D Carr Quotes

If I’d stayed there, would I always have been happy? No, I suppose not. People move away, grow older, die, and the bright belief that there will be another marvelous thing around each corner fades. It is now or never; we must snatch at happiness as it flies.

Muriel, you're not a convenience. I'd walk across a mile of cut glass in my bare feet to hold your hand and talk to you for one hour. You're everything to me.--Walt

(mel)“I knew you’d never leave me.” (jack)“Baby, I’d walk out of hell to get back to you.

Promise you’ll never let go of my hand?” He kissed her. It was the easiest vow he’d ever made. “Promise.

I’d rather be a whore than a banker.’ ‘That’s handy then. I’d rather be a banker who buys a whore.

God, I know you’re sick of hearing me beg, but this is my woman, my wife. My best friend! No, she’s so much more than that—she’s the other half of my heart. I’ve waited my whole life for her—I’d give my life a hundred times to keep her safe! A thousand times! She’s every breath I take, every single beat of my heart. I don’t think I can live without her now. Not now…Please, God. Please. Oh God, please…

A little while later Jack walked into the kitchen at the bar and saw Preacher scowl his greeting. Bravely, Jack walked up to the counter. “Hey, man,” he said. “You were right, I was wrong, and I’d like us to get back on the same team.” “You sure this team of mine isn’t too much trouble for little you?” Preacher asked. “Okay, you about done? Because this really hurts and I’m trying not to deck you right now.

Ah, those days...for many years afterwards their happiness haunted me. Sometimes, listening to music, I drift back and nothing has changed. The long end of summer. Day after day of warm weather, voices calling as night came on and lighted windows pricked the darkness and, at day-break, the murmur of corn and the warm smell of fields ripe for harvest. And being young. If I'd stayed there, would I always have been happy? No, I suppose not. People move away, grow older, die, and the bright belief that there will be another marvelous thing around each corner fades. It is now or never; we must snatch at happiness as it flies.

She’d never been any kind of camper, never had been good at relieving a full bladder on a whim. Never had quite figured out that squat; it seemed like she’d always wet her right foot.

Wouldn’t that be an incredibly stupid thing to do? To say ‘I never want to smoke again’, then spend the rest of your life saying ‘I’d love a cigarette.’ That’s what smokers who use the Willpower Method do. No wonder they feel so miserable. They spend the rest of their lives desperately moping for something that they desperately hope they will never have.

George Smiley: [quoting an old letter from Bill Haydon about Jim Prideaux] He has that heavy quiet that commands. He's my other half. Between us we'd make one marvelous man. He asks nothing better than to be in my company or that of my wicked, divine friends, and I'm vastly tickled by the compliment. He's virgin, about eight foot tall, and built by the same firm that did Stonehenge

They’ll want him to be mad, of course,’ Laszlo mused, not hearing me. ‘The doctors here, the newspapers, the judges; they’d like to think that only a madman would shoot a five-year-old girl in the head. It creates certain … difficulties, if we are forced to accept that our society can produce sane men who commit such acts.

Paul scooted forward a bit. "Well, it's no secret I'm in love with your daughter. I want to marry Vanni. Do I have your blessing? Your permission?" Walt shook his head and chuckled. "Haggerty, you sneak down the hall after I'm in bed every night-- you'd damn sure better marry her. In fact, it might make sense for you to put the baby in that bedroom you're not using--save a trip or two, let the child have some space..." Paul felt a stain creep to his cheeks and thought, I'm over thirty-five--how the hell does this man make me blush? "Yes, sir. Good idea, sir.

Picture yourself when you were five. in fact, dig out a photo of little you at that time and tape it to your mirror. How would you treat her, love her, feed her? How would you nurture her if you were the mother of little you? I bet you would protect her fiercely while giving her space to spread her itty-bitty wings. she’d get naps, healthy food, imagination time, and adventures into the wild. If playground bullies hurt her feelings, you’d hug her tears away and give her perspective. When tantrums or meltdowns turned her into a poltergeist, you’d demand a loving time-out in the naughty chair. From this day forward I want you to extend that same compassion to your adult self.

He may be incensed, said Dizzy. I've never doubted the old parson's faith, but it has no place in politics. Good God, just imagine if each man allowed himself to be swayed by moral compunctions; we'd never get a damned thing accomplished in Parliament.

You’re finally there, Robbie. On stage in front of huge audiences. All of your hard work has paid off. It’s your time.” He didn’t want any of that. As he looked at Zoey, the priorities he’d always set for himself fell away, leaving just one. One thing that mattered to him. Her.

I'd seen this happen several times before, in different institutions, but it was no less remarkable on each occasion: the words were like the flow of water over coals, taking away crackling heat and leaving only a steaming whisper, a perhaps momentary but nonetheless effective remission from deep-burning fire.

I asked Phil Prentiss what he would do if they never got a baby and he said they’d die with a lot of excess love in their hearts….” “And let’s not,” Jack said. “Let’s spend every drop. On the kids, on our families, on your patients, on the town. On people we don’t know yet and the ones who have been our good friends forever. On each other. Let’s spend our last drop as we’re taking our last breaths.

spread back down over the earth and swallow up the ugly little nests of human beings what’d sprung up in the river valley.

The way to make money is to buy when blood is running in the street. John D. Rockefeller

You know, Mr. Moore, you wouldn't figure a stinkhole this city to have so many start over it. Seems like the smell'd be enough to drive 'em away...

I then heard footsteps heading toward my room and decided I’d better get ready. Since the demise of my engagement to Miss Julia Pratt of Washington some two years earlier, I’d been staying with my grandmother, and during that time the old girl had become steadily more skeptical about the ways in which I spent my off-hours. I had repeatedly explained that, as a police reporter for The New York Times, I was required to visit many of the city’s seamier districts and houses and consort with some less than savory characters; but she remembered my youth too well to accept that admittedly strained story.

He’d never been shy, but he’d always been a little uncertain around girls. He just couldn’t believe they liked him.

everything I’d ever learned and held dear required me to be a man of action.

It was the first time he’d circumvented the chain of command, going around his boss in the SOCOM Acquisition Office. With results like this he might have to do it more often.

Hanging on to it a little, are you? … There’s a trick to letting it go, in case you’re interested… You can’t try. Trying is a struggle and doing is an act. You can’t witness the act of trying, but you can see the results of doing. Trying brings on stress because not only do you have the problem, but now you have all this frustration with it not going away just because you want it to. It’s kind of like being told not to think of pink elephants- impossible. What you have to do is stop. You say to yourself, this is over for now. I’m done for now. Take your mind to another place and concentrate on that peaceful place. Deep breaths. Go limp. Put your mind in another state. It takes practice, but it gets easier, over time… My gramma used to say, you can only feel one feeling at a time. For example, you can’t feel trust and fear together. If you want to trust but you’re afraid, fear is still in charge. If you trusted, there wouldn’t be fear. She also used to say you have to listen to what you feel- feeling fear could be warning, right? ... Don’t make love to your problems- they’ll never give you back the satisfaction you give them. And, your troubles aren’t worth the paper they’re written on, but that doesn’t mean writing them down won’t help you get a fix on ‘em. And, God respects you when you work, but he loves you when you dance… she also used to say, ‘if Jesus walked the earth today, he wouldn’t be hanging out with Billy Graham. He’d be found with the drug addicts and prostitutes and the like.

