Shelter Mountain (Virgin River 2)

“I really don’t know how you could be,” he said. “After all, I didn’t exactly listen to you in the first place.”

“I never saw it like that. We’ve been over this. You’re not the Lone Ranger on this fuckup. Okay?”

“All I ever wanted was to make you guys proud of me,” Rick said.

Jack grabbed the kid’s upper arm and gave him a little shake. “Don’t you ever think otherwise. The only thing that could make me more proud is if you were my son.”

Twelve

There were only four anglers in the river, die-hards. The weather was cold and rainy, the salmon had almost finished running for the season, snow was falling in the higher elevations and Christmas was just around the corner.

Preacher pulled in his third catch of the day, a good-size fish, and started out of the river, his head down. This was getting ridiculous. It wasn’t as though Jack and Preacher had a lot of long talks, but the glum, preoccupied silence had been stretching out. Something had Preacher on the ropes.

Jack, shaking his head, went after him. “Hey, Preacher,” he called. “Hold up.” Jack caught up with him. “We have enough fish to clean for tonight?”

Preacher nodded and turned away, moving toward the truck. Jack grabbed the sleeve of his slicker. “Preacher. I gotta ask you something. What the hell’s eating you?”

“What do you mean?” he replied, frowning.

Jack shook his head in frustration. “You have this beautiful little family under your roof. You watch over them like a papa bear. That kid adores you, you have a sweet, cuddly young beauty to knock boots with every night, and you’re depressed. I mean, you are obviously depressed!”

“I’m not depressed,” he said somewhat meanly. “And I haven’t knocked boots with anybody.”

“What?” Jack said, confused. “What?”

“You heard me. I haven’t touched her.”

“She have issues?” Jack asked. “Like the abusive ex or something?”

“No,” Preacher said. “I have issues.”

He laughed. “Yeah? You don’t want her? Because she—”

“I don’t know what to do,” Preacher said suddenly. Then he averted his eyes.

“Sure you do, Preacher. You take off your clothes, she takes off her clothes…”

Preacher snapped his head back. “I know where all the parts go. I’m not so sure she’s ready for that….”

“Preacher, my man, do you have eyes? She looks at you like she wants to—”

“Jesus, she scares me to death! I’m afraid I’ll hurt her,” he said, then shook his head miserably. What the hell, he thought. Jack’s my best friend. If I can’t tell Jack, I can’t tell anyone. But he said, “You say anything about this and I swear to God, I’ll kill you.”

Jack just laughed at him. “Why would I tell anyone? Preacher, you’re not going to hurt her.”

“What if I do? She’s been through so much. She’s so soft. Small. And I’m—hell, I’m just a big, clumsy lug.”

“No, you’re not,” Jack said, laughing again. “Preacher, you don’t even break the yolks. You’re—well, you’re big, that’s for sure.” He chuckled. “You’re probably big all over,” he said, shaking his head. “Believe me, women don’t mind that.”

Preacher’s chin went up and he frowned, not sure whether he’d just been complimented or insulted.

“Listen, buddy, you don’t have the problems you think you have. You have to trust yourself.”

“That’s just it—I don’t. I’m afraid I’ll go out of my mind. Do something that—I’m afraid I’ll break her in half.” He looked down at his hand, fingers splayed. “What if I leave a bruise on her? I’d wanna die.”

“Okay, you listen to me. Here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna tell Paige what’s been bothering you. Okay? That you haven’t touched her because you’re afraid you might not know your own strength and be too rough with her, and you don’t want to be. She’ll help you, Preacher. She’ll get you through this. Goddamn, man—the girl wants you so bad it’s distracting.” He shook his head. “Man, the way she looks at you, I figured you haven’t let her sleep in two weeks!”

“I don’t think either one of us is sleeping….”

“Well, hell—how could you? You gotta get this monkey off your back!” And Jack immediately thought, I can relate. I’ve had a houseguest in the cabin with paper walls for weeks now. It was catch as catch can at his house, and while he was a man who could appreciate a quickie now and then, a steady diet of that wasn’t getting it. He’d give anything to be alone with Mel for a long, slow night. He was just about out of his mind himself. The house he was going to build would be soundproofed.

“There haven’t been…I haven’t been with a lot of women,” Preacher said. “Sure not a tenth as many as you.”

“That’s good. That’s a good thing. You’re a serious guy—you get points for that! You just have to be willing to—Jesus, I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Preacher frowned blackly. For a second Jack thought, if he hits me, I’m not letting him get away with it again. “Okay, listen. You just have to be willing to pay attention to details. The details, Preacher. The sounds she makes when, you know, you touch her. Tell her to show you what…Argghh,” he growled in frustration. He forced himself to go on. “Okay, you ask her to show you what she likes. Ask, is this okay? Listen to her. You can tell by the sounds she makes if you’re on the right spot. Ask her to put your hand where she wants it. To tell you where she’d like you to touch her. How she’d like the touch. It’s pretty simple. You just want to make her feel good.”

