He shook his head and she handed him the box.
“That’s good to hear. You know where I am if you need anything medically.”
He nodded without speaking and took the box off her hands. By the time he was on his way back to his tent, another man came forward from behind the old trailer. Since Noah was holding the box, he went straight to Noah.
“How are you today, brother?” Noah asked pleasantly. And the man merely nodded, not making eye contact. “Can you think of anything you need, besides the food in the box?” Noah asked. No response. “Coats? Blankets?” At that, the man lifted his beady gaze and connected with Noah’s eyes. “Ah,” Noah said. “Coats and blankets. That makes sense. I’ll look around, see what I can find.”
The man broke his gaze and merely accepted the box, taking it back where he’d come from. The entire transaction lasted under five minutes. They got back in the Hummer and Mel backed around carefully, heading down the bumpy road. “Well, you don’t follow instructions very well, do you?” she asked.
“I don’t know what came over me,” he lied. He wasn’t about to be kept back. He felt right at home. “How many of them are there?”
“Only a few now. Six or seven, maybe. The faces change—people wander in and out, stay awhile, move on. Sometimes I’ll actually spot a woman. One of the men had an adult daughter with him for a while. There were more before, in a camp closer to town, but Jack and his boys ran them off.”
“Why?”
“Well, it was complicated. Some drug farmer set up in their camp and there was a caretaker watching the grow who was a dangerous felon. We had an altercation—he put a knife to my throat and wanted narcotics from the clinic. Jack killed him. I mean, it was totally self-defense, you understand. It was down to me or him and Jack wasn’t at all attracted to him.” She turned to Noah and smiled. Then her smile vanished. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t joke. The man was going to kill me. After it was over, Jack rounded up his friends and they ran off all the old boys. He said if they couldn’t keep the dangerous element out, they had to move farther away, so the town wouldn’t be at risk. Turns out they didn’t go that far. If they weren’t on restricted land, Jack might’ve run across them while hunting.”
“But you found them?”
“About a year back one of them came into the clinic. He had a nasty, infected laceration that needed debriding, antibiotics, and dressing. I told him if I knew where he’d settled, I could bring him some leftovers to eat sometimes.”
“What was in that jar you showed the man?”
She laughed. “Expired prenatal vitamins. Might keep him going one more week in his life, but what the heck. The thing is, Noah, I wanted to save them. Get them bottled water at least, if not placement in some facility with clean sheets. But the fact is, this is either what they want or serves what they think they need. There’s undoubtedly some addiction or mental illness at root there—alcoholism, bipolar, war disability, anything is possible, although I don’t know that any of them have been evaluated. And since nothing will change it, no harm comes from a little decent food. Those old boys exist on fish and squirrel. And in the winter they almost freeze. But they won’t go to town, won’t go to a shelter. They know they can get help in Eureka. But they are not interested.”
“And if Jack finds out?”
“He’s going to make a big stink. He might run them off again. Or see if he can get some law enforcement to do it. He has a point—if they’re too close to town and open to dangerous types settling in with them, that could be a big problem. But I have a point, too—it’s not against the law to be homeless. They’re not hurting anyone, as far as I know. If they break the law, they’ll have to go, I suppose.”
“Is that the only group like that you know about?” he asked.
“The only one around here I know about, but June Hudson, the doctor down in Grace Valley, she keeps an eye on an impoverished settlement near that town. She’s given medical treatment to some of them. There are several families in her shantytown—some of them actually keep animals—mules, goats, chickens, like that.”
“Lord,” he said. “I’ve seen some people real hard put, but for some reason I didn’t expect it here. I guess I thought homelessness was only in the inner city, and near the docks.”
“I can relate, I was likewise naive. There are lots of folks living in isolated cabins out in the hills. If we know about them, Cameron and I try to keep track of them. We’ll often go together, but he just became the father of twins and has been a little scarce around town lately.”
“Mel,” he said quietly, “you’re a missionary.”
“Nah. Just doing the people’s work.”
“That’s what a missionary is. It’s not all about bible beating,” he said with a grin. “You have to fill their bellies before you can expect to peek into their hearts. Are you and Cameron the only ones who know about them?”
“The exact location, maybe, but probably not. Jack knew about them when they had that old camp nearer town and he just ignored them. Until there was trouble.”
“Does he have a problem with you going out to isolated cabins to check on people?”
“Sometimes someone will tell me there’s no smoke coming from a neighbor’s chimney, or that someone is bedridden and could use medicine, and often Jack will take me and wait in the car. Jack’s been known to split logs for an old-timer who can’t hoist his ax. Sometimes Cameron and I go together. I have to be real cautious. Some people really don’t want to be disturbed. Some could be unstable. Even violent. Believe me, I don’t venture foolishly. And don’t you, either.”
