Author: Robyn Carr

“We’ll work at that,” he said. “We’ll do a lot of talking. But I gotta—”

“I have the same therapist now, getting me through this thing with you. I want you to go with me.”

He shrugged. What was one more counselor? “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

“He’s nice. He’s helped me so much. He’s kind of goofy, but you might like him. Never mind what you think of him—just go along. The work is going to be you and me, getting on track.”

“Did he tell you that? That if we got back together, we should have counseling?”

“He did,” she said with a nod. “And I think he’s right. No way I could have gotten through the past few months without him. If it hadn’t worked for me before, I probably wouldn’t insist on this, but I’m a believer now.”

“Sure. Okay.”

“And promise you won’t make fun of him. Just put out of your mind that he’s strange and listen and talk. Okay?”

“Okay,” Rick agreed. “What’s so strange about him?” Rick asked, thinking about adding another weirdo into the mix. But what the hell, his weirdo had worked out.

“Well, he’s funny looking. Tall and skinny with big ears and a long, hooked nose. And he thinks he was abducted by aliens.”

Rick pulled back, holding Liz’s upper arms. His face was frozen in shock for a moment, then a huge laugh erupted from him. “You are fucking kidding me!”

“Oh, I see how it is—you can use the F word whenever you want…”

“Jerry Powell? Liz, that’s who I’ve been seeing!”

“Come on,” she said, shaking her head.

“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “That’s the nutcase that got me this far. Honest to God, sometimes I hate that psycho—but I have to admit, it’s helped, though I sure couldn’t tell you how.” He laughed again. “Yeah, I’ll see Mr. Spaceman with you. Can we merge our appointments so I don’t have to put up with him three or four times a week?”

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell me,” she said, shaking her head.

“Liz, it’s the rules. He doesn’t talk about patients.” He couldn’t stop laughing and it felt both strange and familiar at the same time. He used to be a laughing fool. Lately he’d found it hard to find humor in anything. “What a kick. Come on, Liz, I gotta get the truck back.”

“The truck?” she asked.

“Yeah. Guy at the bar—Dan—he loaned me his truck.”

“You drove?”

“How did you think I got here?” he asked.

“I figured Jack was waiting on the road.”

“Nah. Old Dan, he picked a fight with me. He didn’t like how I was treating you and he was right. Also, he took off his leg. I had no idea he was an amputee. That showed me.” He shook his head. “People have been talking to me for months, and they weren’t all able-bodied like our whack job Powell or Jack—I was in group therapy with amputees who made it all look easy. But something about today changed everything. I’m going to figure out what after I try to apologize to Jack and return the truck.”

But he knew what. Several factors collided. Jerry got through to him, made him see that he was unsuccessful in escaping his old life. Then Liz fought back, giving him every punch he deserved. Then Dan took off his leg and balanced perfectly on one. Perfectly, like he didn’t even need the prosthesis. Then he held Liz the way she was meant to be held, with tenderness and love. It was all coming together. Took too damn long, but it was coming together.

Rick followed Liz back to town, gave her one more kiss and made a date to meet her on his grandma’s front porch later. Then he took a deep breath and made his way into the bar. He recognized Dan’s back at the bar. His leg was all put back together. Friday night, the place was pretty busy, but there was an empty stool on Dan’s left.

Rick maneuvered himself onto the stool and put the keys down next to Dan’s coffee cup. “Sorry. Took me a while.”

Dan turned and peered at him.

“You didn’t have to wait. I’d have gotten the truck back to you somehow.”

“I didn’t wait,” Dan said. “I had dinner and I can walk home from here.”

“You have this whole business down pretty good now, huh?” Rick said.

“It’s like missing a couple of teeth. You learn to chew on the other side.”

Rick laughed in spite of himself. “Teeth?”

“It wasn’t easy,” Dan said. “I took the hard way. You don’t have to. Lotta help around here.”

“Um, speaking of help…” Jack was on his way down the bar. “Uh-oh.”

Jack grabbed a towel and a glass. Then he was in front of him, glaring down at him, wiping the spots out of the glass to keep from choking him. “Liz all right?”

“Yeah. I found her out at the river and we had a talk. Nice and calm. I told her I was sorry for that whole business. For everything.”

“I ever see anything like that again, I don’t know if I can keep from beating the shit outta you. I know I taught you better than that.”

“I’m sorry, Jack. That was horrible and I know it.”

“It was all I could do to keep from dragging you behind the shed.”

A smile came to Rick’s lips. Jack was in everything, meddling, and it often got him in trouble. “I’ll bet,” Rick said.

“I think we step up the counseling appointments. If you can’t adjust, maybe you can learn restraint.” He lifted a brow. “That’s never been your long suit, as I recall.”

“As it turns out, that’s going to happen. Liz won’t get back with me unless we go to the counselor together.”

Dan’s head swiveled sharply toward Rick. “You sure she’s just eighteen?”

“She had to grow up fast,” Rick said. “Jack, I know I owe you a ton of apologies. I’ll walk down after breakfast tomorrow. We can talk about it. How’s that?”

