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Bring Me Home For Christmas
Robyn Carr


This year, Becca Timm knows the number one item on her Christmas wish list—getting over Denny Cutler. Three years ago, Denny broke her heart before heading off to war. It's time she got over her silly high-school relationship and moved on. So she takes matters into her own hands and heads up to Virgin River, the rugged little mountain town that Denny calls home, as an uninvited guest on her brother's men-only hunting weekend.But when an accident turns her impromptu visit into an extended stay, Becca finds herself stranded in Virgin River. With Denny. In very close quarters. As the power of Christmas envelops the little town, Becca discovers that the boy she once loved has become a strong and confident man. And the most delicious Christmas present she can imagine.







New York Times bestselling author Robyn Carr brings you home to Virgin River in a Christmas story about reuniting with the one person you just can’t forget.

This year, Becca Timm knows the number one item on her Christmas wish list: getting over Denny Cutler. Three years ago Denny broke her heart before heading off to war. It’s time she got over her silly college relationship and moved on.

So she takes matters into her own hands and heads up to Virgin River, the rugged little mountain town that Denny calls home, as an uninvited guest on her brother’s men-only hunting weekend. But when an accident turns her impromptu visit into an extended stay, Becca finds herself stranded in Virgin River. With Denny. In very close quarters.

As the power of Christmas envelops the little town, Becca discovers that the boy she once loved has become a strong and confident man. And the most delicious Christmas present she can imagine.

“Strong women, honorable ex-marines and rural dangers, the hallmarks of this life-affirming, feel-good series, are all here.”

—Booklist on A Virgin River Christmas


Praise for New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Robyn Carr

“This book is an utter delight.”

—RT Book Reviews on Moonlight Road

“Strong conflict, humor and well-written characters are Carr’s calling cards, and they’re all present here…You won’t want to put this one down.”

—RT Book Reviews on Angel’s Peak

“This story has everything: a courageous, outspoken heroine; a to-die-for hero; and a plot that will touch readers’ hearts on several different levels. Truly excellent.”

—RT Book Reviews on Forbidden Falls

“An intensely satisfying read. By turns humorous and gut-wrenchingly emotional, it won’t soon be forgotten.”

—RT Book Reviews on Paradise Valley

“Carr has hit her stride with this captivating series.”

—Library Journal on the Virgin River series

“The Virgin River books are so compelling— I connected instantly with the characters and just wanted more and more and more.”

—#1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber


Happy Holidays, Dear Friends,

The good folks of Virgin River like to celebrate Christmas in style. They have a tradition where they head into the surrounding woods and select the tallest fir tree they can find, towing it, into the center of town to erect in front of Jack’s Bar. They decorate the tree in red, white and blue, and in lieu of the usual ornaments, Jack, Mel, Preacher, Paige and all of their friends fill the branches with patches from the units in which they and their loved ones have served over the years. These patches pay tribute to the military men and women, along with their friends and families, for their dedication to the pursuit of freedom around the world. We honor them for the incredible sacrifices they have made. It’s an awe-inspiring tradition—and one that some of my readers have replicated both in their own communities and at the Jack’s Bar chat site (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/RobynCarr_Chatgroup/).

This season, it’s our hope that you will follow the Virgin River tradition by decorating trees in your community—and online—to honor your local servicemen and -women and their families.

For information on how you can bring this meaningful tradition to your community, please visit www.RobynCarr.com.

Have a happy and healthy holiday season,

Robyn Carr


Robyn Carr

Bring Me Home for Christmas










www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)


For Colleen Gleason, whose friendship and encouragement mean the world to me.


Contents

Chapter One (#u93779fb0-66dc-510b-ba13-456d5e6af567)

Chapter Two (#u07dff2ee-aff5-5f26-8543-37e2a77199ff)

Chapter Three (#uba0bea1f-4e04-5ea1-aecb-b934abde2263)

Chapter Four (#ub70d651a-0198-5aec-927c-a26db5f21bd7)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)


One

Rich Timm drove into Virgin River a mere ten hours after leaving San Diego. He’d made excellent time because he tended to ignore little things like speed limits. And…he had been trapped in the Ford truck with his twin sister, Becca, all day and had had about enough.

As Becca gazed out the window at the town, she muttered, “Seriously?”

“What?” Rich said.

“This is the place Denny never wants to leave? It isn’t exactly…you know…quaint.”

Rich pulled up to the only bar in town, right next to a truck he knew belonged to one of two other buddies from the Marines who were meeting him here. “Maybe that’s not what he was looking for.” Rich put the truck in Park. Before he turned off the ignition, he turned in his seat and said to his sister, “Since you wouldn’t let me warn Denny you were coming along, promise me you won’t make trouble.”

“Rich,” she said with a laugh. “Why would I make trouble?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Because you’re his ex-girlfriend? Because this is a guys’ hunting trip and you’re not a guy and everyone will have to take care of you?”

“No one has to take care of me,” she said indignantly. Then she smiled very sweetly. “I’m anxious to meet your other friends. And to hunt—I’m anxious to hunt.”

He scowled. “Right,” he said. “You expect me to believe you’re going to shoot a duck and pluck it?”

If I have to pluck it with my teeth to be convincing, she thought. “Of course! I’m a little more excited about fly-fishing, though. I can’t wait to try that.” She opened her door. “You about ready?”

He grunted. “Do not be a problem. Do not be a pain in my ass for a week!”

“Do not be a jerk,” she countered.



Becca had arrived at Rich’s town house at three in the morning, big suitcase and shotgun in hand. When he opened the door, wearing nothing but boxers, she said, “Guess what? I don’t have anything to do this week, so I’m coming with you. I’ve never been duck hunting or fly-fishing.”

“You’re out of your mind, right?” he said, scratching his hair, which was crazy from bed. “Didn’t you tell Mom and Dad you were going home with Doug for Thanksgiving?”

She shook her head. “That isn’t going to work out and I don’t want Mom and Dad to cancel their trip plans just so I’m not alone on Thanksgiving.”

“Why isn’t it going to work out?”

“Doug’s way too busy—he’s going all the way to the East Coast for two days. Come on, this is a great idea. A little last minute, but it’ll be fun. Be a sport.”

“And what about Denny?” he asked. “Your ex?”

She put a hand on her hip. “It’s time we all moved on from that, don’t you think? I have no hard feelings and I’m sure he doesn’t. He probably has a girlfriend. This is a perfect opportunity to make sure it’s all cool between us. I mean, really—since you guys are good friends and all… And it was a long time ago.”

“Yeah, but it was brutal,” Rich said, looking down at her suspiciously.

“We were young,” she said with a shrug.

“And what does Doug think about this?” Rich asked.

“Doug isn’t the jealous type. He told me to have a good time. Anyway, Doug is not your problem.”

“I know,” Rich said. “Apparently, you’re my problem.” He let her come into his town house. “You better know what you’re doing,” he said. “If you screw up my hunting trip, you’re going to pay.”



Becca’s decision really hadn’t been as spur of the moment as she had pretended. A lot of planets had converged and she found herself planning, quickly. Rich had been talking about this hunting trip for weeks, with good old Denny—the guy she once thought she was going to marry. The guy who broke up with her three years ago. The guy she still thought about way too much. Then the elementary school where she taught shut down, due to financial issues they just couldn’t resolve, and she found herself suddenly unemployed. And Doug, the law student she’d been seeing for the past year, asked her to look at engagement rings.

She would have had nothing to do besides look for work during the Thanksgiving holidays—a dismal prospect—and worry about the fact that Doug was probably leading up to a marriage proposal while the last guy was still on her mind. All the time.

She didn’t get it. Why did she still think about Denny, dream about him? Was it just wanting what was out of reach, rather than appreciating what was right in front of her? When Denny broke up with her before going to Afghanistan, she had been devastated. By the time he looked her up two years later and suggested they give it another try, she had been furious and told him he was too late, she wasn’t interested. Then she met Doug Carey a year ago, a good-looking, second-year law student, and her mother had been so relieved! Beverly Timm found Doug so much more appropriate for her daughter. Doug had it all. He was a good guy. Becca enjoyed spending time with him. He had a bright future. He came from a successful, financially secure family. He loved her. His family had their own sailboat! It made absolutely no sense to continue to think about Denny.

There was a time when Becca had dreamed of a Christmas proposal and a beautiful ring under the tree. Christmas was her favorite season—the sparkling lights, the carols, the time with her family. Now she feared it. She wanted to want to marry Doug Carey, but she just couldn’t commit to him while this ghost haunted her. It would be so wrong. So unfair to both of them.

So she had decided. She was going to force Rich to take her with him to this Virgin River, the place Denny had chosen as his home. She’d hunt and fish and try to figure out why she just couldn’t let go of the guy. She would see him again and come to the conclusion that it had been a crush, a first love between a couple of kids, that she had idealized in her mind. Then she’d go home to the perfect man, finally appreciating him as much as he deserved. They would live happily ever after and the image of Denny would disappear.

She looked around the town once more as she went up the steps of the log-cabin bar where they were all meeting. “Seriously?” she said again under her breath. It was kind of a dumpy old town; the houses were small, a lot of them had peeling paint. There weren’t even streetlights or sidewalks. Besides a little grocery store and the bar, there didn’t appear to be any other businesses. What did these people do for entertainment? For fun? “Hunting and fishing,” she reminded herself. “Whoopee.”

Yeah, she was hopeful. Just a look at this backwoods little town was promising—she’d figure out what happened with Denny, where it all went so wrong and why. They’d been so different in the first place. Now she had to find a way to move on, so she could happily marry a man with a law degree and his own sailboat.



Denny Cutler had come to Virgin River in search of roots, and a year after stumbling into Jack’s Bar, he was sure he’d found the place where he would live for the rest of his life. He had friends who were as tight as family. He also had a career, one he had never in his craziest dreams envisioned—he was a farmer! An associate in Jilly Farms, an organic farm that promised to grow strong and profitable.