But except in rare circumstances, you can train until you’re blue in the face and you’d never be as good as if you just focused on one thing at a time.” What we’re doing when we multitask “is learning to be skillful at a superficial level.” The Roman philosopher Seneca May have put it best two thousand years ago: “To be everywhere is to be nowhere.

Because, shit for brains, she’d like you to disappear and leave her alone. I’m sure she’d like to stuff you in a hole, but since that isn’t going to happen, second choice is you go home to your new wife and leave her the hell alone. You get that?” Greg

here is something you should probably know about women without being told. We don’t want to have to tell a man we need to be wanted. We’d really like that to come naturally. We’d like a man to pursue us because he wants us, not because he’s out of options.

This cook, Preacher? He's unbelievable. I had some of his venison chili when I first got to town and it almost made me pass out, it was so good." Hi slips curved in a smile. "You at venison, Marcie?" "I didn't have a relationship with the deer," she explained. "You don't have a relationship with my deer either," he pointed out. "Yeah, but I have a relationship with you--you've seen me in my underwear. And you have a relationship with the deer. If you fed him to me, it would be like you shot and fed me your friend. Or something." Ian just drained his beer and smiled at her enough to show his teeth. "I wouldn't shoot that particular buck," he admitted. "But if I had a freezer, I'd shoot his brother." "There's something off about that," she said, just as Jack placed her wine in front of her. "Wouldn't it be more logical if hunters didn't get involved with their prey? Or their families? Oh, never mind--I can't think about this before eating my meat loaf. Who knows who's in it?" -Ian and Marcie

She'd always had a short fuse but lately she was positively electric and could burst into flame anywhere, anytime. ... When she was out of the shower, dry and cool, she had one of those reprieves that came regularly - she felt perfectly normal, sane and in control. Then came the inevitable guilt . . .

Jesus, she was turned-on by his spanking. He should have realized. After everything they'd done Friday night, he knew her taste for sexual adventure more than matched his.

It first was published on the left of the reverse of the dollar bills at the beginning of the New Deal, 1933 by order of President F.D. Roosevelt.

P198 Describe John Moore’s brother’s death: but at heart I believe now, as I believed then, that it was essentially the result of growing up in a household, and a world, where emotional expression of any kind was at best frowned on and at worst strangled. Unfortunately, I’d stated this opinion during the funeral, and was nearly forced into an asylum as a result.

Ah, this is like all bankers are thieves, all lawyers are liars, and all women are whores.’ ‘I’d rather be a whore than a banker.’ ‘That’s handy then. I’d rather be a banker who buys a whore.

Mel arrived, carrying Emma and holding David’s pudgy little hand as he toddled in the door. He spied Jack and said, “Da!” When Jack saw her, his eyes grew warm. It hadn’t changed for him since the first day she’d walked into his bar. She was so damn beautiful, so sexy, even with a baby on her shoulder and a toddler in hand. And though she was still complaining about her figure since Emma was born, the jeans she was wearing sure didn’t look any larger to him—those jeans just set him on fire. He was pretty sure that when she was old and gray, he still wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her. He walked around the bar and crouched for David. He put out his hands. “Come on, cowboy. Come to Dad.” Mel let go of the hand and watched as Davie literally flew into his father’s arms. She laughed at his eagerness, his clumsiness, and her eyes glowed as he fell into his father’s arms.

Paul Henry Carr of Checotah, Oklahoma, proud member of the Future Farmers of America, football and baseball letterman, brother to eight sisters, only son of Thomas and Minnie Mae Carr, died there on the deck of his battered, broken warship.

Mac, my dear friend, here is something you should probably know about women without being told. We don’t want to have to tell a man we need to be wanted. We’d really like that to come naturally. We’d like a man to pursue us because he wants us, not because he’s out of options.

As you walked down the hallway you were likely to be tripped, spat at, cursed, and otherwise maltreated, particularly by those children whose only mental deficiency was that they’d been overindulged, and whose parents clearly could and should have saved themselves the trip to Kreizler’s office.

By the end of the second day a very fine head was revealed. Yes, a very fine head indeed, sharp beard, drooped mustache, heavy-lidded eyes outlined black. And no cinnabar on the lips; that was a measure of my painter’s caliber: excitingly as cinnabar first comes over, he’d known that, given twenty years, lime would blacken it. And, as the first tinges of garment appeared, that prince of blues, ultramarine ground from lapis lazuli, began to show—that really confirmed his class—he must have fiddled it from a monastic job—no village church could have run to such expense. (And abbeys only took on the top men.) But it was the head, the face, which set a seal on his quality. For my money, the Italian masters could have learned a thing or two from that head. This was no catalogue Christ, insufferably ethereal. This was a wintry hardliner. Justice, yes there would be justice. But not mercy. That was writ large on each feature for when, by the week’s end, I reached his raised right hand, it had not been made perfect: it was still pierced. This was the Oxgodby Christ, uncompromising… no, more—threatening. “This is my hand. This is what you did to me. And, for this, man shall suffer the torment, for thus it was with me.

I’d finally gotten ready, even anxious, to adopt another cat, and it’d taken long months of mourning for me to reach that point: my last companion, Suki, had, after four years of unexpected but very close cohabitation, been claimed by the cruelly short life expectancy (just four to five years) of indoor-outdoor felines, especially those in wildernesses as remote as the one we inhabited. In fact, before encountering me and deciding that I was a human she could trust, Suki had lived on her own for two years and raised at least one litter of kittens in the wild, and so had beaten the odds admirably; but her disappearance had nonetheless been a terrible blow,

I don’t have any drug stories to tell about myself. Once somebody met me on the street when my quartet was going into Slug’s […] he said something about getting high and I said, “Yeah – on the music”. For me, it’s hard to understand why a musician needs more than the music. When I went to Europe the first time with Charles Lloyd, after the first or second set there were people coming up to Charles asking him if there was anything they could do for me!Because to them I seemed so crazy that I must be on something! “What can we do for Keith, we’d really want to help him, he looks so far gone!” But I wasn’t drinking, smoking, taking any drugs… I never have taken drugs… no interest in it”.

