by Robyn Carr
It was just nine-thirty in the morning when Marcie walked into the bar, and there was no one around. She heard voices in the kitchen. She was going to have to go back there to use the phone anyway, but as she pushed the swinging door slowly open, she knocked on it a couple of times before she entered.
“Yeah, c’mon back,” someone said. That response was accompanied by a woman’s laughter.
There were four people gathered around the work island. Two couples. There was the cook, Preacher, and Paige, the woman who’d been helping to decorate the tree that first day. And then there was the local cop, Mike, and a very beautiful woman about thirty years old with light brown hair that went all the way to her waist. Mike was wearing an apron that was covered in red and green icing. “Hey,” he said, grinning at her. “Marcie. Did you find your marine?”
“Wow,” she said, astonished. “Mel really doesn’t say anything.” She shook her head. “I found him almost a week ago.”
They all just exchanged knowing glances. Each one chuckled. Apparently they all knew Mel quite well. “Do you know everyone here?” Mike asked.
“Preacher, Paige, you…”
He put his arm around the beautiful woman and she leaned into him. “This is Brie, Jack’s sister.” He nuzzled her neck. “My girl.”
“How do you do?” Marcie said, suddenly envious of all the love in the world.
Brie nodded and smiled. “Pleasure,” she said.
“So. How is he? Your guy?” Mike asked.
“He’s good,” she said. “He’s been living out on the top of a mountain for almost four years now. It’s pretty rustic—but I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”
“And he was glad to see you?” Mike asked.
“Oh, yes,” she lied. “Pretty much. As long as we don’t have to talk about his experiences in Iraq, we’re good company for each other.” She shrugged. “He’s letting me stay a little while. Well,” she said, looking down. “I caught a bad…cold. And he was stuck with me. So I’m taking advantage of him.” She looked up and smiled. “He’s being very patient about it. Listen, I need to make a collect call. I promised to check in with my sister every couple of days and Ian doesn’t have a phone.”
“Help yourself,” Preacher said. “Dial direct—we have one of those deals with the phone company—unlimited long distance for a monthly rate.”
“Really?”
“Jack has four sisters and a father. Paige has girlfriends,” he said with a shrug. “We make a lot of calls. Yours is free as long as it’s in the U.S. Just go for it.”
Paige stepped around the worktable. “Marcie, if you could use a little privacy, you’re welcome to call from our apartment.”
“You wouldn’t mind?” Marcie returned.
“Not at all,” she said. “Come with me. I’ll show you where.”
Marcie started to follow Paige, then turned back toward the group. “You’re making Christmas cookies?” she asked.
“Paige and Brie were,” Mike said. “They’re having some kind of women’s thing here today. I’m just doing this so they have someone to make fun of. I’m much better with a taco. And I can make some mean carne asada.”
“Fortunately we have our cookies done,” Brie said with a laugh. “Mike can eat his own mess. He’s pathetic. Who ever heard of a person who can’t even frost a Christmas tree cookie.”
“Rules,” Preacher said. “The men can’t help with this because they all know I’m the best cookie wrangler in the business.”
“Come on, Marcie,” Paige said, pulling on her hand. “The phone’s right in here.”
Marcie let herself be led into a small efficiency apartment—a bedroom and living area right behind the kitchen. Paige pointed to a cordless phone on a side table between a leather sofa and chair. “Help yourself,” she said.
“Thank you. You live here?”
“Uh-huh. This was Jack’s place before he married Mel and moved out to her cabin. Then I married John and…”
“John?” Marcie asked.
“Oh, everyone calls him Preacher, but his name is John. John Middleton. And I’m Paige Middleton,” she said, beaming proudly. “Now make your call, and then we’ll have some coffee and cookies. We’ll send some home with you.”
Then Paige pulled the door closed, leaving Marcie alone.
This was amazing, Marcie thought. She’d never been around people like this before. They were generous and sweet to a fault. Didn’t they worry that she’d rifle through their closets and drawers? They didn’t know her at all, knew virtually nothing about her, and yet they were all about helping her, accommodating her.
She sighed deeply. Ian should be around people like this a little more. He was turning into an old curmudgeon before his time. She lifted the phone and called Erin’s office.
Erin’s secretary answered, but explained that Erin was in court. Marcie actually let out a relieved breath. “That’s okay, Barb. Will you tell her I called, that I’m fine and enjoying my visit very much and will try her again in a couple of days? I’d sure appreciate that.”
“And everything is working out for you?” Barb asked.
“Absolutely. Perfect. But I’m staying with a friend out in the mountains and there’s no phone. I can only call when I come into town. So, it’ll be another couple of days before I can try her again. But tell her it’s just beautiful here and I’m having a good time.”
And then, given the no-charge situation, she called Drew’s cell phone. He picked up on the third ring. “Drew,” she said in a breath. “Drew, I found him!”
“This is the rumor,” he said, chuckling. “You okay, Marce?”
“I’m very okay,” she said, but then unexpectedly she coughed. And coughed again. “Sorry,” she apologized. “I do have a cough—but I saw the town doctor and have some cough medicine. Nothing to worry about.”