He smiled at her. She knew. There was a reason she had taken him, shown him and told him. Because his was also the people’s work. What she didn’t know was that his father was a wealthy, somewhat famous televangelist, who made a lot of noise about helping the needy and yet had never managed to get his hands dirty. He consorted mainly with rich people. In his stable of friends were politicians, government honchos, police officials, philanthropists. Anyone who could protect him in the clinches and make him richer.
In Noah’s stable of friends, so far, there was a bartender, a stripper, a cook and a midwife.
For the first time in a long time, the flavor of his life tasted good in his mouth.
Noah’s trip with Mel to the vagrants’ camp in the forest presented many possibilities to a man whose soul was fed when he could feed people. His visit to Grace Valley to spend some time with Harry Shipton, a heck of a nice fellow, had been likewise illuminating. They spent two hours together and Noah learned Harry was not just a Presbyterian minister, but also divorced and a recovering compulsive gambler. Even though he’d swindled some local friends, the whole town had welcomed him home after his treatment program. Here, in this little burg, Harry had found the truest sense of forgiveness and community.
Harry then gave Noah a tour of the town and lunch at the Grace Valley Café. Noah met Dr. June Hudson and her partner Dr. John Stone, and June’s father, the former town doctor, Elmer. He had an invitation from Elmer to go fishing and get an education about a few things those Virgin River men didn’t know and couldn’t learn. “No matter what they say, I’ve always outfished them. Bunch of liars, that’s what they are,” Elmer told him.
Grace Valley was a precious little town of quaint clapboard houses and delightful people, but when he’d brought up the subject of rural poverty, June and Harry had been quick to fill him in, in detail, about their special cases. On the surface, some of these mountain towns looked to be thriving and healthy, but there was an underside, hidden in the trees, of both marijuana growers laying low under the law and impoverished families that June, John, Harry and a few others tried to look after.
A few days later when Mel Sheridan pulled into the vagrants’ camp, Noah was seated around a weak fire with the boys, Bible in hand. Four of them sat on overturned buckets and there was a stack of army blankets beside one of them.
“Well,” Mel said, approaching. “Didn’t take you long to make yourself at home.”
“We were just talking about Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane,” he said, standing. “These guys aren’t the first in history to look for answers in solitude. So—what’s in your pantry today?” he asked with a smile.
Noah had a couple of phone calls to make that he’d been putting off for more than a week. Mrs. Hatchet and Mrs. Nagel. He had to tell them he’d hired someone and thank them for their interest in the job. Mrs. Hatchet said, “Yes, I know. It’s all around that you hired some pretty young thing.”
“As it happens, she is both pretty and young, but she was hired because she has office experience and is capable of helping with the heavy work that has to be done around here. I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Mrs. Hatchet, and I’m very glad I got to meet you. And I’ll look forward to seeing you again.”
She merely grunted and hung up.
“Mrs. Nagel,” he said when he called the next woman. “Reverend Kincaid here. I just wanted to let you know that I—”
“Hired that young slut,” she snapped into the phone.
“Excuse me?” he said, shocked and affronted.
“I’m glad I’m not going to work for you if that’s the kind of man you are!”
“I see,” he said calmly. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
She gave a derisive snort before disconnecting without saying goodbye. “Whew, dodged a bullet there,” he muttered into a dead phone.
Noah spent the next week door-knocking in the more rural areas of Virgin River, introducing himself and inviting people to a church that would be refurbished and open for business in a couple of months. He’d also been to Valley Hospital twice. He was now known among the volunteer women and before he even asked, he was directed to a patient who had had no visitors. While he carried a Bible and introduced himself as Reverend Noah Kincaid, he wasn’t there to pray or preach unless asked. All he did was visit. He sympathized, comforted, consoled. He also laughed, shared favorite jokes, straightened linens, fluffed pillows and even gave assistance to the bathroom.
Merry had died at home, in his care. During her brief illness and chemotherapy he’d spent countless hours at the hospital. While she was reading or dozing as the chemo IV or transfusion was running, he’d make the rounds and visit with staff, patients and gathering families. He hadn’t even realized he’d found a mission there. But people welcomed his friendliness and it filled a place in him. It fulfilled him.
On his way back to Virgin River, he visited the nursing home where Salvatore Salentino was living. When he stood in the doorway, the old man said, “Well, here you are again. I guess you won’t give up till you convert me.”
Meanwhile, Ellie and Lucy were making progress on the cleaning and painting. Ellie had finished two bathrooms and was getting to work on the kitchen. And Lucy, for all her infirmity, was getting up and down the steps like a pup…and following Ellie everywhere.
