One morning, Doc left the house early, before breakfast, to make a call. He hadn’t been gone long when Lilly Anderson came to the office to see Mel. Lilly was in the same general age group with Connie and Joy and most of the other women Mel had met—late forties to early fifties. She was pleasantly round with a soft, kind face and lots of short, curly brown hair strung with gray. She wore no makeup and her skin was perfect, blemish-free ivory with pink cheeks and a sweet dimpled smile. The moment Mel met her at the potluck, she’d sensed a safe, nurturing way about her. Mel instantly liked her, trusted her. “You still have that little one, that baby?” Lilly asked.
“I do,” Mel said.
“I’m surprised no one has come forward, wanting to take her in, adopt her.”
“I’m kind of surprised by that, too,” Mel said.
“Perfect healthy little baby,” she said. “What about all those people who want to adopt healthy babies? Where are they?”
Mel shrugged. “Maybe it’s just a matter of Social Services getting their ducks in a row—I understand they’re busy and small towns like this get put on the back burner.”
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. I thought, well, maybe I could help out,” Lilly said.
“That’s nice of you,” Mel said. “Do you live nearby? Because sometimes it’s nice for me and Doc to get a break for a few hours. Especially if we have patients.”
“We’re ranchers—I’m on the other side of the river, but it’s not so far. Thing is, I already raised six youngsters—had my first at only nineteen and my baby is eighteen now and already married. But I have room at the house, what with the kids gone off on their own. I could take in the baby until something permanent is arranged for her. I even have those old baby things stored in the barn. Maybe I could be a foster parent. Buck, my husband, he says it would be okay.”
“That’s very generous, Lilly, but I’m afraid we couldn’t pay you anything.”
“I wouldn’t need pay,” she said. “It’s just a neighborly thing. We help out when we can. And I do love babies.”
“Let me ask you something—have you any idea who might’ve had this baby?”
She shook her head and looked terribly pained. “You have to ask yourself, what kind of woman would give up her baby? Maybe some young girl in trouble, no one to help her. I raised three daughters and by the grace of God, none had to pass that way. I have seven grandchildren already.”
“That’s the beauty of starting early,” Mel said. “Your grandchildren come along while you’re still young enough to enjoy them.”
“I’m blessed,” she said. “I know this. I can only imagine that whoever left her must have been desperate, so desperate.” Mel thought Lilly might have even briefly had tears in her eyes.
“Well, I’ll take your offer to Doc and see what he says. You’re sure? Because I can give you some formula and diapers, and that’s all.”
“I’m sure. And please tell Doc I’d be more than happy to do it.”
When Doc returned an hour later, Mel told him the story. His white eyebrows shot up in surprise and he rubbed a hand over his head. “Lilly Anderson?” he asked. He seemed to be considering this idea with some consternation.
“Does something about that worry you, because we can make do here a while longer...”
“Worry me? No.” He collected himself. “Surprises me, is all.” And he shuffled off to his office.
She followed him. “Well? You didn’t have an answer.”
He turned back toward her. “Can’t think of a better place for that infant than Lilly’s,” he said. “Lilly and Buck are good people. And they know what to do with a baby, that’s for sure.”
“You don’t need time to think about this?” she asked.
“I don’t,” he said. “I was hoping a family would turn up.” He peered at her over his glasses. “Seems like maybe you need some time to think about it.”
“No,” she said, somewhat tremulously. “If you’re okay, I’m okay.”
“Think it over, just the same. I’ll walk across the street and see if anyone’s willing to play cribbage. Then, if you’re of a mind, we’ll take her out to the Anderson ranch.”
“Okay,” she said. But she said it very quietly.
* * *
Jack was painfully, embarrassingly aware that Mel had only been in town three weeks, and he could think of little else. Fact was, from the moment he looked at her in the dim light of the bar that first night, he wanted to sit right down at that table with her and get to know her.
He saw her every day, and given their meals together and long conversations, he knew himself to be her closest friend at the moment. And yet there was much about herself she was concealing. She was open about having lost her parents young, her close relationship with her sister and sister’s family, her nursing career, the crazy and chaotic life at the hospital, but it was as though there was a block of time missing. Him, Jack thought. The one who devastated her and left her hurt and lonely. Jack would drive him away, given half a chance.
