Paradise Valley by Robyn Carr Page B

quiet for a moment. “Then you can’t ever stop doing it,” he said.
    “I don’t know about that. I was a full-time actress for forty years and I worked whenever I could get work, which, fortunately for me, was very often. Now if I work, it will be for something I consider very important, very much worth my personal investment. I put a lot of myself into these roles, it’s not just showing up on the set. I’m lucky—I like this life I have here and I no longer have to work full-time to make ends meet. For someone in my business, it’s a huge luxury.”
    “I hope the way I say this doesn’t come out wrong,” Walt said. “I hope you have lots of chances to do something that fills you up like that. And I hope you don’t.”
    She smiled. “We’re going to work this out, Walt. There are lots of options for us. You can always travel, too. Come to me.”
    He stiffened in shock. “Muriel, can you honestly see me on a movie set? With two dogs following me and a pitchfork in my hand?”
    It made her giggle. “I can see you almost anywhere.”

    In only a couple of days, Rick’s pain management was greatly improved. As long as he didn’t get behind on the drugs, he’d be relatively comfortable. And while he wouldn’t get his final prosthetic leg for two to three months, he’d begin rehab immediately and have a temporary limb he could work with in a few weeks. They were going to ship him out to the Naval Medical Center in San Diego to at least start his rehab until they could find a facility closer to home. But he didn’t necessarily want to be closer to home.
    “If it can be worked out,” Jack said, “I’d like to bring you home to Virgin River to stay with me and Mel. We can get you to rehab several times a week—”
    Rick looked down into his lap. Every time he did that, the stump shocked him. “Listen,” he said quietly. “I appreciate it, I do, but I already told the caseworker I didn’t care where they sent me for rehab. Because I don’t want to go home with a walker or crutches. Without a leg.”
    Jack was mute for a second, staring at him. This was the first he’d heard of this. He grabbed a chair from across the room and pulled it right up to Rick’s bed and spoke quietly so as not to be overheard by the other patients. “That’s not necessary, Rick. It’s not as if you can keep this a secret. I called Mel, told her your condition so she could tell all those people waiting to hear. It had to be done.”
    “I know. I’m not trying to keep it a secret. I’m alive, that’s enough. But if there’s going to be a struggle, I don’t need everyone watching.”
    “You sure you want to take that route?” Jack asked. “Because I don’t see a lot of watching, but maybe a lot of supporting. We’re on your team. You can’t be as happy to be alive as we all are to have you alive.”
    “Listen, can I just do this my way? This isn’t going to be simple. Do you know how much is involved in getting a leg? Learning to use it? I just heard a little about it this morning and it sounds like—It takes a long time, it hurts, it’s hard to manage, do you realize that?”
    “I absolutely do,” Jack said. “Me and Liz, we’ve been reading up. Talking to people. Learning the ropes. So we can do whatever you need us to do.”
    Rick looked away. “I need you to leave me alone.”
    Jack was speechless for a second. Then he gathered himself up and spoke. “Okay, I’m done screwing with this. You have to see Liz now. Today. A couple of days ago you—”
    “I know,” he said, not making eye contact. “It was the pain. I know I overreacted. I’ll see her. I’ll tell her I’m sorry about how I acted.”
    “Look at me,” Jack said sternly. When Rick met his eyes, Jack said, “I know you’re not in a good place right now, but this will pass. I’m going to send Liz in. At the least, tell her you didn’t realize you were being mean and that you appreciate her coming all this way and sitting in a