Virgin River (18 page)

“That’s nice, Mel.”

“I really appreciate this. Boy, whew. I’m sure not much of a drinker. I think I’m a one-beer girl. Two if I’ve had a side of beef and an apple pie.”

“I think you’ve assessed the situation correctly.”

“If I ask for the good stuff again, be sure to ask me if I’ve had food.”

“Sure will,” he said.

She laid her head back on the seat. Within five minutes, it lolled. And Jack spent the rest of the drive wondering a couple of things. One—what if she roused enough as he was taking her inside to invite him to stay? That would be okay, wouldn’t it? Even though she was just a “tish” disadvantaged? Or—what if she didn’t rouse and he just lay down beside her to be there in case she woke and decided it was time? That would be okay. Or maybe he could just wait on her couch, in case she needed anything…like sex. Then if she woke up during the night he’d be there. He’d be ready. He’d
been
ready.

He played a dozen scenarios in his mind. He would carry her to her room and she would wake and say, “Stay with me tonight.” He really didn’t have the strength to say no. Or, she would wake and he would kiss her and then she would say, “Okay.” Or morning would come, he would already be there and she would say, “Now, Jack.” Whoo boy. He was getting a little warm.

But she was still asleep when he pulled up in front of her cabin. He unbuckled her and lifted her out of the truck. He whacked her head on the door frame. “Ow!” she yelled, her hand going to her head.

“Sorry,” he said. And thought to himself, foreplay that was
not.

“S’okay.” She laid her head back on his shoulder.

Now, he thought, I should stay to be sure she doesn’t have a concussion. And that she doesn’t need sex for it. Or just to be there in case she did…

He carried her across the porch, through the door to her room and, flipping on the light, laid her on the bed. Without opening her eyes she said, “Thank you, Jack.”

“You’re welcome, Melinda,” he said. “Your head okay?”

“What head?”

“Okay. Let’s get your boots off.”

“Boots. Off.” She lifted a leg, making him laugh. He pulled the boot off. The leg dropped and the other one came up. He pulled that one off and the leg dropped. Then she curled into a cute little package, pulling the quilt around her. He looked down at her and saw that it was lights out for Melinda. Then he saw the picture.

Something hit him, and it didn’t feel particularly good. He picked up the picture and looked at the man’s face. So, you’re the guy, he thought. He didn’t look like a bad guy—but clearly he had done something to Mel. Something she was having trouble getting beyond. Maybe he’d left her for another woman—but that seemed impossible to imagine. Maybe he left her for a man. Oh, please let it be so—I can make that better—just give me five minutes. Or maybe he looked harmless but had been an impossible asshole and she’d broken off with him, but still loved him helplessly. And here she had his picture right there, to be the last face she saw before falling asleep at night.

At some point she was going to give Jack a chance to make that picture go away, but it wasn’t going to be tonight. Probably just as well. If she woke to find him there, either in her bed or ready to be, she would put the blame on Crown Royal. He wanted it to come from desire—and he wanted it to be real.

He scribbled a note.
I’ll be back for you at 8:00 a.m.
Jack
. He left it by the coffeepot. Then he went to his truck to get something he’d purchased earlier in the day. He brought the leather case holding the dismantled fly fishing rod and reel and the waders into the house and left them by the front door. And went home.

At 8:00 a.m. he was back in front of her cabin and what he saw made him smile. All the disappointing thoughts that had plagued him the night before vanished. She was sitting in her Adirondack chair in her new waders, idly casting her fly into the yard. A steaming cup of coffee rested on the wide chair arm beside her.

He got out of the truck, grinning. “You found it,” he said, walking to the porch.

“I
love
it! Did you get this for me?”

“I did.”

“But why?”

“When we go fishing, I need to stand beside you. Not in back of you, smelling your hair and feeling you against me. You need your own stuff. How do they fit?”

She stood up and turned around for him. “Perfect. I’ve been practicing.”

“Getting any better?”

