Shelter Mountain
Author: Robyn Carr
He could look around for another place to stay and get out of their hair. But Jack was pleased that Mike had come to him. Mel was happy to be helping with his rehab. It would be better if he could just delicately find ways to give them the place to themselves for a few hours here and there.
He looked over at the woman, wondering who she was and what she was doing here. That bottle could be bar stock. Did Preacher give her the whole bottle and send her on her way so he could lock up? But if she’d been passed out here since last night, she might be frozen by now. The temperatures at night were pretty low; it was getting damned cold. Cold enough to give her some serious hypothermia.
It was thirty minutes before Jack’s truck pulled in next to his SUV. When he got out of the truck, his brow was furrowed. “What’s this?” he asked.
“I was hoping you could tell me,” Mike said.
“Preacher’s not up yet?”
“I don’t know. He might be back in the kitchen, but the door is still locked and I didn’t want to take a chance on waking up the house. You know?”
“Hey, buddy, I’m sorry. I—”
“Jack. You don’t have to explain. I should be the one trying to explain. Sometimes I just don’t think.”
“Jeez, Mike…”
Mike tilted his head and laughed suddenly. “Holy shit, are you blushing?” he asked, astonished. “The woman’s your wife, for God’s sake. I’ve been whoring with you and you never—”
A strong hand was clamped on his good shoulder. “That’s where we’re going to stop talking about it,” Jack said.
“Except to say, luckily for you, I am now sensitized. You and the comadrona deserve the life of man and wife.”
“Comadrona?”
Mike laughed. “The midwife. I’ll be a better houseguest from now on.”
“Don’t worry about it. Getting strong is your first priority. Our first priority.”
Mike laughed. “This is when you really know who your friends are,” he said. “Now, who’s this?”
“Her name is Cheryl Chreighton. I’m afraid she’s an alcoholic.”
“She wind up here a lot?”
“No. This is a first.”
“She get that bottle out of your bar?”
“No. We don’t serve her,” he said. “I can’t say where she got the bottle. She used to stick to that nasty Everclear, kind of hard to find around here. We’re the only place in town with a bar.” He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “We should probably get her out of here.”
“Where you going to take her?”
“Home,” he said.
The lock on the door moved and it opened. Preacher stood in the doorway, looked out, assessed and said, “Oh, crap.”
“Preacher, you have coffee yet?” Jack asked.
“Yeah.”
“Let’s have a cup of coffee while we think about what to do with her. She’ll keep.” Jack bent down and picked up the empty bottle to throw away.
Twenty minutes later Mel came into the bar, her jacket collar pulled up around her neck, hands in her pockets, all that blond hair scrunched up at her shoulders. Mike looked at her appreciatively; her cheeks were rosy with love, her eyes bright, lips bruised pink. “Jack, Cheryl Chreigton is kind of weaving down the street with a blanket around her shoulders. You know anything about that?”
“Yeah,” he said. “That means I don’t have to take her home. She was passed out on the porch when we opened up this morning.”
“Oh, Jack, there must be a way to get that woman some help. My God, she’s only thirty years old!”
“If you think of something, I’ll be glad to pitch in,” he said. “But, Mel, her parents have been trying for years.”
“They’re obviously not trying the right things,” she said. She shook her head sadly and left the bar.
Jack had barely finished splitting logs when Connie was in the bar, visibly upset. “Well, they did it,” she said. “They ran off.”
“Aw, Jesus,” Jack said. “When?”
“Who knows?” She shrugged. “Could’ve been the middle of the night—I didn’t hear anything. Ron’s out driving around now. I can’t stand the thought of calling my sister.”
“Well, don’t,” Jack said. “Give me a minute. Help yourself to coffee.” He went into the kitchen, pulled out the business card that was stuck between the phone and wall, dialed up the sheriff’s department and asked if they’d dispatch Henry Depardeau, the deputy assigned to their area. He called the California Highway Patrol. Both times he gave a description of Rick’s truck and said that family in Virgin River needed to get in touch with the young couple. Then he went back to Connie. He refilled his mug with coffee. “I’ve tried to stay out of this, Connie. But maybe I shouldn’t have.”
