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The American Library Association’s Booklist names Virgin River one of 2007’s top ten romances.
“The Virgin River books are so compelling—I connected instantly with the characters and just wanted more and more and more.”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber
“Robyn Carr creates strong men, fascinating women and a community you’ll want to visit again and again. Who could ask for more?”
—New York Times bestselling author Sherryl Woods
“Virgin River is sexy, tense, emotional and satisfying. I can’t wait for more!”
—New York Times bestselling author Carla Neggers
“A thrilling debut of a series that promises much to come.”
—New York Times bestselling author Clive Cussler
“Jennifer is a beautifully drawn character whose interior journey is wonderful to behold.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Runaway Mistress
“This is one author who proves a Carr can fly.”
—Book Reviewer on Blue Skies
“Robyn Carr provides readers [with] a powerful, thought-provoking work of contemporary fiction.”
—Midwest Book Review on Deep in the Valley
“A remarkable storyteller.”
—Library Journal
“A warm, wonderful book about women’s friendships, love and family. I adored it!”
—New York Times bestselling author Susan Elizabeth Phillips on The House on Olive Street
“A delightfully funny novel.”
—Midwest Book Review on The Wedding Party
Second Chance Pass
Robyn Carr
www.mirabooks.co.uk
Dear Reader,
Welcome back to Virgin River!
Many of you have written to ask if Virgin River is based on an actual town because, if it is, you’d like to move there! I hate to break it to you, but you’d better unpack those boxes—the town lives only in my mind.
Second Chance Pass, Temptation Ridge and Paradise Valley are the next three books in the VIRGIN RIVER series. You’ll be reacquainted with some old friends, as well as making some new ones. As in life itself, the series continues with stories of romantic fulfillment, of lessons learned and of some hard goodbyes. In your letters you’ve told me how much you’ve enjoyed the strong, handsome, virile men of Virgin River. You’ve admired the beauty, inner strength and intelligence of the women. But what I hear about most is your love for a place where commitment is law—and not just romantic commitment, but the bonding of brotherhood, the fealty of neighbors, the loyalty of an abiding friendship.
I know many of you have ties to the military, and the fact that the Virgin River men have served their country in times of war has added greatly to their charisma. Apart from their obvious sex appeal, it is their solid, emotional core that so many of you have responded to. These characters embody values we all regard as admirable. Honorable.
So although Virgin River is a fictional town, it can be created in any heart. It’s a place where a glass is half-full, where people gain strength from shouldering their burdens and challenges, where people do the right thing simply because it’s the right thing to do.
Want to live in Virgin River? Just close your eyes and open your heart.
Robyn Carr
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Special thanks to my very own midwife consultant, Pam Glenn, and to Sharon Lampert, women’s health nurse practitioner, with deep appreciation for all the long talks, advice, reading, editing and most of all, for being extraordinary friends.
Chief Kris Kitna of Fortuna, California, Police Department has been a wealth of information on local detail, law enforcement, firearms, hunting and so many other things. Special thanks for never tiring of my constant questions.
Debbie Gustavson, physical therapist extraordinaire, my gratitude for taking so much time to help me understand the physical, emotional and psychological stages in rehabilitation and recovery. Your patients are very, very lucky to have you. And I am blessed to have you as a friend.
Without Kate Bandy’s input on every fresh manuscript, I would be so lost. Thank you for all your time, your valuable comments, your undying support and a friendship that has sustained me for decades.
Michelle Mazzanti, thank you for reading early drafts and propping me up. Every comment offered was always spot-on and crucial to helping me craft a better book.
Special thanks to Rebecca (Beki) Keene and Sokreatrey (Ing) Cruz, my two dear Internet friends. Beki gets applause for helping to solve plot problems and Ing is a genius at coming up with character names. Your support through a million e-mails discussing characters and stories has been priceless.
Thanks again to Denise and Jeff Nicholl for reading and commenting on manuscripts, and for wonderful encouragement and friendship.
