Mel showered, put on clean clothes and prepared to go to the bar to take her medicine. She felt terrible; her heart ached when she thought of the look in Jack’s eyes. He never should have witnessed that performance. It must have shattered him. She could only hope he would forgive her.
She brought a change of clothes and her makeup for work the next day. If Jack didn’t want to come back to her cabin with her, she would force her company on him. They had to get beyond this. This was her fault. It wasn’t just the two of them anymore. He wanted this baby. He wanted her and the baby. She was going to find a way to make this right.
There were only about a dozen customers in the bar when she got there—the Bristols and Carpenters sitting at a table for four, Hope and Doc at the bar, a couple of men playing cribbage with a pitcher of beer, and a young family. Jack stood behind the bar and lifted his chin slightly in greeting as she entered. It was a very subdued gesture; there was going to be penance to pay.
She stopped and chatted briefly with the Bristols and Carpenters, filling them in on the Givens baby, before going to the bar. She got onto the stool next to Doc. “Did you get any rest today?” she asked him.
“I don’t sleep in daylight,” he grumbled. He popped an antacid and Jack put a whiskey in front of him.
“Long night?” Hope asked her.
“Long night for the Givenses,” she said. “But they’re going to be fine.”
“Good work, Mel,” she said. “I knew I was smart to get you up here.” She stubbed out her cigarette and left, chatting her way out the door.
Without being asked, Jack put a cola in front of her. She mouthed the words, I’m sorry. His lips curved just slightly, hurt in his eyes, but he leaned toward her and placed a gentle kiss on her brow. Ow, she thought. This is bad.
And it just got worse. They had only the most superficial conversation while Mel picked at her dinner, but determined, she waited out the emptying of the bar. It was eight o’clock by the time Preacher was sweeping the floor and Jack was putting up clean glasses. “Are we going to talk about it?” she quietly asked Jack.
“How about we let it go and move forward,” he said.
“Jack,” she whispered so that Preacher wouldn’t hear. “I love you.”
“You don’t have to say that.”
“But it’s true. Please believe me.”
He lifted her chin and put a light kiss on her lips. “Okay,” he said. “I believe you.”
“Oh, God,” she said, tears gathering in her eyes.
“Don’t, Mel,” he said. “Don’t start crying again. I’m afraid I won’t understand why—and it’ll make things worse.”
She sucked it back, forced herself to still the nerves that were tightening inside her. Her fleeting thought was, God, what will I do if he’s through with me on account of that? “I’m going to your room,” she told him. “I’m going to stay there until you come to me and I’m going to convince you, somehow, that we belong to each other. Especially now.”
He gave a nod that was so slight, it was almost imperceptible, so she got off her stool and walked through the back of the bar to his quarters. Once alone, she couldn’t suppress the tears. They flowed freely down her cheeks. He thinks I’m going to spend the rest of my life explaining myself to my dead husband, apologizing for how I feel about Jack. Well, that’s what I was doing—what’s he to think? He won’t believe me if I tell him that’s not true, not how it’s going to be. It was just a one-time thing—the shock, the exhaustion, the high emotional state I’m in.
Mel sat in the big chair in his room, revisiting in her mind that night she sat in this spot, drenched from the rain, and he gently undressed her, dried her and put her to bed. That was when she knew, without a doubt, there was a partner here for her, even if she couldn’t admit it to herself for quite a while. Since the ultrasound, she was pretty convinced she had conceived that night. Jack opened her up, showed her passion she didn’t know existed, and put his baby in her. It was nothing short of a miracle—the love, the passion, the baby. She just didn’t know how difficult it would be to make that transition into a new life. A second life. A completely different life.
She sat in that chair for an hour. Waiting.
* * *
Jack put up all his clean glasses and dishes, wiped down the bar and poured himself a drink. There was a particular, old single malt, an aged Glenlivet, that he saved for special occasions. Or emergencies.
Preacher put away his broom and went to the bar. “Everything okay, man?” he asked.
Jack pulled down a glass and poured a shot for his friend. He lifted his toward Preacher in something of a toast and said solemnly, “Mel’s pregnant.” Then Jack took the shot in one swallow.
“Aw, man,” Preacher said. “What are you gonna do?”