He wished he knew what it was that had hooked him so quickly, so thoroughly. It wasn’t just her beauty, though that was evident. True, there weren’t any pretty, single women around town, but he hadn’t been lonely. And Mel hadn’t been the only sexy woman he’d laid eyes on in the past few years. He was hardly a hermit; he’d been to lots of the other towns, the coastal towns, to night spots. There’d been Clear River.
But Mel had some aura that had him all worked up. That tight little body, full breasts, compact fanny, rosy lips, not to mention some real sexy brains—it was all he could do to keep from breathing heavy in her presence. When she had those moments when whatever plagued her was forgotten, and she smiled or laughed, her whole face brightened up. Her blue eyes danced. He’d already dreamed of her; felt her hands all over his body, felt her beneath him, felt himself inside of her, heard her soft moans of pleasure and bam! He awoke to find himself as alone as ever, bathed in sweat.
Jack was already turned on before Mel dropped Nick on his ass, but if he hadn’t been, that sure would have sealed the deal. She was a dynamo. Gorgeous, feminine little thing with one helluva punch. Whoa. Damn.
The vulnerability in her eyes warned him he’d better be very, very careful. One wrong move and she’d jump in that little BMW and shake the dust of Virgin River off the soles of her shoes, the town’s medical needs notwithstanding. He reminded himself constantly that this was one reason he hadn’t sprung the cabin on her yet. Walking away from her last week after Joy’s party had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. He had wanted nothing so much as to crush her to him and say, It’s going to be all right—I can make it all right, all good. Give me a chance.
Doc and Preacher sat at a table in the bar, playing cribbage. Jack put a slice of Preacher’s apple pie on a plate, covered it with Saran wrap and left the bar to walk across the street. No cars or trucks at Doc’s except Doc’s truck and that little BMW parked on the side. All clear, he thought, his pulse picking up. He opened the front door and looked around; no one. He thought to go tap on the office door, but a sound from the kitchen led him there instead.
The baby in her little Plexiglas bed on wheels sat near the warm stove and Mel was at the table, her head down, resting on her folded arms. And she sobbed. He rushed to her; he put the pie on the table and was down on one knee at the side of her chair, all in one movement. “Mel,” he said.
She lifted her head, her cheeks chafed and pink. “Dammit,” she said through her tears. “You caught me.”
His hand was on her back. “What is it?” he asked gently. Now, he thought. Now she’ll tell me about it, let me help her through it.
“I’ve found a home for the baby. Someone came in and offered to take her and Doc endorses it.”
“Who?” he asked.
“Lilly Anderson,” she said, large tears spilling over. “Oh, Jack. I let it happen. I got attached.” And she leaned against his shoulder and wept.
Jack forgot everything. “Come here,” he said, pulling her out of the chair. He traded places with her and pulled her down on his lap. She encircled his neck with her arms, her face buried in his shoulder, crying, and he gently stroked her back. His lips were on her soft hair. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”
“I let it happen,” she said into his shirt. “Stupid. I knew better. I even named her. What was I thinking?”
“You gave her affection,” he said. “You were so good to her. I’m sorry it hurts.” But he wasn’t sorry, because he had his arms around her and it felt as he knew it would, her little body, warm and solid, against his. She was light as a feather on his lap, her arms around his neck like ribbons, and the sweet, fragrant smell of her hair coiled around his brain and tightened, addling his thoughts.
She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. “I thought about taking her,” she said. “Running away with her. That’s how crazy I am. Jack, you should know—I’m totally nuts.”
He wiped the tears from her cheeks. “If you want her, Mel, you can try to adopt her.”
“The Andersons,” she said. “Doc says they’re good people. A good family.”
“They are. Salt of the earth.”
“And that would be better for her than a single mother who works all the time,” she said. “She needs a real bed, not this incubator. A real family, not a midwife and an old doctor.”
“There are lots of different kinds of families.”