To Colleen Gleason, talented author and special friend, thank you for hand selling so many copies of the Virgin River series. You are like a one-man band!
And a very special and heartfelt thanks to my editor, Valerie Gray, and to my agent, Liza Dawson. What a fabulous team. Your diligence and assistance at every turn made this little town and its people possible. I’m so grateful.
This novel is dedicated to Valerie Gray,
my editor and friend. Your commitment
and support has made everything possible.
Your dedicated work has made everything better.
Your affection has made everything sweeter.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Prologue
Paul Haggerty was finally back in Grants Pass after almost six months in Virgin River and there was an ache in his chest he just couldn’t ease. The last six months had been hell.
Paul had gone to Virgin River back in the autumn to help finish Jack Sheridan’s new house. Much to his surprise, he discovered Vanessa Rutledge was living in Virgin River with her father and younger brother while her husband, Matt, served in Iraq. She was pregnant with Matt’s baby and looking more beautiful than ever. Seeing her had reminded Paul of the serious “thing” he’d had for Vanessa since first laying eyes on her all those years ago. But his best friend was the one she had married. Then life went into fast forward.
Just before the baby was born they all had a video conference with Matt. The call was mostly for Matt and Vanni as it was the first time in six months they’d seen one another. Then everyone else got to say a quick hi and when it was Paul’s turn Matt had said to him, “If anything goes wrong over here, look after Vanni.”
It couldn’t have gone more wrong. Matt was killed in an explosion in Baghdad the first week in December. It had been a terrible time and Vanni had asked Paul to stay until the baby came—another two months. Of course he agreed, and all that time he held it together so Vanni could lean on him. But the strain of the situation, his secret love for Vanni and his grief for his best friend ate him alive.
He thought going home to Grants Pass would ease the pain or at least distract him from it, but instead the pressure continued to build. A night out drinking with some of his construction crew and getting painfully loaded, only added a miserable headache to his breaking heart. He felt like a dead man, slogging through the days, tossing through the sleepless nights.
Without thinking too much about it, he called a woman he’d been out with a couple of times. Terri. He needed the distraction of someone who wasn’t already caught up in his drama. What qualified Terri was that their friendship had been easy; there was no clinging, no expectations. Plus, she used to make him laugh. She was simply a nice young woman, twenty-nine years to Paul’s thirty-six. Terri was the only woman he’d been out with in a couple of years, and he hadn’t talked to her in six months. That, if anything, should have told him something, but he hadn’t been paying attention.
He started out the conversation with, “Hey, Terri. Long time.” He asked her to dinner, but first confirmed that she wasn’t in a relationship—he didn’t want to complicate her life.
She laughed at that. “I wish,” she said. “No boyfriend, Paul. In fact, I’ve hardly gone out in the past few months. Let’s go someplace quiet and low-key, just catch up.” This was just the response he’d been hoping for and he’d been so grateful.
Paul rang her doorbell and when she came to her apartment door, he realized he had forgotten how pretty she was. Small of stature with shoulder-length dark brown hair and large eyes, she flashed him the bright, sexy smile that first got his attention a year ago. She laughed that wild laugh of hers and threw her arms around his neck. “God, it’s great to see you! I can’t wait to hear your excuse for disappearing for months!”
“Hey, remember Rosa’s? That hole-in-the-wall Mexican place? How about we go there?”
“Love it,” she said.
Paul stared straight ahead as he drove them to the restaurant, his jaw locked. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and shifted in his seat; maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, he thought. When they walked in the door, Terri pointed to a dark, corner booth and said, “Back there.” And when they sat down she said, “You’re not a real talkative guy, Paul, but it’s obvious something’s wrong.”
“I just got back to town from California. I’m a little behind on everything.”
She was shaking her head. “No, it’s more than that. You’re upset and nervous, and I wasn’t going to say anything, but you have dark circles, like you’re not sleeping. Since I haven’t seen or heard from you in a long time, I know it isn’t anything I did. You act like you just got out of prison. Go ahead—I’m a good listener.”