“I’m going to be a father,” he said. “I’m going to marry her.”
Preacher picked up his glass and lifted it tentatively, taking a drink. “You sure about that?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“That what you want, man?”
“Absolutely.”
Preacher grinned. “Sarge. A family man. Who’d think?”
Jack tipped the bottle once more, over both glasses. “Yeah,” Jack said.
“Seems like, maybe, things aren’t so hot right now,” Preacher said.
“Nah,” he lied. “Just found out,” he further lied. “It’s gonna work out great. It’s gonna be perfect.” Then he smiled. “You know I never do anything I don’t want to do. Uncle Preacher.” He threw back the second shot and put his glass on the bar. “Good night.”
Jack felt bad about leaving Mel in his room for so long, but they both needed some time to compose themselves. If there were going to be more tears, this one time he wanted her to get that out of the way on her own. There’s only so much one man could do, so he didn’t rush to her. She was going to be feeling a little desperate—pregnant, just caught apologizing for it to the picture of Mark, afraid Jack wouldn’t be able to deal with that. There was nothing either of them could do about it—Jack had known from the beginning that Mark was still there, in her life, in her heart. He would never have all of her. Well, then, he’d make the most of what he did have. He wasn’t going to make her grovel; he was just going to love the heck out of her. He could manage this, even if it wasn’t the most ideal situation. In time, maybe she’d come around. Mark’s memory could fade enough so that even if Jack wasn’t the only man in her life, he would come to feel like the most important one. Maybe when she held their child, she would realize life was for the living.
He walked in, looked across the room at her, and leaned down to pull off his boots. He yanked his shirt out of his pants and took it off, hanging it on the peg in his closet. He removed his belt and tossed it aside. Then he approached her and put out a hand to her.
She put her hand in his and let him draw her to her feet. She leaned her head against his chest and said again, “I’m sorry. I love you. I want to be with you.”
His arms went around her and he answered, “That’s good enough for me.”
Jack kissed her tenderly.
“You’ve had a couple of drinks,” she said. “Scotch.”
“It seemed like the thing to do,” he said. He slowly began to undress her, leaving her clothes in a pile on the floor, because when words failed him he had never failed to be able to speak to her body. There was no confusion about this—when he touched her, she was all his. When she responded to him, she held nothing back. There might be a glitch in her heart, some of it stuck in the past. But her body came alive under his lips, his hands.
He carried her to his bed, laid her sweetly on the sheets and went to work on her. He touched her, kissed and caressed her in the ways he knew filled her up, pleased her, gave her joy, released her. She rose to him, hot and ready, wrapping herself around him, giving. Taking. Crying out.
God, he didn’t know he could want this much. Love this much.
Okay, he thought—here’s the reality. He would always have this. He would make her body sing just as she sent him reeling into the most incredible madness a man can feel. He would hold her every night and wake up with her every morning and there would be many times, like this, when they would come together in this incomparable passion and no matter what else was going on, this mutual joy belonged only to them. Just the two of them. There were no ghosts present in these moments.
Sufficient compensation. Sweet consolation.
“Jack,” she said, snuggled up against him. “I hate that I hurt you.”
He buried his face in her hair and inhaled the sweet scent. “Let’s not talk about that anymore. It’s behind us. We have a lot in front of us.”
“Would it be a good idea for me to go to Joey for a little while? Give you some space? Try to get my head together?”
He rose over her and looked into her eyes. “Don’t, Mel. Don’t run just because we hit a rough patch. We’ll work through this.”
“You sure?”
“Mel,” he said hoarsely, his voice a mere whisper, “you have my baby inside you. I have to be a part of that. Come on...”
She fought the tears that threatened. “I know it must be hard to deal with an emotional basket case like me.”
He smiled at her and said, “I’ve heard that pregnant women get like that.”
“I think I’m just like that, period.”
“Marry me,” he said.
She touched his beautiful face. “You don’t have to.”
“Melinda, six months ago we were two people without attachments. Two people who had accepted we would never have any—and that we’d never have families. Now we have it all. We have each other and a baby. A baby we both want. Let’s not screw this up.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure about anything. I want this. If you can’t stay here, I’ll go anywhere you want to go.”
