Forbidden Falls

“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. Why don’t you get started by sweeping up in the kitchen. It’s large enough for a dozen people to work in there together—it’s a big room. The appliances are all gone, but it’s going to have to be cleaned up before I can put down new flooring and paint. It’s accumulated a good ten years of dirt. Some of my household things are being delivered in a few weeks. After I get the walls patched, textured and painted, and put down flooring over the concrete, I can store my shipment and other things down here while we work on the upstairs.”

“Sure, fine. Are there supplies somewhere?”

“Already in the kitchen.”

“I’m on it, Rev,” she said with a salute, turning on her heel to march off toward the kitchen, treating him to a little skip and fanny wiggle on her way.

Noah grimaced. He looked down at Lucy, who lifted her head and wagged her tail—maybe in sympathy, so he gave her a pat on the head. That went well, he thought. He’d offended Ellie and judged her all at the same time. He already knew she was forced to pinch pennies and couldn’t buy new clothes for a job of cleaning and painting. Besides, the absolute truth was, she was a pleasure to look at. And frankly, you could see more skin and curves on prime-time TV. So what was he afraid of? That stodgy church ladies were going to get uptight, seeing her around town, knowing she was helping him work on the church?

The girl’s having a hard enough time, going up against a judge who is, himself, a patron of the very strip joint he condemns her for working in. She was taking a low-paying church job just to gain enough credibility to get her kids back—credibility she shouldn’t need. Any woman her age willing to work more than one job to afford the most rudimentary stuff of life, having never been separated from her children before except to work, should be plenty convincing.

For a second he wondered if he’d been sucked in by her lost soul. “Pah,” he scoffed aloud. Ellie didn’t seem at all lost. She was a fighter, and that impressed him. He barely knew her and he already admired her. Plus, it was good that she was sassy; she shouldn’t let anyone tell her what to wear.

He was right about one thing, however. She was distracting, even when she wasn’t in the same room. It wasn’t just the visible edges of her bra. Her thick, curly hair, pulled up and cascading down, her creamy skin, sultry, deep brown eyes, full lips, teasing smile, long legs, narrow waist, perfect hips and nice round booty—all that added up to an appearance that couldn’t help but bring sex to mind. And it reminded Noah that he’d been on a serious sex diet for the past few years. Not exactly a starvation diet, but still …

He climbed back up on his ladder and continued to patch the walls while Ellie worked in the kitchen. And while he worked he thought a lot about what had brought him here to this run-down church in Virgin River.

He thought back to something his mom used to ask him from time to time. “What are your goals, Noah?” she had asked.

“I will never be a minister, Mom. Never.”

After a long period of silence, she said, “I’m relieved. I think your father and I have thoroughly ruined you for that.”

As he continued to repair and patch the walls, Noah smiled at the irony—he was embarking on a career he never thought he would have. It was a shame that his mom and Merry weren’t here to see this. They had always supported him and he knew the irony of his current situation would not have been lost on them, either.

Even though it had been a few years since her death, Noah still missed Merry sometimes. Their couple of years together had been magic. She had been such a free spirit; she made him laugh, brought him wisdom and optimism. She was edgy and fun—she took chances and encouraged him to do the same. Merry was a committed soul who cared deeply and loyally about her “causes,” as he called them, and all the people in her life. After she was gone he made a point of remaining in touch with her family. Her parents and siblings were a great support to him even as they contended with their own grief.

The whole idea of considering going back to the seminary came from George, who described it as a combination of dredging the soul for the innermost spirituality, personal faith, teaching, counseling, community and theater. Only George could come up with a combination like that. “You’ve had those leanings anyway,” George had said. “Just check it out.”

“But I will never preach,” Noah said.

“Not that many ordained ministers do,” George said with a shrug. “They’re therapists, minister to sick and needy folk, teach—there are more options than I can list. But along the way you might find out a thing or two about yourself. No harm there.”

In short, Noah was convinced. During his studies, he found out he was meant to try to hold a group of believers together in faith, to lend a hand, to communicate, to educate, to bring hope. To be a friend. There was only one thing that was required of him that he could not do—and that was to forgive his father.

Just last year his mother passed. She had slipped away in the night, having had a stroke at the age of seventy. Noah attended the funeral, even though he hated the idea of seeing his father. But it was the only time in Noah’s life he could remember having the last word with his dad.

Jasper said to him, within the hearing of many others, “Do you see what leaving the family and the faith did? It killed your mother.”

Without missing a beat, Noah replied, “You should be aware that Mother and I have been in touch ever since I left home. She visited twice even though I wouldn’t come back. She was always there for me and we loved one another profoundly. The truth is, I think staying with you was what killed her.”

The shock on his father’s face was priceless; and the insult bit Jasper deep. It had obviously never occurred to Jasper that his wife would keep secrets from him. Maybe it was just that he paid so little attention to her, he was unaware that she kept a close relationship with her son. The reading of the will hammered Jasper with a few more home truths—Inez Kincaid had brought a trust fund to her marriage to a poor preacher who was ten years her junior. Her personal wealth had helped Jasper build a big following, televise his services, evangelize and collect members. She willed half of the fund to Noah. Jasper had expected to receive all of it.

And now Noah was going to run through a great deal of his inheritance fixing up this old church.

He looked in the direction of the kitchen. Another free spirit, he admitted to himself. In a completely different form.

There was a crash, a splash, and Ellie said, “Fuck.”

Lucy came to her feet and Noah looked up. “Very funny,” he said to God. “That kind of thing isn’t going to go over well.” Then he walked to the kitchen, Lucy beside him.

He stood in the doorway and watched as Ellie used the rag mop to try to capture the flood that resulted from a tipped bucket. But that wasn’t where his focus was—he frowned and looked at his watch. The morning had passed without him even realizing it. He’d been completely lost in thought. And while he’d been thinking of his past and patching wall cracks, Ellie had been working like a demon.

The huge, restaurant-size kitchen almost glowed. The floor had been swept, mopped, and was being mopped again. She’d done some things that had made an enormous difference—the high windows were cleaned and spotless, the frames scrubbed of dust, spiderwebs and dirt. The countertops were scoured and disinfected. The cupboards were washed out with their doors standing open. The few remaining kitchenware items that had been abandoned were washed and drying in a dish drain she’d found; all four deep sinks were scrubbed clean, the faucets shining. The room didn’t look like new, but it was clean and fresh and ready for painting and flooring.

She squeezed her mop, straightened and wiped a hand across her forehead, pushing up a curl that just bounced back to hang over one eye. She blew out of her lower lip to cool her face, making that curl flutter in her breath. “Let me guess,” she said. “You heard me say fuck. Sorry. I’ll try not to say it. But I bet if you’d dumped a big pail of nasty mop water on your clean floor, you would have said fuck, too.”

He laughed and just shook his head. “Maybe. It looks good in here, Ellie. Who knew you could do something like this with long, blue, sparkly fingernails.”

“I figured you meant for me to clean it, so I cleaned it.”

“It’s fantastic. I bet you’re hungry. It’s after one.”

She got a very strange look on her face, as though a thought just came to mind or she’d forgotten something. Then she just continued mopping. “Nah, I don’t think I could eat. I really pigged out on pizza last night and I’m still stuffed.”