“Oh, I know what’s best.” Then the tears began to flow again. “It’s just so hard.” And she laid her head back on his shoulder. His arms tightened around her and hers tightened around his neck. He closed his eyes and just rested his cheek against her hair.
Feeling these strong arms around her, Mel let herself sink into a good, heartfelt cry. She was fully aware of him, but what really mattered to her at the moment was that for the first time in almost a year of crying, she wasn’t alone. Someone was holding her and she felt protected. There was the comfort of strength and warmth, and she welcomed it. His chambray shirt was soft against her cheek and his thighs hard beneath her. He had a wonderful scent of cologne and the outdoors and she felt safe with him. His hand stroked her back and she was aware that he softly kissed her hair.
He rocked her gently as she continued to dampen his shirt. Minutes passed and her weeping slowed to a sniffle, then a murmur. She lifted her head and looked at him, though she said nothing. His brain went numb. He touched her lips softly with his, gently, tentatively. Her eyes closed as she allowed this and his arms tightened around her as he pressed more firmly against her lips. Hers opened and his breath caught as he opened his own and felt her small tongue dart into his mouth. His world reeled and he was lost in a kiss that deepened, that moved him, that shook him.
“Don’t,” she whispered against his mouth. “Don’t get mixed up with me, Jack.”
He kissed her again, holding her against him as though he would never let her go. “Don’t worry about me,” he said against her lips.
“You don’t understand. I have nothing to give. Nothing.”
“I haven’t asked you for a thing,” he said. But in his mind he was saying, You’re mistaken. You are giving, and taking—and it feels damn good.
All Mel could think, in the abstract, was that her body for once wasn’t hollow and so empty she ached. She drank it in, the feeling of being connected to something. To someone. Anchored. So wonderful to have that human contact again. In her soul she had forgotten how, but her body remembered. “You’re a good man, Jack,” she said against his lips. “I don’t want you to be hurt. Because I can’t love anyone.”
All he said was, “I can take care of myself.”
She kissed him again. Deeply. Passionately. For a long minute; two minutes, moving under his mouth with heat.
And the baby fussed.
She pulled away from him. “Oh, man, why’d I do that?” she asked. “That’s a mistake.”
He shrugged. “Mistake? Nah. We’re friends,” he said. “We’re close. You needed some comfort and—and here I am.”
“That just can’t happen,” she said, sounding a little desperate.
He took charge, feeling his own sense of desperation. “Mel, stop it. You were crying. That’s all.”
“I was kissing,” she said. “And so were you!”
He smiled at her. “You are so hard on yourself sometimes. It’s okay to feel something that doesn’t hurt once in a while.”
“Promise me that won’t happen again!”
“It won’t if you don’t want it to. But let me tell you something—if you do want it to, I’m going to let you. You know why? Because I like kissing. And I don’t beat myself up about it.”
“I’m not doing that,” she said. “I just don’t want to be stupid.”
“You’re punishing yourself. I can’t figure out why. But,” he said, lifting her off his lap and putting her on her feet, “you get to call the shots. Personally, I think you secretly like me. Trust me. And I think for a minute there, you also liked kissing me.” He grinned at her. “I could tell. I’m so smart that way.”
“You’re just desperate for a little female companionship,” she said.
“Oh, there are females around. That has nothing to do with anything.”
“Still—you have to promise.”
“Sure,” he said. “If that’s what you want.”
“It’s what I need.”
He stood up and looked down at her. He had warned himself of this and stupidly ignored his own warnings. He had to renew that trust. Fast. He lifted her chin with a finger and looked into her pretty, sad eyes. “Would you like me to take you and Chloe to the Anderson ranch? If I promise not to kiss you anymore?”
“Would you?” she said. “I want to take her, to see where she’ll live. And I don’t think I want to be alone.”
* * *
Jack knew it was imperative that Mel regain her sense of control. He went back to the bar to get his truck and poked his head in. “Doc, I’m going to drive Mel and the baby out to the Andersons’. You okay with that?”
“Sure,” the old boy said, not looking up from his game.