“I am. I’m sorry about last night, Jack. I had been tense and hungry and freezing all day and it really hit me.”

“Yeah. It’s okay.”

“I should keep this in my trunk, huh? In case we have a light day at Doc’s and can just sneak off and fish.”

“Good idea, Mel.”

“Let me put my gear away,” she said happily.

And he thought—just give me time. I’m going to get that picture put in storage.

Ricky hadn’t been around the bar the week right after Connie’s heart attack, hanging close to the family in case they needed him for anything. When he did come into the bar, it was late and there were only two men at a table and Preacher behind the bar. Ricky sat up at the bar, his eyes downcast.

“How’s everybody doing?” Preacher asked.

He shrugged. “Connie’s doing pretty good I guess. They sent Liz back to her mom’s in Eureka.”

“Eureka isn’t the end of the world, man. You can visit her.”

Ricky looked down. “Yeah, but…probably shouldn’t,” he said. “She was…she was the first girl I felt that way about.” He looked up. “You know.
That
way.”

The two men at the table stood and wandered out of the bar. “Close call?” Preacher asked him.

“I wish. Holy God,” Rick said, shaking his head. “I thought I had it under control.”

Preacher did something he’d never done before. He drew a couple of cold drafts and put one in front of Rick, one in front of himself. “Tough call, that control thing.”

“Tell me about it. This for me?”

Preacher lifted an eyebrow. “I thought maybe you might need it right about now.”

“Thanks,” he said, lifting the glass. “She doesn’t look like a kid, but she’s just a kid. She’s way too young.”

“Way,” Preacher agreed. “You got a handle on it now?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Now that it’s too late.”

“Welcome to the world.” Preacher drank half his draft.

Rick just looked into his. “It’s just that I’d die if anyone got hurt, you know. If I hurt her. If I let you and Jack down.”

Preacher put his big hands on the bar and leaned toward Rick. “Hey, Ricky, don’t worry about letting us down. Some things are just nature, you know? You’re a human being. You do the best you can. Try to think ahead next time, if you get my drift.”

“I do now.”

Jack came into the bar from the back. He noticed right away that Ricky and Preacher had beers and that Ricky wore a troubled expression. “Do I need to toast anything?” He poured himself a glass of beer.

“I’m pretty sure that’s a no,” Ricky said.

“Ricky here, if I’m reading him right, has entered the world of men. And wishes a little bit he hadn’t.”

“Instead of giving me a handful of rubbers, you should’ve had me laminated,” he said to Jack.

“Oh, boy. You gonna be okay, buddy?” Jack asked. “She gonna be okay?”

“I don’t know. When am I gonna know? How am I gonna know?”

“A month,” Jack said. “Maybe less. Depends on her cycle. You’re going to have to ask her, Rick. If she got her period.”

“I’m gonna die,” Ricky said miserably.

“Okay then. Let’s toast to your continued good luck. Since you got, you know, lucky.”

“Right now I gotta wonder why they call it that,” Ricky said.

T
he grass grew tall in the pastures, the ewes fat with lambing imminent. The cows were ready to calve and Sondra Patterson was almost to term.

Sondra was expecting her third child, and the first two had come to her quickly and easily, so she and Doc claimed. She had decided to have this one at home, as she had the first two. This would be the first home birth for Mel, and she looked forward to it with nervous delight.

May aged bright and sunny—and brought with it a bunch of men in pickups and campers. There was a great deal of horn-honking at the bar in the afternoon and Mel looked out to see this gathering descend on Jack’s. She watched as he came out on his porch and greeted them with bear hugs and shouts and whistles.

“What’s going on?” she asked Doc Mullins.

“Hmm. I think it’s another Semper Fi reunion. Jack’s old buddies from the Marine Corps. They come up here to hunt, fish, play poker, drink and yell into the night.”