It had been Jack’s idea that Denny reach out to a couple of his buddies, maybe from the Marine Corps, where he’d spent four years, and invite them to Virgin River for a little guy stuff—hunting, fishing, poker. Jilly Farms wasn’t too busy in late fall and could spare him for a few days. He knew exactly which guys he wanted to invite. Troy, Dirk and Rich had been like brothers to him during his deployment to Iraq. Dirk Curtis and Troy were both reservists and lived near Sacramento. Rich Timm, also known as Big Richie or sometimes just Big, was from San Diego, where Denny grew up, though Denny hadn’t met him until the Corps. Rich got out of the Marines after two years, finished college and was now an engineer who worked for the highway department in San Diego, building freeways and bridges. All three of these guys loved camping, hiking, fishing, hunting—anything a little rugged. They would love Virgin River.

There was only one downside to his friendship with Rich—he was Becca’s twin brother. That’s how Denny had met his old girlfriend, through Rich, while they were on leave together back in San Diego, years ago. After Denny and Becca broke up, the continued friendship put Denny a little too close to all available news about Becca. Rich only passed along info if he asked, of course, which he couldn’t seem to keep himself from doing, even though he wanted to forget her as thoroughly as she’d forgotten him.

When plans fell together for the four guys, it turned out Thanksgiving week was the best time for everyone. “Perfect,” Jack said. “We’ve got Riordan cabins on the river and my guesthouse is available—plenty of room. We have duck hunting, fishing and Preacher always serves a big Thanksgiving dinner at the bar. The day after Thanksgiving, we go out into the woods to chop down a thirty-foot Christmas tree to put outside the bar—that’s a circus you don’t want to miss.”

So the plans were set. Troy, Dirk and Rich were due to arrive on the Sunday before Thanksgiving and depart a week later.

Denny had had a few rough years before settling in Virgin River—his mother had died, he reentered the Corps and was deployed to Afghanistan, he broke up with Becca after they’d been together for over three years—but finally, at the age of twenty-five, things were finally falling into place for him. Life was good. He was happy.



Troy and Dirk arrived by four o’clock on Sunday afternoon. Denny was on hand at the bar to greet them and serve them up a beer, and both Jack and Preacher made a point to be around. Dirk and Troy were going to stay in one of Luke Riordan’s cabins, so Luke and Colin Riordan dropped by for a quick beer to be part of the welcoming party. Preacher had a hearty meal planned, but since it was the Sunday night before a big family holiday week like Thanksgiving, there weren’t too many out-of-towners in the bar—just four hunters over in the corner at the table by the hearth, enjoying a pitcher of beer.

They practically had the place to themselves.

Finally the door to the bar opened and Big Richie stepped inside. He stood just inside the entrance wearing a look on his face that Denny could describe only as apologetic. Then she stepped inside, right behind him.

Becca!

What the hell? Denny stood behind the bar, next to Jack, his mouth hanging open. She lifted her chin and smiled at the gathering.

Rich gave a lame shrug.

God, she sure hadn’t gotten any worse looking, Denny thought. Five-seven, slim, large blue eyes. Her sun-streaked hair was pulled back in a clip that left it flouncing in large, loose curls on the back of her head with little wisps around her face. She was tanned, of course. She was a beach bunny. The memory of how she looked in a very tiny bikini came instantly to Denny’s mind, although those long legs and perfect butt sure did justice to a pair of jeans and boots.

He was in a complete daze. Except for the physical response. He was so glad he was standing behind the bar.

Smiling, she walked around her brother and approached the bar. She barely looked at Denny. “Hi,” she said, putting out her hand first to Troy. “I’m Becca, Rich’s sister. I hope I’m not intruding.”

Dirk and Troy knew of Becca, but they’d never actually met her. Troy took her hand and a smile slid slowly across his face. “Not. At. All,” he said smoothly.

She grinned at him as he hung on to her hand. “Bet you have a name,” she said.

“Ah…yeah… I’ll think of it in a second….”

“Troy,” Denny said impatiently. “His name is Troy.”

“Nice to meet you, Troy.” She offered her hand to Dirk.

“Dirk Curtis,” he said. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Becca, what are you doing here?” Denny asked.

She lifted one shoulder and tilted her head. “Well, I guess it’s going to be either duck hunting or fly-fishing—two things I’ve been dying to try. I need to expand my horizons a little bit. Thanks for including me.”

“I didn’t include you.”

“Rich said it would probably be okay, and thanks.” She looked between Dirk and Troy. “You guys don’t mind, do you?”

“It’s a pleasure,” Dirk said.

Troy leaned an elbow on the bar, his head on his hand. “I take it you don’t hunt or fish?”

“She surfs,” Denny said sharply, glowering.

“And I sail, among other things,” she added pleasantly. “If you guys show me the hunting and fishing ropes, I’ll be glad to teach you to surf—I’m much better at it than Rich, although he might be a slightly better sailor. Don’t do anything different because I’m along—I’m just one of the guys on this trip. I promise not to get in the way.”

“Right,” Denny said.

“Seriously,” she insisted, narrowing her eyes at him.

“You’re going to be sorry you said that when one of these clowns decides to pee on a bush,” he said snidely, lifting one eyebrow.

A bark of laughter came from Colin Riordan, which marked the first time Denny remembered there were others present. Just a second after Colin’s laugh, a giant hand came down on his shoulder and Preacher said, “Give me a hand in the kitchen, would you, Den?”

He treated her to one final, withering glare before following the big cook into the kitchen. Once there, he found himself face-to-face with a man who could easily top him for fierce, intimidating stares. Preacher said, “What the hell, Dennis! Were you raised by apes?”

“She’s my ex-girlfriend, all right?” Denny said by way of explanation.

“We got that,” Preacher said, his hands on his hips, his bushy black eyebrows drawn together in a scowl. “And your excuse for acting like an ass is…?”

“It was complicated,” he said. “My mom died, I closed up and wouldn’t talk, shut Becca out when she wanted to help. Then, I rejoined the Corps and told her after the fact. About which she was very pissed. So I broke up with her before I deployed so she could date other guys while I was gone.”

As he was finishing that tale, Jack entered the kitchen and got the last of it, but he didn’t need the details. He’d actually heard the story before. Now Jack wore his upside-down, contemplative smile, nodding. “Makes perfect sense,” he said.

“It does?” Denny asked.

“Of course. You can’t stand to even see her shake hands with another guy in a public bar, so you cut her loose to date someone else. Oh, yeah. Brilliant.”

“It was not a smart time in my life,” he admitted. “After my two-year commitment, I went straight to her and apologized, asked if maybe we could try again.”

“And she said?” Jack asked.

“I believe the direct quote was ‘Dream on.’ We argued a little bit and she told me I’d been replaced, that she’d probably be engaged in a year. That’s when I decided to come up here. Start over.”

“Well, don’t look now, Denny, but your past has followed you. You have to go out there and apologize. Again.”

“Wait a sec, she shouldn’t have just dropped in like this, right on my—my—my whatever this is. She should’ve called. Or Big should’ve called!”

“You seem to be the only one put out by her appearance,” Jack pointed out.

“Rich didn’t look all that happy. And the other two? The only time they’re not on the prowl looking for chicks is when they’re asleep. I’m sure they’re thrilled to meet Becca.”

“Then if it bothers you, I suggest you keep an eye on things,” Jack said.

Denny stole a glance at Preacher, who gave a nod.

“Starting with you having a word with Becca, see if you can sort things out enough to have a good week,” Jack said. “You can’t make everyone else miserable just because you have a bug up your ass about a girl. Call a truce or something. Whatever it takes.” And with that, Jack returned to the bar.

What Denny really wanted to do was take off, out the back door.

No, not true, he thought. What he’d rather do was walk back into the bar, grab her and kiss the hell out of her. And beat the crap out of anyone who tried to get between him and her.

But he heard someone say Dream on inside his head. And the voice was hers.



“That went well,” Becca said as soon as Denny stepped through the swinging door into the kitchen with Preacher. Jack quickly served Rich a beer and Becca a glass of wine before following Denny and Preacher.

Becca took a breath and said to Troy and Dirk, “In case you missed the weird, shocked look on Denny’s face, we used to date.”

“They know, Becca,” Rich said. “We were all in Iraq together, remember?”

Troy was still leaning on his hand, elbow on the bar, gazing at her. “Believe me, I wasn’t looking at Denny,” he said.

“I’m probably the last person he expected to show up….”

“No,” Rich said, irritably. “Luke Skywalker was the last person. You were second to last.” He hefted his beer and took a long drink.

“We didn’t part on the best of terms,” she explained. “But that was a while ago and we both told Rich there were no hard feelings.”

“Because that’s what people say, Becca,” Rich explained impatiently. “I told you we should’ve called him first.”

“Well, gee, it was last minute. Rich had been talking about this for weeks, I didn’t have anything to do.” She grinned. “I thought maybe some cold drizzle and the acrid smell of gunpowder might shake things up a little, be a nice change.”

“Just so you know,” Dirk said. “We have a pretty strong rule about another guy’s girl. As in, no touching. Unless we’re given a pass by the guy. You know?”

“Are you kidding me? Permission?” she asked. “Because that borders on icky.”

Dirk just shrugged. “That’s how it is with friends.”

“Well, it’s not an issue. He broke up with me. Over three years ago.” Actually, she could easily figure out the number of days….

“That’s probably a pass,” Troy said. “Wouldn’t you say, Dirk?”

“God,” Rich said. “I’m going to need another beer! This is my sister! Even if she is a pain in my—”

Luke coughed. Colin laughed. “You starting to feel old?” Luke asked his brother.

“Elderly,” Colin answered. “Much as I’d love to stay and watch this, I think I’d better hit the road. Happy hunting.” He winked.

