Paradise Valley (29 page)

“Are you opposed to hearing it?” she asked.

“It’s not that. But you don’t have to run it by me to see if I’m going to stick or run scared.”

“Dan, I’ve told the story so many times, I can do it in my sleep. That’s what we do at AA—tell our stories. It’s kind of amazing how we can still find new things in the old story after months. After years.”

So he listened. It started in high school and just got worse and worse until by the time she was in her mid-twenties, she was drunk most of the time. Then she told about Mel Sheridan coming for her one morning, carting her off to a treatment program right in Eureka and now she couldn’t let herself get very far away.

“I think that’s a good woman there,” Dan said of Mel. “That man of hers, now, there’s a piece of work.”

“Jack?” Cheryl asked. She laughed. “Oh, I had a bad thing for Jack, back when I was drinking. Bad. I’d have followed him
anywhere!
”

Dan picked up her hand and held it. “You over that now?”

She got a strange look on her face. “Listen, I can’t handle anything more complicated than friendship….”

He gave the hand a squeeze and smiled. “Try not to get ahead of me, Cheryl. I don’t have anything complicated in mind. This is all I’m looking for—Sunday picnics with a nice woman, maybe a little handholding sometimes. Maybe we’ll get closer down the line, maybe we’ll just be friends who have a sandwich and tea. This is okay, don’t you think?”

“I guess,” she said doubtfully. “It’s just that I haven’t had a regular, normal, healthy relationship that I can remember.”

“Me neither,” he said. “It’s kind of scary wonderful, isn’t it?”

Dan wasn’t making any fast moves, and it was extremely deliberate and well thought out. He didn’t call during the week except to be sure they were on for Sunday. It wasn’t just because she was so skittish—it was also him, cautious. After a wife leaving him and a son dying was followed by a stint in jail, he wasn’t at all interested in a relationship that was going to suck the life out of him. All of a sudden, after all the healing he’d had to do, he was real reluctant to threaten what turned out to be peace of mind.

His recovery had been a long, arduous one. He came home from Iraq wounded and with some emotional issues, a lot like young Rick now. In fact, from the time he left for Iraq until he was released from prison, it had been one excruciating journey. Well, he was barely coming out of a long, dark tunnel. He wasn’t going to throw it away by moving too fast with a woman who had her own recovery to worry about.

But he liked her. She was cool and didn’t know it. When she could let go of that whole town-drunk thing, they talked about when they were real young kids and what they thought they’d grow up to be. Dan had always liked to build, but he thought he’d be building race cars. Cheryl loved animals, but never had a pet growing up. She had wanted to be a veterinarian, but in fact had barely finished high school. Their jobs right now were real mundane, construction and waiting tables on the early shift in a diner, yet just filling in the blanks for each other could soak up at least a couple of hours. They talked about the people they dealt with on the job and friends of theirs. Cheryl had a whole network of friends through AA who’d become her lifeline and Dan claimed some of his newer acquaintances from Virgin River.

He filled her in on Rick—Cheryl had known Rick since he was about two. “He’s really struggling with all his stuff—the war, the amputation, the girlfriend, the body image—you name it. He has a smorgasbord of crap to deal with. I keep looking for an in to tell him we could talk about some of that stuff. I’ve been there, man. But he’s got me at arm’s length. He’s not letting anyone close. I think it’s killing Jack slowly.”

They didn’t have to get much beyond that second Sunday lunch before laughter was as natural for them to share as the stories of their hard times, their daily lives, their gossip.

Really, he didn’t care if it was only Sundays for a long time. He found himself looking forward to them. And he kept it his secret that he was growing more attracted to her. She was so vulnerable, he decided right away that he’d give her any opportunity to move closer, but he wouldn’t rush her at all. There was no question, she’d run for her life.