“But Jack, you love it here!”
“Don’t you realize I love you more? I need you in my life. You and our baby. God, Mel—I don’t care where that happens. As long as it happens.”
“Jack,” she said in a whisper. “What if you change your mind? What if something happens? You have to remember, I never thought anything terrible would happen to—”
He put a finger on her lips, stopping her. He didn’t want to hear his name. Not now. “Shh,” he said. “I want you to trust me. You know you’re safe with me.”
* * *
Mel awoke humming. The song this morning was “Mamma Mia” by ABBA, of all things. It made her smile. She got out of bed and showered. When she came out of the shower and put on one of Jack’s shirts, she found a steaming cup of coffee on the bathroom counter. There was a note under it. Half-caf. Daddy. Jack was already up and in the bar, taking care of breakfast. Taking care of her. Robbing her of caffeine.
She dressed for the day; she had been so out of focus lately, she had no idea what kind of schedule lay ahead. She couldn’t remember making any appointments for the morning. Still, she wasn’t rushing to Doc’s. It was early and she had a very important phone call to make.
“I wish I could see the look on your face when I tell you this, Joey,” Mel said. “I hope you’re sitting down. I’m pregnant.”
There was a gasp, then silence.
“Pregnant,” she said again. “Totally knocked up.”
“Are you sure?”
“Three months,” she said.
“Oh, my God! Mel!”
“I know. Kind of blew my mind, too.”
“Three months? Let’s see...”
“Don’t bother trying to do the math. I haven’t had a period since he touched me for the first time. I guess he’s potent enough for both of us. At first, I thought it so impossible, an absurd fantasy. I figured I was late because of stress, change, how weird my life is. But it’s real. I had an ultrasound.”
“Mel! How is this possible?”
“Don’t ask me—stranger things have happened. But not around here, apparently. I’m surrounded by women who were pretty sure they couldn’t get pregnant and voilà! There’s a rumor about the water... I’m thinking of calling my L.A. infertility specialist to tell him about this place.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to marry Jack.”
“Mel—do you love him?” Joey asked, her voice subdued. Cautious.
Mel drew in a breath, trying to calm her voice, which she knew would be tremulous and emotional. “I do,” she said. “Joey, I love him so much, I almost ache with it. I never thought I could love this much. I was in denial about that for a while, too.”
“Mel,” Joey said, then began to cry. “Oh, my sweet baby.”
“It made me feel guilty, like I was doing something wrong—I was so committed to the idea that I’d lost my one true love and would never feel anything even close to that again in my life. I never considered the possibility that I might find something even more powerful. It seemed, briefly, like a betrayal. Jack even caught me crying to Mark’s picture that I was sorry, that I didn’t expect it to happen, and promising never to forget him. God. It was an awful moment.”
“Baby girl, you haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve been through such a lot.”
“Well, in my sane state, I know that. Jack knew about my problems, and he just hung in there, just kept loving me and loving me, putting all my needs ahead of his own, promising me I’d be safe with him, that I could trust him. Oh, God,” she said, tears coming in spite of the fact that she was so, so happy. “God, he’s wonderful. Joey,” she said in a near whisper, “he wants the baby as much as I do.”
“This is just unbelievable. When are you getting married? Because we’re going to be there.”
“We haven’t had a chance to even talk about it—I just broke it to him yesterday and he asked me last night. I’ll let you know when I know.”
“But does this mean you’re staying there?”
Mel laughed. “You were right, you know—coming here was completely crazy. It was irrational. To think I’d choose to go to a town where there’s no mall, much less a day spa, and one restaurant that doesn’t have a menu? Please. No medical technology, ambulance service or local police—how is it I thought that would be easier, less stressful? I almost slid off the mountain on my way into town!”
“Ah... Mel...”
“We don’t even have cable, no cell phone signal most of the time. And there’s not a single person here who can admire my Cole Haan boots which, by the way, are starting to look like crap from traipsing around forests and farms. Did you know that any critical illness or injury has to be airlifted out of here? A person would be crazy to find this relaxing. Renewing.” She laughed. “The state I was in, when I was leaving L.A., I thought I absolutely had to escape all the challenges. It never occurred to me that challenge would be good for me. A completely new challenge.”