That was all it took. He ordered himself a beer and a glass of wine for Terri and let it spill. Best friend, dead. Best friend’s wife pregnant. Him hanging around, trying his best to hold her up.
“Good God,” she said, shaking her head. “You could have called me, you know. I mean, going through something horrible and not having anyone to talk to can make things so much worse.”
“I feel like a real jerk dumping on you now,” he said.
“Well, save it. I’m a girl, girls talk about their tragedies and heartaches. And if you don’t get it out, it’s going to eat a hole in you.”
“That’s how it feels,” Paul admitted. “Like I swallowed acid. Matt and I became best friends in junior high. I have two brothers but Matt was an only child, so he spent more time at my house than his own. We served in the Marine Corps together—he stayed active while I went to the reserves. I think my mom and dad were hit as hard by his death as I was. But his wife…Aw, Terri. I’ve never seen anything so painful. Here she was, about to have their first child, and she would cry until she was weak and dry. All I could do was hold her. But it was worse at night when the only sound in the house was Vanni sobbing in bed.”
Terri reached for his hand. “Paul…”
He held her hand while he talked. “When the baby came, she wanted me with her. Because Matt couldn’t be, I guess. It was the worst and best thing I’ve ever done, seeing that baby being born. It made me so proud to hold Matt’s baby.” He looked away and blinked back emotion. “On his headstone they put Matt Rutledge, beloved husband, father, brother, son, friend. That brother part—that was for me, for us, the brothers in arms. It just doesn’t feel like he’s gone. But he’s so gone and I just can’t seem to get over it. And if I’m feeling this way then Vanni must be torn to pieces.”
Right then the food was delivered, but they didn’t eat much. Paul had another beer and told her stories of growing up with Matt, playing football, driving their parents’ cars too fast, trying to hustle girls with little success, enlisting in the Corps after two years of college and Matt’s parents going absolutely, totally, cosmically nuts. “My parents weren’t happy, but Matt’s were out of their minds. Matt’s mother was convinced that I’d talked Matt into it, but the truth is, that’s what he wanted. Period. I went along because I didn’t want him going in alone. Or maybe I didn’t want to stay behind without him. My mom used to say we were joined at the hip.”
Their plates were taken away, and they lingered over coffee while Paul continued to reminisce. Pretty soon they’d been in that corner booth for a couple of hours.
“I’ve never lost anyone that close,” Terri said, her eyes liquid. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be. You should have called me, Paul. You shouldn’t have shouldered that alone, without support.”
He squeezed her hand. “When I called you, I didn’t have any intention of dumping all this on you. At least not consciously. I thought you’d take my mind off it for a while. But talking to someone who isn’t in the middle of it helps,” he said. “The whole bunch of ’em in Virgin River are so frickin’ torn up—Vanni, her dad, her little brother—I couldn’t let down my guard for a second. Even around my own family—my mom starts crying the second Matt’s name comes up.”
“You must feel like you’re going to explode,” she said.
“You know what I wish?” Paul said. “I know this is nuts—I wish I’d been there with him. I wish it had been me instead of him.”
She was shaking her head. “No. Oh, Jesus, no.”
“He’s got a family. He should be with them. You just have no idea the kind of man he was—he took loyalty to the next level. I could always count on Matt.”
“He counted on you, too. He asked you to look out for his wife…”
“He wouldn’t have had to ask.”
“Paul, you did for Matt what he would have done for you.”
Paul was reflective for a few moments realizing that this woman he’d been out with a few times, slept with a couple of times on a mutually agreed to “friends with privileges” status, could bring him this degree of comfort and understanding. “I owe you, Terri,” he said. “I didn’t realize how much I needed to talk to someone about this.”
She smiled. “Men,” she said, shaking her head. “All that stoicism wrecks your stomach. And usually causes migraines.”
He grinned at her, feeling almost human. “I’ve never had a migraine, but I think my headache’s letting up. For the first time in a while.”