On this particular day, Noah made it back to the church a little before three because he had an appointment with Paul Haggerty. He heard the water running downstairs and found Ellie bent over the sink, cleaning her painting gear. “I’m back, Ellie,” he announced.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Boy, you have a ton of messages. The phone was ringing all day. It’s a shock I got anything done around here. Why’s that phone ringing all of a sudden? You run an ad for some kind of soul-saving special or something?”
“Messages?” he asked with trepidation.
“Yeah. I wrote ’em down and left ’em on the desk.”
“You answered the phone?”
“What did you expect me to do? Let them all think there wasn’t any minister in this town? Besides,” she said, turning around to face him, “I’m supposed to assist. Right?”
He swallowed. “Um. I have a meeting with Paul Haggerty, the builder. Off the top of your head, do you remember any—”
“Well, a woman named Shelby MacIntyre wondered if you could perform a wedding in a couple of months. She’s hoping there will be a church by then. Gloria Tuttle called from Valley Hospital. She’s seen you around there visiting people and thought you should call her—she’s one of the nurses and can tell you about patients who might want you to visit them. You’re gonna wanna watch Gloria, Rev—she wants to jump your bones. She asked if you were married and when I said no, she giggled. Some old woman named Hope, who sounds like a man, called and asked how things were going and I told her we were doing our best.” Then she grinned. “And there were others. A lot of ’em just want to call back. And there were hang-ups—maybe you got a number that was used too recently. Do you usually get so many calls? I can’t remember the phone ringing once last week.”
“What did you say?” he asked.
“To who?”
“Whom,” he said, and then he almost kicked himself. “To Miss MacIntyre, for example.”
She studied his face for a second and then, with a hand on her hip, she said, “I said, ‘You’re damn skippy he’ll do a wedding—he needs the work!’ What do you think I said? I took her number and told her I’d have you call her back. The same to all of them. Except the nurse—I told her she was scraping the bottom of the barrel, going after your hot pants.” Then she smirked.
“You’re a pain in the butt,” he said.
“Yeah, so says the pot to the kettle. You thought I wasn’t smart enough to know how to answer an office phone. I’ve worked in offices!”
“I know this,” he informed her.
“Ah, you thought I got those jobs because I have—”
He put up a hand to stop her. “I never thought a thing,” he said.
“Boobs,” she finished insolently. Then she winked while she chewed vigorously on some gum. She cracked it for good measure. “I’m going to get this stuff cleaned and get out of here. I’m totally shot,” she said, turning back to the sink. “Can you manage now?”
“I’ll muddle through. By the way, thank you.”
“For?”
“For taking messages. I appreciate it.”
She grinned over her shoulder. “No problem, Your Worship. You have a good day?”
“I did,” he said.
“What do you do at the hospital?” she asked.
“Visit.”
“Visit?”
“There are people who don’t get company, people waiting around for someone to get out of surgery, people waiting for someone to die. It’s the kind of place where a friendly face and a few kind words go a long way.”
“People you know?” she asked, turning back toward him.
He shook his head. “I don’t have a congregation. They’re complete strangers. But that doesn’t matter.”
“Aw, Noah. That’s nice.”
“I’ve been trying to tell you, I am nice.”
She dried her hands on a towel. “Yeah. Watch out for Gloria, toots. I think she’s looking for more than nice.”
Ellie walked back down the street from the church to her rented room, feeling that good kind of tired that comes from having worked hard and done well. She was down to sixty-seven dollars until she could pry some church money out of the fierce grip of her cute boss. Oh, how she wished he was ugly, stupid or gay, she thought for the hundredth time. Why couldn’t he just be gay? That would make life so much easier.
But he was not gay. Rather, he had waves of testosterone rolling off him. There was that build, for one thing—powerful. And that thick hair that fell over his collar, itching for her to run her fingers through it, and the burning blue eyes, the hands…Oh, God, his hands! When she got up close, and if he had his sleeves rolled up, she noticed a map of tiny white scars that marred the backs of his hands and forearms. When she knew him better, she was going to ask about the scars, maybe twenty of them, but she suspected he got them when he was doing whatever he’d been doing to make his palms callused and rough. He’d only touched her a couple of times, just guiding her in a gentlemanly fashion, but she felt his rough hands. You don’t get those in a pulpit.
Thinking about Noah made it difficult to remember that there would never again be a man in her life. Ever, ever, ever. She’d been hurt by men too often. Okay, there hadn’t been many, but the three major contenders had been totally horrible. Death, prison and weirdness. If there’d been even one lucky break where love was concerned, she might consider another stab at it down the line a bit, but not likely. She had already proven she didn’t know how to pick a man, and it was doubtful she could start now.