“Cabin number four, boys,” Luke said. “It’s unlocked. Jack or Denny will give you directions.”

“Oh, are you Mr. Riordan?” Becca asked. To his nod, she asked, “Any chance there’s another cabin out at your place that I could rent? Otherwise I have to stay with Rich, and God knows…” She shook her head and shuddered as if in revulsion.

“You bet,” Luke said. “Try number two—also unlocked.”

“Cool,” she said.

“Very cool,” Dirk said. “Thanks, man. See you around.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Troy said. “Nice meeting you guys. See you later.”

And then Denny was back. The expression on his face wasn’t much improved. It was starting to irritate her that he couldn’t at least fake being happy to see her. Maybe being finally finished with him would be easier than she’d thought.

He walked around the bar and stood right in front of Becca. “I need to talk to you for a minute, Becca. All right?”

That made her a little nervous; it sounded like he might be getting ready to tell her when her bus was leaving for San Diego. She hoped her emotions didn’t show. She tilted her head to one side, smiled into his brown eyes and said, “Sure. Shoot.”

“Privately.” He stepped back. “Come outside with me. It’ll just take a second.”

He turned and she followed. It wasn’t even five-thirty, yet it was almost completely dark outside. Though she could see there were space heaters on the porch, they weren’t lit. She faced him, waited, shivering in the cold.

“I apologize,” he said. “If I’d known you were coming, if I’d had time to get used to the idea, I would’ve been a lot more…”

“Civil?” she added for him, lifting both tawny eyebrows.

“Becca, this is a hunting trip!”

“I know that, Denny. Rich hasn’t stopped talking about it for weeks.”

“What are you doing here?”

She took a breath. “It was very last minute. I packed last night. When I showed up at his condo at three this morning to go with, Rich pitched a fit. I told him I needed a change, a break. He said it was a bad idea, because it was all guys, and I said I’d skip the getting drunk and smoking cigars part, that I’d get my own place to stay and, you know… I just wanted to get out of town. Too early to ski, too cold to surf without a wet suit.”

“What about work?”

“Well…I got laid off. The private school where I’ve been teaching shut down. We’d seen it coming but it was still a shock. I’m going to substitute until I can land something permanent. But for right now, it’s a holiday week, my parents are going out of town and I wanted something fun to do, to kind of offset being so bummed about losing my job.”

He looked into her eyes for a long moment, then slowly reached for her left hand, pulling it out of her jacket pocket. “I don’t see a ring,” he said. “What about the boyfriend? He can’t like the idea of you going on a guys’ hunting trip?”

“He’s tied up with finals and stuff,” she said. “And he’s going home to Cape Cod for Thanksgiving with his family.”

“Finals?” Denny asked. “You’re marrying a college kid?”

“Law student,” she said. “And we’re not engaged. Yet.”

“But you’re going to be engaged?”

“Probably. We’ve talked about it. We looked at rings. And stuff.”

“Right,” Denny said. “And he’s okay with you going on a hunting trip with a bunch of guys, including your ex?”

“He trusts me,” she said. And there was the little fact that she hadn’t told him all the details. It wasn’t that she couldn’t, but she might’ve overestimated his casualness about this event. She’d probably keep the fact that her ex was also present to herself. After all, that was the whole point of the trip. She had to figure this thing out before Christmas.

She told Doug she was with her brother. Doug liked her brother.

“Okay, okay,” Denny said, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck. “All right, listen. If you insist you’re going to do this stupid thing—”

“Careful,” she warned, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Are you here to hunt, really?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why else would I be here?”

“Do you even have a gun with you?”

She leaned toward him. “Yes,” she hissed.

“Stick close to me. Or maybe Rich. We’ll make sure you’re safe and know what to do. With the gun, that is.”

“I know what to do with the gun,” she said indignantly. “I’ve never killed anything but skeet, but I know what to do. I’m in danger of getting hooked in the ear trying to fly-fish, but I’m a good shot.”

“You’ve been shooting skeet?” he asked. Denny was a Marine marksman. He had a sniper ribbon. “Since when?”

Her dad had taught her, but she said, “The boyfriend.” She wasn’t really sure why she’d lied. So he wouldn’t think she was just a loser who still wasn’t over him? She’d have to think about that.

“Great. But there’s a lot more to know than that. You staying with Rich? Out at Jack’s?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Mr. Riordan has another cabin. I’ll go out there. I don’t share space with Rich—he’s a slob.”

“No,” Denny said. “You can take my place—it’s just an efficiency, but it’s right in town, just down the street. The landlord and landlady will look out for you if you need anything. You’ll be safe there.”

“It’s not your job to keep me safe, Denny. And where will you be, if I’m in your place?”

“With the slob.”


Two

When Becca was a nineteen-year-old college student at the University of Southern California, she began dating Denny, a Marine. He was at Camp Pendleton with her brother at the time. For a few blissful months, they saw each other every time Becca came home from USC for a weekend. She fell in love with him immediately. She spent the summer at home and every time Denny could get away from the base, they went to the beach and surfed or played volleyball, hiked into the mountains or biked along the coast, spending every possible minute together.

Rich and Denny went to Iraq together for a year and her emails to Denny were long, gushy and frequent—several a day. Her care packages were stuffed with lovingly collected treats. Then he came home from Iraq, exited the Corps, and for almost a year, life was heaven. When Becca was home from USC, they were inseparable. They had so much fun together. They could laugh for hours; they could make love for hours. They talked about getting married after Becca graduated with her teaching degree.

Then things got crazy. Denny’s mom, Sue, who had been battling breast cancer for years, became very sick, very suddenly. At least Denny was home with her through her final battle. He was there for her when she died and Becca did everything she could think of to show her support, though because she was at school most of the time, she was limited to weekend visits and daily phone calls.

But Denny shut down. He grew distant, detached. Instead of leaning on her and accepting her comfort, he reenlisted in the Marine Corps without saying a word to her, knowing he’d be sent back to the war. And sure enough, he got orders for Afghanistan almost right away. Before he deployed, he said, “It’s a hard world, Becca, and I don’t want to worry about how you’ll get by if something happens to me. Until I can get back home and get my head straight, let’s just take a breather. We’ll take another look at this in a year or so….”

“Are you crazy?” she asked him, choking on her tears. “Don’t you know how much I love you?”

“Yes,” he said. “And it’s kind of heavy on me right now.”

“But we’ve been together three years. We talked about getting married!”

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have gotten so far ahead of myself,” he said. “Go on, get to know other guys. Have a good time. You deserve it.”

So he left—left the country and the relationship. She reached out a couple of times through Rich, whose friendship apparently wasn’t too heavy for Denny, since they kept in touch. But Denny didn’t respond to her.

It was a painful, lonely year. She’d never forget those late nights of sitting up until two, three, four in the morning to watch news coverage of the war because Afghanistan was twelve hours ahead of L.A. She didn’t know a person could cry so much. She lost weight and there were dark circles under her eyes. She had no sense of humor and grew more lethargic by the day. Her grades dropped significantly, though she hung on so she could graduate. Her mother was beside herself with worry, and with anger toward Denny.

The painful truth was that Becca’s life had been pretty easy until then, when she lost the man she’d thought was the love of her life. It was a horrible experience. If they’d been in touch so she could occasionally have that reassurance that he was all right, that he loved her, she would have gotten through it much better.

By the time Becca learned that Denny was safely returned to the U.S., she was a newly minted second-grade teacher, and she’d managed to do a lot of thinking. The way he’d acted was irrational; she’d expected their relationship to be a team effort, a true partnership in which he could count on her in hard times and she could count on him.

She heard through Rich that Denny finished his two-year commitment at Camp Lejeune, but even though he was stateside again, he didn’t get in touch with her. During that time, Becca came to some conclusions about the kind of relationship she needed. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get to share her thoughts with Denny, but in fact she did. When Denny exited the Corps for the second time. Rich gave him the address for Becca’s apartment and he went to see her.

“Okay,” he said, “it was a stupid move, breaking up with you. But I was all torn up over my mom’s death. If you’re game, I’d like to try again.”

“Game?” she repeated, stunned. Outraged. He’d dumped her and ignored her for two painful years and that’s how he came back around? “Game?”

“Look, Becca, I can admit to being screwed up, all right?”

“There’s no question about that, Denny,” she said. “I’m teaching school now, you know. Second grade. Seven-year-olds. I love them—they’re precious. One of my kids has Tourette’s syndrome and some days are real hard for him. One of my little girls is recovering from six months of chemo after being diagnosed with leukemia. If we try again, fall in love again, get married and have a family, and one of our kids gets sick, will you bail? Will it be too heavy for you?”

“I admit, I was wrong…”

“Will you be wrong again? Leave to deal with whatever heartache it is alone? Leave me behind while you try to figure out your head?”

“I hope not,” he had said.

She lifted her chin, blinked away her tears and said, “I haven’t heard from you in two years. I have a guy in my life now who isn’t going to bolt on me if times get hard.”

“Really?” he asked. “Rich didn’t say anything…”

“Rich hasn’t met him yet. I’ll probably be engaged in a year. I guess that means I’m not game. You might have to come up with something more compelling if you want a second chance.”

She had been vindicated by the expression of shock and disbelief on his face. Did he really think he could screw up that bad, walk back into her life with some lame apology and wipe out the pain and loneliness she’d suffered for two whole years?

He did. He said, “Well, I really blew that one. I’m sorry, Becca. I’m an idiot and I’m sorry.”

And then he had left. Again. Left her, left San Diego. Rich said he’d gone to some little town in Northern California in search of his biological father and a new beginning.

She had lied about the other guy, about the imminent engagement, out of hurt and anger. So Becca, who hadn’t been dating because she’d been grieving, said yes to a date with a guy she met on the beach—Doug Carey, down from UCLA Law School. And what she found was a guy who wasn’t very complicated. He had a list of commendable qualities—brains, education, money, confidence and looks. The thought of being with him forever should have lit up Becca’s world. Her mother, Beverly, was thrilled.