It was a long time before Mike was able to sleep, even though he hadn’t slept much the previous two nights. He kept wishing Jack and Mel had stayed away a little longer. He’d lain beside her for two wonderful nights. She’d slept right up against him. Platonically, but it had been luxurious. In her sleep she would move closer, snuggle up against him, let him cradle her in the safety of his arms. Trusting him. Believing in him. Her scent still lingered in his mind, real enough so that every once in a while he would catch a whiff so memorable it was almost as though he could reach out and touch her. But he was alone tonight. And when sleep finally did come, it was restless and fraught with dreams, the kind he hadn’t had in a long time. He

I didn’t offer so that you’d feel obligated to me in any way. I mean, who knows? Jack Whatshisname might turn out to be just what you’ve always dreamt of.” “You jealous of him already?” she asked. “You’re goddamn right,” he said, leaning back in his chair, drawing those fierce eyebrows together. “He’s going to spend the next six months with you and I’m not.” “Well, he doesn’t stand a chance,” she said softly. He

As they walked out onto Second Avenue, with David in a body bag, there was one last surreal moment. The singer and composer Diamanda Galás happened to be walking by. She and David had never met, but they'd spoken once on the phone. She shared his commitment to addressing AIDS, in her case through 'The Plague Mass,' which showcased her five-octave range and fierce persona. Galás does not remember being on Second Avenue that night, but she made an indelible impression on Zimmerman and Glantzman. She had walked by, but as they were putting David into the hearse, she spun around and ran back, yelling, 'Who is that? Is that David Wojnarowicz?' Zimmerman and Brown didn't answer. What Glantzman remembers is that Diamanda Galás was there at the door, screaming. 'As if our feelings were amplified,' said Glantzman. 'Hysterical screaming.

Uh-huh. I think she was flattered. It’ll help fill her bucket.” “Huh?” “You know—the bucket...” “What are you talking about?” “Well, the elementary school teachers talk about the bucket a lot. Everyone has one. When people say nice things to you, do nice things, make you feel better about yourself, they’re filling your bucket. When people are mean or insulting or hurtful in any way, they’re emptying your bucket and you don’t want to go around with an empty bucket. It makes you sad and cranky. And you don’t want to be emptying other peoples’ buckets—that also makes you unhappy. The best way is to fill all the buckets you can and keep yours nice and full by looking for positive people and experiences.” She smiled. Troy leaned his elbow on the bar and rested his head in his hand. “What do I have to do to get a job with you?” “Master’s degree in counseling.” She took a sip. “Easy peasy. You’d be great.

Given the fact that Luke and Shelby had been together about a year, Sean didn’t feel as if he was interfering with the honeymoon by hanging around. All that lovey-dovey stuff was not so much about them sealing the deal, as it was about them still being hot to trot, as if they’d just met. And there was a lot of talk about baby making, something that surprised Sean about Luke. However, Luke’s willingness to step up and try to nail that egg, night after night after night, that did not surprise Sean in the slightest. During

When I was very little, my dad would tell me stories about "Billy the Lucky Pup." Billy's doggie buddies were constantly getting in jams, careening toward the brink of something, and Billy would always, always come charging over the hill. With no more than a "ruff, ruff," he would signal that the cavalry had arrived - that Billy was on the case, and disaster had once again been avoided. In those months of relentless havoc, I'd arrive at an odd moment of consideration, and I would think, Where the fuck is that dog, anyway?

He remembered what Mel had said, that Jack needed his boy back so bad, he was pushing on him. He remembered when Mike Valenzuela picked Virgin River as a place to recover when he’d been critically wounded on the job at LAPD—because his family and friends needed him well again so badly they were suffocating him. And he remembered that he’d never loved a kid as powerfully as he loved this one, except maybe David and Emma, and his love was strong. Sometimes it caused him to act in desperate ways. He could end up doing more harm than good. It

Preacher was pacing. “What took you so long?” he asked. Jack looked at his watch. “We’re right on time, Preach.” Paige stood up from the table. “Jack, I’d like you to pour John a shot.” “No, baby. I want to be alert.” “John, you’re way beyond alert. And I don’t think I can take another minute. Do as I say!” Jack went behind the bar. “My man, when a woman is having a baby, you do everything she says, and you do it fast.” He brought down a bottle. “Just a little something to take the edge off.” “I don’t know,” Preacher said. “Preach, you’re six-four and weigh at least two-fifty. A shot isn’t going to do nearly enough good. Mel should probably have you on Xanax.

Look, Mel. Look at that sky. You can’t find that anywhere else on earth. All those stars, that moon—the clear black sky. That belongs to us.” She looked up at the most gorgeous sky imaginable, with more stars than she thought existed. He stepped behind her and with his hands on both of her upper arms, he gently squeezed. “You just can’t see this in the city. In any city.” “It is beautiful,” she said softly. “I admit, this is beautiful country.” “It’s majestic. One of these days, before you pack it in and run for your life, I’d like to show you some things. The redwoods, the rivers, the coast. It’s almost time for whale watching.” She leaned back against him and couldn’t deny it felt pretty good to be shored up by Jack. “I’m sorry about what happened tonight.” He leaned down and inhaled the scent of her hair. “I was really impressed with how well you handled it—but I’m sorry he… I hate that he touched you like that. I thought I had an eye on him.” “Too quick for me. Too quick for you,” she said. He turned her around and looked into her eyes. He thought he saw an invitation there in her upturned face and he lowered his. She put a hand on his chest. “I have to go in now,” she said, a little breathless. He straightened. “We both know I couldn’t throw you,” she said, smiling weakly. “You’ll never have to,” he said. But he still held her arms, so reluctant to let go. “Good night, Jack. And thanks for everything. Despite Nick—I had a good time.” “Glad to hear it,” he said. And he let go. She

Right then, Mel came into the bar, hung her jacket on the peg inside the door and jumped up on a stool in front of her husband, elbows on the bar, leaning toward him for a kiss. “Holy shit,” one of the men said. “Look at that one. Talk about a doe I’d like to bag.” Jack straightened before meeting his wife’s lips. The look on his face wasn’t a pretty one. “You know,” Mike said, laughing uncomfortably, “about our women. You boys don’t want to be giving the women around here any trouble. Trust me on this, okay?” That set up a round of hilarious laughter at the table of hunters and one of them said, unfortunately too loudly, “Maybe the girl wants to get bagged. I think we should at least ask her!” But oops—glancing over his shoulder, Mike saw Jack had heard that. And probably so had Mel. And after what those two had been through earlier in the summer, comments like that were not taken lightly. And

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.