“Mel...”
“When I told Jack I was pregnant, after promising him I had the birth control taken care of, he should have said, ‘I’m outta here, babe.’ But you know what he said? He said, ‘I have to have you and the baby in my life, and if you can’t stay here, I’ll go anywhere.’” She sniffed a little and a tear rolled down her cheek. “When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I do is check to see if there are deer in the yard. Then I wonder what Preacher’s in the mood to fix for dinner. Jack’s usually already gone back to town—he likes splitting logs in the early morning—half the town wakes up to the sound of his ax striking wood. I see him five or ten times through the day and he always looks at me like we’ve been apart for a year. If I have a patient in labor, he stays up all night, just in case I need something. And when there are no patients at night, when he holds me before I fall asleep, bad TV reception is the last thing on my mind.
“Am I staying here? I came here because I believed I’d lost everything that mattered, and ended up finding everything I’ve ever wanted in the world. Yeah, Joey. I’m staying. Jack’s here. Besides, I belong here now. I belong to them. They belong to me.”
* * *
Right after a light breakfast, she headed for Doc’s. She supposed it was in order to tell him right away, but when she walked into the house, she was greeted by quiet. Good, she thought. No patients yet. She went to Doc’s office and tapped lightly on the door, then pushed it open. He was sitting in the chair at his desk, leaning back, his eyes closed. Hmm. Doesn’t sleep in daylight, huh? She stood over him. It was good to see Doc docile for once.
Mel was about to leave and wait for a better time, but something made her take a closer look at Doc. His eyes were pinched closed, his face in a grimace and his coloring wasn’t right. He was gray. She reached down and squeezed his wrist with the forefingers of one hand. His pulse was racing. Mel felt Doc’s brow and found his skin clammy. His eyes opened into slits. “What is it?” she asked him.
“Nothing,” he said. “Heartburn.”
Heartburn does not make your pulse race and your skin clammy, she thought. She ran for the stethoscope and blood pressure cuff in the exam room, returning to him. “You going to tell me what it is—or make me guess?”
“I told you... Nothing. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.”
She took his blood pressure, though she had to struggle with him for cooperation. “Did you have breakfast?” she asked him.
“A while ago.”
“What did you have? Bacon and eggs? Sausage?”
“It wasn’t that great. Preacher’s a little off on the cooking...”
His blood pressure was elevated. “Any chest pains?” she asked.
“No.”
She palpated his abdomen, although excess lipid tissue on his pot belly made it impossible to feel his internal organs while he was sitting upright. And he slapped at her hand, trying to push her away. But as she palpated, he grunted in pain. “How many of them have you had?” she asked him.
“How many what?”
“Attacks. Like this.”
“One or two,” he said.
“Don’t lie to the nice little nurse,” she chastised. “How long has this been going on?” She pulled the lids back on his eyes and they had begun to yellow. He was jaundicing. “You waiting for your liver to blow?”
“It’ll pass.”
He was having a major league gallbladder attack, and she wasn’t sure that was all. She didn’t even think about it—she picked up the phone and called the bar. “Jack,” she said, “come over, please. I have to get Doc to the hospital.” And she hung up.
“No,” Doc said.
“Yes,” she said. “If you argue with me now, I’ll get Jack and Preacher to put you in a fireman’s carry and dump you in the Hummer. That should make your belly feel good.” She looked at his face. “How’s your back?”
“Terrible. This one is kind of bad.”
“You’re getting jaundiced, Doc,” she said. “We can’t wait. I suspect you’re in a biliary crisis. I’m going to start an IV and I don’t want any lip.”
Before she could get the needle in, both Jack and Preacher arrived. “We’ll get him in the car and I’ll drive you,” Jack said. “What’s the matter with him?”
“I think it’s a gallbladder attack, but he’s not talking. It’s serious. His blood pressure is up and he’s in terrible pain.”
“Waste of time,” Doc said. “It’ll pass.”
“Please be still,” she implored. “I don’t want to have to ask these big boys to hold you down.”