But it was as if Denny had left a hole in her heart. She knew she should dive at the chance to marry Doug, but instead, it scared her to death. She needed to get over that if she was ever to be happy again.

Now here they were, Denny and Becca, both twenty-five, six years older than the day they met. The past few years had been really rough. Then Rich started talking about a guys’ hunting trip with Denny coming up, and she began to wonder—is this a chance to face him and figure out why I can’t let go?

Then she was suddenly jobless. Doug was tied up at UCLA with finals and study and was flying home for a quick Thanksgiving with his family. He had invited her along, but her mind was made up—she wanted to go hunting with Rich. She didn’t exactly lie to her mother, but she did say “Don’t worry about me for Thanksgiving. Doug invited me to Cape Cod with him.” So her parents had planned a last-minute trip to Cabo, since their kids would be away. Becca went to a sportsman’s store for clothes and gear, packed a big suitcase, showed up on Rich’s doorstep in the predawn and insisted on going along. Once and for all, I’m confronting this!

And here she and Denny stood, on the porch at Jack’s Bar, staring each other down. Trying to get a grip on this strange reunion.

“We’re going to have to go back in there, have a drink and some laughs, eat Preacher’s dinner,” Denny said to her. “We’re going to have to call a truce. Let bygones be bygones. Whatever.”

“Fine,” she said. “I’m not the one acting like there’s a problem.”

“You took me by surprise,” he said. “I shouldn’t have been so rude. Sorry. But it was a guys’ trip and you are definitely not a guy.”

Well. At least he noticed that. Because she was noticing him—that square, unshaven jaw, crazy hair that looked so thick it should probably be thinned, dark brown eyes, wide shoulders. The way his jeans fit over his narrow hips and long legs. It made her feel warm. Note to self, remember this reaction. There’s no logical reason for this, but it’s still happening. I feel him all over me. Damn it all.

“I kind of insisted, and Rich thought it would be okay, if I wasn’t any trouble. I can hold my own in outdoor sports.”

“You pressured him,” Denny said.

“I’m the oldest—he can’t say no to me. I told him I really wanted a break and that I’d fit in fine.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Is this how you call a truce? By needling me and trying to make me feel like I’m invading your territory? The other guys seem to be okay with it.”

“Look, Becca, we should have talked first, all right? Obviously there are some hard feelings between us.”

She stuffed her hands back in her pockets. “Well, I was the one who got dumped and I’m not holding a grudge.”

“I said I was sorry and you dumped me right back. You have to admit, I apologized.”

She smirked and shook her head sadly. “That you did. That you did.”

“What else could I have done?”

“Well, I wonder,” she said. “Did it ever occur to you that you might have to do more than apologize? You could’ve tried twice, I guess. Or, hey—maybe even three times. You could’ve sent flowers or something. You could’ve tried to get the point across that you really were sorry and that you weren’t out of your mind anymore. But you were on the next train out of San Diego. Now, I’m cold. I’m going back in by the fire. I’m going to drink my wine, have a good meal, laugh with my new friends. If you want to be miserable, have at it. I really couldn’t care less.” She turned and went back into the bar.

And Denny thought, I could have changed everything with flowers?



They had a little camaraderie over dinner; some reminiscing among the guys, some jokes. The subject of Denny and Becca was strictly avoided. Denny was just a little more quiet than usual, but no one seemed to notice. Probably because Becca was adorable, funny and just slightly flirtatious.

Denny wanted to shake her.

No one was more relieved than Denny when it was time for everyone to say good-night and retire to their respective rooms. This event was not shaping up the way he expected.

Troy and Dirk went off to their cabin by the river and Denny and Rich went with Becca down the street to Denny’s efficiency over the Fitchs’ garage. “I’ll show Becca the room and pack a few things,” Denny said. “I can give her my keys and leave her my truck just in case, but she won’t need it.”

“Sure,” Rich said. “I’ll wait here. But let’s move it, huh? I’ve been up since before four….”

“Five minutes,” he said, heading inside.

Becca was already halfway up the stairs, struggling with a very large suitcase. He took the stairs two at a time and said, “I’ll get that.”

“No, please. I insist on pulling my own weight.”

“Come on, gimme,” he said, grabbing the suitcase out of her hand.

He nearly toppled down the stairs. It weighed a ton. “Jesus,” he swore. “What have you got in this thing?”

“Clothes. Warm clothes. A couple of jackets. Boots.”

“And bricks?”

“I was doing fine,” she said. “Let me have it.”

“No, I’ve got it,” he insisted. He winced as he hefted it, but he was not about to pull it up on its wheels, one step at a time, as she had been doing.

She skipped up the stairs ahead of him, getting out of his way, and waited at the top. “Thank you, Denny,” she said. “Very thoughtful.”

He opened the door.

“Oh.” She laughed. “I was waiting for you to unlock it.”

“Hardly anything is locked around here.” He flipped on the light just inside the door and dropped her bag.

Denny went to the trunk at the foot of his bed and pulled out a military duffel. He went to the bathroom and got his shaving kit. While he was in there, he pulled out a clean towel for Becca, tossing his towel from the morning into the hamper. When he came out of the bathroom, she was standing in the middle of the room, checking it out. “There are clean sheets under the sink in the bathroom,” he said.

She looked around the room with interest. “This is very…cute.”

The bedspread was floral, the upholstery on the chair and ottoman was striped with some birds on it, the curtains yellow-and-white striped. The walls were yellow with white trim. “Mrs. Fitch decorated this room. She offered to butch it up a little but I told her not to bother. I’ve been looking around for something a little more…permanent. Larger.”

“Permanent?” she asked.

“That’s right,” he said, opening the chest of drawers to find his thermal underwear. It was going to be cold, wet and miserable at 4:00 a.m.

“Rich said you were planning to stay here awhile.”

“A long while,” he said. “I like it here.” He shoved the shaving kit, underwear, jeans and sweatshirt into the bag.

“You’re not coming back to San Diego?” she asked.

He gave a shrug. “What for?” he asked.

“Won’t you miss it? The sunshine and beach and wonderful weather?”

The look that came into his eyes was unmistakably sad. “There’s a lot about San Diego I’ll miss, Becca. But not the beach or the weather.” He hefted the bag over one shoulder and grabbed the twelve-gauge shotgun that leaned up against the wall.

“Really, Denny? You’d never come back?”

“What would I go back to San Diego for? We’re meeting at 4:00 a.m. at the bar tomorrow, Becca. Don’t make us wait for you. Dress in camouflage. You brought camouflage, right?”

“Right,” she said.

“See you in the morning,” he said, going out the door.

“Whew,” she said when the door closed. This was a bad idea. He hates me! Her next thought was, If I hadn’t come up here, I’d never have seen him again!

After brushing her teeth, washing her face and putting on some warm pajamas, she crawled into bed. She hadn’t bothered with the clean sheets, but she should have. She caught Denny’s scent on the linens and she remembered it far too distinctly. It was that perfect combination from both of them—her flowery scent combined with his masculine musk. It was so long ago she was astonished she could still summon it in her mind, but it came back to her effortlessly.

A tear escaped. They’re going to come after me with a net, she thought. What if she was still in love with him? And he hated her? How the hell was she going to have a life?

This is going to be torture, she thought. Pure torture.



Denny and Rich were all ready at the bar at 4:00 a.m. when Troy and Dirk arrived. Denny had Jack’s decoys and a duck boat in the back of Big Richie’s truck, a couple of thermoses of coffee and a box of sandwiches Preacher had gotten ready the night before.

“Jack’s from Sacramento and did a lot of hunting around there with his dad. He says you’re going to find it even better up here,” he told Troy and Dirk. “Colder, but better. He and Preacher prefer deer hunting, but they go out for a little fowl sometimes, so he showed me a great blind back in Trinity, not too far from here. You can follow us. We’re going to meet one of the neighbors out there—Muriel St. Claire. She’s a big waterfowl hunter and she’s bringing at least one of her dogs. Where’s Becca?”

“Right here,” she said from behind them.

He turned to look at her and grinned. She had high rubber boots over her army-green jeans, wore a brown turtleneck under a camouflage vest and covered her golden hair with a khaki hat. Hah! This was not a last-minute deal! “Where’s your gun?” he asked.

“I left it in Rich’s truck last night,” she said.

“You’re dressed perfect, Becca,” he pointed out to her.

“Why, thank you, Dennis. I looked up what to wear on Google.”

“Very smart,” he said. He knew his girl. Okay, she hadn’t been his girl in a long time, but she couldn’t have changed that much. She was into clothes in a big way; work or school clothes; going out to dinner clothes; club clothes, beach clothes, biking or hiking or skiing clothes. Very girlie things. Did she really expect him to believe she had rubber boots and a camouflage vest lying around waiting for her first duck-hunting excursion? So…she had an agenda. “Let’s go,” he said. “Becca, stick close to your brother. Ride with us.”

“Sure,” she said, jumping in the back of Rich’s extended cab.

Denny took the wheel on Rich’s truck, since he knew the way, and within thirty minutes they arrived at a marshy lake in a designated hunting area in Trinity County. It was still foggy in the predawn hours; there were probably ducks on the lake. They pulled up right behind a big dually truck. Standing beside it with a couple of Labs, one brown and one yellow, was Muriel. A few other trucks pulled off up ahead indicated other hunters.

Denny made the introductions. When Muriel shook Becca’s hand, she said, “Nice to have another woman along. I’m almost always the only one!”

“Well, I’m a novice,” Becca said. “I’ve never been duck hunting before. How long have you been hunting?”