What the hell are you doing here?” Brad glared meanly. “Nice to see you, too, Jack,” he said. “You don’t belong here,” Jack said too loudly. “You left her. You’re done with her.” “Hey,” he said, bristling. “I never stopped caring about Brie. Never will. I’m going to see her.” “I don’t think so,” Jack said. “She’s in no shape to have to deal with you right now.” “You’re not in charge of the guest list, Jack. That’s up to Brie.” “Come on,” Mike said sternly. “Let’s not do this here.” “Ask him if he wants to take it outside,” Jack snapped back. “Yeah, I’ll—” “Whoa,” Mike said yet again, widening the space between the two men. “This isn’t happening here!” Brad moved closer, pushing up against Mike, but lowered his voice cautiously. “I know you’re angry, Jack. In general and at me. I don’t blame you. But if you get tough with me, it’s going to be worse for Brie. And this officer is just going to hook you up.” Jack ground his teeth, pushing up against the other side of Mike. Mike was having some trouble holding them apart. “I really want to hit someone,” Jack said through clenched teeth. “Right now, you’d do as well as anyone. You walked out on your marriage. You left her while she was building a case against that son of a bitch. Do you have any idea what you did to her?” Oh, boy, Mike thought. It was going to happen between these two any second, right in the hospital hallway. Mike was a good six feet and pretty strong, but Brad and Jack were both taller, broader, angrier and not a shoulder injury between them. Mike was going to get hammered when they lost it and started pummeling each other. “Yeah,” Brad said. “Yeah, I do! And I want her to know that I still care about what happens to her. We’re divorced, but we have history. A lot of it good history. If I can do anything now…” “Hey!” Mike said to the cop. “Hey! Come on!” The police officer finally got in it, putting himself between Brad and Jack along with Mike. “All right, gentlemen,” the cop said. “I have my orders. No scuffling outside Ms. Sheridan’s door. If you want to talk this over calmly, I’d like you to move down the hall.” Oh, that was not a good suggestion, Mike thought. If they moved down the hall, they wouldn’t be talking. Mike cautiously backed Jack up a few steps. “Take a breath,” he said quietly. “You don’t want to do this.” Jack glowered at Mike. “You sure about that?” “Back

Jack renovated the cabin without being asked, while I stayed at Doc’s house,” Mel said. “About the time I was going to make a break for it, he showed it to me. I said I’d give it a few more days. Then my first delivery occurred and I realized I should give the place a chance. There’s something about a successful delivery in a place like Virgin River where there’s no backup, no anesthesia… Just me and Mom… It’s indescribable.” “Then there’s Jack,” Brie said. “Jack,” Mel repeated. “I don’t know when I’ve met a kinder, stronger, more generous man. Your brother is wonderful, Brie. He’s amazing. Everyone in Virgin River loves him.” “My brother is in love with you,” Brie said. Mel shouldn’t have been shocked. Although he hadn’t said the words, she already knew it. Felt it. At first she thought he was just a remarkable lover, but soon she realized that he couldn’t touch her that way without an emotional investment, as well as a physical one. He gave her everything he had—and not just in the bedroom. It was in her mind to tell Brie—I’m a recent widow! I need time to digest this! I don’t feel free yet—free to accept another man’s love! Her cheeks grew warm and she said nothing. “I realize I’m biased, but when a man like Jack loves a woman, it’s a great honor.” “I agree,” Mel said quietly. *

Can’t you wait for bed?” “I could, but the house is full of people. Why’d you insist my mother had to stay with us in the house? She was perfectly willing to take a cabin.” “First of all, there’s only one cabin empty and it’s hunting season, and second, I’m not going to have your mother stay under a different roof when we have two perfectly good upstairs bedrooms. That would be rude. Besides, we’re married—we’re allowed to have sex in our own house, in our own bed.” He grabbed her perfect behind in two large hands and pulled her against him. “You’re noisy when you come.” Then he swooped down on her mouth and kissed her like a starving man. When his lips were somewhat satisfied he broke away slightly and said, “And before and after.” “No, I’m not,” she argued. “Uh-huh. Then you snore and talk in your sleep.” “Do not.” “And you missed a period.” “You noticed that? It’s just a little late.” “Did you pee on a stick yet?” he asked her. Shelby shook her head. “I think it’s too soon and I don’t want to be disappointed. Besides, it might be coming—I feel weepy and my breasts are a little sore.” “You’re pregnant,” he said. “And I want to do you in the hay. You can scream until the horses stampede.” He grinned at her. “Maybe I can get you more pregnant.” “Luke…I don’t want to go home with hay in my hair…” “I can take care of that problem,” he said.

Well, hello, Cameron.” “Vanni, how are you?” “Very well, thanks. And you?” She chewed her lip a little bit. Why couldn’t this just be Paul? “I’m good. Listen, I know Virgin River is perfection, but I was wondering if you’d like to get out of town for a weekend.” “A weekend?” she asked, completely unprepared for such a question. “There’s a great seaside hotel in Mendocino, on the ocean. Lots to do around there. Very relaxing and entertaining.” “Cameron, I have a baby.” He chuckled. “I thought maybe I could bring along a pediatrician.” “But, Cameron, I’m really not ready for—” “Easy, Vanni. We’ll get two rooms. Think of it as a chance to get to know each other better, that’s all. And no, I have not mentioned my plans to Carol.” “Oh. Listen—I appreciate the invitation, but I’m not sure I’m ready for something like a weekend date. That’s moving a little fast for me…” “I’ll be a Boy Scout,” he laughed. “Two rooms, good views, great food, a little relaxation, conversation, no pressure…” “I appreciate the thought, really. It’s very nice of you, but…” “All right,” he said. “It was worth a try. Well, then, can I wrangle another run down to Virgin River? I have Jack’s phone number. I could make a reservation at that little cabin…” “You’re welcome anytime,” she said. “Maybe this weekend, since I scheduled it off?” “Sure,” she said without enthusiasm. “Let me know if you decide to come down.” *