“Really? He never mentioned that.” And, she thought, is this my cue to be scarce? Because that afterwork beer, the occasional kiss, had become the best part
of her day. She was further bewildered by the fact that he hadn’t tried anything more. And yet, if he had, she would have worried about the consequences. She shouldn’t be involved with anyone, even Jack. Not until she was sure she could handle it. Thing was, she just couldn’t bring herself to give up that little bit of kissing. She was sure that Mark would understand. If their situations had been reversed, she told herself, she would.

But with the marines in town, there would be none of that.

Doc seemed to have no inclination to stay away, and at the end of the day he took himself over to the bar. “Coming?” he asked her.

“I don’t know… I don’t want to distract anyone from their reunion…”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” he said. “The whole town looks forward to seeing these boys.”

She went with him and found that of course Doc was greeted by these visiting men as if they were old friends. Jack dropped a possessive arm around Mel’s shoulders and said, “Boys, meet Mel Monroe, new nurse midwife in town. She’s been working with Doc. Mel, meet Zeke, Mike Valenzuela, Cornhusker—Corny for short, Josh Phillips, Joe Benson, Tom Stephens and Paul Haggerty. There will be a test later—no name tags.”

“Doc, you are a fine and smart gentleman,” Zeke said, grinning, reaching for her hand, obviously under the impression Doc had hired her rather than resisted her. “Miss Monroe, it’s an honor. An honor.”

“Call me Mel,” she said.

The noise with which they descended on her was invigorating. The next surprise for her, and perhaps it shouldn’t have been, was that Preacher was one of
them. And of course they drew Rick in as though he were a younger brother.

Mel learned that Preacher had served under Jack when he was just a kid of eighteen in the first conflict in Iraq—Desert Storm—it turned out he was much younger than he looked. During that same time a cop from L.A. by the name of Mike Valenzuela and a builder from Oregon by the name of Paul Haggerty also served with them, but the two latter marines, being reservists, were called up for the latest Iraq conflict, again with Preacher and Jack, who were still on active duty at that time. The others, all reservists, were called up for Iraq where they were united in Baghdad and Fallujah. Zeke was a fireman from Fresno; Josh Phillips, a paramedic, and Tom Stephens, a news helicopter pilot—were both from the Reno area. Joe Benson was an architect from the same Oregon town as Paul Haggerty—Paul often built Joe’s houses. And Corny, another firefighter, came the farthest, from Washington state, but he was born and raised in Nebraska, thus the nickname.

Jack was older than these men by four years or more, the next oldest in the crowd being Mike at thirty-six. Four of them were married with kids—Zeke, Josh, Tom and Corny. Mel was fascinated by the way they talked about their women with lusty smiles and glittering eyes. No jokes about the old ball and chain here. Rather, they sounded as though they couldn’t wait to get home to them.

“How’s Patti doing?” someone asked Josh.

He curved his hands over his flat belly to indicate a pregnant tummy and grinning boastfully, said, “She’s ripe as a tomato. I can hardly keep my hands off her.”

“If she’s ripe as a tomato, I bet you get slapped down like crazy,” Zeke laughed. “I got another one on Christa.”

“No way! I thought she said you were through!”

“She said that two kids ago—but I snuck one more by her. She’s cooking number four. What can I say—that girl’s been lightin’ my fire since high school. You should see her, man. She’s lit up like a beacon. Nobody cooks ’em like Christa. Whew.”

“Hey, buddy, congratulations, man! But I don’t think you know when to quit.”

“I don’t. It’s like I can’t quit. But Christa says she’s all done with me. She said after this one, snip snip.”

“I think I can go one more,” Corny said. “Got my girls. I feel a boy coming on.”

No one could better appreciate this kind of enthusiasm for pregnant women than a midwife. Mel was loving it. Loving them.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that a lot,” Jack said. “Eight nieces later, no one got their boy. My brothers-in-law have run through all their chances, I think.”

“Maybe you’re packin’ a boy, Jack.”

“I don’t even kid myself about that,” he laughed.