“Since I was a girl,” Muriel said. “I grew up on a farm around here. My dad taught me to hunt when I was about twelve, but I’d been tagging along for a few years before that. This is Luce,” she said, introducing the chocolate Lab. “She’s an expert. Buff is still iffy—sometimes he retrieves, sometimes he just goes for a swim.” Muriel nodded at the rifle, still in the case. “I take it you shoot.”

“Skeet,” Becca said. “I’m not sure how I’ll do with ducks.”

“Ducks are bigger, but you don’t set them off by yelling ‘pull.’ Just stay quiet, pay attention, try to be invisible. Damn fowl have excellent vision, I swear. Coffee? Danish?”

“Sure,” she said. “That would be great.”

Muriel opened the passenger side of her truck and poured Becca a cup. “We have a few minutes before we get in the weeds. Your boys are unloading their boat and setting up their decoys. Are you going in the boat?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Becca said.

“One of the advantages to having a couple of dogs, I can stay on dry land and they’ll do the swimming.”

“Doesn’t look to me like there’s enough room for everyone in that boat,” Becca said. She sipped her coffee.

“I like this area,” Muriel said. “Lots of natural blinds. I get comfy with my thermos and my dogs and wait for the ducks to come to me.” She smiled. “What’s your excuse for doing this?”

Becca gestured toward the men with her coffee cup. “See the big one? My twin, Richard. And the two guys carrying the boat to the water? Friends of Richie’s from the Marine Corps. And the really cute one? Denny. We used to be together. We broke up about three years ago.”

“Really?” Muriel said. “You and Denny?”

“We were just kids.”

“Ah,” she said. “You’re not over him.”

“I have a boyfriend,” Becca said, but she didn’t make eye contact with Muriel. “I think he’s getting real serious, too.”

“So, you’re not over him,” Muriel said again.

“It’s not relevant. He’s over me,” she said.

Muriel sipped her coffee. “Gotcha,” she finally said.







It was an hour before Becca realized who Muriel was—a well-known actress. She just didn’t look the same without makeup, her hair covered with a stocking cap and hood. “I’m sorry, Muriel,” she said softly. “I didn’t know you were that Muriel!”

The woman just laughed softly.

“Is this how a famous actress spends her spare time?” Becca asked.

“I’m just a farm girl who learned to act, sweetheart.”

Becca was so happy to have Muriel to follow. She imitated her behavior, sitting still and silent in the bushes. Thank God there was another woman to cover for her when the time came to go behind a bush to pee; at that moment, she wished she really was one of the guys! And she stood guard while one of the best-known actresses in Hollywood squatted behind a bush. “Talk about something for my Facebook page,” Becca joked.

“Don’t even think about it, darling,” Muriel said with a smile that promised dire consequences and no sense of humor on that suggestion.

It drizzled on and off through the early morning and even though everyone had rain slickers, Becca felt damp to her bones. There were a couple of flushes of birds, a few shots fired, but it wasn’t until 10:00 a.m. that Muriel bagged a mallard. Luce went out for the duck, brought it back to her mistress, and Muriel praised her Lab proudly, tossing the dead bird into the back of her truck.

Becca hoped she didn’t hit anything. Though she was every inch an athlete who could keep up with the boys, she seriously didn’t want to touch a dead duck.

“What are you going to do with that duck?” Becca asked her.

“Eat it, hopefully.”

“You’re a cook, too?”

“Well, no. Not at all. I can barely slice cheese. But I very wisely found myself a guy who loves to cook and he’s brilliant at it.”

“And will you pluck it and gut it?” Becca asked.

“Well, I can, if it comes to that. But I think Walt will take over. He loves thinking he takes care of me.” She smiled. “And I love promoting that idea. I like to train the dogs and shoot a lot more than I like handling the game.”

“It’s a relief to hear that. I was feeling a little out of place with the boys,” Becca said.

Then they went back to sitting, silent and shivering, waiting for game. What about this is fun, exactly? Becca wondered. She heard soft masculine laughter now and then. What could possibly be entertaining them? The cold? The rain?

At a little before noon, Muriel decided she’d had enough, bid everyone goodbye and took her dogs home. A little while later, Becca took refuge in her brother’s truck, drank more hot coffee and ate a sandwich. She turned on the truck to run the heater and within seconds Denny was there, telling her to kill the engine. The noise! She hadn’t gotten even an ounce of heat, but she turned the ignition off. She decided the guys could have as much wet, cold fun as they could stand, she was done for the day. She couldn’t feel her toes; her nose would never again be a normal color. At least it was a little warmer inside the truck, even without the heater. She leaned back and closed her eyes.

She wasn’t sure how long she had dozed when the truck’s door on the driver’s side opened and caused her to wake. Smiling, Troy settled behind the wheel. “Just thought I’d grab a cup of coffee and a sandwich. You okay?”

“Fine. Just got cold and hungry. Time for a break.”

He reached into the back of the extended cab, into the picnic box Preacher had packed, and pulled out a sandwich. “So, what do you think of duck hunting so far?”

“Honestly?” she asked. “A little on the, uh, boring side. Not to mention cold and wet.”

He laughed and nodded in agreement. “Good weather for ducks, but not for us. I’d rather hunt on a clear day, but the cold doesn’t bother me. And when you actually hit your target, that’s when it’s cool. And we like to eat our kill,” he said, grinning, before taking a big bite of his sandwich.

“How caveman of you,” she said. “Do you also like to pluck your kill?”

“We let our women do that,” he teased. “We go out, club the beasts, drag them home and our women clean them, cook them and make our clothes out of their skins.”

“And what tribe do you come from?” she asked, laughing at him. But he just chewed and his eyes twinkled. “Rich has mentioned you a hundred times, at least, but I don’t know that much about you. Besides being a Marine reservist, how do you earn a living?” she asked him.

“I teach seventh-grade math. Geometry and pre-algebra.”

“No kidding?” she asked, sitting straighter. “I teach!”

“I know. We have a lot in common.”

“I wonder why Rich didn’t tell me that,” she said.

Troy laughed. “Let me guess—maybe it’s not way up there on his list of important conversational topics. I haven’t been teaching long. I did two years in the Corps, finished college, got called for Iraq again and came home to teach. I think I’ll get in a good stretch at home now.”

“But why the Marines? I mean, why still the Marines?”

He shrugged. “I love the Marine Corps.”

“And if you get called again?”

“I’ll go again,” he said easily.

“And Dirk? Did I hear he worked construction…?”

“Heavy equipment operator—a crane. Just like his dad and his brother.”

“No interest in college for him?”

Troy laughed. “I don’t think so, no. It takes about three teachers’ salaries to make one crane operator’s.”

“Now, see, that’s just wrong. What’s more important—the future of your children or the construction of a building?”

“You’re not looking at it the way they do,” he said. “It’s not the building that’s valued above the future of the children, it’s the guys in the hard hats under the crane who count on a really good operator. Their lives depend on it. They would be the fathers.”

“Teachers are underpaid,” she pointed out to him.

“As are cops, firefighters, librarians and just about everyone who is a public servant. I don’t know about you, but most of us don’t teach because it’ll make us rich.”

“You do it for love?”

“I guess. And because I’m having fun!” Then he grinned handsomely. “Those kids just crack me up.”

“Me, too,” she admitted. “Mine are seven—what a hoot. I hear about teacher burnout all the time, but I’m still on the honeymoon. I look forward to every day. Well…I used to.”

“Used to?” he asked.

“My school closed. I’m currently unemployed. When I get home, I’ll see if I can sub while I’m sending around applications. It’s not a great time to be job hunting. Not only is it a holiday season, but education funds have been cut, too.”

“Bummer,” he said. “I don’t know why I’ve been lucky enough to hang on to my job while everyone else seems to be getting laid off or cut back on hours. But as Big Richie tells it, you’ll probably just get married.”

“Wow. That’s pretty sexist. I hope I also get married.”

“I stand corrected. Who’s the lucky guy?” he asked.

“Good question. I’ve been seeing someone for the past year, but we’re not engaged.”

“Which allows you to go duck hunting with your ex?” he asked.

“Which allows me to go hunting with my brother,” she emphasized.

“And Denny,” he said, taking another bite of his sandwich. “You must have a very understanding boyfriend.”

“Well, he is, as a matter of fact. Denny and Rich have been friends for years—before and after we dated. It really doesn’t have anything to do with me. And what about you? Girlfriend?”

“Sort of,” he said with a shrug.

“Sort of?” she pushed. “Either you do or don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Troy said before he had time to fully chew and swallow. He finished that task. “I don’t have a steady girl at the moment. I date here and there. I’m talking dinner, movie, clubs sometimes, group things. Lately I’ve been seeing this girl who gives accident-adjustment estimates—I had a fortuitous little fender bender. She’s not quite over the last guy, so we’re taking it very slow. We’ve been out about four times—a couple of softball games with her friends, one Monday-night football at a sports bar with mine and a high school football game to watch her little brother play. I’m not committed and neither is she.”

“And Dirk?” she asked.

“Same girl for about six months now. Diedre. An assistant manager of a bowling alley. Personally, I think Dirk might be down for the count. Diedre seems to be around all the time.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Tell me more about the guy, Becca,” he said. “Teacher? Like you?”

“Law student.”

He laughed uncomfortably. “Stiff competition,” he said.

“For who?” Becca asked, wondering if her cover had just been blown.

“Well, me, for starters.”

“Are you making a pass?”

“I’m saying I wouldn’t mind hearing you’re open to the possibility.” He touched her nose. Then he smiled and winked.


Three

Denny watched Troy and Becca in the front seat of the truck for about a half hour, drinking coffee, laughing, talking. He caught a little casual touching—Troy reached toward her face; she put a hand on his shoulder—stealing glances over his shoulder while he crouched in the blind. Dirk and Rich were in the boat, right in the midst of some shoreline reeds.

Finally Troy exited the truck, grabbed the shotgun that leaned against it and went back to his cozy little nest in the bushes at the water’s edge. Every few minutes one of the guys would blow on a duck call, but other than that the only sound was the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind.