“Aaww, man,” he said, helpless.

“Well, hell, I guess someone has to tell you. You need me to dig you out a movie or something?”

“No! Jesus!”

“Just as well. They don’t do it so well in those movies, anyway. You’ll be better off if you just admit you’re not sure and you want it to be good. You guide each other, Preach. That’s the best way.”

“I never had—you know.”

“Someone you loved,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah,” he said, hanging his head. “God. It never mattered so much before. I guess I should feel like crap about that, too.…But…”

“Get a grip, Preacher. You’re not rough. You’re gentle, but you’re strong. It’s a great combination, believe me. All you really have to remember is, she goes first.” Preacher frowned. “Come on, man, you know what I mean. You hang in there until you’re sure she’s been satisfied. Then you’re free and clear. That’s the best advice I can give you. That, and you better not wait any longer. I have a feeling you’ve put this off too long already.”

“You tell anyone about this and I swear to God—”

“I know. You’re gonna kill me. Shit, Preacher. You better do something about this right away. I mean, Jesus, man, are you at all confused about why she’s still hanging around here? That girl’s been waiting for you and you have to get the job done. Now, come on, let’s go clean fish.” Jack threw his pole and catch in the back of Preacher’s truck. Damn, Jack thought. The poor guy. The poor girl!

When Mike walked into the bar, no one was there. Well, the place tended to stay pretty empty on rainy afternoons. That was just as well—he only wanted a beer to take the edge off the pain in his shoulder and neck. It was amazing how bad it could get sometimes, and the rain and cold always made it feel worse.

The fire had begun to die down, so he went to the hearth, leaned his cane against the wall and opened the grate. With his left hand he lifted the poker and stirred the logs a little, sending up a flame. Then, holding his right arm protectively against his middle, he reached for a log to put on the fire. Then another.

He looked at his watch. Three o’clock. He could pour himself a beer. Jack and Preacher wouldn’t mind. But he walked back into the kitchen. Paige was in there, kneading a big wad of dough, her back to him. “Hey,” he said.

She turned around and, as quickly, turned back. There had been tears on her face. He frowned. What was this? Trouble in paradise? “Hey,” he said, walking up behind her, squeezing her upper arm with his left hand. “What’s going on?” he asked her.

“Nothing,” she said with a sniff.

He turned her around to face him. He looked down at her pretty face and for the hundredth time thought, that damn Preacher. I bet he doesn’t know what he has here. “This isn’t nothing,” he said, wiping a tear from her cheek.

“I can’t talk about it,” she said.

“Sure you can. Seems like maybe you’d better. You’re all upset.”

“I’ll work it out.”

“Preacher do something to hurt you?”

She immediately started to cry and leaned forward, her head falling on his chest. He put his good arm around her and said, “Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” she cried. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“Maybe if you talk to me, I can help. I’m so good with free advice, you’ll be impressed.”

“It’s just that…I care about him. But he just doesn’t find me…”

Mike lifted her chin. “What, Paige?”

“He doesn’t find me attractive.”

“Bull.”

“Desirable.”

“Paige, that’s nonsense. The way he looks at you, he eats you with his eyes. He’s wacko for you.”

“He won’t touch me,” she said, a large tear spilling over.

That almost knocked Mike down. “No way.”

She nodded pathetically.

“Oh, man,” Mike said. He’d thought, everyone thought, they were doing it all night long. The way they looked at each other, like they couldn’t wait for everyone to leave so they could be alone, get it on. Those sweet little kisses on the cheek, the forehead. The way they touched—careful, so no one would see the sparks fly, but the sparks were flying all over this bar! The sexual tension was electric. “Oh, man,” he said again. He put his arm around her. “Paige, he wants you. Wants you so bad it’s showing all over him.”

“Then why?”

“I don’t know, honey. Preacher’s strange. He’s never been good with women, you know? When we served together, we all managed to find us a woman somewhere. I killed two marriages that way. But not Preacher. It was very rare for him to—” He stopped himself. He was trying to remember—were there women at all? He wasn’t sure; he knew Preacher never had a steady girl. He thought he remembered a woman here, there. It’s not as though he was focused on Preacher’s love life; he was too busy taking care of his own. He probably lacks sexual confidence, Mike thought. It would be hard for him to put the moves on anyone he felt he had to win over.

“I bet he’s scared,” Mike heard himself say.

“How can he be? I’ve practically thrown myself at him! He knows he isn’t going to face rejection!” She dropped her gaze, lowered her voice to a whisper. “He has to know how much I—”

“Oh, brother,” Mike said. “I bet he’s not worried about rejection. Aw, Paige, Preacher’s so shy, sometimes it’s just plain ridiculous. But I promise you, Paige, I’ve known the man a long time—”