Maybe it was memories of his younger years when he’d either meet with the crews he worked construction with or maybe the Marines he’d served with, but he rarely missed a Friday night at Jack’s. He’d have a cold one before dinner, often with Jack and Paul at the bar. Hope almost always made an appearance, looking pretty ratty and cranky. After a whole five days of physical therapy and counseling, Rick Sudder had a real need for that Friday-night wind-down. And Jack let him have a beer. One.

And there was another development in the bar.

Every Friday night since the unfortunate fleeing incident, Liz would come in by herself, right around five o’clock. She’d ask Jack for a giant cola to go. Dan had learned that Liz came to Virgin River every Friday after school, stayed the weekend to help her aunt out in the store and went home to Eureka Sunday evening.

And Rick was always there. It wasn’t like Liz wouldn’t know that.

Liz always stared straight ahead while she waited for her cola; Rick glanced at her without saying hello, without acknowledging her. She never looked at him either, but when her cola was delivered, she flashed that beautiful smile of hers right at Jack, put her money down and left the bar, ignoring Rick.

Dan didn’t have to wonder long if that was eating at Rick. He was sitting two stools down from the kid. Paul stood at the bar beside Dan and they were talking about one of the houses under construction. Dan saw the whole routine go down. And he knew that just that smile alone, let alone that face that could stop traffic, must have been driving Rick crazy. He had to be one messed-up dude to let her go. To her back as she was leaving, Rick said, “Can’t you even say hello?”

She slowly turned, regarded him coldly and said, “To you? Not till you grow up.” And then she left.

Dead silence hung over the bar as Rick returned to his beer. He stared into it for a while, then he pushed it back and stood up. He used a cane, but didn’t really need it. He had a very slight limp, but it was getting better.

“I’ll walk you home,” Jack said.

“Jack—I got it! I’m fine!” Rick barked.

Jack stopped. He stayed behind the bar. “Great,” he said to Rick’s back.

It was a long moment before Dan said, “That’s a powder keg.”

“Tell me about it.”

“You see any improvement in his attitude? He getting along any better at all?”

“Not one drop,” Jack said. “He’s got the good prosthesis now—no more preparatory limb. He could be doing a lot better than he is. Attitude is holding him up. He’s just plain pissed off.”

“Obviously,” Dan said. “And the girl—”

“He decided she could do better and broke it off with her. For a while there I was more worried about her. I thought it would half kill her. But now what we got is a different situation. She’s obviously done taking his shit. He dumped her when, not only does he need her, she needs him. And now what we have are two pissed-off, hurting kids who have been through way too much.”

“You know, I’ve been looking for just the right moment,” Dan began. “I could maybe talk to him. I took a bad load of shrapnel in the leg and got medically retired from the Corps. I went through a lot of painful PT and can’t ever trust the leg again.”

Jack frowned. “I thought maybe I saw a limp sometimes….”

“Now and then,” Dan said. “And I don’t do rooftops or ladders, as I informed the boss here,” he said, lifting an eyebrow to Paul. “One minute I’m upright, the next I can be on my ass. You learn to live with it. But I remember having a very bad time getting there.”

“What do you think turned you around? If you don’t mind my asking,” Jack said.

“I don’t know, man. I had about twenty things that were no good going on all at once,” he replied, shaking his head. “I had a young wife. She left me while I was in country. There was illness in the family. I was screwed up on so many levels. And it didn’t help that my leg hurt all the time. I think after a while I got tired of being on a constant downward spiral.”

“I got a question. It’s real personal, but there’s a reason I have to know the answer.”

“Go.”

“Were you suicidal?”

“As far as I can tell you, no. I whimpered for a long time, then I got fighting mad. But then, I didn’t exactly take the most law-abiding route to fighting back. Not a good choice for me, but there you have it. You worried he’s suicidal?”

“I don’t even know when to worry about something like that,” Jack said. “He hasn’t said anything to me that makes me think that. But Jesus, he hasn’t said much of anything at all. The kid’s just tough as hell to read.”

