Author: Robyn Carr

“I told you,” she said, focusing on her beer. “He said I was probably wasting my time.”

“I know him too well—what else did he say?”

“Really, he was just a crotchety old—”

“Come on—you never hold back. The truth.”

She turned wide, innocent, troubled green eyes up to his. “He…He said if I found you, I should tell you he left the house and car to the paperboy.”

Unexpectedly, Ian erupted in laughter. He threw his head back and howled. Marcie just stared at him while he laughed until his eyes watered. His lips were still curved in a smile when he got it under control.

“That is not funny,” she said. “I think it’s awful.”

“But it’s so him,” Ian said. “I wonder if he burned all my baseball cards and letter jackets, or just gave them away.”

“Well, he doesn’t deserve you,” she said in a pout, taking a sip of her beer.

“So, no talk about me going back to Chico to see him one last time before he dies?” he teased.

She looked startled. “Ian, I never wanted that. I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t see anything you didn’t see four or five years ago.”

“You deny that you wanted me to see him one last time…?”

“Ian, no! No, not that! I wanted him to see you. I wanted him to know you were all right—that no matter how mean he was, no matter how cruelly he treated you, you were good. Strong and good. Or, more specifically, I wanted you to let him know you were all that. I swear.”

“Why?” he asked, completely confused.

She put her hand over his. “Because of the kindness you have in you. He doesn’t deserve it, he’s done nothing to earn it, he’d never even thank you for it—but he’s on the decline and it would be a good thing to do—to let the old guy know that in spite of everything, you’re still a good and strong man with a heart and you’re not like him. You’ll never be like him. That’s all. I thought maybe someday down the road you’d think of that anyway, and I just didn’t want you to think of it when it was too late.” She smiled at him. “Not for him, for you.”

“You think you know me that well?”

“I do,” she said. “I’ve been watching you—with the wildlife, with the neighbors, with everything—it’s natural to you to do anything that takes heart and generosity. I bet that was the hardest thing for you to give up.”

On the morning of Christmas Eve, Ian didn’t get up to deliver wood. He could have loaded the truck and made one more sale and delivery before Christmas and get a better-than-usual price. Instead, he made the coffee and served a hot cup to Marcie. “It’s morning, sunshine. It’s a big day for you.”

“You’re not selling wood?” she asked sleepily, sitting up.

“Not today. Your coffee’s hot at no risk.” He grinned at her.

“Hmm,” she said, taking the cup. “You make a very adequate Abigail.”

“Tell me what I can do to make this easier for you.”

She sipped her coffee and thought for a moment. “Two things.”

“Name them.”

“Take me to town and leave me. Say goodbye to me and just go—don’t linger, don’t watch me drive away.”

He gave a nod. “If that’s how you want to do it.”

“And can you tell me—do you feel anything for me?”

He put his big hand against her wild curls. “I feel everything for you. But that won’t change the facts. We’re strangers from two separate worlds that won’t easily merge, and I’m still a guy with what you call issues—piles of them. Not really ready to make any rapid-fire changes, though I think I made some small ones in spite of myself. I have a lot less hair, for one thing.”

“You’ve come along nicely.” She gave him a little kiss. “I think if I had more time…”

He stilled her chin in his hand, commanding her attention. “Listen. I won’t kid you—you changed everything. Come back sometime if you feel like it. But if you don’t, I won’t hold it against you. Remember what you told me—that after you did this, after you found me and thanked me, asked me some questions and told me the things you had to be sure I knew, you were going to be free to move on. It’s okay, Marcie. Even after what passed between us. Especially after what passed between us—you can move on if you want to. I expect that.”

“And what if what I want is you?” she asked him.

“The only thing in the world that could possibly make me sad is if I couldn’t make you happy. That’s what scares me the most—that you would want me, and I’d let you down.”

“Why do you even think that way?”

“Just a sorry old habit,” he said.

“I bet you could break that habit if you’d just let yourself.”

He smiled. “That’s one of the best things about you—your eternal optimism.”

“Oh, Ian, that’s not optimism. It’s faith. You should give it a try sometime.”

Sixteen

A t one o’clock Ian drove Marcie into town to where her little green VeeDub was parked. He showed her how to put the chains on her rear tires if she ran into snow. But right now the roads were clear as was the sky, and she was good to go if she left within the next couple of hours. Then he put his arms around her and gave her a long, loving kiss. He didn’t even look around to see if they were being watched. And he said, “Thank you, for matching me for stubborn.”

“I’m not all together about this,” she said. “This is really hard.”

“When you get closer to home, you’ll start to feel good about being with all of them. They were always there for you,” he reminded her.

“Good—”

He put a finger over her lips. “Shhh. Don’t say it. Drive carefully.”

“If I write to you, will you answer?”