When Mel had the few amassed baby things packed up, he took her. They had no car seat, so she held the baby—and she got a little teary. But once they had traversed the long road up into the hills and were passing through the fenced pastures of grazing sheep, he could see that she was pulling herself together.
Lilly Anderson brought them into her home—a simple house that spoke of the abundance of life. The floors and windows were shining from the housekeeping attention they received; there were folded quilts on the ends of sofas and draped over chairs, crewel pictures on the walls, the smell of freshly baked bread, a pie cooling on the counter and dozens of pictures of children, of family, a collection that spanned many years. A wicker bassinet stood ready for Chloe. Lilly made Mel tea and they sat at the kitchen table and talked while Jack went with Buck to the corral where his grown sons had begun the spring shearing.
“I’ll be honest with you, Lilly. I got pretty attached to her.”
Lilly reached across the table for her hand. “It’s perfectly understandable. You should come out here often, hold her, rock her. You should stay close.”
“I don’t want you to go through that—when someone finally comes for her.”
Lilly got tears in her eyes in sympathy with the tears Mel was showing. “You must be such a tender heart,” Lilly said. “Don’t worry, Mel—now that I’m a grandma, lots of little ones pass through here and don’t stay. But while she’s here, promise you won’t be a stranger.”
“Thank you, Lilly. For understanding. My women and their babies—it’s what I live for.”
“It shows. We’re so lucky to have you with us.”
“But I’m not staying, you know....”
“You should think about that. This isn’t a bad place.”
“I’ll hang around long enough to be sure things are working out for Chloe. And I’ll try to make it a few days before I’m back to cuddle her,” Mel said.
“You come every day if you like. Twice a day.”
It wasn’t long before Mel joined Jack at the fence and stood watching the shearing. “You’ll have to come back for the lambing in a few weeks,” Buck said. “We like to shear before the lambing—it’s easier on the sheep.”
When they left the ranch, Jack drove around the hills of Virgin River. He didn’t say anything—he just let her see the beauty of the green fields, the high hills, grazing livestock. He took her for a little stretch along Highway 299 through a piece of the redwoods that, despite her morose mood, caused her to gasp in awe. The sky was still and blue, the breeze light and cool, but in the tallest trees it was dark except for those blinding flashes of bright sun that broke through. He could tell she was getting better, if slowly, quietly.
It was like this place was divided into two worlds—the dank and dark world of the deep forest where life was bleak and poor, the people desperate. And this world, the national forest of redwoods, the first-rate campgrounds, the hills and valleys where the fields were lush and plentiful, where health and contentment abounded.
Jack drove down a tree-canopied road toward the widest curve in the Virgin River, pulled the truck up to the edge and parked. There were two men in the river, waders held by suspenders, wearing tan fishing vests with many pockets and wicker creels held by shoulder straps, casting out into the water. The arcs of their lines were like a ballet, so graceful, so rhythmic.
“What are we doing?” she asked.
“I wanted you to see a few things before you cut and run. This is where a lot of the town and visitors like to fish, where I mostly fish. When the winter rains come, we come out here to watch the salmon leap up over the natural waterfalls to return to their home creeks to spawn. It’s really something to see. Now that the baby is at the Andersons’, I’ll take you to the coast if you like. Pretty soon the whales will be migrating north to cooler waters for the summer. They’ll travel close to the coastline with their new calves and it’s incredible.”
She watched the fishermen cast and reel in, then there was a catch. A good-size brown trout.
“During a good season, fish is the main staple on the menu at the bar,” he said.
“Most of it you catch yourself?” she asked.
“Me and Preacher and Ricky. The best way to make work into play. Mel,” he said, his voice soft. “Look downstream. There...”
She squinted and then sat back with a gasp. Poking their heads out of the brush at the side of the river on the other side was a mother bear and her cub.
“You were asking about the bear. Black bear. The cub looks young. They’re just giving birth and coming out of hibernation. Have you ever seen anything like that?”
“Only on the Discovery Channel. The fishermen don’t see her?” she asked.