Then a flock of ducks burst from the narrow end of the lake and took flight. Shotguns blasted as all the hunters fired, but the flock escaped unscathed. Nothing dropped from the sky. Nothing.

Rich and Dirk brought the boat in and dragged it up on the bank, ready to take a little break while any fowl that remained nearby regrouped and recovered from the shock of gunfire.

“I think I’m done in,” Denny said. He looked at his watch—it was barely after noon. “How about you guys?”

“I got a couple of hours in me,” Rich said.

“I’m good. You gonna wimp out?” Troy asked.

“Might just,” he said. “I’m going to help out in the bar tonight. I could use a shower before that. Looks like Becca’s had about enough. Tell you what, I’ll leave the thermoses and food in your truck, Dirk, and take Rich’s truck back to town. I can give Becca a lift. When you boys are done, bring in the boat and the decoys, will you? And I’ll see you at Jack’s for dinner. How’s that?”

Rich, Dirk and Troy looked back and forth between each other. Finally, Troy said, “Sure, Den. Okay.”

“We’ll do it again tomorrow. Maybe Becca will take a pass.”

“Denny, Becca’s no trouble,” Troy said. “She’s not asking to leave. She seems to be holding up fine. I bet she’d sit in the truck till dark, if that’s how long we stay out.”

“Yeah, probably,” Denny admitted. “But there’s no reason for her to do that, since I need to get back to town, shower and help Jack round up a good meal for you diehards. So I’ll see you at Jack’s.”

“Sure,” Troy said as the other two nodded.

Whew, that was close, Denny thought. Before anyone could decide to tag along, he headed for Rich’s truck. He opened the back door and began to gather up thermoses and the food. Becca looked at him curiously. “I’m going to put this stuff in Dirk’s truck. They want to hunt awhile longer. I’ll take you back to town.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “I’m fine.”

“Well, you’re not hunting, so I’ll take you back.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re just sitting in the truck.”

“So? Am I bothering you? I can sit in Dirk’s truck if you want to go.”

“Becca,” he said in exasperation, “let’s just go back to town.”

“I don’t need to go back to town,” she said. “But if you need company so you can go back to town, by all means. Let’s go.”

He frowned at her but held his tongue. Instead, he moved the coffee and sandwiches to Dirk’s truck. When he was walking back, he noticed his friends standing on the bank of the lake, just watching him. He smiled at them and waved, then got in the truck and got the hell out of there before he had company.

They drove for about five minutes of stony silence before Becca said, “Well, that was a fast getaway, Denny. What’s eating you?”

“Nothing’s eating me, Rebecca!” he snapped. “I thought you were done hunting and so we’ll leave!”

She just laughed softly and for some reason that lit a fire in him.

“Is something funny?” he asked. “I thought you said you had a serious guy in your life. It makes me wonder what he’d make of the way you cozied up to Troy.” He glanced at her.

“You’ve completely lost your mind,” she said.

“Wouldn’t you say you’re a little overly friendly?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“If I were the guy, it would look that way to me,” he said, totally amazed by how childish he sounded, even to himself.

“If you were the guy, you’d be studying for finals at UCLA and would’ve said, ‘Have a good time and be careful.’”

“Must be a freaking god,” Denny muttered.

“Jeez, what is up your butt?” she asked.

“I just thought a stand-up guy would get you out of what could be a bad situation. If you’re practically engaged, you probably shouldn’t be messing around with Troy.”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t. Unless you call having a cup of coffee and talking messing around. If so, I mess around almost daily.” She smiled indulgently. “I’m very loose that way.”

“Damn it, Becca, don’t you get what I’m saying?”

“No, Dennis, I’m completely lost. I don’t know what your deal is. You almost act like you’re jealous or something…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “Why would I be jealous?”

“I can’t imagine,” she said.

“I guess I just don’t get it, why you’d go hunting with a bunch of guys if you have a serious boyfriend. It makes no sense. Maybe I can do the guy a favor by a little intervention…”

“Intervention?” she asked, frowning.

“Well, you get a little flirty. And that’s not smart.”

She inhaled sharply, not sure if she was more offended by being called flirty or not smart. Her mouth formed a thin line, her nostrils flared, her eyes glittered and she said, “Stop the truck.”

He looked over at her. “What?”

“I said, stop the truck!”

“This is a bad place to stop!”

“Stop anyway!” she yelled back.

There wasn’t much of a shoulder, but he pulled over. The road was built up about three feet and ran between drenched fields that were probably lush with grain and corn in the summer. He stared at her.

“I made a big mistake here and I’m going to cut my losses,” she said. “I thought if we spent a little time together, we might get some closure so we could both move on, but it’s impossible if you’re going to be such an ass! I’m going back to where we were hunting. I’ll either sit with the guys or in the truck, but I’m not putting up with this bullshit anymore. I haven’t heard a word from you in years. You have no right to judge me or my behavior.” She opened the door.

“Becca, wait a sec,” he said, reaching toward her.

“Seriously, if you had anything to say to me, you might’ve called or maybe shot me an email or—hey! You could’ve ‘liked me’ on fricking Facebook! But I haven’t heard squat from you, so trust me, you have absolutely no right to even suggest who I talk to.” She made a derisive sound. “Flirty,” she muttered. “Of all the nerve.”

“Becca, no—” he said, reaching out to her.

“Denny, yes!” And with that, she stepped out of the vehicle, forgot it was such a long step down from her brother’s jacked-up truck, hit the very narrow shoulder with one booted foot, twisted her ankle, buckled, fell and rolled off that raised road and down to the mushy, muddy field below. And she did it all with a scream that included a very unladylike expletive.

In spite of himself, he laughed and lowered his head to the steering wheel. Well, he was an ass, like she said. And she never had listened. She was always full-steam ahead. He got out of the truck, walked around to her side and stood on the road, hands on his hips, looking down at her. She was sprawled, looking a little like she was ready to make a snow angel—in the mud. She glared up at him.

It was all he could do to keep from doubling over in hysterical laughter.

“I tried to stop you. I tried to tell you I’d take you back there…”

She blew a sputter of air through her lips to rid them of a splatter of mud. “Sure.” Then she sat up. “Screw you.”

“Come on,” he said, trying to carefully slide down the bank to help her. “You’re right and I was wrong. I have no right to tell you how to act or who to flirt with… I mean, talk to.” He smiled, ready to duck if a mud clot came at him. “All right, let’s just get you back to town so you can get out of those muddy clothes. I’m sorry, Becca,” he said, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice as he looked at her. He reached a hand out to her. “Really, I’m—”

“Ah!” she cried, trying to stand. She grabbed her right leg. “Oh, crap!”

“What?” he said, jumping in the mud with her.

“Oh, God, I think I did something!” She reached for her ankle. “Damn, oh, damn! Oh, God!”

Denny crouched. “Maybe you sprained it,” he said. “I can’t look at it with the boot on. I have to get you up the hill and back to the truck. Then we’ll look.”

“On one leg?” she asked. Despite her sarcastic tone, tears of pain glistened in her eyes.

“Well, it would be easiest to just carry you.” He reached out to pull her upright. “Just put the weight on your good leg.”

“Denny…” she whimpered, giving in to the pain as she let him help her stand.

“It’s okay, Becca, just lean on me.” Once she was upright, balancing on her left leg, he wiped the tears with his thumb. “Over my shoulder, that’s the best way.”

“Noooo,” she wailed.

“It’s the best way for me to keep my balance getting up to the truck.” He gave her a little smile. “You used to think it was fun.”

She shook her head. “I used to think you were fun. I’m not sure I think so anymore.”

He bent at the waist, put his shoulder in her midsection and folded her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “Try not to wiggle too much or you’ll topple us both.”

“Ugh,” she said. “God, it hurts! What did I do?”

He took a few wobbling steps up the hill and said, “Watch your head,” as he hefted her into the passenger seat. “Stay like this, legs dangling out. Sit tight.” He went to the truck bed, lifted Rich’s tool storage bin and found a tool with a sharp edge.

When he came back to her, she pulled her knees up fearfully. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to cut off your rubber boot, Becca. You don’t want me to pull it off—that would be awful. I’ll get you a new pair.”

“I don’t care about the boots! I just don’t want you to cut my leg off with that thing!”

“I’ll be very careful,” he promised.

“I’ve had a run of bad luck lately. Owwww!” she wailed as he carefully slid the slit boot off her foot.

Her foot dangled there at a very odd angle, pointing inward and limp. And it was already starting to swell. He lifted his eyes to hers. “Oh, man,” he said. “That doesn’t look too good.”



Becca tried to hold back her tears all the way to the hospital and Denny tried to see how often he could apologize for being a total idiot. “I have no idea why I baited you like that,” he said. “I really don’t know. I think I’m still a little upside down that my old girlfriend is here with the guys.”

“I don’t even want to hear it,” she said. “Where’s the goddamn mute button?”

Denny laughed.

It was a long way across the mountains, through Virgin River and down the mountain to reach Valley Hospital. Denny lifted her carefully out of the truck and carried her into the E.R. From the odd angle of her foot, Denny suspected a break, and E.R. staff agreed with him. They contacted the on-call orthopedist to come to the hospital.

One of the nurses started an IV and Becca was given pain medication and a sedative, making her much more comfortable. While Denny held both her hands in both of his, the doctor gave her a shot of anesthetic right in her ankle. Then he gave it a sharp pull, setting it right. Becca half rose off the E.R. bed with a cry; Denny pulled her up against him, holding her tight until the pain subsided again.

“We’re going to have to operate on this ankle, Becca,” the doctor said. “It’s a little too swollen right now, but we’ll elevate it, put an ice pack on it and in a few hours we’ll be able to do the surgery. You can stay overnight and go home in the morning.”

“Operate?” she asked.