Jack was among the five single men with Preacher, Mike, Paul and Joe. Confirmed bachelors, Mel was warned. They loved women, but couldn’t be caught. “Except Mike,” Zeke said. “He gets caught regular.” Mel learned that Mike was twice divorced and had a girlfriend back in L.A. who was trying to be wife number three.

The camaraderie was engaging, electrifying. These guys were tight, it was real easy to see. Mel didn’t exactly rush away—she had fun. Other folks from town who frequented the bar seemed, like Doc, to be acquainted with this band of brothers and dropped in to partake of the reunion, every bit as welcoming of them as Jack and Preacher had been.

As she left that evening, Jack broke away from his buddies to walk her to her car. “Oh, now there will be talk,” she said.

“There’s already talk, but around here, what do you expect? Listen, Mel, you shouldn’t stay away on account of them—they’re a good bunch of guys. But let me tell you what the agenda will be. There will be lots of beer and poker, fishing all day. They’ll stay in their campers, make too much noise, and fill the place up with cigar smoke. Preacher will have something on the stove everyday. And I sense a lot of fish coming our way. Preacher’s got a stuffed trout that will knock you down, it’s so good.”

She put a hand against his chest. “Don’t worry about it, Jack. You just enjoy yourself.”

“You’re not going to ignore me for five days, are you?”

“I’ll come by after work for a beer, but you know I like my cabin, my peace and quiet. Have fun. That’s the important thing.”

“These are great guys,” he said. “But I have a feeling they’re going to get in the way of my love life.”

She laughed at him. “Your love life is pretty bleak, as a matter of fact.”

“I know. I keep trying to spool it up. And now them,” he said, giving his head a jerk in the direction of his bar, which seemed to be throbbing from the noise and laughter within. He put his hands on her waist. “Kiss me,” he said.

“No,” she said.

“Come on. Haven’t I been perfect? Haven’t I followed all your rules? How can you be so selfish? There’s no one around—they’re busy drinking.”

“I think you should go back to your reunion,” she said, but she laughed at him again.

Boldly, he picked her up under her arms and lifted her high, holding her above him, slowly lowering her mouth to his. “You’re shameless,” she told him.

“Kiss me,” he begged. “Come on. Gimme a little taste.”

It was simply irresistible. He was irresistible. She grabbed his head in her hands and met his lips. She opened hers, moving over his mouth. When he did this to her, she thought of nothing but the kiss. It consumed her deliciously. She allowed his tongue, he allowed hers, and she reached that moment when she wanted it to never end. It was so easy to become lost in his tenderness, his strength.

And then, inevitably, it had to end. They were standing in the street, after all, though it was almost dark. “Thank you,” he said. He put her on her feet and behind them, a raucous cheer erupted. There, on the porch at Jack’s, stood eight marines and Rick, their tankards raised, shouting, cheering, whistling, cat-calling.

“Oh, brother,” she said.

“I’m going to kill them.”

“Is this some kind of marine tradition?” she asked him.

“I’m going to kill them,” he said again, but he kept his arm around her shoulders.

“You realize what this means,” she said. “These little kisses are no longer our little secret.”

He looked down into her eyes. The shouts had subsided into a low rumble of laughter. “Mel, they are not little. And since it’s leaked,” he said, grabbing her up in his arms, lifting her up to him again, her feet clear of the ground, and planted another one on her, to the excited shouts of the old 192nd. Even with that riot in
the background, she found herself responding. She was growing addicted to the perfect flavor of his mouth.

When it was done she said, “I knew it was a mistake to let you get to first base.”

“Hah, I haven’t even thrown out the first pitch yet. You’re invited to go fishing with us, if you like.”

“Thanks, but I have things to do. I’ll see you tomorrow night for a beer. And I’ll get myself to my car. I’m not going to make out in front of them for the next week.”

