“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 wou
ldn’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 is the 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.