“You saying you turned a corner here?” Jack couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“Sort of. It was kind of like a bomb went off in my head.” Then he winced. “I wish I hadn’t said it like that.”

With the towel in one hand and the glass in the other, Jack leaned his big, meaty hands on the bar. “You telling me that this lunatic taking off his leg was all you needed?”

Again Rick laughed. “Yes and no. It was probably more about seeing how I’d treated Liz. I love that girl—but I’ve been treating her like crap for months. I hurt her so bad, just because I have shit to deal with. And her saying she’d give up both her legs if I could have mine? Give up her life if I lost mine? God.” He shook his head. “I think I’ve been getting to this. That nutcase you send me to twice a week said sometimes people have to hit bottom before they start to build up their strength again. The way I treated the girl I love, after the way I was brought up, first by my gram and then by you—shit, man. We don’t treat our women that way and I know it. I saw the bottom, saw what kind of man I could turn into if I don’t get a handle on this. He also said I was more mad at myself than anyone else. I think I was getting close to sanity anyway. Then this crazy loon took off his leg. I’ve never seen anyone stay upright on one leg like that.” Rick grinned and elbowed Dan. “That is truly awesome. I don’t know how you did that. It’s like you studied under a karate master or something. I’m so going to learn that. But first I’m installing a bar in the shower.”

“You do that, kid,” Dan said, sipping his coffee.

“Can I have a Coke, Jack?”

Jack was speechless. Stunned. “I…ah…need some glasses. ’Right back….”

Jack escaped into the kitchen. He wasn’t stupid enough to think that all Rick’s adjustments had suddenly fallen into place, but in four months this was the first glimpse he’d had of his boy, the boy he loved like a son, the boy he’d gone all the way to Germany for, even though there’d been a chance he’d have to bring him home in a box.

He leaned on Preacher’s worktable for a second, staring down, his breath coming hard and shallow. He felt the tears in his eyes and his heart pounded. For a while he didn’t think it would ever happen. He’d been afraid Rick was going to be mean and angry for the rest of his life when there was no young man Jack had ever known who used to be more filled with light and joy. Not in all his years. Rick was the finest example of a young man Jack could name.

“Jack?” Preacher asked. Jack looked up. “Aw, did you do it again? Did you wash the bar sink with that disinfectant and then touch your eyes? Christ, you are the slowest learner I know. Come on, come on over here and we’ll rinse ’em. Flush ’em out.”

“They’re rinsed,” Jack said quietly. “It’ll be fine.”

“You gotta watch that, man! You’re gonna go blind, for God’s sake.”

“I got it. I need a rack of glasses,” Jack said, sniffing.

“I just put a rack out there not five minutes ago,” Preacher said.

Jack ground his teeth. Inside he felt as if he’d just been born. But he said, “Gimme a rack of goddamn glasses, all right?”

“Sure,” Preacher said. “If you drink a little of that disinfectant, might kill the bug up your ass.”

Sixteen

By the end of June, Rick and Liz had met with Jerry “the Spaceman” Powell several times. It had been a hectic month for both of them. Rick was still going to physical therapy twice a week, but now he was driving himself. He’d found himself a Toyota truck with an extended cab that would keep him in wheels for a few years; his monthly disability check covered the payments. And Liz was working two jobs, leaving only her mornings and Friday and Saturday nights free. They didn’t have a lot of time together, but the time they did have was sweet.

There was something to be said for growing up with your mate, learning from each other as experimental kids, taking that knowledge to the next level. That guy from rehab in San Diego was right—the prosthesis leaned right up against the wall while Rick and Liz made love. Tender, wonderful, sometimes a little wild, always satisfying love. The missing leg didn’t seem to matter at all.

“You sure this is enough for you, Liz?” Rick asked her. “A guy with one leg?”

“Rick, we have a lot of years ahead. There are going to be times I’ll come up short, I just know it. I expect you to love me the same even in those times. Is that too much to expect out of you?”

“Nah. You’re more than I can deserve in a million years.”

“To answer your question, I never even notice that the leg is gone. Really. The only time I notice is when you complain about the stump hurting. The truth is, I find you stronger. Braver. Smarter. I’d say I love you even more, but that’s just impossible.”

After Liz and Rick had their Friday-afternoon appointment with Jerry, Rick would follow her back to Virgin River. They’d go to the bar together where Liz would get her large cola to go on her way to work at her aunt’s store and Rick would stay on for a while, visit with the neighbors, have dinner and meet Liz on his gram’s front porch after the corner store closed.

So much had changed for both of them in just a few weeks. Rick was no longer the quiet and morose young man who kept his friends and neighbors at bay with unfriendliness. He looked forward to having that one beer a week with the guys, and even turned up at the bar more often, just to visit. And far from being embarrassed by his amputee status, he wore long shorts and laced boots, his prosthesis visible. And while his gait might be a little slow and at times unsteady, he no longer used a cane.