Shelter Mountain (21 page)

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, Rick’s just got Lydie, and she’s old and not too well most of the time. If Rick has anyone coaching him into manhood, trying to teach him, it would be me and Preacher. Probably not the best father figures in the world, but that’s all he’s got. We should do better by these kids right now.”

“Look, Jack, I’m doing the best I can.”

“I know that. Do you know why they ran off? Because I have some ideas. One is—they don’t want to give that baby away. Holding that hard line with them, even if it seems to make the most sense, might drive them to do more drastic things.”

“What are they going to do with a baby, Jack?”

“When Rick found out there was a baby, he said he was going to make sure Lizzie wasn’t afraid. He’s going to protect her, whatever it takes. He must have felt like he was facing a firing squad—you know any seventeen-year-old boy looking to be a father? Huh? But he said he was going to stick close to Liz. Me and Preach, we were damn proud of him for that. He’s trying to be a man here, take care of the mother of his child. He shouldn’t be protecting her from us.”

“I agree, he’s a good boy, but still, Jack…”

He shrugged. “Rick’s going to be eighteen in a few
months. Young, but not the youngest father on record. But he’s living with his grandma, Liz is living with you, and they can’t even be alone together.”

“Jack, they shouldn’t get any more involved! They’re children!”

“They made a baby together, Connie. Do you think you can un-shoot that gun? Every day is a hard day for Liz—and sometimes she needs the only person she thinks is on her side to put his arms around her. It isn’t a good time for her to think she doesn’t have love in her life, when it’s growing in her every day. She needs him, Connie.”

“But, Jack, Lizzie is fifteen.…”

He gave a nod. “I know this, too. Now, Connie, I hope I never say anything about a woman that isn’t gentlemanly, but I’d like you to do a quick memory check. When Rick and Liz got involved, she was only fourteen—fourteen going on twenty-one. Two kids with grown-up bodies and adolescent minds. I don’t know about you, but I think it’s better if they don’t get married just yet. And being in somewhat the same position as Rick, nobody would get my baby away from me. Not at knifepoint.”

She looked down and shook her head. “I didn’t have my own kids,” she said. “My sister shouldn’t have stuck me with this. She told me to watch that they don’t get any more serious, make sure that baby gets adopted by someone who can give it a good home.”

“You’re right there—she shouldn’t have done that to you. But I’m glad she did. Doesn’t sound like your sister has the wisdom or patience for it, and I’ve known you for some time now. I know you’re up to it. It might be better if you start playing by your own rules, not someone else’s. After all, Liz is living under your roof.”

“I don’t know what’s the right thing, the wrong thing….”

“Sure you do. They’re a couple, Liz and Rick. Unfortunately for them, they got into this so young, we don’t
know if they can make it stick, but they’re a couple right now. They should be getting ready for the baby, because I can tell you, that baby’s coming no matter what they decide to do. Even if Liz can be forced to give him up, Rick can’t. Maybe we should put our heads together and see if we can help them be parents and finish school, because the only thing for sure right now is, they’re going to be parents. No matter what we do. We might as well offer up some support.”

“I’m not taking on a baby full-time,” she said. “I don’t think my health is up to it.”

“Lotta help around here, Connie. Preacher and I—we’d do anything for Rick. I think Mel and Paige fall into that category, as well. Instead of telling them what they have to do, we better start asking them what they need.” He shrugged. “Connie, if those kids need each other right now, it’s time to back off. She’s not going to get more pregnant. It might keep them from getting married before they’re old enough to vote.” He took a drink of coffee. “Unless we’re already too late.”

The phone rang and Jack went to the kitchen. He was back in seconds. “We got ’em. Henry Depardeau is holding them out on 99, changing a tire. I’ll go get them if you’ll keep an eye on the bar until Preacher gets out here. Okay?”

Jack drove down the highway for only about fifteen minutes before he saw the sheriff’s car, and right in front of that the little white truck. He pulled up in front and got out. Rick already had the old tire off and the new one on. The minute Liz saw Jack, she put her hands over her face and began to cry.

Rick put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned her face into his chest. Jack came up behind her and with strong hands on her upper arms, pulled her back from Rick and into his embrace. “Liz, honey, I want you to
stop crying. Everything is going to be all right. Go sit in my truck and let us get this tire changed. Go on, it’s all right.”

Rick held the lug wrench in one hand. He looked at Jack. “You pissed?” he asked.

“Nah. What happened?”

Rick applied the wrench to one of the lugs and gave it a sharp, angry twist. Jack noticed, not for the first time, how strong the kid was. “Lizzie hit a wall—total panic. Hysteria. She’s afraid of losing the baby. Losing me.”

“Shew,” Jack said. “You must have felt like you had to do something about that.”