Once the IV was in, she made a mad dash to the drug cabinet while Jack and Preacher each got on either side of him, walking him slowly out the door, Jack holding the Ringer’s over his head. When they got to the Hummer she joined them. Doc said, “I’m not lying down.”
“I think you should—”
“I can’t,” he said. “Bad enough sitting up.”
“All right then, we’ll take out the gurney and put up the backseat. I’ll pull the IV bag hook forward and sit beside you. Have you taken anything for the pain yet?”
“I was just starting to have very kind thoughts toward morphine,” he said. Jack adjusted the backseat, leaving the gurney on Doc’s porch. Doc climbed clumsily into the backseat. “We just don’t have good enough drugs,” he muttered.
“Can you make it to the hospital without drugs? Give the doctor a clean slate?”
“Arrrggghhh,” he grumbled.
“If you insist, I’ll give you something—but it would be better to let the E.R. decide what’s best.” She took a breath. “I grabbed some morphine.”
He peered at her through slits. “Hit me,” he said. “It’s just god-awful.”
She sighed and drew up a syringe from the vial in her bag, putting it right into the IV. It took only moments for him to say, “Ahhh...”
“Have you seen anyone about this?” she asked him.
“I’m a doctor, young woman. I can take care of myself.”
“Oh, brother,” she said.
“There’s a clinic in Garberville,” Jack said as he started the car. “It’s closer than Valley Hospital.”
“We’re going to need a surgeon,” Mel informed him.
“I’m not going to need surgery,” the old boy argued.
“You a betting man?” was all she said.
Doc Mullins rested a bit easier with the narcotic in him, which was good since it was over an hour, even with Jack’s fast and skillful driving. It wasn’t the distance so much as the roads—just getting to the county road that connected with the highway twisted and turned and was slow going. Mel watched out the window, remembering that first night she came here, terrified of these sharp twists and turns, the sheer drops, steep climbs. Now, with Jack managing the Hummer, she was comfortable. Before long they were out of the hills and speeding through the valley. With her attention focused on Doc, she couldn’t fully appreciate the landscape. It did occur to her, however, that every time she traveled anywhere around this county, she was amazed by the beauty as if seeing it for the first time.
She had a fleeting thought that if anything bad happened to Doc, it would be down to only her. How was she going to have a baby and take care of a town?
She thought about Joey’s question—are you staying there? It made her smile. It would hardly seem a punishment to live out her life in this glorious place.
This was only Mel’s second visit to the emergency room—the first was with Connie. She had taken Jeremy and Anne to labor and delivery the night the baby came, so she didn’t really know the staff in E.R. They all knew Doc, however. He’d been putting in regular appearances there for upwards of forty years. And they greeted Mel very enthusiastically, as if she were an old friend.
Doc was not one to allow fussing; he made it plain he didn’t think he needed to be there. Mel and Jack were seated outside the exam room while the emergency room doctor checked him over. Then another doctor went into the exam room and Doc was heard to bellow, “Aw, for Christ’s sake! Can’t I get a better surgeon than you? I don’t want to die on the goddamn table!”
Mel blanched, but she saw that some of the staff was chuckling. After a bit the surgeon came out to them. He had a smile on his face. He held out his hand. “Dr. Simon, Miss...?”
She stood and took his hand. “Monroe,” she said. “Mel Monroe. I work with Doc. Is he going to be all right?”
“Oh, I think so. Doctors. Great patients, aren’t we? I’m going to admit him and that gallbladder has to come out, but we can’t take him into surgery until we get him out of this biliary crisis. That could take a day or week. Good call, Miss Monroe. I assume he didn’t assist you a bit.”
“He tried not to. May I see him?”
“Of course.”
She found Doc in a raised position in the bed while the nurse was fiddling with the IV. The E.R. doctor was writing in the chart and when he saw her, gave a nod of hello. And on Doc’s face was the unhappy expression she had come to view with fondness.
Mel looked around the E.R.—far smaller and less crowded than the one she was used to in L.A. Still, memories flooded back to her—the days and nights she had spent working in that environment. The adrenaline rush of emergencies; the edgy environment that had excited and stimulated her. At the nurses’ station a young doctor was bent over a nurse, reading over her shoulder, making her laugh at some whispered remark. That could have been Mel and Mark a few years ago. She let her eyes slowly close as she realized that she had moved completely beyond that. That familiar pang of longing did not plague her anymore. Now the only man she longed for waited for her just outside this room, prepared to go through anything with her. Her hand crept absently to her tummy, resting there. It was all right, she realized. What I suffered was very bad; what I have is very good.