“Look around,” she said. “There’s only one other couple in here, and they’re eating. Let’s get out of here before they start putting the chairs upside down on the tables and mopping the floor.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’ve put you through enough. And thanks. For listening.”
When he walked her up the stairs to her second floor apartment, she turned and asked, “Would you like to come in?”
He shook his head immediately. Terri had done a lot for him tonight, just giving him a place to unload. He wasn’t about to take advantage of that. “I don’t think so. But thanks.”
She smiled up at him. She pulled on his hand, drawing him into the apartment. “I’d better not,” he said again, but he said it more softly. And when the door closed, he found his hands were on her waist, his mouth seeking her mouth. And just like the last time he’d been with her, she was up on her toes to reach him, circling his neck with her arms, leaning in to him.
“No,” he said against her mouth. “I’m all screwed up. Tell me no.”
She pressed against him, tonguing his lips apart. “I would hate doing that.”
And he was gone. Brain freeze took over. He had no judgment, no willpower. He was all raw need and pain and gratitude. This was as unburdened as he’d felt in months and he was weak from having carried that grievous load for so long. Before a whole minute had passed, he had Terri down on the couch, kissing her, touching her, hearing her say, yes, yes, yes, yes.
He had one moment of sanity before he slipped his hand under her knit shirt. “Terri, this isn’t a good idea…I didn’t call you for this…I didn’t plan on this…”
“I didn’t, either,” she whispered, letting her eyes fall closed. “God, I missed you.”
Paul’s brain took a hike. He was all physical sensation. He was hard; she was soft. He was desperate, she was hot and willing, and beneath him she seemed as needy as he felt. He ground against her, her bare breast in his hand, his tongue licking its way along her neck. Her hands were on his belt buckle, then his zipper; his hands were tugging at her clothes while she squirmed and moaned. His lips were on her nipple; her hand wrapped around him and he almost lost it. He grabbed for his pocket, pulled an old condom from his wallet and, in a hoarse, desperate whisper he asked, “You have your side covered?”
“The pill, remember?” she answered breathlessly. “Oh God, oh God, oh God.”
Paul felt his pulse slow just slightly. The gentleman in him had to be sure she wasn’t left hanging so he took a moment, slid a finger along that erogenous knot in her very center while his lips tugged at her breast and when her sighs turned into near cries, he entered her, pumped his hips, waited for pleasure to lock her hips against him and steal her breath away, and he let months of misery spill out of him.
The first thing he felt, while he panted and tried to catch his breath, was overwhelming relief. Basic, primal, physical relief, as potent as a narcotic. The next thing he felt was regret. He shouldn’t have done that. Even though they had an understanding he could sense that she cared about him. Why else would she listen to him with such sensitivity; draw him inside and welcome this encounter.
But he loved someone else.
Haggerty, you are a brainless fool! he thought to himself.
But he put a hand against the hair at her temple and brushed it back over her ear while she drifted slowly back to earth and her eyes opened. “Okay?” he asked.
She nodded and smiled. “God, I missed you so much.”
He gently kissed her lips. “I shouldn’t have let that happen. I’m too messed up. But thank you.”
She put a palm against his cheek. “My pleasure,” she said softly, smiling.
He held his weight off her and even though he felt stupid and guilty, he managed to smile at her. When a respectable length of time had passed, he said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay. I’d better get going.”
“I know. But maybe it won’t be six months until you call me again.”
“It won’t be,” he said. He would call her again, take her out for a drink, and try to explain that even though he didn’t have any reason to be optimistic, his heart was tied up elsewhere. And as long as that was the case, it was wrong for him to be intimate with Terri. She was a good person. She deserved better.
One
Vanessa Rutledge stood in front of her husband’s grave, her coat pulled tightly around her against the crisp March breeze, red hair billowing in the wind. “I know this is going to seem like a strange request—but I just don’t know who else to ask. Matt, you know I love you, that I’ll always love you, that I see you in your son’s eyes every day. But, darling, I’m going to love again, and I need your blessing. If I have that, I’d like you to give the man who is to be my future a little nudge. Let him know it’s all right. Please? Let him know he’s so much more than—”
“Vanessa!”