“You can always ask him,” Dan said.

“How do you ask that question?”

“You say, ‘Hey, Rick, I can’t help but notice you’re in terrible shape. Are you having any suicidal thoughts? I have to know.’ About half the time if you ask the straight question, you get the straight answer.”

Jack pondered this for a long moment. “You know, Brady, you ended up surprising me. I gotta say, I never thought I’d be having a conversation like this with you. All touchy-feely and honest.”

Dan grinned. “I love you, too, Jack,” he said.

But, these hour-long sessions seemed to have a bizarre calming effect about two hours after they were over. Once he started opening up about his feelings a little bit, it came easier. Every time he walked in Jerry Powell’s door he’d say to himself, “I’m not telling him anything personal today.” And then that whack job would ask exactly the right question.

“How are you sleeping?” Jerry asked.

“I don’t know. Not so good.”

“What’s disturbing your sleep?” he asked.

“Lots of things,” Rick said. “Iraq. Leg pain. Stuff.”

“Okay, let’s start at the beginning. We’ve talked about Iraq—want to go over some of that for me again? As it pertains to sleep?”

“How do you mean?” Rick asked.

“Are you having nightmares? PTSD stuff—pictures in your head you can’t turn off? How’s it affecting you?”

“Sometimes I have nightmares, yeah. I guess I’m going to have them forever.”

“Tell me about the nightmares.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Well, that’s your prerogative, but here’s how counseling usually works. If you can bring it out in the light of day, take a good look at it, sometimes your mind helps you deal with it on a conscious, rational level as opposed to subconscious level, and the nightmares fade. So, my specific question is—what nightmares are you having? Iraq in general? A specific incident? Your injury?”

Rick shook his head to try to shake the question away, but it didn’t work. When he looked at Powell, the therapist was waiting. Expectant. “There was a thing that happened that I can’t get rid of. The squad in front of us blew up. Eleven of them died with one survivor. Sometimes I dream I’m the survivor. I’d rather blow up than be the survivor. You know?”

“You saw them die?”

“They were blown apart everywhere, right in front of us. It was a wide-awake nightmare.”

Rick saw Jerry wince and it gave him perverse pleasure.
Yeah, it was about the ugliest sight a guy could witness.

“Is that what you see in your nightmares?” Jerry asked.

“Sometimes.”

“Other things?”

“Sometimes. I killed a guy in Iraq, and I saw his face. It was really too far away for this to be possible, but I swear I saw the expression on his face. It was like he saw me shoot him. Sometimes I dream about that.”

“Is that something you worry about? Regret or lose sleep over? How does it work on your head?”

Rick thought for a minute. “I don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not sorry. But I wonder how it wasn’t me who was shot. Killed. We were aiming at each other and I was the lucky one. We didn’t find his body—there’s a chance he lived through it. But I don’t see how.”

“How about the incident in which you were wounded?”

“I can’t remember that.”

“Maybe that’s lucky,” Jerry said. “Unless you’re kept awake by it, haunted by it, like it’s trying to surface….”

“Nothing like that. It’s a blank. One minute I was walking down a street, the next minute I was waking up in Germany.”

“How about the pain? Shouldn’t you be ahead of the pain now? It’s been a while. And you have medication.”

“Yeah. I’m getting there.”

“Okay, let’s jump right ahead to ‘stuff.’”

“Huh?”

“You said, Iraq, pain, stuff.”

Rick smiled. “For someone who doesn’t take notes, you have a dangerous memory.”

“What kind of stuff?” he asked again without missing a beat.

“Okay. I think about my old girlfriend a lot.”

“Think about her how?”

“It’s complicated….”

“I’m pretty smart, actually. I can probably get through this,” Jerry said.

“She’s giving me a hard time.”

“Oh?”

“She hates me.”

Jerry waited patiently, irritating Rick.