Noah smiled at her, then his smile froze. He looked her slowly up and down. And again. “What?” she demanded hotly, hands on her hips. “Nothing,” he said, turning away. “No. What? What’s the matter?” He turned back slowly, put his tools down on top of the ladder and approached her. “I don’t know how to say this. I think it would be in the best interests of both of us if you’d dress a little more…conservatively.” She looked down at herself. “More conservatively than overalls?” she asked. He felt a laugh escape in spite of himself. He shook his head. “Ellie, I’ve never seen anybody look that good in overalls before.” “And this is a bad thing?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s provocative,” he tried to explain. “Sexy. People who work around churches usually dress a little more… What’s the best way to put this…?” “Frumpy? Dumpy? Ugly?” “Without some of their bra showing, for one thing.” “Well now, Reverend, just where have you been? Because this happens to be in style. And I’ll do any work you give me, but you really shouldn’t be telling me what to wear. The last guy I was with tried to do me over. He liked me well enough when he was trying to get my attention, but the second I married him, he wanted to cover me up so no one would notice I had a body!” “The husband?” “The very same. It didn’t work for him and it’s not going to work for you. You didn’t say anything about a dress code. Maybe I’ll turn you in to the Better Business Bureau or something.” “I think you mean the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. Or maybe you should go straight to the American Civil Liberties Union.” He stepped toward her. “Ellie,” he said, using his tender but firm minister voice. “I’m a single man. You’re a very beautiful young woman. I would like it if the good people of Virgin River assumed you were given this job solely because of your qualifications and not because you’re eye candy. Tomorrow, could you please wear something less distracting?” “I’ll do my best,” she said in a huff. “But this is what I have, and there’s not much I can do about that. Especially on what you’re paying me.” “Just think ‘baggy,’” he advised. “We’re going to have a problem there,” she said. “I don’t buy my clothes baggy. Or ugly. Or dumpy. And you can bet your sweet a…butt I left behind the clothes Arnie thought I should wear.” She just shook her head in disgust. “I don’t know what you’re complaining about. You know how many guys would rather have something nice to look at than a girl in a flour sack? Guess you didn’t get to Count Your Blessings 101.” She cocked her head and lifted her eyebrows. “I’m counting,” he said. But his eyes bore down on hers seriously. He was not giving an inch. “Just an ounce of discretion. Do what you can.” She took a deep breath. “Let’s just get to work. Tomorrow I’ll look as awful as possible. How’s that?” “Perfect.

didn’t plan this,” Jack said. “But since it’s you and me—tell me about Brie.” “Tell you what, Jack?” “When she was leaving… It looked like there was something….” “Spit it out.” “You and Brie?” “What?” Jack took a breath, not happily. “Are you with my sister?” Mike had a swallow of his whiskey. “I’m taking a day off tomorrow—taking her down the Pacific Coast Highway through Mendocino to look for whales, see the galleries, maybe have a little lunch.” “Why?” “She said she’d like to do that while she’s here.” “All right, but you know what I’m getting at—” “I think you’d better tell me, so I don’t misunderstand.” “I’d like to know what your intentions are toward my sister.” “You really think you have the right to do that? To ask that question?” Mike asked him. “Just tell me what was going on between the two of you while I was gone.” “Jack, you’d better loosen your grip a little. Brie’s a grown woman. From where I stand, we’re good friends. If you want to know how she sees it, I think she’s the one you have to ask. But I don’t recommend it—she might be offended. Despite everything, she tends to think of herself as a grown-up.” “It’s no secret to you—she’s had a real bad year.” “It’s no secret,” Mike agreed. “You’re making this really tough, man…” “No, I think you are. You spent some time with her tonight. Did it look to you like anything is wrong? Like she’s upset or anything? Because I think everything is fine and you worry too much.” “I worry, yeah. I worry that maybe she’ll look to you for some comfort. For something to help her get through. And that you’ll take advantage of that.” “And…?” Mike prompted, lifting his glass but not drinking. “And maybe work a little of your Latin magic on her and walk away.” Jack drank his whiskey. “I don’t want you to do that to her.” Mike put down his glass on the bar without emptying it. “I would never hurt Brie. And it has nothing to do with whose sister she is. Good night, Jack.

wanted to go with her twenty-year-old brother. “I’m a little old for that, you know. Alan’s fine about it though. He’ll make me laugh all night and say rude things about all the big stars, but they all know him and love him.” “I didn’t expect you to fill my shoes quite so handsomely,” he said, sounding both peeved and jealous, and she laughed. Maybe it was good for him. “I’d rather be with you than Alan any day,” she said honestly. “Just remember that,” he smiled. “That’s one hell of a compliment, Allie. I’ve never thought of myself in the same league with Alan Carr.” “Well, don’t let it

The me I’m working toward—the me who isn’t bitter, who doesn’t begrudge others’ happiness, who is joyful—I doubt she’d stay away from her brother this long, no matter what he’d done or what a little ass he was.

Oh, just a minute, Mrs. Carr. What department at Bonney’s does your husband work in?” “The Roman candle department.” It made me forget, for the moment, what I’d been leading up to. I said, “The Roman candle department! That’s a wonderful phrase; I love it. If I sell the paper, darned if I don’t look up Bonney the very next day. I’d love to work in the Roman candle department. Your husband is a lucky man.” “You’re

The most unfree souls go west, and shout of freedom. —D. H. Lawrence,

It reminded him of the hot-and-heavy days at the height of Iraq’s insurgency. They would hit a house, roll up some bad guys, and exploit the intel gained from the site. Within the hour, they’d be hitting another house down the road based on the information they’d gleaned. It would go on and on like that, house after house, night after night as they dismantled the enemy’s network.

Stay a little while… Oh, boy. Lilly hadn’t realized she’d been longing to hear a man breathe that in her ear. That was nice.

In that moment, as she held her sister, she understood it was true. She was better now, and it wasn’t because of Finn, or her magic manifesting, or anything else. It was because of the work she’d done on herself. The time she’d taken for herself. The months alone in her empty apartment working through things, letting herself be lonely, staying with herself, with her pain, instead of running from it. She wasn’t perfectly healed, and maybe she never would be, but she was better. Stronger.

You can tell your body to do whatever you want, Miss Idina,” he’d told her, his eyes closed and his legs crossed beneath him while a young Idina fidgeted in her attempt at the same position. “When you tell your mind to do what you say, and it finally obeys, this is mastery. Over anything and everything you wish.

I don't mean to be indecisive," she said. "I just want to be sure." "Like I said, that would drive me crazy. I'm much too busy to wait around on someone like you, being sure." "Don't you ever make a mistake?" "Sure I do, but I'd rather redo a mistake than spend days on end waffling. Lord. I do hate waffling.

You are not your potential, Idina. You’re not your intelligence, or your determination, or your drive, or your physical prowess. You’re not your special abilities. You certainly aren’t your family members. Merely a product of them.” “Yeah, I get that part. What does that have to do with the easy way being the hard way?” Slowly, the doctor leaned forward on her bouncy ball and fixed her patient with a wide grin. “Because they’ve trained you to believe that the only way is the hard way. Or that all avenues require strength, determination, persistence, steely willpower, and keeping up with yourself so you don’t fall behind. According to your standards and expectations.” Idina removed her elbow from the armrest to fold her arms instead, frowning. “You make it sound like all I have to do is stop trying.” “Exactly.” “Then I’d never get anything done.” Sullivan nodded, her eyes widening as if she could see the lightbulb flipping on above her patient’s head. “Wrong.

As President Dwight D. Eisenhower said, “You know, farming looks mighty easy when your plow is a pencil, and you’re a thousand miles from the corn field.” The same is true of warfare; it looks mighty easy when your rifle is a budget approval and you are six thousand miles from the battlefield.

I couldn’t be sure what you would be like now, but I couldn’t believe you’d changed that much. And see—I was right. You turned out to be a nice guy.

I know you’d protect me from anything. Even yourself.