Her father was standing out on the deck behind the house holding the baby away from himself, like he’d just pooped on his mess dress. It was past time to leave. Little Matt had been born six weeks ago and this morning they were both seeing Mel Sheridan for their first checkups since his birth. Her father, retired general Walt Booth, was acting as chauffeur so that he could watch the baby while Vanessa had her exam.
“Coming, Dad!” she called. She looked back at the grave. “We’ll have a real conversation about this later,” she told the headstone. She blew a long kiss in that direction and hurried down the little hill, past the stable and up to the house.
The last place Vanessa ever expected to find herself was in a tiny mountain town of six hundred. When her father chose this property a couple of years before his retirement from the Army, she and Matt had taken a look at it. Matt fell in love with it at once. “When I go,” he had said, “plant me on that little hill, under that tree.”
“Stop it!” she had laughed, slapping his arm, neither of them realizing how prophetic his words would be.
There was a time, years before she met Matt, that Vanni had envisioned herself as a high-powered news anchor; using her degree in communications. She decided to take a year before pursuing an eighty-hour-a-week career path and, on a whim, went to work as a flight attendant. One year turned into five because she loved the job, the travel, the people. She’d still been working for the airline when Matt left for Iraq. It was her loneliness and advancing pregnancy that had sent her packing to Virgin River. She had thought it would be temporary—she’d have the baby, wait for her husband’s return from war and move on to his next assignment with him. Instead Matt was brought here, to that little hill with the tree on it.
She didn’t cry as much anymore, though she missed him; missed the laughter, the long, late-night talks. Missed having someone hold her, whisper to her.
Walt had the diaper bag slung over his shoulder and was headed for the car. “Vanessa, you spend too much time talking to that grave. We should’ve put him somewhere else. Out of sight.”
“Oh, dear,” she said, lifting a curious eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Matt hasn’t been complaining that I’m bothering him, has he?”
“Not funny,” he said.
“You worry too much,” she told her dad, taking the baby from him to put him in the car seat. “I’m not brooding. There are some things no one but Matt should hear. And gee, he’s so handy…”
“Vanessa! For God’s sake!” He took a breath. “You need girlfriends.”
She laughed at him. “I have plenty of girlfriends.” She had lots of girlfriends from flying days and, even though they didn’t live nearby, they were great about visiting and staying in touch, giving her every opportunity to talk about Matt, about grief, then about the baby and recovery. “You’ll be happy to know Nikki’s coming up for the weekend,” she said. “A girlfriend.”
Walt hefted himself into the driver’s seat. “We’ve been seeing a lot of Nikki lately. Either she can’t stay away from the new baby or things aren’t going so well with her and that…that…” Walt couldn’t seem to finish.
“She can’t stay away from the baby and no, things aren’t going well with Craig. I smell a split coming,” Vanessa said.
“I never liked him,” Walt said with a grunt.
“No one likes him. He’s an ass,” Vanni said. Her best friend, too sweet for her own good, wanted a husband and children, but instead was stuck with a live-in arrangement that had gone flat years ago, leaving her almost as alone as Vanni.
Vanni had other friends besides fellow flight attendants. She’d begun to grow close to some of the women in town—her midwife, Mel Sheridan; Paige, who worked alongside her husband in the only bar and grill in town; Brie, Mel’s sister-in-law. Still, there were some things only Matt would understand.
When you live in a place like Virgin River where the doctor’s office only makes appointments on Wednesdays, it’s a pretty good bet there won’t be any waiting around. Sure enough, Mel was standing in the reception area right inside the door waiting for them to arrive. Her face lit up in delight as they walked in and she immediately reached for the baby. “Ooooh, come heeeere,” she sang. “Let me look at you!” She lifted him as if weighing him. Then she cuddled him close. “He’s looking good, Vanni. Getting nice and fat on the breast.” She looked at Walt. “How’s Grandpa doing?”