“I knew it was going to be hard on her, telling her we couldn’t be a couple anymore. I figured there’d be tears and stuff. But then she’d get over it. I knew it would take a while, but then some guy would ask her out or something. Eventually she’s going to be all right.”

“What about this is keeping you awake at night?” Jerry asked.

“You know, this isn’t easy on me, either,” Rick snapped. “Staying away from her isn’t exactly simple. But it’s better this way.”

Jerry leaned forward. “Listen, I think you’re going to have to try to be more specific. I’m not sure I’m following. We’ve talked about the girlfriend before and as I understand it, you explained to her that you couldn’t be her boyfriend anymore and that upset her. Correct?”

“Correct,” he answered tightly.

“And now she’s angry?”

“Whew,” Rick said, shaking his head. “I go to Jack’s every Friday afternoon for about an hour or so. After a week of PT and
you,
I’m wrecked, so Jack lets me have a beer and some dinner. She comes to the bar every week, knowing I’m going to be there, and she won’t look at me. I mean, she won’t even
accidentally
see me. Won’t speak to me. Smiles pretty at everyone else and it’s like I’m not there.”

Jerry tilted his head. “You don’t want to be her boyfriend anymore,” he pointed out.

“Well, I
can’t
be. It’s no good that way. For her. Believe me.”

“Okay, let me get this right,” Jerry said. “You told her you’re through—you two cannot be together. Sounds like maybe she believes you. Did you expect her to be a little more gracious about it?”

Rick glared through narrowed eyes. “You’re a smart-ass, you know that?”

“Sorry, that’s not my intention at all. I’m really trying to understand what about this is off. What about this is costing you sleep?”

“She could say hello,” he barked.

“Is it possible she’s angry with your decision to break it off with her?”

“Well, no shit! She even told me to grow up, like I’m being a real baby about having my leg blown off!”

“Did she say that?” Jerry asked.

“No, but that’s what she meant!”

“Are you certain?”

“Of course I’m
certain!
”

“Did she tell you exactly why she thought you should grow up?” Jerry asked.

“Listen to me! She didn’t
have
to!”

“I see, I think. So, her apparent anger with you is costing you sleep?”

He hung his head. “It’s hard,” he said softly, temporarily defeated. “It’s like she doesn’t get that it hurts me, too. It’s hard to stay away from her, hard not to be with her. For a long time, like four years, Liz was my whole life. I mean, everything. I was totally faithful to her while I was away from her. And she was faithful to me. She was a virgin before we…you know? She liked to tell me all the time that even though it worked out to be so hard, with the baby and everything, she was still glad that I was the first and she wanted me to be the only one. For a long time I wanted that, too.” He lifted his head. “I miss her a lot, you know. I miss everything.”

“Everything?” Jerry probed.

“That whole life I used to have—everything. Jack and Preacher, good times, hunting and fishing, laughing at every stupid thing. It was great watching Jack get in trouble with his wife and she’d dress him down good. And he’d backpedal like mad.” Rick laughed in spite of himself. “We’d go fish and if I hooked something, he couldn’t stay out of it—he’d be all over me, telling me what to do, like I’ve never been fishing before. Once he got into it with Preach—he got right in Preacher’s business and told him not to get involved with this woman….” Rick laughed and shook his head. “Preacher took Jack
out!
I didn’t think anyone could get a punch off on Jack—Jack’s a fast guy, and powerful. Preacher knocked him
flat.
I saw Jack’s shiner—it was awesome. And Preacher married that woman—Paige.”

It was silent in the office for a while.

“I used to be part of everything that went on there. Now I’m not.”

Jerry asked, “Do you feel abandoned by your friends?”

He shook his head. “I cut ’em off. Really, I’m a goddamn curse.”

“Did someone tell you that?” Jerry asked.

He shook his head again. “They tell me that’s not true, but it kind of looks like it is, don’t you think?”

“How’s that?”