I didn’t even try to go after her, and it wasn’t ’cause I didn’t love her—” “No, I know, Johnny.” She caught his hand and squeezed it. “It’s because you did love her. Trust me, I get it.” He froze. “Now that there don’t make any sense.” “What? That I understand why you’d let someone go out of love instead of trying to cling to them forever?” Lisa chuckled. “Okay, sure. It might be hard to understand if I’d never had to do it myself but that’s not the case.

Oh, you’d be surprised how many options there are. I’ve heard us described as a threesome, a triad, a throuple. Someone even called us a trinity once, although that sounds totally cloak and dagger/secret society to me.

He treasured his last visit with her, when, in a moment of lucidity, she’d recognized her only son, reminding him of Gideon’s mission in Judges. “You’ve always been one of the few, James. Keep watching the horizon.

Though he loved the challenge and purity of traditional archery, he also couldn’t separate himself from the adage he’d learned on the battlefield: exploit all technical and tactical advantages.

So, he found the boy and saved him. And then took all his canned stew to the old man next door. Either Ian had changed dramatically or he'd always been the kind of man who was drawn to helping out when he could. She'd seen a few changes in him, but what she suspected was that this life alone was not really who he was. He hadn't run off so much as he'd been abandoned--by the Corps, his girl, his father, his brothers in arms. So he isolated himself a while until he could get his bearings figure out where he was going and how he was going to live. It was possible that the information she brought him about Bobby's last three years and passing helped him find some closure in that. That's what she came to do. If she'd done that, then that was all she could ask.

Pullman’s books, set in a ‘multiverse’ of parallel worlds that include magical creatures, witches and angels, have been criticised as being atheistic, with the Catholic Herald even suggesting they should be burnt. Pullman, however, does not deny the value of the religious impulse, which he believes ‘includes the sense of awe and mystery we feel when we look at the universe, the urge to find a meaning and a purpose in our lives, our sense of moral kinship with other human beings – [it] is part of being human, and I value it. I’d be a damn fool not to. But organised religion is quite another thing.’7

Everything you’ve done here is amazing.” “Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without your support.” “I haven’t been much support lately.” “No, but I knew you’d be back, which was support in itself.

The Edge of Tomorrow, D.G. Finlay (Star Books, 1979) The story of a witch joining puritans making their way to the New World with an interesting subplot: the telepathic communications and psychic battle between the witch and a native American sorcerer.

and they’re a big crowd. My brother has a friend he says would like to take me to a movie, although I suspect my brother might have paid this guy.” “Nah,” Patrick said. “Who wouldn’t want to take you out? Are you ready for that—to go out, I mean?” “Not yet,” she said in a very quiet breath. “It hasn’t been very long....” Just a couple of months, Patrick thought. “And I was with Jake for a long time,” Marie added. Six years. Patrick knew exactly how long it had been. They’d dated for two years and then four years ago Patrick was their best man. Two years ago

that they’d throw me promotions for being female, but

Wanting a woman was something he knew quite well—but wanting to take care of a woman so that she would never hurt, never want, never be afraid or lonely—he had no experience with that. There had been beautiful women in his past; intelligent women, clever women, women with wit and courage and passion, but as far as he could remember, never one like Mel; never before a woman who had everything he’d ever wanted.

hollow laugh. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve got nothing but regrets. Doesn’t just about everyone?” “I expect so. You think I don’t wish I hadn’t worked that second shift? But it was overtime and we always had more month left at the end of the paycheck. I’d done it a hundred times. I never really thought about what it could cost. How about you?” He sighed. “Well, of course I regret speeding, even though I’ve made peace with the changes it brought my life. But it kills me to think I lost Iris before I ever knew how much

T'he dca& id, a bunch of ruunbeha,that mean nothing and everything. That pesky, dangerous box is a booby trap full of good and bad news math. I hate math, I hate the scale. Back in the bun-head ballerina days I would measure myself constantly and then punish or praise accordingly. On punishment days I'd yack. Tis true, tis pathetic, tis my history; a golden nugget that makes me wise and human. However, that box is just that, a small container to cage ourselves. Prison is not sexy. No matter how it looks in the movies, prison is not a place to voluntarily visit.

If I could be anyone, I’d be Abigail Adams.” “Because she did it all?” he asked. “Because she was glad to do it all and never complained, that’s how committed she was to what John was doing. I know—as a woman, a feminist, I’m not supposed to admire a woman who’d do all that for a man, but she was doing it for herself. As if that was the contribution she could make to the founding of America. And they wrote each other letters—not just romantic, loving letters, but letters asking each other for advice. They were first good friends, two people who respected each other’s brains, and then obviously lovers, since they had a slew of kids. True partners, long before true partners were fashionable.

I’d hardly call four years rushing things. I love you and I think I know you better than anyone. I know your favorite food is sushi and that you hate rap music and all about your unhealthy obsession for Gerard Butler.” “Oooo, Gerard,” she teased.

A slender woman greeted me. “You must be Fallon Carr.” Clearly she’d figured out who I was by elimination. Everyone else had arrived, and was seated like good little interns. Shit. With a smile, I nodded. “Yes. Sorry I’m late.” She glanced at a clock. “Looks like you’re on time to me.” And for the love of all things holy, the clock on the wall was a few minutes slow. It was the first thing to go right for me since stepping into the hospital today.

She stayed there for a moment longer, then he was beside her again. Nick. “I waited,” he said. “Oh, Nick. Sorry—but I have to mingle. I’m new in town you know.” And off the stool she leaped, beer in her hand, leaving the plate behind. As Nick made to follow, he found his wrist clamped down on the bar. Jack looked into his eyes darkly. “Your wife is waiting for you over there.” “Be a sport, Jack,” Nick said, laughing. “You’d better behave yourself,” Jack warned. Nick laughed heartily. “Now, Jack—you can’t have all the pretty girls to yourself. I mean, come on, man! All our wives are hot for you—cut a guy some slack.

