education. They had been a crowded, happy family—Drew finishing up medical school, Erin busy as ever with her practice, Marcie working as a secretary and Ian going to school full-time and working part-time. It felt so natural, so mutually nurturing. Because of all the studying and such going on, it was common to come home to a quiet house, but it was almost never an empty house. The four adults shared space, chores, cooking, and when they were all together their home was full of life.
Then summer a year ago, everything changed. Drew moved out to go to his orthopedic residency program, Ian and Marcie bought a little house of their own because they wanted a family and Erin found herself alone for the first time in her life. In her life. And she thought, I am completely on my own. The staggering responsibility is finally behind me. I have reached that pinnacle we’ve been struggling toward.
And then she thought, Uh-oh. I am no good at being alone, but I damn sure better learn it, because it is what it is. That was when she asked Ian if she could make some improvements in his old cabin on the mountain so she could use it now and then.
He had grinned and said, “Little rugged for you, sister?”
“It’s on the rugged side, yes. But I won’t touch it if it has sentimental value as the dump where you found yourself. I can look around for something else for vacations and long weekends.”
“Erin, you do anything you want to that dump,” he had said. “I’m all done doing things the hardest way I can.”
Tonight, sitting on her sofa, listening to them murmur on the deck, the image of Ian running his big hands over Marcie’s round belly emblazoned on her mind, she thought, I will never have that. What I’m going to have from now on is what I have right now—myself. Just myself. Oh, there will be family—Marcie and Drew won’t forget me. We’ll talk and there will be visits. But I will never have what they have. I had better learn to find value and appreciation in this, because this is what I have….
I am alone. And I’d better learn how to be that.
Ian was washing up breakfast dishes the next morning when he said to Erin, “You get your phone and satellite feed today, right? So you’ll have TV, Internet, et cetera?”
“Hopefully. It was supposed to be done before I moved up here, but they rescheduled a couple of times.”
“The minute you get hooked up, give us a call. All right?”
Erin smiled at him. “Sure, Dad.”
“How’s the head?”
She touched the Band-Aid at her hairline. “Funny looking.”
“That’s nothing to when Marcie burned off her eyebrows. Now, that was funny looking. Doesn’t hurt anymore? Any headache?”
“I’m fine. You can go. It’s all right.”
“When you get the laptop online, are you going to e-mail your office and tell them so they can send you work?”
“No. I brought the computer so I can research if I feel like exploring that book idea, but mainly I want to try my hand at total relaxation. I’ve never had the luxury before. This is my time and I’m going to—”
“If you get bored or lonesome,” he said, cutting her off, “just come back to Chico. We’ll all take some long weekends up here, together. All your hard work on making this place nice won’t go to waste.”
“I won’t get bored or lonesome,” she said emphatically. “I’ve been looking forward to this all year. But if I do, you’ll be the first person I call.”
“You do that, Erin,” he said.
Three
After a long day of hiking along the ocean, Aiden went home, showered and walked down the path to Luke and Shelby’s house at around dinnertime. He found Shelby in the kitchen, getting some dinner ready. He ponied right up. “Can I help?”
“You can set the table,” she said. “But first, there is a call for you on the machine from a guy named Jeff. I wrote the number down, but go ahead and listen to the message if you want.”
“Nah, I’ll just call him.” He went to the cupboard to pull out the dishes.
“Ah, Aiden, you might want to call him now. Set the table after.”
“Why?” he asked. He’d kept in touch with Jeff since undergrad days; they’d both been in ROTC and on navy scholarships for med school. Jeff was one of the few people besides his brothers he was in constant touch with.
“It’s something urgent,” she said, her back to him, stirring a pan on the stove. “Something to do with an Annalee Riordan.” She turned toward him. “I know you don’t have any sisters.”
He was stunned speechless for a second. Then he recovered and smiled. “The ex,” he said. “You’re right, I’ll call.”