“Young woman,” Doc snapped. “You gonna be sick?”
“Hmm?” she said, coming out of the haze. “No. Of course not.”
“For a minute there you looked like you were going to cry. Or puke.”
She just smiled at him. “Sorry. I was on another planet there for a second. Are you feeling better?”
“I’ll live. You’d better go. There might be patients back at the house.”
“I’ll come back for your surgery,” she said.
“No! I’m probably going to die in surgery anyway with that young pup cutting me up—you’re needed back in Virgin River. Someone has to look after things. I guess you’re in charge. God help us all.”
“I’ll call to see how you’re doing, and I will come back when you have surgery. And Doc? Try to behave yourself. Try not to get thrown out of here.”
“Ach,” he scoffed.
She put her small cool hand on his wizened brow. “Feel better. I’ll watch your practice.”
In an uncharacteristically soft voice, she heard him say, “Thank you.”
On the drive back to Virgin River Mel said, “He’s going to need time to recover before he can start seeing patients again. I suppose I’ll be staying at his house for a while after he gets home.”
* * *
Doc’s age, weight and blood pressure put him at a disadvantage in both surgery and recovery. It was a week before the surgeon could operate, and while the normal hospital stay for a cholesystectomy was brief—couple of days at most—they kept Doc for another week.
For those two weeks, Mel drove back and forth to Valley Hospital to check on him, plus managed the meager amount of patient care in Virgin River. June and John offered assistance, should she need it, but she was holding up fine. She stayed at the clinic during the days, spent her nights with Jack across the street, and the only huge inconvenience was planning and executing a wedding.
Jack told his dad and sisters that he and Mel were marrying, news which was met with much approval and excitement. He saved the news about the baby; he wanted to see the looks on their faces when they found out. Since there were no inns or motels in Virgin River, the couple decided they’d have a small, family-only wedding in Sacramento as soon as possible—at the Sheridan house. Jack told his sisters to plan something simple, quiet and quick for three weeks from the date Doc had gone into the hospital. He and Mel would drive down, tie the knot, and hurry home. “What about a honeymoon?” Sam asked.
“Don’t worry about that,” Jack said. And what he thought was, I’m going to be on a honeymoon for the rest of my life.
Rick took the news of the pregnancy and fast approaching marriage with a bit of shock. “You okay with this?” he asked Jack.
“Oh, yeah. Big-time. I’m ready for a family, Rick.” He put his hand around the back of the boy’s neck and pulled him against his shoulder. “In addition to you and Preach, that is. You okay with it?”
“Hey, man. You’re not too young, that’s for sure.” Then he grinned. “I really thought she was out of your league.”
“She is, buddy. But what the heck.”
The evening before Mel was due to pick up Doc at Valley Hospital and bring him home, Jack asked, “Do you have to spend the nights at Doc’s?”
“Probably just for a few days—long enough to make sure he’s getting around all right. He’s ambulatory at the hospital, but he’s miserable. His grimace isn’t just from being ornery at the moment. He’ll need pain medication—and I don’t want him administering his own. He could get confused and overdose.”
Jack sat in the big chair in his room and said, “Come here,” to Mel. She went to him and he pulled her down onto his lap. “I have something for you.” He pulled a small box out of his pocket, shocking her into silence. It was definitely a ring box. “I don’t know how practical this is in a place like Virgin River. It might be a little fussy. But I couldn’t help myself. I want to give you everything—but this will have to do.”
She opened the box to find a diamond ring so beautiful it brought tears to her eyes. It was a wide gold band with three large diamonds set in; classy and understated, yet very rich and unique. “Jack, what were you thinking? This is beautiful! The diamonds are huge!”
“I understand if you can’t wear it often, given your work. And if you don’t like the design—”
“Are you kidding? It’s gorgeous!”
“I went ahead and got a band like it, no diamonds. Is that okay?”
“Only perfect. Where in the world did you find this thing?”