The vulnerability in her eyes warned him he’d better be very, very careful. One wrong move and she’d jump in that little BMW and shake the dust of Virgin River off the soles of her shoes, the town’s medical needs notwithstanding. He reminded himself constantly that this was one reason he hadn’t sprung the cabin on her yet. Walking away from her last week after Joy’s party had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. He had wanted nothing so much as to crush her to him and say, It’s going to be all right—I can make it all right, all good. Give me a chance. Doc

He touched her lips softly with his, gently, tentatively. Her eyes closed as she allowed this and his arms tightened around her as he pressed more firmly against her lips. Hers opened and his breath caught as he opened his own and felt her small tongue dart into his mouth. His world reeled and he was lost in a kiss that deepened, that moved him, that shook him. “Don’t,” she whispered against his mouth. “Don’t get mixed up with me, Jack.” He kissed her again, holding her against him as though he would never let her go. “Don’t worry about me,” he said against her lips. “You don’t understand. I have nothing to give. Nothing.” “I haven’t asked you for a thing,” he said. But in his mind he was saying, You’re mistaken. You are giving, and taking—and it feels damn good. All Mel could think, in the abstract, was that her body for once wasn’t hollow and so empty she ached. She drank it in, the feeling of being connected to something. To someone. Anchored. So wonderful to have that human contact again. In her soul she had forgotten how, but her body remembered. “You’re a good man, Jack,” she said against his lips. “I don’t want you to be hurt. Because I can’t love anyone.” All he said was, “I can take care of myself.” She kissed him again. Deeply. Passionately. For a long minute; two minutes, moving under his mouth with heat. And the baby fussed. She pulled away from him. “Oh, man, why’d I do that?” she asked. “That’s a mistake.” He shrugged. “Mistake? Nah. We’re friends,” he said. “We’re close. You needed some comfort and—and here I am.” “That just can’t happen,” she said, sounding a little desperate. He took charge, feeling his own sense of desperation. “Mel, stop it. You were crying. That’s all.” “I was kissing,” she said. “And so were you!” He smiled at her. “You are so hard on yourself sometimes. It’s okay to feel something that doesn’t hurt once in a while.” “Promise me that won’t happen again!” “It won’t if you don’t want it to. But let me tell you something—if you do want it to, I’m going to let you. You know why? Because I like kissing. And I don’t beat myself up about it.” “I’m not doing that,” she said. “I just don’t want to be stupid.” “You’re punishing yourself. I can’t figure out why. But,” he said, lifting her off his lap and putting her on her feet, “you get to call the shots. Personally, I think you secretly like me. Trust me. And I think for a minute there, you also liked kissing me.” He grinned at her. “I could tell. I’m so smart that way.” “You’re just desperate for a little female companionship,” she said. “Oh, there are females around. That has nothing to do with anything.” “Still—you have to promise.” “Sure,” he said. “If that’s what you want.” “It’s what I need.” He

He smoothed a little hair off her forehead. “I’m proud of you.” “It was so awesome.” “See? I knew you’d find something here to sink your teeth into.” He reached down, crossed his arms under her bottom and lifted her straight up so that her face was even with his. “Nowwww, what did we decide?” she asked, but her tone was teasing. Her smile was playful. “We decided that I would not kiss you.” “That’s right.” “I haven’t,” he said. “Maybe we should have talked about this,” she added, but she certainly didn’t struggle. In fact, this seemed oddly right. Celebratory. Like being picked up and swung around after the win of a big game. And that was how she felt—as though she’d just scored a touchdown. Arms resting on his shoulders, she clasped her hands behind his head. “We further decided that if you kissed me, I would let you,” he said. “You’re fishing.” “Does this look like fishing to you?” “Begging?” “Doing exactly as I’ve been told. Waiting.” What the hell, she thought. Absolutely nothing could feel better after the night she’d just spent than to plant a big wet one on this guy—a guy who’d keep his business open all night just in case they needed something. So she laid one on him. She slid her lips over his, opening them, moving over his with wicked and delicious intent, getting her tongue involved. And he did nothing but hold her there, allowing this. “Did you not like that?” she asked. “Oh,” he said. “Am I allowed to respond?” She whacked him softly in the head, making him laugh. She tried it again, and this time it was much more interesting. It made her heart beat faster, made her breathe hard. Yes, she thought. It is okay to feel something that doesn’t hurt sometimes. This wasn’t because she was grief-stricken or needy, this was because she was victorious. And all she could think about at the moment was his delicious mouth. When their mouths came apart, she said, “I feel like a total champ.” “You are,” he said, enjoying her mood more than she would ever guess. “God, you taste good.” “You don’t taste that bad,” she said, laughing. “Put me down now,” she instructed. “No. Do it again.” “Okay, but only one more, then you have to behave.” She planted another one on him, thoroughly enjoying his lips and tongue, the strength of the arms that held her. She refused to worry about whether this was a mistake. She was here, she was happy for once, and his mouth felt as natural to hers as if she’d been kissing him for years. She let the kiss be a little longer and deeper than she thought prudent, and even that made her smile. When it was over, he put her on her feet. “Whew,” she said. “We don’t have nearly enough births in this town.” “We have another one in about six weeks. And if you’re very, very good…” Ah, he thought. That gives me six weeks. He touched the end of her nose. “Nothing wrong with a little kissing, Mel.” “And you won’t get ideas?” He bellowed. “You can make me behave, it turns out. But you can’t keep me from getting ideas.” *

You always know what to do,” she said. “Not always,” he said, holding her close. “Right now, for example. I’m not sure what to do.” “Why?” she asked, her eyes still closed, her face buried in his chest. “When are you going to tell me?” She lifted her head. “Tell you?” “About the baby.” “But Jack, you know the baby and mother are—” “The baby inside of you,” he said, placing a large hand over her flat tummy. A startled look crossed her features. She pushed him away a little bit. “Did someone say something to you?” she asked. “No one had to say anything. Please tell me I’m not the last to know.” “I just saw John yesterday—and how in the world would you know?” “Mel,” he said, running the back of one knuckle along her cheek, “your body’s changing. You haven’t had a period. For a while, I thought maybe you’d had a hysterectomy or something because I haven’t noticed a period since the first time we made love, but there’s a blue box under the bathroom sink. You don’t drink your beer, and you get nauseous from time to time. Not to mention being more tired than usual.” “Lord,” she said. “You never think a man will notice. Not things like that.” “Well?” She sighed. “I went to see John yesterday to confirm what I already suspected. I’m pregnant. Three months.” “You’re a midwife. How could you not know at three weeks?” “Because I assumed I was sterile. Infertile. Mark and I did everything to try to get a baby—even in vitro fertilization. To no avail. This was the last thing I ever expected.” “Ah,” he said, finally clear on why she might keep it from him. “So, here we are,” he said. “I’m sorry, Jack. You must think I’m an idiot.” He kissed her. “Of course not. Mel, I’m in love with you.” She was frozen for a second. “Oh, God,” she finally said, plummeted into tears. “Oh, God, Jack!” She buried her face in his chest and wept. “Hey, no reason to cry, baby. You a little surprised? No more than me,” he laughed. “I never thought this could happen to me. It hit me so hard, I damn near fell down. But I love you.” She continued to softly cry. “It’s okay, honey. It’ll be okay.” He stroked her hair. “You want to have a baby, obviously.” She lifted her head. “I wanted a baby so badly, I ached. But do you?” she asked. “I mean, you’re forty.” “I want everything with you. Everything. Besides, I like babies. And I’m wild about pregnant women.” “When did you decide you knew for sure?” she asked him. “At least a month ago.” He put a hand over her breast. “Sore? Haven’t you noticed the changes? Your nipples have darkened.” “I was in denial,” she said, wiping at her tears.

