“Do you have saltines? And shredded cheddar?”

“I will have. Will you tell your uncle?”

She shook her head. “Nope. But I’ll tell Mel so if he’s looking for me, she can keep him under control.”

“I’m serious, Angie—you’ll be in good hands. I’ll treat you like the little sister I never had.”

She smirked and said, “Sounds very exciting. I can hardly wait. What time?”

* * *

Later that afternoon Mel gave Angie a tour of the clinic, which was in an old house that had belonged to the town doctor before he died. He had willed it to Mel. The living room functioned as the waiting room and was decorated like someone’s grandmother’s living room. The dining room was the reception center and file storage. Downstairs also held the kitchen, two small exam/treatment rooms and a little office. Upstairs were a couple of bedrooms—one made up as a hospital room, one for a doctor or practitioner staying overnight, plus a roomy bathroom. Mel showed her where all the supplies were, where the drugs and treatment kits were kept and showed her how to operate the rather old-fashioned autoclaves for sterilizing.

“I love this,” Angie said.

“We could use a lot of updating, but we’re a poor town. Our ace in the hole is the ambulance, which allows us to transport patients to better facilities if necessary.”

“I think it’s wonderful. Do you know what a town in Ethiopia would give for something this grand?”

Mel was stopped in her tracks, focused on Angie’s face. “Hey. What’s going on with you? That was a pretty interesting comment.”

“Nothing much,” she said. “I just think this is—”

“Bullshit. I see those wheels turning. Talk to me.”

“I don’t know. It’s just that…I’m having a hard time seeing myself as one of the doctors who treated me. I mean, they were all incredible and there’s no question they saved my life. But it made me wonder—what happens to people who don’t have UCLA Medical? After the experience I just had, shouldn’t I be ten times as inspired to get back to med school? And yet… Well, that’s what I’ve been thinking about. I’ll figure it out.”

Mel smiled softly. “I’ve only known you for five years, yet in that short time I’ve grown accustomed to the way you think out of the box.”

“But look at this place, Mel—you make a difference here, I know it. When people come here who don’t have money or insurance, they get the help they need. Don’t they?”

“We can’t do everything, but they get our best.”

“And I’ve heard you say—sometimes you’re paid in eggs.”

She laughed. “We’re paid in very interesting ways. One very darling lady from back in the mountains fancies herself a well-known psychic—she offered to pay me by telling me my future.”

Angie gasped. “What is in your future?”

“I can only guess! My past is shocking enough—why would I want to know my future?”

“But what if it’s only wonderful?”

“Then it will still be wonderful when it gets here. Ange, I wouldn’t go to a psychic. I have enough to worry about.”

“But I hear they never tell you the bad stuff!”

“Really?” Mel asked with raised brow. “Then what’s the point? If they don’t tell you what to look out for, what’s the good of hearing about that stuff that will work out just fine, anyway?”

“Oh, there’s so much more to it! I love the idea of a psychic! Maybe I’ll go—do you still have your freebie?”

“I might, but I don’t know…”

“Well, never mind. I have something to tell you.” A slight blush crept up her cheeks as she said, “I’m going to be having dinner with Patrick Riordan tonight. He’s going to cook for us. He insisted I tell Uncle Jack where I’d be and with whom, just in case there’s some worry. But I’m not telling Uncle Jack—he’s gone a little around the bend where I’m concerned. So I’m telling you.”

“Oh, gee, thanks. I just love being the one to keep secrets from Jack,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

Angie laughed. “If you sense Jack getting worked up about where I am, you can tell him.”

“So things are getting interesting between you and Patrick?” Mel asked.

“Not quite. In fact, he assured me he would treat me like his little sister tonight.”

Mel smiled. “Why does that make me feel better?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Angie said. “You should probably visit that psychic and ask her why it makes you happy to learn that your adult niece is going to be treated like an inexperienced child!”

“I don’t need a psychic to explain that,” Mel said.

Chapter Four

Patrick mixed up his chili and had it ready on the stove. He chopped onion and peppers, added them to the ground beef, then opened a bunch of cans—beans and diced tomatoes—and added packaged seasoning mix. It was a real poor man’s chili, but delicious nonetheless. Then he headed for the phone to call Marie, even though he’d already talked to her for a few minutes in the morning.

When Jake had been killed, Marie left Charleston almost immediately. There was a memorial a week after the crash and then her family swept her away, headed for home—Oklahoma City. The Navy had ensured her move was swift and efficient.

“You don’t have to go,” Patrick had said. “I have a big enough house. Have the Navy put most of your stuff in storage and take your time. You have ties in Charleston—friends, a job, a city you know and like....”

“The hardest thing to leave is you,” she said. “You’ve been such a good friend to me. But you’ll deploy again before long.”

“Not too soon, and I’ll be back. And we’ll keep in touch.”

But she just shook her head. “Navy wives are very supportive of one another, in good times and bad, but my friends shouldn’t be responsible for holding me upright. I’m sure we’ll always be in touch but, like it or not, the Navy part of my life is over. I’m going home.”