“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.”
He could look around for another place to stay and get out of their hair. But Jack was pleased that Mike had come to him. Mel was happy to be helping with his rehab. It would be better if he could just delicately find ways to give them the place to themselves for a few hours here and there.
He looked over at the woman, wondering who she was and what she was doing here. That bottle could be bar stock. Did Preacher give her the whole bottle and send her on her way so he could lock up? But if she’d been passed out here since last night, she might be frozen by now. The temperatures at night were pretty low; it was getting damned cold. Cold enough to give her some serious hypothermia.
It was thirty minutes before Jack’s truck pulled in next to his SUV. When he got out of the truck, his brow was furrowed. “What’s this?” he asked.
“I was hoping you could tell me,” Mike said.
“Preacher’s not up yet?”
“I don’t know. He might be back in the kitchen, but the door is still locked and I didn’t want to take a chance on waking up the house. You know?”
“Hey, buddy, I’m sorry. I—”
“Jack. You don’t have to explain. I should be the one trying to explain. Sometimes I just don’t think.”
“Jeez, Mike…”
Mike tilted his head and laughed suddenly. “Holy shit, are you blushing?” he asked, astonished. “The woman’s your wife, for God’s sake. I’ve been whoring with you and you never—”
A strong hand was clamped on his good shoulder. “That’s where we’re going to stop talking about it,” Jack said.
“Except to say, luckily for you, I am now sensitized. You and the comadrona deserve the life of man and wife.”
“Comadrona?”
Mike laughed. “The midwife. I’ll be a better houseguest from now on.”
“Don’t worry about it. Getting strong is your first priority. Our first priority.”
Mike laughed. “This is when you really know who your friends are,” he said. “Now, who’s this?”
“Her name is Cheryl Chreighton. I’m afraid she’s an alcoholic.”
“She wind up here a lot?”
“No. This is a first.”
“She get that bottle out of your bar?”
“No. We don’t serve her,” he said. “I can’t say where she got the bottle. She used to stick to that nasty Everclear, kind of hard to find around here. We’re the only place in town with a bar.” He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “We should probably get her out of here.”
“Where you going to take her?”
“Home,” he said.
The lock on the door moved and it opened. Preacher stood in the doorway, looked out, assessed and said, “Oh, crap.”
“Preacher, you have coffee yet?” Jack asked.
“Yeah.”
“Let’s have a cup of coffee while we think about what to do with her. She’ll keep.” Jack bent down and picked up the empty bottle to throw away.
Twenty minutes later Mel came into the bar, her jacket collar pulled up around her neck, hands in her pockets, all that blond hair scrunched up at her shoulders. Mike looked at her appreciatively; her cheeks were rosy with love, her eyes bright, lips bruised pink. “Jack, Cheryl Chreigton is kind of weaving down the street with a blanket around her shoulders. You know anything about that?”
“Yeah,” he said. “That means I don’t have to take her home. She was passed out on the porch when we opened up this morning.”
“Oh, Jack, there must be a way to get that woman some help. My God, she’s only thirty years old!”
“If you think of something, I’ll be glad to pitch in,” he said. “But, Mel, her parents have been trying for years.”
“They’re obviously not trying the right things,” she said. She shook her head sadly and left the bar.
Jack had barely finished splitting logs when Connie was in the bar, visibly upset. “Well, they did it,” she said. “They ran off.”
“Aw, Jesus,” Jack said. “When?”
“Who knows?” She shrugged. “Could’ve been the middle of the night—I didn’t hear anything. Ron’s out driving around now. I can’t stand the thought of calling my sister.”
“Well, don’t,” Jack said. “Give me a minute. Help yourself to coffee.” He went into the kitchen, pulled out the business card that was stuck between the phone and wall, dialed up the sheriff’s department and asked if they’d dispatch Henry Depardeau, the deputy assigned to their area. He called the California Highway Patrol. Both times he gave a description of Rick’s truck and said that family in Virgin River needed to get in touch with the young couple. Then he went back to Connie. He refilled his mug with coffee. “I’ve tried to stay out of this, Connie. But maybe I shouldn’t have.”
“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.”