A little local research revealed to Mel that there was an ultrasound machine in Grace Valley, about thirty minutes away in northern Mendocino county. She had a long chat with one of the town doctors, June Hudson, and they worked out a deal for the use of the ultrasound—the deal was that June would provide this service out of the goodness of her heart. “The ultrasound was donated,” she said. “Women from at least a half dozen surrounding towns make use of it.”

Mel arranged to bring Sondra in for a screening that day but Sondra insisted on baking six dozen cookies that she would leave at the Grace Valley clinic. “Are you sure your husband can’t come along? It’s really something to see,” Mel said.

“It would have to be him and the kids,” Sondra said. “And I’m really looking forward to getting away for a few hours.”

The two of them set out for Grace Valley, driving down through the foothills and along back roads that led them past farms, pastures, vineyards, ranches, flower fields and through a few towns that were not even specs on a map. Sondra, having lived in this part
of the country all her life, was able to give Mel a running commentary on where they were, whose ranch was whose, what kind of crops were being grown—mostly alfalfa and silage for the cattle—orchards of fruit and nuts, and the inevitable lumber harvesting. It was a gorgeous day, a beautiful drive, and when they entered the town, Mel was instantly impressed by the shiny clean appearance of the place.

“It’s kind of brand-new,” Sondra said. “A flood nearly wiped them out not long ago and they did a lot of rebuilding and painting. You can still see the high water marks on some of the big old trees.”

There was a café, a service station, a big church, the clinic, and lots of well-kept little houses. Mel pulled up to the clinic and got out. Inside she was immediately faced with Dr. Hudson, a trim woman in her late thirties, dressed much like Mel. She was clad in jeans and boots, chambray shirt with a stethoscope around her neck. She smiled and stuck out her hand. “It’s such a pleasure, Ms. Monroe,” she said. “I’m delighted you’re working with Doc Mullins—he’s due a little assistance.”

“Please, call me Mel. You know the doctor?”

“Sure. Everybody knows everybody.”

“How long have you been in Grace Valley?” Mel asked.

June laughed. “I’ve been here all my life. Except for medical school.” June stuck her hand out toward Sondra. “This must be Mrs. Patterson.”

“I’ve brought you cookies,” she said. “It’s really generous of you to do this for me. I never had one with the other two kids.”

“It’s a very convenient precaution,” June said, gladly
taking the box of cookies. She opened it up, inhaled deeply and said, “Oh, these are sinful looking.” Then looking back at Sondra and Mel she said, “If you knew how many people from the neighboring towns helped us rebuild after the flood, then you’d know generosity. Come on, let’s see what we’ve got. Then if you have time, we can go grab a bite to eat at the café.”

Over the course of the next hour, they determined that Sondra would give birth to a baby boy, the baby was already in position and there was nothing to indicate there would be complications. They met Dr. Stone, a drop-dead gorgeous blond man June referred to as a city-boy transplant. At the café, they met June’s father, the town doctor before her, and he asked after Old Mullins, who couldn’t be any older than Doc Hudson. “He still as ornery as ever?” Doc Hudson wanted to know.

“I’m softening him up,” Mel said.

“So, what’s your story?” June asked over lunch. “How long have you been in Virgin River?”

“Just a couple of months. I came up here from L.A., looking for a change, but I admit, I wasn’t prepared for country medicine. I took all of our resources and hospital technology for granted.”

“How do you like it so far?”

“It has its challenges. There are aspects of rural living that I think might be growing on me,” Mel said. “But I’m not sure how long it’s going to work out for me. My sister is in Colorado Springs, married with three children, and she really wants Aunt Mel nearby.” She took a bite of a delicious hamburger and said, “I don’t want to completely miss out on her kids’ childhoods.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” Sondra said.

“Not to worry,” she said, patting her hand. “I’m not going anywhere before you deliver, which from the look of things is going to be real soon.” She laughed and added, “I just hope we don’t have to pull off to the side of the road on our way home today.”

“I hope you’ll stay on,” June said. “It’ll be nice to have you so close by.”