“Yeah, I was trying.” He tightened another nut. “I thought if I took her somewhere…Oregon. Married her. She’d settle down. She’s getting kind of close, Jack. I can’t have her all messed up like that. It worries me.” He applied the wrench again. “I should be with her as much as I can. Try to keep her calm.”

“You’re right. But you can’t run off. Take her home, sit down with Connie. Tell Connie you need to be in the driver’s seat now. You have to take care of your girl, your baby. I think maybe she’ll listen to you. I had a talk with her.”

“Yeah?”

Jack hung his thumbs on his belt and looked down. “Rick, I know you’re trying to keep everything from spinning out of control. You gotta keep your head, buddy. Before you do something as crazy as running away to marry a fifteen-year-old girl, talk to me. Will you, please? Between us, we can keep things sane.”

“Sometimes that seems impossible,” he said, tightening the final lug nut.

“I know, Rick. But—”

“I want that baby,” he said flatly.

“I would, too,” Jack admitted. “Let’s focus on getting this to come out the best we can. I’m on your team, Rick.”

“I really don’t know how you could be,” he said. “After all, I didn’t exactly listen to you in the first place.”

“I never saw it like that. We’ve been over this. You’re not the Lone Ranger on this fuckup. Okay?”

“All I ever wanted was to make you guys proud of me,” Rick said.

Jack grabbed the kid’s upper arm and gave him a little shake. “Don’t you ever think otherwise. The only thing that could make me more proud is if you were my son.”

T
here were only four anglers in the river, die-hards. The weather was cold and rainy, the salmon had almost finished running for the season, snow was falling in the higher elevations and Christmas was just around the corner.

Preacher pulled in his third catch of the day, a good-size fish, and started out of the river, his head down. This was getting ridiculous. It wasn’t as though Jack and Preacher had a lot of long talks, but the glum, preoccupied silence had been stretching out. Something had Preacher on the ropes.

Jack, shaking his head, went after him. “Hey, Preacher,” he called. “Hold up.” Jack caught up with him. “We have enough fish to clean for tonight?”

Preacher nodded and turned away, moving toward the truck. Jack grabbed the sleeve of his slicker. “Preacher. I gotta ask you something. What the hell’s eating you?”

“What do you mean?” he replied, frowning.

Jack shook his head in frustration. “You have this beautiful little family under your roof. You watch over them like a papa bear. That kid adores you, you have a sweet, cuddly young beauty to knock boots with every night, and you’re
depressed.
I mean, you are obviously depressed!”

“I’m not depressed,” he said somewhat meanly. “And I haven’t knocked boots with anybody.”

“What?” Jack said, confused. “What?”

“You heard me. I haven’t touched her.”

“She have issues?” Jack asked. “Like the abusive ex or something?”

“No,” Preacher said. “I have issues.”

He laughed. “Yeah? You don’t want her? Because she—”

“I don’t know what to do,” Preacher said suddenly. Then he averted his eyes.

“Sure you do, Preacher. You take off your clothes, she takes off her clothes…”

Preacher snapped his head back. “I know where all the parts go. I’m not so sure she’s ready for that….”

“Preacher, my man, do you have eyes? She looks at you like she wants to—”

“Jesus, she scares me to
death!
I’m afraid I’ll hurt her,” he said, then shook his head miserably. What the hell, he thought. Jack’s my best friend. If I can’t tell Jack, I can’t tell anyone. But he said, “You say anything about this and I swear to God, I’ll kill you.”

Jack just laughed at him. “Why would I tell anyone? Preacher, you’re not going to hurt her.”

“What if I do? She’s been through so much. She’s so soft. Small. And I’m—hell, I’m just a big, clumsy lug.”

“No, you’re not,” Jack said, laughing again. “Preacher, you don’t even break the yolks. You’re—well, you’re big, that’s for sure.” He chuckled. “You’re probably big all over,” he said, shaking his head. “Believe me, women don’t mind that.”

Preacher’s chin went up and he frowned, not sure whether he’d just been complimented or insulted.

“Listen, buddy, you don’t have the problems you think you have. You have to trust yourself.”

“That’s just it—I don’t. I’m afraid I’ll go out of my mind. Do something that—I’m afraid I’ll break her in half.” He looked down at his hand, fingers splayed. “What if I leave a bruise on her? I’d wanna die.”

“Okay, you listen to me. Here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna tell Paige what’s been bothering you. Okay? That you haven’t touched her because you’re afraid you might not know your own strength and be too rough with her, and you don’t want to be. She’ll help you, Preacher. She’ll get you through this. Goddamn, man—the girl wants you so bad it’s distracting.” He shook his head. “Man, the way she looks at you, I figured you haven’t let her sleep in two weeks!”

“I don’t think either one of us is sleeping….”