“A small plate and screws.” He smiled. “You’ll be good as new.”

“I don’t want to stay all night,” she said. “I’m miserable!”

“I can appreciate that, but there’s no alternative. What you really need is to go to a room where a nurse can get you out of those nasty clothes and get you washed up, into a hospital gown and comfortable. I’ll come back in a few hours and we’ll fix you up. You’ll go home with a splint and crutches. I’m afraid you can’t put any weight on it for six weeks—that’s going to be the hard part.”

She shifted her eyes to Denny. “Denny?” she said softly in a shaky voice.

“Easy, honey, you need to get taken care of. While you get cleaned up and put on some dry clothes, I’ll call Jack’s and make sure Big gets a message.”

“Becca’s going to need clean clothes to leave the hospital in,” the doctor said. “Maybe you could do that while she’s getting cleaned up and I take care of the ankle.”

Denny lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “Would you like me to do that, Becca? Get you some clothes? Leave a message for Big Richie that you’re here?”

She nodded.

“I’ll see you later,” the doctor said, ducking out of the curtained cubicle.

“Becca, I’m sorry. You can add this to the list of things that are totally my fault. If there’s room on the page, that is.”

She just averted her eyes.

“Are you in a lot of pain right now?” he asked her. “I’ll stay with you till you go to surgery, if you want. I can get your clothes then.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “You can leave. Maybe Rich could bring me some clothes in the morning and bring me back to Virgin River.”

“I’ll do it, Becca. I want to. And I’ll bring back my own truck, which is a lot easier to get in and out of than Big’s truck.”

“Are we going to be able to get along?” she asked with a hiccup of emotion. “Because I’m just not in the mood for any more conflict.”

He nodded. “Absolutely,” he said. “I’ll come back tonight….”

“That’s all right, you don’t have to—”

“How bad is it?”

She shook her head. “It’s throbbing. But it feels far away, like it’s someone else’s foot.”

A huff of laughter escaped him. He ran a finger along her jaw. “You really scared me with that foot, the way it looked.”

“Scared you?” she asked, sinking back into her pillows.

A big orderly pulled back the curtain. “Ready to go for a ride, miss?”

“I hate to leave you,” Denny said.

“Just go on. Tell Rich to absolutely not call our parents. Absolutely not.”

“Don’t you think they’d want to know?” Denny asked.

“I’m going to take care of that. And tell him I’m sorry about getting the inside of his truck all muddy. He worships that truck. He’s going to marry that truck…”

“I’ll clean it up,” Denny said. “Try to rest.”

Before heading to Virgin River, he went through Fortuna, stopped at a full-service gas station and had the truck cleaned up, inside and out. He drove out to Jack’s guesthouse to retrieve his duffel and shaving kit, then went to his room above the Fitchs’ garage and took a shower. Next, he opened Becca’s suitcase and gathered some clothes to take to her. When his hands fell on her silky panties, they lingered there, remembering. God, how he had missed her! Then he folded her bra and panties inside a pair of jeans and a sweater, hiding her lingerie from view. Her camouflage vest was filthy, so he brought a jacket for her.

Then he went to Jack’s. It was still before five, but the sun was setting and the place was starting to fill up with a few locals and some die-hard hunters and fishermen. Denny sat at the bar.

Jack came over. “Where’s the rest of your posse?” he asked.

“I guess they’ll be coming in anytime. I was bringing Becca back here this afternoon and she had a little accident. She fell getting out of her brother’s jacked-up truck and twisted her ankle. Turns out it’s broken. I took her to Valley Hospital for an X-ray, but the doctor says he needs to put a small plate and some screws in it. She has to stay overnight, but she’ll be fine and can be released first thing in the morning.” He looked down. “She’s gonna be on crutches.”

“Well,” Jack said. “I always said, if they’re running away, just kick their legs out from under them. That’ll slow ’em down.”

Denny scowled. “That’s not funny.”

“Not to you, maybe,” he said with an amiable smile.

“She’s in pain.”

“I can imagine. Looks like you’re feeling some pain, too. Need a beer?”

“Beer and a sandwich, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Sure you don’t want some of Preacher’s dinner? Stew. Hard rolls. Cake.”

“As soon as I tell Big where his sister is, I’m heading back to the hospital. She’s fine, but she might wake up and not want to be alone.”

Jack served him up a draft. “Any chance she could wake up and not want to be with you?”

“Ah, yeah,” Denny admitted sheepishly. “Always a chance of that. But it’s a chance I’m going to have to take.” Right then the door to the bar opened and his buddies came in. “Jack, would you make that sandwich to go?”

“You bet, kid,” he said.

Denny stood up from the bar. “Any luck?” he asked them.

“Nothing,” Rich said. “But we reserved a couple of ducks for tomorrow.”

“About tomorrow,” Denny said. “I think you’re going to be on your own. I’ll be tied up. Rich, Becca fell.” And then he explained as best he could, leaving out anything that would implicate him. “Your truck is outside, but I’m going to take her some clothes at the hospital. She’s probably asleep, but I’m going to sit with her so I can bring her back to town as soon as they discharge her. I told her I’d be there for her in case she wakes up during the night.”

“She did that by falling?” Rich asked.

“Well…by jumping out of the truck. She must’ve hit it just right. The doctor said it’s not real bad, but a procedure is necessary and she’ll be on crutches for six weeks.”

“I should probably go,” Rich said, yanking off his cap and running a hand through his hair. “My mother’s going to kill me.”

“She said not to call your parents.”

“Because they’re headed for Mexico in the morning,” Rich said. “Bet that’s why Becca doesn’t want to call them. So my mother can kill me when she gets back. She expects me to look out for my sister.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Denny said. “I feel responsible—she was with me. I told her I was going to let you know what’s going on and bring her some clothes and she said okay. She’s expecting me to come back for her and I want to.”

“And then?” Rich said.

Denny shrugged. “I’ll get her comfortable in my room over the garage and wait on her hand and foot while you guys hunt.” He clapped a hand on Rich’s shoulder. “No offense, buddy, but she doesn’t want you to take care of her.”

“My mother’s going to kill me,” he said again.

“Becca’ll be okay. She’s gonna get a splint that’s almost like a cast.”

Jack brought a wrapped sandwich out of the kitchen and put it on the bar. “Here you go, Denny.” Then he looked at the three young hunters. “Serve you boys up something?”

“Starting with a cold draft,” Dirk said.

“Tall and cold,” Rich seconded.

“By all means,” Troy said.

“Sorry about the inconvenience, guys,” Denny said. “Jack, you’re okay with the boys using the boat and decoys, right? And put whatever they need on my tab—they’re my guests, even if I’m not the best host.”

“I’ll take care of your boys,” Jack said. “Been a while since Preach and I took advantage of a bunch of greenhorns at poker. I can help out there. Hope you guys brought some money.”

“Yeah, that’s what you think, gunny,” Dirk said. “I’m going to take your money, and I’ll hunt tomorrow, but I’m not getting up at four. There weren’t any more ducks at dawn than there were at noon.”

“I second that,” Rich said.

Denny picked up his sandwich. “I should get back to Valley Hospital. Who knows? Maybe they’ll let her out sooner.”

“Go for it,” Jack said. “Tell her we all hope she’s doing all right.”

“Thanks.” He headed out of the bar.

He was barely down the steps when he heard, “Denny.” He turned around to find Troy standing on the porch. “Total accident?” Troy asked him.

“Yeah, what else?”

“You said you felt responsible. And you haven’t been real happy about her being here,” he said.

“Look, it really threw me off, all right, her being here. And I tried to stop her, warn her, before she jumped out of the truck—we were stopped on a raised road by a muddy field and she fell…”

“You were stopped?” Troy asked.

“Talking. That’s all. We had some things to get straight so we could enjoy the rest of the week. You know I’d never let anything happen to her if I could prevent it.”

“I’ve never known you to be mean to a woman.”

“No, you never have and you never will. Really, I should get going…”

“Were you telling the truth when you said she wants you back at the hospital?” Troy asked.

Denny stiffened. “She said I didn’t have to. She said she didn’t need anyone to be there, but I said I wanted to.”

“Listen,” Troy said, stepping closer to the edge of the porch. “You gotta be careful with her. I get the idea you have issues with the ex-girlfriend. You get real pissed off around her and that’s not going to work.”

“Are you giving me advice about how to treat my—” He stopped and cleared his throat. “Hey, I feel bad enough that she fell without you telling me how to act.”

Troy frowned at him. “You should work this out, Denny. Without the drama. Without all the attitude.”

The fact that Troy was absolutely right didn’t go down easy. “Maybe I’ll get you to script that out for me later, since you’re such an expert.”

Troy touched his cap. “Give Becca my best. Tell her if there’s anything I can do, just let me know.”

“You bet,” Denny said. And he thought, Don’t worry, man. I got this covered.


Four

The throbbing ache in her ankle roused Becca. That and the fact that she had to pee. She groaned and Denny was beside her instantly.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Sleeping in the chair in case you need me,” he said, brushing her hair back from her cheek. “Um, I had to sort of lie for them to let me stay.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Lie, how?”

“I was pretty sure ex-boyfriend wouldn’t qualify, so I told them I was your fiancé.”

“But I told you to just send Rich in the morning. Didn’t I tell you that?”

“Well, you said I could send Rich. You said I didn’t have to come back, but I wanted to. Just in case. Is it terrible? The ankle?”

“I think the pain shot’s wearing off. Did you tell Rich what happened?”

“Sort of. I didn’t exactly tell him I figure it was my fault for pissing you off. He said your mother is going to kill him for letting that happen to you and I told him you didn’t want him to call your folks. He said you probably didn’t want to ruin their trip to Mexico, since you’re okay.”

“My mother,” she said with a groan. “Oh, man…”

“What?”

“I didn’t tell my mother I was coming up here.”

“You didn’t? Why not?”