When he got Jeff on the phone, he was informed that Annalee had been looking for him unsuccessfully. His mother’s Phoenix phone was disconnected, all the brothers had moved, Aiden had separated from the navy and was now a civilian. The only one she could round up was Aiden’s former frat brother/best friend/best man and currently lieutenant commander in the navy. “She says it’s urgent that she speak to you,” Jeff said.
“We’ve been divorced for eight years after a three-month marriage,” Aiden said. “We don’t have urgent issues.”
“Maybe you should respond,” Jeff said. “You can hang up on her after you decide she’s making excuses.”
Aiden looked over his shoulder at Shelby. “I’m telling you, we don’t have business. We don’t have mutual friends or family, we don’t have property, support payments or children. It was a quick, clean break after a short, nasty marriage. But give me the number. If she calls you again, you tell her you gave me the number and you’re out of it. How’s that?”
Aiden scribbled down a phone number, “Sorry for the trouble, man. You doing okay? Carol and the kids okay? Good, good. Yeah, I’m great—I’m kicking back, looking for the next opportunity, and you know what? This was a good idea, taking a little time off. Hey, Jeff, I’m sorry you had to put up with this. Annalee should be long gone. I haven’t heard a word from her since the day the divorce was final, and there is no reason to be hearing from her now unless she’s up to no good. You have my blessing to blow her off.” Aiden hung up the phone, crumpled the paper with the phone number on it, pitched it in the trash and continued to set the table.
Maureen Riordan had several big boxes sitting in the middle of her small living room. They were packed with precious family heirlooms—her mother’s antique china for Shelby and a box of Great-grandma Riordan’s silver flatware that would go to Franci. She had also packed some crystal and silver pieces in Bubble Wrap and a couple of boxes of antique quilts and linens that she’d take as far as Virgin River, hoping to leave those boxes with Luke; the contents were too valuable to put in a storage facility and she intended to save them for future new daughters-in-law. A couple of years ago she wouldn’t have been so optimistic, but Luke had finally settled down at the age of thirty-eight, Sean right behind him, so it was still possible for Colin, Aiden and Patrick.
Life was so funny, she found herself thinking. She’d spent a lifetime protecting some of these material things—china and crystal, old quilts lovingly fashioned by her ancestors’ hands, line
ns brought all the way from Ireland—and now the pleasure it gave her to be passing them on to the next generation was immeasurable.
Another bunch of boxes held everyday items she planned to add to what George already had in the RV. They’d gone over the inventory on the phone and in e-mails so many times, she knew almost everything on the list by heart. Clothing, linens, kitchen items and bric-a-brac that she could live without she had already given away.
She and George had seen each other exactly four times since Christmas. Once she flew to Seattle to visit him over a long weekend and three times he flew to Phoenix, also for long weekends, visits that went spectacularly well. Maureen wasn’t naive. She knew that when people lived in close quarters for more than a few days or weeks, adjustments were necessary. She might even realize she’d made a mistake, but she didn’t expect to. As inflexible as she could be, George was three times as flexible as any man she’d ever known. His good nature had taken an entire layer off her previous narrow-mindedness.
George was now en route and she had talked to him several times a day since he left Seattle. He flew to Nevada, where he picked up the RV; it was only a year old, but had cost more than her condo. At long last her cell phone rang and he was an hour away; finally he was minutes away. “And promise me you’re not going to be standing in the parking lot!” he said emphatically. “I want to set her up for your first real viewing.” That meant he wanted to pop out the sides, extend the patio cover, turn on the lights and music. He wanted her to see her new home at its absolute finest.
Finally she received a text message; George was fond of texting. Rather than answering, she bolted across her patio, the pool area and to the parking lot in front of the complex. There he stood in front of the most beautiful masterpiece of an RV she had ever seen.
She stopped short and just forced herself to breathe deeply. This would be her home for at least six months and if the experiment was successful, for a few years. Her hand covered her mouth as she slowly stepped toward the luxury motor coach.