“I’m sure they see her. She won’t bother them and they won’t bother her. But they carry bear repellent just in case. And they’ll have a rifle in the truck—but if she gets too close they’ll just reel in their lines and sit in their trucks until she leaves.” He chuckled. “Watch while she eats their fish.”
She watched in fascination for a moment, then said, “Why’d you bring me here?”
“Sometimes, if something’s eating me up—I can come out here, or drive into the redwoods, or go up on the knoll where the sheep are grazing, or maybe out to a pasture where the cows roam, and just sit awhile. Just connect with the earth. Sometimes that’s all I have to do.”
One elbow sticking out of the window, wrist of the other hand balanced on the top of the steering wheel, Jack just watched the fishing—the men and the bear. The men were so intent on their sport that they had never even turned around at the sound of the truck pulling into the clearing.
They were quiet. Jack had no idea what she might be thinking, but he thought, Don’t turn and run just because you got kissed. Things could be worse.
After about twenty minutes, he started the truck. “I have something to show you. You’re in no hurry, are you?”
“Doc’s in town,” she said. “I guess not.”
Jack eventually pulled into the clearing where Hope McCrea’s cabin sat. It was perfectly obvious he’d like her to reconsider leaving. But she never expected him to do what he had done. As they pulled up to the cabin and parked, she looked at him in surprise.
“My God,” she said. “How did you do this?”
“Soap,” he said. “Wood. Paint. Nails.”
“You shouldn’t have, Jack. Because—”
“I know—because you’re not staying. I’ve heard that at least a hundred times over the past couple of weeks. That’s fine. You’ll do what you have to do. But this is what you were promised and I thought you ought to have the option.”
Straight ahead of her was the little A-frame cabin with a new, strong, wide porch, painted red. Two white Adirondack chairs sat on the deck and four white pots holding red geraniums sat on the porch rails in the corners. It was beautiful. She was afraid to go inside. Did this mean that if it were lovely, she’d be forced to stay? Because she knew it was going to be lovely.
Wordlessly, Mel got out of the truck. She slowly walked up the steps to the house, aware that Jack had not gotten out of the truck behind her. He was letting her go alone. She pushed open the door, which no longer stuck. Inside, the wood floors gleamed, the countertops sparkled. The windows, previously so grimy you couldn’t see out, were so clean it seemed possible there was no glass. The window that had been boarded up was replaced. The appliances were spotless, the furniture had been so vigorously vacuumed or shampooed that the colors were now bright because there was no dust. There was a new area rug on the floor.
She wandered into the bedroom. A new comforter replaced the old and she could tell without even checking under the covers that a fat, firm mattress had been purchased and that the nasty soiled one was gone. The brightness of the sheets indicated these were not Hope’s hand-me-downs, but newly purchased linen. On the floor beside the bed, a wide, thick rug. In the bathroom, new towels and accessories. The shower glass had been completely replaced and the tiles had been scrubbed to such a high sheen that even the grout was immaculate. There was the faintest smell of bleach; not a spot or stain remained. She loved the bright towels, alternating red and white. The rugs were white; the trash can, glass and tissue dispenser were red.
There were two bedrooms downstairs and a small, open loft upstairs at the peak of the A-frame—only large enough for a bed and maybe a small dresser. Both of them had been scoured clean, but they were empty of furniture. Back in the living room, she saw the fire had been laid and a fresh pile of wood sat at the side of the hearth. The books in the bookcases were dust free, the trunk that could be used as a coffee table had been polished with lemon oil. The cupboards shone with oil, as well. She opened one of them and saw there were new ceramic dishes to replace the dingy Melmac that had been there before. Graying old plastic was replaced with glass. A wine rack on the counter held four bottles.
Inside the refrigerator, which also gleamed, there were a few staples. A bottle of white wine was chilling, a six-pack of good beer. There was milk, orange juice, butter, bread, lettuce and other salad items. Bacon and eggs. Sandwich items—lunch meat, cheese, mayo, mustard. On the kitchen table, which wore a pretty new tablecloth, sat a festive ceramic bowl holding fresh fruit. In the corner of the counter, a set of four thick, round white candles. She lowered her face and sniffed. Vanilla.