“Doesn’t exactly sound great, Marcie. Are you sleeping in a heated house?”
“Of course.” She laughed. “And he made me chicken soup and everything. Are you in class? Can I tell you about him without you freaking out?”
“I stepped out of class—the guy’s just reading the syllabus anyway. Why would you worry about me freaking out? What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing. He’s a good person. Kind and tenderhearted, but a little grumpy if the conversation gets too close to the war. So…we stay away from that for now. But, Drew, he’s something else! No wonder I couldn’t find him—he has a ponytail and a huge, bushy beard that grew in red. Not as red as me, but his hair is brown and his beard is more red than brown. He’s been up here all alone for a long time now—since he got out of the Marines. He has a couple of jobs, hunts and fishes, chops wood. I’m getting to know him and I like him.”
And then the thought came suddenly: I do. I really like him.
“So,” Drew said slowly. “You’re out of town, isolated, staying with this guy who has no phone, this guy who gets a little grumpy if—”
“We’re having a good time together and there’s nothing weird about him, unless you count an awful lot of hair. But around here, that’s not so unusual. And in this town there are a lot of marines. They kind of all look out for me in a way, checking to be sure everything is okay.” That was a white lie—Mel did the checking, but clearly all the men were interested and cared. “And everything is fine.”
Drew took a breath. “And you’re coming home?”
“Soon,” she said. “I haven’t had a chance to tell him some things I want to tell him—you know, about the letter, the baseball cards. And I want to know…” She wanted to know why he ran off like that, leaving everything he loved behind. “I want to know some things.”
Drew’s voice became fatherly. “And if he doesn’t want to tell you the things you want to know? You’ll thank him politely and come home?”
She should’ve answered more quickly. It took her two long seconds before she said, “Of course, Drew. He’s a good person. I don’t want to hurt him. I’d just like
it if he told me some things about my husband, about his situation. But if he won’t, I’ll leave him alone.”
“Erin’s going nuts,” Drew said. “She’s on the verge of frantic. If she weren’t so controlled all the time, she’d be biting her nails and tearing at her hair.”
“I tried to call her. Tell her that—I tried to call her, but she’s in court so I called you.” She smiled to herself—great family negotiating! She hadn’t really called Drew because Erin was in court, but because talking to Drew would feel good. “You can tell her everything—and that I’ll call again in a couple of days. Okay?”
“Something about this isn’t really—”
“Everything is better than I imagined,” she broke in. “I’ll be back in touch and, in the meantime, try to get Erin on some medication. Really, I hate carrying around the burden of her worry. I want to get done what I want to get done. It’s why I came up here.”
Drew sighed. “I know,” he said. “I understand, even if I don’t love it.”
She laughed softly. “Go back to class. I’ll talk to you again soon.”
“Love you, pet,” he said.
“Love you, baby brother.” And she hung up the phone.
She sat quietly for a moment, relaxed in the soft tan leather of the chair. They didn’t really understand what this had to do with her, but God they loved her enough to care what was happening, to be a little afraid she was making a mistake in putting herself in this strange man’s care. Erin’s love could be sometimes overbearing, based as it had so often been with concern, but balanced with Drew’s boyish good humor she knew how lucky she was to have them. Without their love, she would be so empty inside.
They had no idea how much she missed them, how much she wished she could be home with them just sailing through the holidays as though nothing was missing. And this Christmas, it wasn’t just that Bobby was missing; she’d already had her first Christmas without Bobby. Ian was missing, too—and she had to put all that together.
The bar was full of women, at least twenty of them, when Marcie stepped through the kitchen door. They had baskets, boxes, tins and large platters covered in plastic wrap laid out on the tables. They held mugs of coffee and tea and chattered happily. Marcie stood in the doorway looking into the room. This would be the women’s thing that had been spoken of; this would preclude her sitting in the bar until Ian could return for her. She’d have to find something to do.
“There you are,” Paige said. “You must have had a nice chat with your sister.”
“Um, I couldn’t reach my sister so I called my brother,” Marcie said.
“You have a brother, too? Oh—you’re so lucky. Are you close with them?”
She willed herself not to get teary. “Very,” she said, giving a nod.
“How wonderful.” Paige reached for her hand. “Come and meet some of the women,” she said, pulling her along into the room. “This is their Christmas cookie exchange. Some of these women are world-class bakers—but don’t tell John. He thinks no one can outbake him, but believe me, they’re incredible.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t intrude….”
“Don’t be silly—you’re completely welcome. Unless…I mean, if you have somewhere to go…”
All she could do was shake her head. “It’s just that…Of course I have no cookies.”
Paige just laughed. “Neither does Mel. Mel can barely boil water. I made my cookies in the bar’s kitchen, and so did Brie, but Mel just said ‘Oh, the hell with it—there’s no use pretending.’”
Right at that moment, from across the room, Mel spotted Paige and Marcie and came right over. “Oh good, you came to town! This has to beat sitting out at the cabin by yourself. And what a great morning to be here—you can meet some of the neighbors. And don’t hesitate to sample. How about some coffee?”
“That would be so great,” Marcie said. “It’s just that I feel like I might be a party crasher.”