“I didn’t want to deal with her,” she said, and winced.

He tilted his head. “Because…?”

“Because she adores Doug. Because she wouldn’t have approved of me going on a hunting trip with a bunch of guys that included you, even if Rich was part of the group.”

“Aw, Becca…”

She laughed a little bit. “Well, I’m old enough to make my own travel plans. Right? Maybe I’ll just explain when I get home….”

“I could’ve told him you wanted him here, but I didn’t,” Denny said. “He’s planning to play poker tonight and hunt tomorrow, anyway.…”

“Good old Rich. He means well, but he can be clueless. Loveable, but clueless.”

Denny sat on the edge of her bed. He touched the ice pack. “You need a new one—this is almost warm. Can I look?”

“Knock yourself out,” she invited. “There’s nothing to see.”

He lifted the dead ice pack. “Nice bandage,” he said optimistically.

“It’s a splint,” she said. “It’s gauze, plaster and an ACE wrap. They’ll take it off to remove the stitches in about ten days.”

“Jeez, Becca.” He carefully put the useless ice pack back on her raised, ace-wrapped ankle. “Listen, can I ask you something?”

She gave a shrug. “What?”

“Did you really have a desire to go hunting?”

“Oh, gimme a break,” she said. “What do you really want to ask me? Like, did I come up here to see you?”

“Okay, maybe that crossed my mind. Did you?”

“Not exactly,” she said. “Here’s the deal. Rich started talking about this guy-trip a few weeks ago—he was so jazzed. Then I lost my job. Then I thought, what the heck, I’ve never done anything like hunting but I have handled a shotgun and like shooting skeet. But I knew if I asked Rich, he’d tell me no. And if I even mentioned it to my mother, she’d freak out—she is in love with Doug. So I planned to give Rich no time to refuse.”

“And Rich agreed?” he asked.

“I didn’t give him much choice. And honestly, I thought maybe enough time had passed that maybe we could at least be friendly toward each other. For all I knew, you were with someone now. Then when I saw how mad you were that I’d shown up, I started thinking something else.”

“Something else?”

“Yeah, Denny. Something like maybe we’d better get this settled between us and move on. You and Rich are good friends. We’re going to bump into each other sometimes. We broke up angry, too angry to even be friends. I don’t know about you, but I’m twenty-five and not interested in carrying around grudges till I’m forty-five. I just want to be happy. It didn’t work out for us, that’s the way it goes, let’s at least be friends and get on with life.”

“We might need a little practice at that—you have a broken ankle because we weren’t getting on with life real well.”

“Yes, and it’s midnight and my pain shot is wearing off and it hurts like hell. And I have to go to the bathroom.”

Even in the dim light of the room, Becca could see him pale and it almost made her smile, pain and all. Ha-ha, Denny! Bet you didn’t think I’d need something like that!

“Okay,” he said bravely. “Do I carry you to the bathroom or do I get a bedpan? What should I do?”

She gave him a small, tolerant half smile. “You get the nurse. I need something for the pain and a little help with the bathroom.”

He looked so relieved, and he let out his breath slowly. “Okay. Be right back.”

“You might want to hurry,” she advised.

“Right,” he said, heading out the door.

Very interesting, Becca thought. He’s either sleeping in the chair out of guilt or a feeling of obligation or interest. She would undoubtedly find out which before too long. What she would do about it was one of the great mysteries of the universe.

The doctor offered to call Becca’s parents before the surgery, but she said it was unnecessary. She was twenty-five, with her own medical coverage. She blessed her luck! She could deal with her mother later. Her mother was going to have a very strong reaction to Becca spending the holiday with Denny rather than Doug. Maybe a little time on the beach in Cabo san Lucas would mellow her out. Or maybe she could tell her mother when they were all back in San Diego and the whole thing was resolved.

“You don’t want your fiancé to help you to the bathroom?” the night nurse asked her.

“No,” she said. “He’s not that kind of fiancé.”

“Oh?” the nurse asked.

“We’ve been separated for a while,” Becca said. “By…by the Marines. He did a tour in Afghanistan.”

“Oh, honey.”

“I’d just prefer to be at my best,” Becca said.

So Denny stood outside the hospital room while Becca had a pain pill, a bathroom break, a new ice pack applied and a midnight snack brought to her, because she’d been more interested in sleep than food following her surgical procedure. It was nearly 1:00 a.m. when Denny came back into the room. “Denny, you can go home. This isn’t necessary.”

“You never know,” he said. “You might just need me.”

I needed you so much, she thought. But you were so far away!

“They give you this little call button in case you need anyone,” she told him.

“I’m here, just the same,” he said. And then he retreated to his chair. It looked like a comfortable chair for sitting, but not for spending the night. And then she thought how he might have slept in Afghanistan, on the rocky desert floor, with no love at home to look forward to. Why he would choose that over her was so far beyond her understanding.

She watched him out of the slits of her sleepy eyes for a few moments before her pain pill took over, then she came awake to the sounds of morning.







About the time breakfast was delivered, Denny stretched and stood from his chair. “How’re you feeling?” he asked her.

He had that early-morning, scruffy growth of brown beard, sleepy eyes and the body of a Greek god. If I didn’t have a broken ankle, I could so jump your bones! Her next thought was, What isthe matter with me? He dumped me and Doug wants me! And she couldn’t really say that Denny was that much more hot than Doug. Doug was hot in a totally sophisticated Cape Cod kind of way….She looked at him and wondered, is the pain pill exaggerating his handsomeness? But she said, “I’m doing okay. I had a pain pill. I might be a little loopy.”

“That’s probably good.”

“Want a bite of my French toast?”

“Nah, that’s okay. Maybe I’ll walk down to the cafeteria and grab some coffee, if you think you’ll be okay.”

“I’m okay. Go.” And she almost said, But don’t shave.

Before her breakfast was done, the orthopedist was there. It was barely seven. He tossed off the ice pack. “You’re good to go. I’ll have the ortho tech fit you with crutches and show you how to use them. The nurse will brief you on instructions and problem signs and I’ll see you in ten days to get the stitches out. Call me if you have pain. Aside from some aching and throbbing now and then, your discomfort should be minimal. Most important things—no weight on it and keep it elevated as much as possible for a week to ten days.”

“Um, I don’t live here,” she said. “I live in San Diego. I rode up with my brother to do some hunting. Duck hunting.” She rolled her eyes. “Very dangerous sport. We’ll drive back next Sunday—in five days.”

The doctor got a kind of stunned look on his face. “Becca, do you have any friends here? Or family? Because you’re going to be just fine, but you shouldn’t travel. Not right away, anyway. And not that distance.”

“What?” she said, shocked. “What?”

“Just because your ankle is all put back together doesn’t mean the injury’s not serious,” the doctor said. “And San Diego isn’t exactly down the street—San Diego is a long, long drive. It would even be a very long flight! You’d risk dangerous swelling, maybe blood clots, other complications. You have to remain mostly immobile, leg elevated—you don’t want to swell under that splint. I don’t really advise dangling that leg for more than an hour at a time for the rest of the week. Oh, you can get around as necessary on crutches, but you can’t put any weight on this ankle and you can’t sit in a car or plane for hours.”

“But what if I traveled with the leg elevated?” she asked. “Like if I sat in the backseat of the cab with my leg on the console between the front bucket seats?”

“Hmm,” he said. “Well, if you could manage that, it would be better. But not for a week, and even then you shouldn’t travel more than three to four hours a day, and you should stop overnight. The best scenario is for you to stay close and see me in ten days to two weeks to take off the splint and remove the stitches before you head home. The ankle might bother you for a few days—you might need pain medication. I want you to really think about it.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t have anywhere to go. I have no family here….”

“And the young man who was here all night?”

“A…friend… I don’t know. I don’t think that would work out.”

“Think about your options over the next day or two.”

“Okay,” she said.

While she was measured for crutches, she thought hard. It might be best just to take her chances. Or maybe she could tell her mother the truth and have her come to get her. Her mother would want to come and get her—so she could carry on for days about how insane it was to come to Virgin River in search of a solution to the Denny/Doug dilemma.

Didn’t that make her feel nauseous….

By the time the tech wheeled her back to her hospital room, Denny had finally returned with a large paper cup filled with coffee.

“Hey,” he said, standing from his chair. “You’re looking pretty good!”

“Thanks,” she said somberly.

The tech put the brakes on the wheelchair. “Want me to send the nurse down to help you get into your clothes?” he asked, looking at her face and Denny’s.

“Please,” she said.

When he left the room, Denny sat again so he could be at her eye level. “You in pain, Becca?”

“Oh, just a little uncomfortable. Not as bad as you’d think it would be.”

“Are you so upset? It looks like you’ve been crying.”

“Denny, I’m afraid I’m stuck here for a week at least. The doctor said I shouldn’t travel, especially not a long trip. I have to elevate the leg, I can’t have it dangling during a long car ride or even a long flight. I could get blood clots or other bad things.”

“Then you’ll keep it elevated,” he said.

“Denny, it’s going to be real hard to get around, to get cleaned up and dressed and all that. And I appreciate all you’re doing, but no offense, the idea of sitting in that room above the garage without even a TV while you guys hunt and fish and play poker… It sounds awful.”

He let out a little huff of laughter. “Becca, I won’t do that to you. I’ll help you. I’ll make sure you have everything you need. I won’t leave you all alone. I promise. And when you can travel again, I’ll take you home. Why wouldn’t I do that for you?” He reached out and wiped a little tear off her cheek. “How long did the doctor say before you can travel safely?”

“Ten days or so. He wants to see me again before I go.”

“So I’ll make sure you’re taken care of, and then I’ll take you home.”



While the nurse was helping her into the clothes Denny brought her, Becca started to wonder about a few things—like who would help her bathe and dress once she left the hospital? She couldn’t undress in front of Denny. Not now. Not under these circumstances. What a stupid mess.




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