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, youd like to move there! I hate to break it to you, but youd better unpack those boxesthe town lives only in my mind.
In this book, youll 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 youve told me how much youve enjoyed the strong, handsome, virile men of Virgin River. Youve 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 lawand 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. Its 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 its the right thing to do.
Want to live in Virgin River? Just close your eyes and open your heart.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Special thanks to my very own midwife consultant, Pam Glenn, and to Sharon Lampert, womens 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 Bandys 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. Im so grateful.
This novel is dedicated to Liza Dawson, my right arm, my clear head, my arch and my spine. Your insight is like a beacon, your encouragement like a warm blanket. Thank you from my heart for the incredible affection and energy you give to me.
Contents
One
S helby was within ten miles of her Uncle Walts ranch when she had to pull over to the side of highway 36, the busiest stretch between Virgin River and Fortuna, behind an old pickup truck that looked vaguely familiar. Although 36 was the highway that ran across the mountains from Red Bluff to Fortuna, it was mostly two lane. She put her cherry-red Jeep SUV in Park and stepped out of the vehicle. The rain had finally stopped, giving way to a bright summer sun, but the road was wet and splattered with muddy puddles. She peered way up the road to see a man wearing a bright orange vest holding a stop sign toward a long string of cars, closing both lanes. The turnoff to her Uncle Walts would be on the other side of the next hill.
She picked her way around puddles to the truck parked in front of her, intending to ask the driver if he knew what was going on. When she got to the drivers window she smiled. Well, hey, Doc.
Doc Mullins looked out the open window. Hey, yourself, little girl. Up here for a weekend of riding? he asked with his usual grumpy tone.
Not this time, Doc. I sold my mothers house in Bodega Bay, she said. Packed up the bare essentials and am moving in with Uncle Walt for a while.
Permanently?
Nah. For a few months, though. Im still in transition.
Docs grimace melted slightly, but only slightly. Once again, condolences on your loss, Shelby, he said. I hope youre doing all right with that.
Better all the time, thanks. My mom was ready to go. She tilted her head up the road. Have any idea whats holding us up here?
Soft shoulder gave out, he said. I passed it on my way to Valley Hospital. Dumped half this lane down the hill. Theyre repairing.
Guardrails would be nice, she observed.
Only around the tight curves, he said. On a straightaway like this, were on our own. Damn lucky a car or truck didnt go with that soft shoulder. Its going to be like this the next few days.