“Not in this town,” Mel said with a laugh. “People are always happy to meet someone new. Otherwise it’s the same old faces.”
Paige pressed a cup of fresh, steaming coffee into Marcie’s hand and then Mel pulled her into the room full of women. Marcie made the acquaintance of many—Connie, who ran the town store, Joy who managed the library, Hope McCrea, whom she recognized from the tree-trimming, Lilly Anderson and her daughters and daughters-in-law. Lilly wore a knitted stocking cap pulled tight over her head and Marcie couldn’t help but notice dark circles under her eyes, yet her smile was so warm and full of life. When Mel pulled Marcie away she whispered, “Chemo. She’s lost her hair.”
“Oh, how sad.”
“She’s fighting hard—don’t be sad.”
“Did you just tell a medical secret?” Marcie asked.
Mel shook her head. “Lilly likes me to explain for her when I can.”
And then there were more women—ranchers’ wives, a woman who, along with her husband, owned a vineyard, a couple of women from a neighboring town. Of course they asked Marcie what had brought her to Virgin River. She tossed it out there, pure and simple. “Well, my husband was critically wounded in Iraq, he was a marine, and he died last year. I heard his best friend from the Corps lived around here and I came to find him. Deliver the news. Get to know him.”
“And did you?”
“I did,” she said with a smile. “He lives in a cabin on a mountaintop. He dropped me off in town today while he delivers firewood to some of his customers and will pick me up in another hour. He’s been…He is…I like this place,” she finally said. “I love your tree!”
“Mel, Paige and Brie came up with the idea. Even though these local marines are out of the action now, they still feel close to the men and women who serve,” someone said.
“We’ll fix you up a sample plate to take back to him,” someone else offered.
“Oh, you shouldn’t…”
“But he’d like that, wouldn’t he?” Mel asked her. “Because it would make the women feel good. Visit a while—I’ll supervise.” And that fast, Mel was gone, leaving Marcie on her own.
She only suffered a second of discomfort before there was someone beside her, chatting with her. They asked her about her hometown, her late husband, her job and family. It had been in her mind to ask the questions to keep them talking, but it didn’t work that way—she was the newcomer, and they were curious.
A large plastic plate covered in plastic was pressed into her hands—a collection from all the other plates in the room—Santas and trees and ornaments; lemon bars, chocolate crispies, brownies; thin slices of specialty breads, lots of assorted treats.
And then the room fell silent as a young woman entered the bar. She was tall with long reddish-gold hair; she carried a box of cookies and she was very pregnant. Her smile was shy and she looked down in the silence. Stepping into the room behind her was a very tall man. He was also shy, Marcie thought, noting the man seemed a little uncomfortable.
But in just a moment the awkward silence seemed to pass and the women in the room surrounded her, embracing her, kissing her cheeks. Mel had an arm around her and held her hand, bringing her into the room. Once she’d greeted everyone, she went about the business of offering her cookies and putting together a sampling of the others to take home to her family.
“That’s Vanessa,” a voice said.
Marcie turned and looked into Brie’s eyes.
“Her husband was killed in Iraq a couple of weeks ago. Her baby is due soon—another six weeks or so, I guess. She’s staying with her father and brother just out of town.”
Marcie swallowed. “And the man with her?”
“Paul Haggerty, her late husband’s best friend since childhood. He’s stayed on since the funeral because Vanessa asked him to. Wherever you see Vanessa, Paul will not be far away. He’s completely devoted to her through this difficult time.”
“That’s…so good of him,” Marcie said weakly. She felt a pang of longing.
“Paul’s one of Jack,
Mike and Preacher’s oldest friends. These guys—they really hang tight. And they’re always close at hand for the family.”
“He looks very sad,” Marcie observed.
“There’s no question about that,” Brie said. “I’m sure his pain is equal to hers. He was best friends with Matt since about the eighth grade.” Then she took a breath. “Thank God that baby’s coming. What a blessing. Would you like to meet her?”
“Let her be with her friends,” Marcie said quickly. “It can’t have been easy for her to come out like this so soon after…”
“Okay. Then excuse me,” Brie said. “I need to go give her a squeeze. I’ll be back.”
“Sure,” Marcie said. “Please, take your time.”
But the women in the room were consumed with Vanessa while Paul stood patiently near the door, never far away. After about twenty minutes, Vanessa returned to Paul with her collection of cookies and he slipped an arm around her waist as they exited the bar.
Leaving her own cookies on the bar, Marcie followed them out. They were just at the bottom of the porch steps when Marcie cleared her throat and said, softly, “Excuse me…Vanessa?”
They both turned and Marcie forced herself to step forward. “I’m…ah…so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” she said, smiling sweetly though her eyes were sad. Paul never let go of her. “I don’t know you, do I?”
“No. I’m just visiting. I’m also the widow of a marine,” she managed. “Happened about a year ago.”
“Oh!” Vanessa said, suddenly her emotions shifting from her own loss to Marcie’s. “I’m so sorry!”
“Thank you. My husband was critically wounded in Iraq four years ago and died last year. And when I heard…Vanessa, I remember when the grief was so fresh and painful. I wish I could say something that would help you now.”