“Not the Virgin River jewelry store, that’s for sure. I had to drive over to the coast. Are you sure you like it?”
She threw her arms around his neck. “You gave me a baby,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting this, too!”
“I didn’t know I was giving you a baby,” he said, grinning. “This, I did on purpose.”
She laughed at him and said, “People will think we’re uppity.”
“Mel—I got it a while ago. When I first thought you might be pregnant. Probably before you did. Even if it had turned out you weren’t, I was set on this. This idea to marry you, to have my life with you... It’s not something I feel like I have to do. It’s what I want.”
“God, how did this happen?”
“I don’t care how,” he said.
He went with her the next day to pick up Doc and bring him home. Mel got him settled in his bed at home where he proved to be a very annoying patient; however, it seemed he would make a full recovery and be back to his old schedule in no time. He might not be seeing patients by the time Mel and Jack slipped down to Sacramento for a couple of days, but he’d be able to look after himself.
Meanwhile, with all Mel had to do, running the clinic and looking after Doc, Jack, Preacher or Ricky were bringing his meals, and Mel was able to escape to the bar for an hour here and there, just for a change of scenery. Nights she spent in the hospital bed down the hall from Doc. Alone.
After just a few such nights, she was startled awake by noise downstairs. She sat up sleepily and listened. It was unusual, but not unheard-of, for someone to come pounding at the doctor’s door after hours, so when Mel heard the knocking, she rolled over and looked at the clock. It was 1:00 a.m., which implied an emergency and as she was shrugging into her robe, she began to form contingency plans if she had to go out on a call. Jack could come to the house to look after Doc—or maybe go with her, leaving Doc to sleep through till morning without her.
She remembered hearing about that near-fatal truck accident some years ago and thought, What if I’m not enough help? Who could I call?
When she opened the front door, no one was there. Then the pounding came again and she realized that whoever it was had come to the back, to the kitchen door. She looked through the glass to see the face of that man from the compound. Calvin. If he was coming to fetch her out to that camp, she wouldn’t go. She’d have to send him away. If he’d come to ask her for drugs, she thought she might have to call Jack.
She opened the door with an excuse on her lips when he rushed her, the back of his forearm against her neck. He shoved her backward with enough force that she knocked over a chair, crashed into the countertop and sent coffee cups that were drying in the dish rack hurtling to the floor. He had a snarl on his lips, a glazed look in his eyes, and a big hunting knife in his hand. She screamed, a noise that was quickly cut off as he grabbed her by the hair and put the knife to her throat.
“Drugs,” he said simply. “Just gimme what you got, then I’m getting the hell out of these mountains.”
“They’re in there... I have to get the key,” she said, indicating the drug cabinet.
“Forget it,” he said. As he held her, he tried kicking the wooden door. The whole cabinet shook and wobbled; she could hear the contents bouncing around.
“Don’t!” she cried. “You’ll break the vials! You want the drugs or not?”
He stopped. “Where’s the key?” he said.
“In the office.”
He pulled her backward, flipped the lock on the back door and said, “Come on. Let’s move it.” With one arm around her waist and the knife at her throat, he walked her out of the kitchen. She had no option but to lead him to the office.
He held her in front of him, hostage style, as they slowly shuffled down the hall to the office. As she opened the drawer to reach for the key, he started to laugh. He grabbed her hand. “I’ll take this,” he said, pulling at her ring.
“Oh, God,” she cried, retreating. But he easily pulled her back by the hair and threatened her with the knife right in front of her face. She froze and let him pull off the ring.
He shoved it in his pocket and said, “Hurry up. I ain’t got all night.”
“Don’t hurt me,” she said. “You can have anything you want.”
He laughed. “And what if I want you, too?”
She thought she might vomit on the spot. She willed herself to be brave, to be strong, to let this ordeal end.
But he was going to kill her. She knew who he was, what he’d done, and suddenly she knew—he was going to kill her. As soon as he had what he wanted, that knife would slice across her throat.
Lying on top of the desk were the Hummer keys, obvious by the trademark and remote. He scooped them up, put them in his pocket with the ring and steered her out of the office back toward the kitchen. And he muttered, “Asshole doesn’t pay me enough to sit in the woods with Maxine and a bunch of old bums. But this should catch me up.” And then he laughed.