“Well, hell—how could you? You gotta get this monkey off your back!” And Jack immediately thought, I can relate. I’ve had a houseguest in the cabin with paper walls for weeks now. It was catch as catch can at his house, and while he was a man who could appreciate a quickie now and then, a steady diet of that wasn’t getting it. He’d give anything to be alone with Mel for a long, slow night. He was just about out of his mind himself. The house he was going to build would be soundproofed.

“There haven’t been…I haven’t been with a lot of women,” Preacher said. “Sure not a tenth as many as you.”

“That’s good. That’s a good thing. You’re a serious guy—you get points for that! You just have to be willing to—Jesus, I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Preacher frowned blackly. For a second Jack thought, if he hits me, I’m not letting him get away with it again. “Okay, listen. You just have to be willing to pay attention to details. The details, Preacher. The sounds she makes when, you know, you touch her. Tell her to show you what…Argghh,” he growled in frustration. He forced himself to go on. “Okay, you ask her to show you what she likes. Ask, is this okay?
Listen to her. You can tell by the sounds she makes if you’re on the right spot. Ask her to put your hand where she wants it. To tell you where she’d like you to touch her.
How
she’d like the touch. It’s pretty simple. You just want to make her feel good.”

“Aaww, man,” he said, helpless.

“Well, hell, I guess someone has to tell you. You need me to dig you out a movie or something?”

“No! Jesus!”

“Just as well. They don’t do it so well in those movies, anyway. You’ll be better off if you just admit you’re not sure and you want it to be good. You guide each other, Preach. That’s the best way.”

“I never had—you know.”

“Someone you loved,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah,” he said, hanging his head. “God. It never mattered so much before. I guess I should feel like crap about that, too.…But…”

“Get a grip, Preacher. You’re not rough. You’re gentle, but you’re strong. It’s a great combination, believe me. All you really have to remember is, she goes first.” Preacher frowned. “Come on, man, you know what I mean. You hang in there until you’re sure she’s been satisfied. Then you’re free and clear. That’s the best advice I can give you. That, and you better not wait any longer. I have a feeling you’ve put this off too long already.”

“You tell anyone about this and I swear to God—”

“I know. You’re gonna kill me. Shit, Preacher. You better do something about this right away. I mean, Jesus, man, are you at all confused about why she’s still hanging around here? That girl’s been waiting for you and you have to get the job done. Now, come on, let’s go clean fish.” Jack threw his pole and catch in the back of Preacher’s truck. Damn, Jack thought. The poor guy. The poor
girl!

When Mike walked into the bar, no one was there. Well, the place tended to stay pretty empty on rainy afternoons. That was just as well—he only wanted a beer to take the edge off the pain in his shoulder and neck. It was amazing how bad it could get sometimes, and the rain and cold always made it feel worse.

The fire had begun to die down, so he went to the hearth, leaned his cane against the wall and opened the grate. With his left hand he lifted the poker and stirred the logs a little, sending up a flame. Then, holding his right arm protectively against his middle, he reached for a log to put on the fire. Then another.

He looked at his watch. Three o’clock. He could pour himself a beer. Jack and Preacher wouldn’t mind. But he walked back into the kitchen. Paige was in there, kneading a big wad of dough, her back to him. “Hey,” he said.

She turned around and, as quickly, turned back. There had been tears on her face. He frowned. What was this? Trouble in paradise? “Hey,” he said, walking up behind her, squeezing her upper arm with his left hand. “What’s going on?” he asked her.

“Nothing,” she said with a sniff.

He turned her around to face him. He looked down at her pretty face and for the hundredth time thought, that damn Preacher. I bet he doesn’t know what he has here. “This isn’t nothing,” he said, wiping a tear from her cheek.

“I can’t talk about it,” she said.

“Sure you can. Seems like maybe you’d better. You’re all upset.”

“I’ll work it out.”

“Preacher do something to hurt you?”

She immediately started to cry and leaned forward, her head falling on his chest. He put his good arm around her and said, “Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” she cried. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“Maybe if you talk to me, I can help. I’m so good with free advice, you’ll be impressed.”

“It’s just that…I care about him. But he just doesn’t find me…”

Mike lifted her chin. “What, Paige?”

“He doesn’t find me attractive.”

“Bull.”

“Desirable.”

“Paige, that’s nonsense. The way he looks at you, he eats you with his eyes. He’s wacko for you.”

“He won’t touch me,” she said, a large tear spilling over.

That almost knocked Mike down. “No way.”

She nodded pathetically.