She left the house, pulling the door closed behind her and went back to the truck. It made her melancholy, all that he’d done. This was not what she’d expected, either. Mel had come to terms with the fact that she’d made a mistake. Now that she’d accepted that, she was ready to move on. As soon as they could spare her.
“Why did you do this?”
“It was promised to you,” he said. “You’re under no obligation.”
“But what did you hope?” she asked.
“The town needs you. Doc needs help, you can see that. I hoped you’d give it a chance. A few more weeks, maybe. Just to see if it worked for you. I think the Virgin River folks have already made it clear—it works for them.”
“Did you do this hoping it would force me to the terms of Hope’s one-year contract?” she asked him. “Because as the place was, we were at an impasse. She couldn’t hold me to it—she hadn’t met the terms.”
“She will not force that contract,” he said flatly.
“But yes, she will.”
“No. She will not hold you to that contract. Guaranteed. I’ll see to it. This is just for you—not leverage for Hope.”
She shook her head sadly. “You can see I don’t belong here,” she said softly.
“Aw. I don’t know, Mel. People belong wherever they feel good. It can be a lot of different places. For a lot of different reasons.”
“No, Jack, look. Look at me. I’m not a camper—I’m a shopper. I’m really not one of those homespun country midwives. I’m so citified, it’s scary. I feel so out of place here. It’s as if I’m not like anyone. They don’t make me feel that way, but I can’t help it. I shouldn’t be here, I should be at Nordstrom’s.”
“Come on,” he laughed.
She lowered her face into her hands and massaged her eyes. “You just don’t understand. It’s complicated, Jack. There’s more to this than you realize.”
“Tell me. You can trust me.”
“That’s just it—one of the reasons I agreed to come here is so I wouldn’t have to talk about it anymore. Let’s say I made a crazy decision. An insane decision. The wrong decision. This isn’t for me.”
“It wasn’t just burnout, was it?” he asked her.
“I got rid of everything that tied me to L.A. and ran for my life. It was a panicked, crazy, irrational decision,” she said. “I was hurting all over.”
“I assumed as much. A man, maybe. A heartache or something.”
“Close enough,” she said.
“Believe me, Mel. This is as good a place as any to work through a heartache.”
“You?” she asked him.
“Yeah, in a manner of speaking. But I didn’t come here in a panic. I was looking for a place like this. Good fishing and hunting. Remote. Uncomplicated. Clean air, decent values, hardworking people who help each other out. It serves.”
She took a deep breath. “I don’t think it’s going to work for me in the long term.”
“That’s okay—no one asked you to make a long-term commitment. Well, no one except Hope, but no one really takes her seriously. But you shouldn’t rush out of here with the same panic as you rushed in. It’s a healthy place. It’s a loving place. Who knows? You might find it helps you get through...whatever.”
“I’m sorry. I’m such a downer sometimes. I should be so thankful. Grateful. And instead—”
“Hey, easy,” he said, throwing the truck into gear to take her back to town. “I blindsided you. You had it in your head that you could use the excuse of having no decent housing. And now Chloe isn’t holding you here. But I figured, you don’t have to stay at Doc’s now, and if someone’s going to give birth in your bedroom there, maybe it’s time you have your own place. If you want it, that is.”
“Are there bears out here?” she asked.
“It might be best if you kept your trash indoors, and drive it into town to put in the Dumpster. Bears so like garbage.”
“Oh, for the love of God!”
“We haven’t had a bad bear scare in ages.” He reached across the console and squeezed her hand. “Just give yourself a break. Work on your particular heartache. And while you do, take the occasional temperature. Give a pill now and then. No one’s holding you hostage.”
She watched him as he drove. That strong profile. He had a solid square face, straight nose, high cheekbones, bristle of stubble on his cheeks. He was a hairy guy; she noticed that he shaved his neck down to the top of his chest and she found herself wondering what was under his shirt. She remembered Mark’s complaints of his receding hairline, which did nothing to detract from his boyish good looks. But this man, Jack, wasn’t boyish. He had the hard good looks of a woodsman. And, though his hair was cropped short in that military buzz, it was so thick that it looked as if it should be thinned. The big hands on the steering wheel were calloused—he worked hard. The guy was dripping in testosterone.