A few weeks later, the Navy shrink told him that, rather than going back to the ship, he thought Patrick should take as much leave as the Navy would allow. At that point Patrick headed for Oklahoma City. He stayed in a neighborhood motel near Marie’s parents’ home, intending to be her support for as long as she needed. There was no mistaking she was thrilled to see him even though they’d barely said goodbye in Charleston. But after four days she had said, “Paddy, I don’t know what I’m going to do without you, but you have to check in with your brothers, your family. You need healing as much as I do.”

“We can heal together,” he said. His guilt weighed on him. No matter what anyone else said, Patrick felt as though he had some responsibility in Jake’s death. And now, the least he could do was offer himself up to Marie. He hadn’t been able to save her husband. He should at least be able to save her.

“Right now I’m going to rely on my parents, sister and brother and figure out how to face the holidays without Jake. Go to your family and let them comfort you.”

He tried to argue a bit; his family wasn’t expecting him for the holidays—he was supposed to be at sea. Jake’s death might’ve changed a few things for him but the Riordans had other plans.

“It’s not like they won’t be grateful for a visit,” Marie had said. “And in some ways your wonderful vigilance makes this even harder. We’ll be in touch and we’ll see each other again soon when we’re both a little stronger. Then we can spend more time laughing over the good times we had with Jake and less time crying and agonizing over our loss.”

That’s when Patrick had reached out to Aiden and asked about the cabin. No doubt he could have counted on either Luke or Colin for a bed, but he couldn’t stay with anyone right now. He had to be alone because of the nightmares. They didn’t come every night, but often enough. He’d managed to get all that leave without even mentioning the dreams, but he’d be damned if he’d wake up screaming in his brother’s house. He said he needed privacy and quiet and everyone bought it.

There was a part of him that had been disappointed when Marie sent him on his way, but a part of him was enormously relieved. With Marie he could lick his wounds and have company while missing Jake, but it was all a reminder that there was no one special in his life. And that he’d put far too much stock in a woman who hadn’t been there for him—Leigh. And it reminded him of how much responsibility he now carried. He had to look after Marie and Daniel, perhaps forever. He’d given his word.

But while his chili simmered, he called Marie again. “How are you doing?” he asked instead of saying hello.

“Pretty well, actually,” she said. “I forgot to tell you—last week, before Thanksgiving, I made an appointment with an employment counselor. I’m going to see him next week. I know jobs are scarce in this economy, but I’m a certified radiology technician. Jobs might not spring up over the holidays, but I’m a qualified candidate and I’ll be ready in the new year. And you know what? It feels kind of good to get started.”

“You’re committed to Oklahoma City?” he asked.

She answered with a laugh. “What are my choices, Paddy?”

“Well…there’s always Charleston.”

“Aw, sweetheart, I don’t have any family there and I have a son to raise.”

“I’m still there.”

“You’re there a few months a year. Listen, that was a hard enough gig when I had a husband coming home to me. It’s not going to work with my dead husband’s best friend.”

“It could,” he said. “I will always be there for you.”

“You are a saint and might live to regret it. I could be calling on you till I’m a lonely ninety-year-old widow. What you need, Patrick, is a woman.”

“Oh, really?” he said.

“You and Leigh parted company a long time ago, and unless you’re really good at covering your feelings, you weren’t real surprised and not all that disappointed.”

“I was very surprised and disappointed!”

“All right, all right,” she said, surprising him with a laugh. “You bounced back well and good for you. What I’m saying is, you can find a good woman now. It no longer has the danger of rebound written all over it. Just look around, Patrick.”

“In Virgin River? Right.”

“They’re forming a line in Charleston as we speak,” she said, teasing him. “Paddy, you’re there for me, I’m there for you, but, my darling friend, you’re going to find the right woman before long. You just have to be open to it.”

Having chili with a cute little package tonight, he thought. Just not girlfriend material. “Right. Sure. Meantime, I have a house in Charleston where you had a life—where you can still have one. Keep an open mind, all right? Because you and Daniel are family to me.”

“You’re very sweet,” she said. “The best friend a widow girl could have.”

He didn’t say much to that, just asked after her folks, Daniel and the weather and then said goodbye. It was too soon for her to think of him as more than a friend. But he had begun to formulate a plan in his mind. He was almost thirty-four and wanted stability in his life—a woman he could depend on, a family, a future he could trust as much as was possible. And here he was—committed to his best friend’s widow. Wasn’t it smart to form a committed relationship with someone who was a best friend, someone he could depend on, someone he really knew? He wasn’t in love with her, at least not in the conventional sense, but how important was that in the grand scheme of things? She was an awesome woman, very pretty, extremely smart, an excellent mother and had unshakable values. He could step into Jake’s shoes effortlessly. He could love her for a lifetime; he would never regret it. He was trying to remember what more there was to consider, to hold out for, when there was a knock at the door.