But he was very attractive, the preacher man. Six feet, ink-black hair with a lock that fell over his brow sometimes. Expressive dark brows over the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen. And lips that just screamed Come to Papa. Then there was that smile. Or, all those smiles—the one that indulged, the one that mocked, the one that burst out of him before he could stop it. He couldn’t hide the fact that for a devout sort of guy there was some bad boy in him that he was barely keeping under control. His smile came with dimples that almost brought her to her knees. Six feet of delicious man with strong shoulders, long legs and big, hard hands.
Yeah, he could get her in trouble.
But then, if she was realistic, he was a minister. No matter how he set her on fire, he was puritanical and pure, right? Life was just too short to forgo that playful, naughty edge. She didn’t want to be in the missionary position for the rest of her life, anyway. He’d probably make love with his black socks on. And his T-shirt. Lights out, covers up, in and out real quick, no screaming. Dull and boring.
Oh, that’s right, she forgot, she thought with a laugh. She was giving up all positions. No men, no sex, no more heartaches or headaches. But it would be easier on her nerves if he were just a little homelier.
She wondered if she should be grateful he even inspired thoughts of sex; it had been so long since she’d even been tempted. She had all but forgotten what tempted felt like. Long before Trevor was born, and it was a miracle Arnie hadn’t killed it altogether.
Ellie stopped her daydreaming and realized she was almost home. When she got to her new address, she found Mrs. Fitch raking leaves and pine needles out of the flower bed in front of her porch. “Hey there, Mrs. Fitch. How’s it going?”
Jo Ellen looked at her. “Fine, Ellie. Are you off early today?”
“Kind of. The reverend has an appointment and I’ve been starting at the crack of dawn all week. I was painting by five this morning.”
“He’s got you painting?” Jo Ellen asked.
“Mrs. Fitch, there’s not a dirty chore in that old trash heap of a church that I’m not doing. While we get it pulled together, anyway.”
“You must be exhausted.”
“I feel good,” Ellie said with a smile, rolling the ache out of her stiff shoulders. “Nothing like some good old hard work. You should see the bathrooms—they look great. I can tell Reverend Kincaid can’t figure out how he got stuck with me, I am so not a churchy person, but I’ll tell you what, it was his lucky day. The stuff that has to be done around there? Painting, cleaning, organizing? Heck, I’ve had to make do so much of my life, that’s what I know best—making something decent out of a mess. Lots easier than computer programs.”
Jo Ellen leaned on her rake and laughed. “Would you like some iced tea?”
Ellie ran the palms of her hands down her pant legs. “Oh, gee, I’m a mess. I probably smell like paint and sweat, besides.”
“Better than me—I smell like compost. Why don’t I bring us some tea out here to the front porch. Just for a little break.”
“That’s awful nice of you. Thanks.” Gosh, Ellie secretly mused, I thought she didn’t like me. I thought I had tricked her into renting me that room.
Jo Ellen was a plain woman in her fifties, but she had a softness that made her pretty. Her hair was light brown and strung with gray, which gave it a dull appearance, and she pulled it back in a simple catch at the base of her neck. She didn’t wear makeup, which made perfect sense while gardening, but then, she hadn’t worn it when she first met Ellie, either. Her eyebrows had a nice arch, which made her expression pleasant. But what Ellie noticed about her for the first time, was that her complexion was clear and her skin tight and smooth. There was a little bit of sun on her cheeks and nose from her afternoon of outdoor work. And her smile, which Ellie hadn’t seen much of the first day they met, was lovely.
When Jo Ellen returned with two glasses of tea on a tray with a few cookies, Ellie said, “My gosh, Mrs. Fitch, this is just so nice of you.”
“It’s nothing, sweetheart. And call me Jo Ellen. Or Jo—that’s what my friends call me. It occurred to me that I hadn’t visited with you at all since you moved into your little apartment. You’ve been there a couple of weeks already! I didn’t want to bother you while you had your children with you, but now that you’re on your own again, I want to at least make an effort to get to know you a little bit.”
“I hope that’s okay. About the kids,” Ellie said. “Honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever get to have them overnight. It’s a mess, this custody business.” She sipped her tea. “Do you and Mr. Fitch have children?”
“I’m afraid not,” Jo said. “I’ll be honest with you—it’s one of the greatest disappointments in my life. I don’t have too much else to complain about, but I really wanted children.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I wish you had. My kids are the center of my world.”
“It must be hard for you to be away from them.”
“It’s all a terrible misunderstanding, and I’m going to get it straightened out as quick as I can. When they’re back with me where they belong, I’ll move—I won’t try to keep them here with me. I know you didn’t intend that room for more than one person anyway. But don’t worry, Mrs…. I mean, Jo—I won’t leave you owing rent. I promise.”