“Absolutely,” he promised.

“Well, that’s progress,” she said weakly. “I…Ah…I left you something. I slipped it into your clothes trunk when you weren’t looking.”

“Aw, Marcie—you shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s not a Christmas gift or anything. Something I meant to give you, but the time was never right. And then I decided you should have it in private. I’ll see you again, Ian.” She gave him a tremulous smile and a tear ran down her cheek. “Saw and chop carefully,” she said. “And take good care of Buck.”

“I will,” he said, touching her lips once more. “Till later.”

“Okay, then. Till later.”

She walked up the steps into the bar while he went to his truck. She heard that rough, loud motor as he drove away. She realized he hadn’t asked for a phone number where he could reach her if he got crazy and decided to call. She’d leave her number with Preacher, and Ian had her home number in those letters he hadn’t read. But she had little confidence that Ian would be hanging around the town after she was gone. In fact, she worried that he would pull deeper into himself.

The bar was quiet at this time of day—only a couple of locals finishing up their lunch. Preacher came out of the back and said, “How’s things, Marcie?”

“Fine. Good. I’ll be heading back to Chico in a little while. Could I grab a cup of coffee first?”

“You bet. You okay?”

“I guess. I said goodbye to Ian. I hate to leave. Who would’ve believed I’d find him and get so close to him?”

“But you found him,” Preacher said, pouring her coffee. “And I suppose you took care of all your unfinished business.”

“Yeah. We talked a lot. It’s all good,” she said, lifting her eyes bravely.

“That’s what I like to hear. He seems like a stand-up guy. He found that boy, you know. Travis Goesel. Saved his life.”

Marcie’s eyes shot open wide. “Ian did?”

“Yeah. Dug him out of a shelter he’d made to keep himself from freezing, carried him over a mile. The kid’s about six feet tall and built solid, heavy. Ian tore off his shirt to warm him…. Really, another hour or so, it would’ve been just a body. Kid’s doing just fine. He’ll be opening presents with his family tomorrow morning.”

“But he told me—Ian said he’d been found. He wouldn’t take credit for anything. Listen, Preacher…Jesus, I don’t know how to say this, but could you sometimes try to draw him out a little? Ian? It doesn’t have to be anything big—but while I was here, he came off the mountain a little bit and—”

“Sure, kid. We like having him around.”

“And I want to leave you my number in Chico, just in case.” She pulled a bar napkin toward her and wrote her name and phone number on it. “If you ever need to reach me for any reason, that’s my home phone. It’s got a machine, you can leave a message.” Then she pulled the napkin back and wrote some more. “Cell phone,” she said. “I want you to be able to reach me if you—Well, you know.”

“Absolutely. Sure.” He folded it and put it in his pocket. Then he put the coffeepot at her side. “Listen, with this candlelight thing going on tonight, there could be a crowd, so we’re working in the kitchen—I gotta get back to Paige and help out. If you need anything, like a sandwich or anything, just stick your head in the kitchen and holler.”

“Go ahead. I’m fine. I’ll take off after a cup of coffee, thanks.”

So, he found the boy and saved him. And then took all his canned stew to the old man next door. Either Ian had changed dramatically or he’d always been the kind of man who was drawn to helping out when he could. She’d seen a few changes in him, but what she suspected was that this life alone was not really who he was. He hadn’t run off so much as he’d been abandoned—by the Corps, his girl, his father, his brothers in arms. So he isolated himself for a while until he could get his bearings, figure out where he was going and how he was going to live. It was possible that the information she brought him about Bobby’s last three years and passing helped him find some closure in that. That’s what she came to do. If she’d done that, then that was all she could ask.

As for closure for her, the opposite had happened. She loved him. She wasn’t sure she could give him up. But for now, she had to return to her roots, her home. She couldn’t give up those people either.

The door opened behind her but she never even turned. “You!” she heard. “Young woman!” She turned to see Doc standing there. “Can you drive a Hummer?”

“Of course not,” she said. “I own a Volkswagen.”

“Then you’ll learn. Melinda’s gone and I got a head injury I have to get to Valley Hospital. I can’t drive and tend that. Come on.”

“But I’m leaving…”

“Now!” he snapped, turning to go.

Marcie sat for a second, thinking. The door opened again. “I said now!”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” she muttered, grabbing her purse and following Doc.

Ian went back to his cabin and fed the stove. He thought about splitting some logs or shoveling or checking on the old guy next door, but instead he sat at his table and did nothing. Nothing, except remember every expression on her face, every sentence she’d uttered. Then he pulled her library book in front of him and reread that romantic passage she loved, the one that got them going. He really couldn’t remember loving that sweet in his whole life. Was it just because it had been so long? Or was he right when he considered that, for two people without much practice, they sure learned how to please each other well in a short period of time.