Rick sighed. “We’ve been over all this,” he said impatiently. “About a hundred times. Bad things happen to people I get close to. I laid it out for you.”

“I recall,” Jerry said. “Why don’t you tell me about your anger.”

Rick leaned back in his chair and huffed at Jerry like he was just plain ridiculous. “Gimme a fucking break here, Powell.”

“Oh—you don’t feel like talking about that?”

“I’m totally pissed off. Like this is news?”

“Believe me, I’m all too aware. I’m wondering, if you talked about it a little more, if it might become apparent that these decisions you’re making to cut the important people out of your life, are driven by that anger. Rather than by sound reason. I wonder if the anger over what your war experience and injury have cost you is clouding some of your judgment in these issues. Maybe you’re just so goddamn angry, you want to hurt yourself even more.”

“You think I shouldn’t be angry?” he asked, tears sparkling in his eyes. Tears that Jerry knew Rick would not let fall.

“Oh, heavens, Rick. Anyone would be angry. But it’s up to you whether you drive the anger or the anger drives you.”

“What the
fuck
does that mean?”

“It means, you have a right to your anger. Every right. So what we should look at is—what is the object of your anger? Jack? Your old girlfriend?”

He shook his head. “I’m not mad at them, man. Well, if I’m mad it’s only because they want everything to be all right, and it’s not.”

“I see. How much of your anger do you direct at yourself?”

“Why would I do that?”

Jerry shrugged. “Why would you? Good question.”

“Well, I’m not mad at myself. I’m doing what has to be done, that’s all.”

“Ah. And that is?”

“Listen, asshole, I have to cut Liz loose, before she wastes her whole life on me. And she would, she’s that kind of girl. She hasn’t gotten much good from me so far.”

“Rick, do you have any respect for anyone?”

He stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“Do you respect Liz, for example?”

“Of course. If I didn’t respect her I wouldn’t—”

“If you
did
respect her, you’d probably assume she could make her own choices. I’ve suggested this before, I think.”

“Don’t you listen to anything?” Rick demanded.

“Raptly,” Jerry answered. “You are doing what you think has to be done.”

“Exactly!”

“Except, what if you’re just plain angry about the way things went in Iraq? What if the actions you’re taking are a greater punishment on you than anyone else?”

“What bullshit,” Rick said, wiping impatiently at his eyes.

“That life you miss, Rick? It’s right where you left it. But you’re too angry and afraid of disappointment to let yourself return to it.”

“That would be stupid,” Rick said. “I’m not stupid, and I’m not just afraid of a little disappointment.”

“I didn’t say little,” Jerry pointed out. “In your case, weighing in combat, disability, death, I’d say the disappointment is substantial. Life altering.”

Rick ground his teeth. Okay, so what if that was true—he was afraid that if he assumed he could slip back into his old life, he’d not only let everyone else down, but it would kill him to see any of them hurt any further? “You are the most annoying jerk I’ve ever known,” he said to Jerry.

“It’s a dirty job,” Jerry said with a shrug. “Since our time is nearly up, I’d like you to think about that for next time—that you’re angry and afraid, which is reasonable, and also potentially destructive. If we can explore where that anger is directed, for next time, maybe we can—”

“I know where the fucking anger is directed!” Rick nearly shouted. “At everything that happened for the last twenty years! My parents, my girl, my baby, my war!”

Jerry gave him a second. Then he said, “Yourself.”

“No!” Rick insisted. “No!”

Jerry did not look at his watch or break eye contact to look at the clock. Finally, in a low voice he asked, “Did you let them all down, Rick? By getting wounded and disabled?” Rick looked at four or five different points around the room, looking high, like the answer would be in the ceiling of Jerry’s little office. “If this hadn’t happened to you,” Jerry went on, “would you be able to pick up where you left off, carry on, with your best friends and your girl?”

“You are totally nuts,” Rick said, but the tears that always gathered in his eyes began to roll down his cheeks and he swiped at them.