“Oh, man,” Mike said. He’d thought, everyone thought, they were doing it all night long. The way they looked at each other, like they couldn’t wait for everyone to leave so they could be alone, get it on. Those sweet little kisses on the cheek, the forehead. The way they touched—careful, so no one would see the sparks fly, but the sparks were flying all over this bar! The sexual tension was electric. “Oh, man,” he said again. He put his arm around her. “Paige, he wants you. Wants you so bad it’s showing all over him.”

“Then why?”

“I don’t know, honey. Preacher’s strange. He’s never been good with women, you know? When we served together, we all managed to find us a woman somewhere. I killed two marriages that way. But not Preacher. It was very rare for him to—” He stopped himself. He was trying to remember—were there women at all? He wasn’t sure; he knew Preacher never had a steady girl. He thought he remembered a woman here, there. It’s not as though he was focused on Preacher’s love life; he was too busy
taking care of his own. He probably lacks sexual confidence, Mike thought. It would be hard for him to put the moves on anyone he felt he had to win over.

“I bet he’s scared,” Mike heard himself say.

“How can he be? I’ve practically thrown myself at him! He knows he isn’t going to face rejection!” She dropped her gaze, lowered her voice to a whisper. “He has to know how much I—”

“Oh, brother,” Mike said. “I bet he’s not worried about rejection. Aw, Paige, Preacher’s so shy, sometimes it’s just plain ridiculous. But I promise you, Paige, I’ve known the man a long time—”

“He said he’d trust you with his life. That he has…”

“Yeah, we have that, it’s true. It’s funny with men—you can trust each other with your lives and never talk about anything personal, you know? Sometimes Preacher seems a little naive in the ways of the world.” Then remembering their talk not long ago about depression et cetera, he said, “And at other times, he makes the Grand Canyon look shallow.” He shook his head. “He can be a mystery. There’s more to Preacher than…You really care about him?”

“I do.”

“Then you be patient. He’ll come around. Paige, it’s obvious—he cares about you, too. You and Christopher. I’ve never seen him like this with anybody.”

“Maybe he wants to be sure I’m not just—”

Mike was shaking his head. “He wants to be sure of himself, Paige. Preacher’s real cautious. I think the man could be terrified of disappointing you. That’s my bet.”

“He couldn’t possibly,” she said, and a tear fell again.

Mike wiped it away. “You just have to trust me on this—he’s a bundle of nerves. He’s really good in a fight, really good in a war, and who’da guessed how good a cook he turned out to be, huh? But with women? Paige—he’s never been a hustler. I don’t know of any women.
He’s never been that kind of guy. Just not a tomcat like some of the rest of us.”

“That’s one of the things I love most,” she whispered.

Mike smiled. “You give him some time, huh?”

She nodded. She smiled weakly.

Mike dropped a brotherly kiss on her forehead. “It’s going to be all right.”

“You think so?”

“Oh, yeah. Just hang in there. Don’t give up on him.” Mike thought, that lucky son of a bitch. This woman adored him. Wanted nothing so much as to make him happy all night long. “Go wash your face. I’m gonna get myself a beer.” He gave her shoulders a final squeeze, and as she turned away from him, Preacher was standing in the back door with his catch.

Paige skittered past Preacher, keeping her head down so that he wouldn’t see her tears. Preacher scowled at Mike. “Need something?” he asked.

“I need a beer before I walk over to Doc’s and let Mel torture me. Want me to get it myself?”

“Help yourself,” he said, throwing his fish in the big sink.

Jack came in right behind him. “Hey, Mike. How you feeling today?” He threw his catch on top of Preacher’s.

Mike rubbed his right upper arm with his left hand. “A little better every day. Need a hand? I have exactly one.”

“Nah, but if you want to drink your beer back here while we clean fish, you’re welcome.”

Preacher had a stuffed trout that was nothing short of amazing. It was a lot of trouble—fileting the fish, stuffing it with a delectable corn dressing, slipping it back into the trout skin and under the broiler. It was one of Paige’s favorites. He served it with spinach soufflé, warm pasta in a white garlic sauce and bread. It was good to make a meal that was labor intensive; it took his mind off things.

He’d seen her leaning against Mike; seen Mike kiss her forehead, smile and whisper to her. Well, he wouldn’t be surprised if she fell for Mike. Mike was the sexy one, the romantic one, even when he was a little scraped up. Always successfully wooing women. He’d had more women than he deserved. So, if that was how it went, that wouldn’t surprise Preacher. He’d thought from the beginning that Paige just saw in him a true friend, a man who could protect her against the world. All that business with the sweet smiles, the embraces—she was probably just ready, period. Not necessarily for Preacher.

Now it embarrassed the hell out of him what he’d said to Jack.

She made the bread. “You did good here, Paige,” he told her.

“I did exactly what you said would work,” she said. “You okay?”

“I think I got stuffed up from the rain,” he lied. “It was so cold out there today.”

“Did you take anything?”