* * *
Jack rolled out of bed to answer the ringing phone. “Mel’s in trouble,” came Doc’s gravelly voice. “Someone’s trying to get in the back of the house. Downstairs. She’s down there. Glass broke.”
Jack dropped the phone and grabbed his jeans off the chair. No time for a shirt or shoes, he took his 9 mm handgun out of the holster that hung on a hook in the closet, checked to be sure it was loaded and that he had one in the chamber and bolted out the door. He crossed the street at a dead run. He didn’t think—he was on automatic. His jaw ground, his temples pulsed and his blood was roaring in his ears.
There was an old truck at the clinic beside Doc’s truck and Mel’s Hummer. He knew exactly who was in there.
He looked into the front door window in time to see Calvin pushing Mel into the office, and they had come from the direction of the kitchen where the drug cabinet sat. He ran around to the back of the house and looked into the kitchen door window; they were still out of sight. Then they came back into view from down the hall and Jack ducked—but not before he saw that Calvin had a big, serrated knife against her neck. He waited; he wasn’t going to give him the time or opportunity to flee or to do any damage to Mel before fleeing. It was a long few seconds as he waited for them to get back into the kitchen. He could hear their movements, the man’s hostile voice as he held Mel.
They were almost to the drug cabinet when Jack kicked the door. It crashed open and bounced off the opposite wall, but he was already inside. Legs braced apart, arms raised, pistol pointed at the man who held his woman, he said, “Put down the knife. Carefully.”
“You’re gonna let me out of here, and she’ll come with me to be sure,” Calvin said.
Knife against her throat, Mel looked at Jack and saw a man she had never seen before. The expression on his face should be enough to terrify the man who held her. Bare chested, barefoot, his jeans zipped but not buttoned, his shoulders and arms frighteningly huge, big tattoos on his swollen biceps, he looked like a wild man. He looked over the barrel of the gun, his eyes narrow, and a set to his jaw told her he was going to act. There was no question. He did not look at Mel, but at Calvin. And for a woman terrified of guns, she was unafraid. She believed in him. She knew, in that instant, that he would risk his life for her, but he would never put her at risk. Never. If he was going to make a move, she wouldn’t be in danger. Her expression went from frightened to trusting.
Jack had less than a four-inch target—the left side of the man’s head. Right next to that was Mel’s head, Mel’s beautiful face. At her throat, the blade. He didn’t even have to think about it—he wasn’t going to lose her like this.
“You have one second.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw her cast a look his way, a look that in that split second told him she loved him, believed in him. Then her eyes dropped closed and her head dipped ever so slightly to the right.
“Back off, man—”
Jack took his shot, blowing the man backward, the knife flying out of his hand.
Mel ran to Jack. The arm that held the gun was dangling at Jack’s side and his other arm went around her. Jack held her close as she let out a long slow breath against his bare chest, clinging to him. He never took his eyes off the offender. A nice, neat hole was bored right into his head, a growing pool of blood spreading under him as he lay motionless.
They stood like that for a while, Mel trying to catch her breath and Jack watching. Ready. She pulled away enough to look up at him and was nearly startled anew by an expression so fierce, so angry. “He was going to kill me,” she said in a whisper.
His eyes remained on the man as he said, “I will never let anything happen to you.”
The sound of running footfalls came up behind them, but Jack didn’t turn.
Preacher stopped suddenly in the doorway, a hand braced on each side as he leaned in, panting. He looked into the kitchen, saw the man on the floor, Mel in Jack’s protective embrace, the gun dangling at Jack’s side. And Preacher’s expression went dark, his brows drawn close, his mouth turned down in a scowl. He walked into the kitchen, kicked the knife across the floor and bent to the man. He felt the man’s neck for a carotid pulse. He looked over his shoulder at Jack and shook his head. “It’s okay, Jack. It’s done.”
Jack put the gun on the table and, with Mel still protected against him, turned to the wall phone. He lifted the receiver, punched a few numbers and said, “This is Jack Sheridan in Virgin River. I’m at Doc Mullins’s—I just killed a man.”