I don’t know what to say. You just accept everything. You’re amazing. I thought you might be very pissed.” “Nah. The only thing that disappoints me is that it took me this long to find you.” “Even with all my baggage?” she asked. “I don’t consider this baggage.” He leaned over and kissed her belly. “I consider this the grand prize.” “You want it?” she asked. “I told you,” he said. “I want it. It makes me happy.” “God,” she said in a breath. “I was afraid.” “Of?” “Of you saying, ‘Holy shit—I’m forty! What do I want with a baby?’” He laughed at her. “I didn’t say that, did I? Nah, I’m ready. A family sounds good.” “Jack,” she said, “I’m still afraid.” “Of?” “Of believing in us. My last stab at something like this ended so, so badly. I thought I’d never get over it. I’m not sure I am yet.” “Well, you’re just going to have to take a leap of faith,” he said. “I think I can do that,” she said. “If you’re there to catch me.” “I’m here,” he said. “I haven’t let you down yet, have I?” She put her hand against his face. “No, Jack. You sure haven’t.” *

You okay, baby sis?” Joey asked. “I’m okay. I lost it last night.” She turned her head and looked up at her older sister. “Why didn’t I see that coming? You did.” “The anniversary of deaths has a reputation,” she said. “Even if you don’t remember the exact date—it’ll sneak up on you and knock the wind out of you.” “It sure did,” she said, laying her head back down on Joey’s shoulder. “I knew what day it was. I just didn’t expect such a dramatic event.” Joey stroked Mel’s hair. “You weren’t alone, at least.” “You just wouldn’t have believed it, even if you’d seen it. I was completely out of control, standing in the rain, screaming. I screamed for a long time. He just held me and let me. He kept telling me to let it out. Then he took care of me like you would a stroke victim. Undressed me, got me into dry clothes, gave me a brandy and put me to bed.” “I think Jack must be a very good man…” “Then

In the early morning as dawn was just beginning to streak through the cabin windows, Jack was stirred awake by the soft sound of slightly off-key humming. He found Mel nestled into the crook of his arm, her breath tickling his chest. She was purring, humming, her lips moving slightly, as though singing. It might’ve troubled him if her expression had been sad or disturbed. But she was smiling. She snuggled closer, throwing a leg over his. And this sleepy little music, contented, drifted out of her. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d spent the entire night in bed with a woman. And already, he couldn’t imagine waking up alone. He pulled her closer knowing he’d never been happier in his life.

You could’ve offered the girl a warm place to sleep,” Jack said. “It’s pretty clear Hope didn’t get that old cabin straight for her.” “Don’t feel up to company,” he said. Then Doc lifted his gaze to Jack’s face. “Seems you’re more interested than me, anyway.” “Didn’t really look like she’d trust anyone around here at the moment,” Jack said. “Cute little thing, though, huh?” “Can’t say I noticed,” he said. He took a sip and then said, “Didn’t look like she had the muscle for the job, anyway.” Jack laughed. “Thought you didn’t notice?” But he had noticed. She was maybe five-three. Hundred and ten pounds. Soft, curling blond hair that, when damp, curled even more. Eyes that could go from kind of sad to feisty in an instant. He enjoyed that little spark when she had snapped at him that she didn’t feel particularly humorous. And when she took on Doc, there was a light that suggested she could handle all kinds of things just fine. But the best part was that mouth—that little pink heart-shaped mouth. Or maybe it was the fanny. “Yeah,” Jack said. “You could’ve cut a guy a break and been a little friendlier. Improve the scenery around here.

He frowned and reached out, lifting a lock of her hair off her shoulder. “Do you have mud in your hair?” “Probably,” she said. “I was standing on the porch, appreciating the beauty of this nice spring morning when one end gave way and spilled me right into a big, nasty mud puddle. And I wasn’t brave enough to try out the shower—it’s beyond filthy. But I thought I got it all off.” “Oh, man,” he said, surprising her with a big laugh. “Could you have had a worse day? If you’d like, I have a shower in my quarters—clean as a whistle.” He grinned again. “Towels even smell like Downy.” “Thanks, but I think I’ll just move on. When I get closer to the coast, I’m going to get a hotel room and have a quiet, warm, clean evening. Maybe rent a movie.” “Sounds nice,” he said. “Then back to Los Angeles?” She shrugged. “No,” she said. She couldn’t do that. Everything from the hospital to the house would conjure sweet memories and bring her grief to the surface. She just couldn’t move on as long as she stayed in L.A. Besides, now there was nothing there for her anymore.

You thinking of messing with my little sister?” he asked. “Because she’s been through a tough time and doesn’t need—” “No, Jack.” He laughed. “I’m not messing with anyone, trust me. But I figured if I kept her busy for a few hours, maybe you could mess with the baby’s mother.” Jack’s eyes narrowed. Mike sipped from his mug. “I’ll keep her out there through nap time,” he said. “Maybe a couple of nap times.” Jack leaned closer to Mike. “You’d better not screw around with my little sister. Remember, I know you and your ways with women, and this is my sister we’re talking about.” Mike laughed. “You think I’m looking to get shot again? Buddy, all that’s in the past. I promise you, I’ll treat Brie as a sister. You have nothing to worry about.” “In the past, huh? And what brought that on?” “Three bullets.

Tell us about your man,” Susan said. “Oh, Jack’s not my man,” she said automatically. “He is the first friend I made in Virgin River, however. He runs a little bar and grill across the street from Doc’s—as much a meeting place as a restaurant. They don’t even have a menu—his partner, a big scary-looking guy named Preacher who turns out to be an angel—cooks up one breakfast item, one lunch item and one dinner item every day. On an ambitious day, they might have two items—maybe something left from the day before. They run it on the cheap, fish a lot, and help out around town wherever needed. He fixed up the cabin I was given to stay in while I’m there.” The women didn’t say anything for a moment. Then Susan said, “Honey, I have a feeling he doesn’t think of you as a friend. Have you seen the way he looks at you?” She glanced at him and as if he could feel her gaze, he turned his eyes on her. Soft and hard all at once. “Yeah,” Mel said. “He promised to stop doing that.” “Girl, I’d never make a man stop doing that to me! You can’t possibly not know how much he—” “Susan,” June said. “We don’t mean to pry, Mel.” “June doesn’t mean to pry, but I do. You mean to say he hasn’t…?” Mel felt her cheeks flame. “Well, it isn’t what you think,” she said. June and Susan burst out laughing, loud enough to cause the men to turn away from their conversation and look up at the porch. Mel laughed in spite of herself. Ah, she had missed this—girlfriends. Talking about the secret stuff, the private stuff. Laughing at their weaknesses and strengths. “That’s what I thought,” Susan said. “He looks like he can’t wait to get you alone. And do unspeakable things to you.” Mel