What was this magnificent man doing locked away in a little town of six hundred, where there were no women for him? She wondered if he had the faintest clue about her—that she had no heart. He had just given so much and she had absolutely nothing to give. Nothing. She was hollow inside. If she weren’t, a man like Jack would appeal to her.
This was the worst thing about grief, she thought as she walked back to Doc’s house. It emptied you. She should be flattered and pleased with what had been done for her in the renovating of the cabin. She should be thrilled that a man like Jack was interested in her, because clearly he was. But instead she was sad. She had lost the ability to be moved by these acts of kindness. Instead, it made her feel depressed and alone, because she didn’t feel up to the task of receiving gifts and kindnesses graciously. She couldn’t respond to a handsome man’s interest. She couldn’t be happy. Sometimes she asked herself if she was paying some tribute to Mark’s memory by hanging on to the sadness of losing him.
* * *
Ricky worked at the bar after school every day and some weekends, whenever Jack wanted him. He dropped Liz at the store after school, then parked behind the bar next to Jack’s and Preacher’s trucks. As he was going in, Jack was coming out. “Grab your gear,” Jack said. “We’re going to run out to the river, see if we can make a catch.”
“There isn’t anything out there now,” Ricky said. The good catch was in the fall and winter, dwindling by spring, starting to pick up again in summer.
“We’ll cast a while,” Jack said. “See what you got.”
“Preacher coming?” Ricky asked, going to the storeroom in the kitchen to get his rod, reel and waders.
“Nah. He’s busy.”
Jack remembered the first day he’d met Ricky. The kid had been thirteen and had ridden his bike up to the cabin that would become the bar. Skinny and freckle-faced with the most engaging grin and sweetest disposition. He let him hang around, help with the carpentry during the renovation if he could pay attention. When he found out it was just Ricky and his grandma, Lydie, he kind of took him under his wing. He’d watched the boy grow tall and strong; Jack taught him to fish, shoot. Now he was damn near a man. Physically, he didn’t have far to go, but mentally and emotionally, sixteen was still just sixteen.
At the river’s edge, they cast their lines a few times and then it came. The real reason for fishing when there were few fish. “You and I should have a little talk, I think,” Jack said.
“About?”
Jack didn’t look at him. He just cast in long beautiful arcs. And said, “About all the places you can put your dick that aren’t statutory.”
Ricky snapped his head around and looked at Jack’s profile. Jack turned his head and met the boy’s eyes.
“She’s fourteen,” Jack said.
Ricky looked back at the river, silent.
“I know she doesn’t look fourteen. She’s fourteen.”
“I haven’t done anything,” Ricky said.
Jack laughed. “Oh, gimme a break. I saw your truck over at Connie’s the first Friday night she was in town—you moved on her fast. You want to stick with that story?” He reeled in and turned toward Ricky. “Listen, son, you have to keep your head. You hear me, Rick? Because this is dangerous ground you’re on. She’s a little hottie—”
“She’s a sweet girl,” Rick said defensively.
“You’re already hooked,” Jack said, hoping they weren’t already doomed. “How hooked?”
Ricky shrugged. “I like her. I know she’s young, but she doesn’t seem that young, and I like her.”
“Okay,” Jack said, taking a breath. “Okay, maybe we should talk about the things you can do to avoid putting your sixteen-year-old swimmers in contact with her fourteen-year-old eggs. Hmm?”
“You don’t have to,” Ricky said, casting. And casting pretty badly.
“Aw, Jesus. You’re already involved. Physically, huh?” Rick didn’t answer and Jack thought, who knew what they were up to. Jack remembered only too well the things experimental kids could do to get a little satisfaction without going all the way. It was a frickin’ art form. Problem was, it just didn’t last, and the closer you got, the greater potential for slipups. Sometimes it made more sense to decide you were going all the way with good birth control in place, rather than risk an accident. But man, you should be older. Older. “Aw, Jesus.” Jack took a breath. He dug down into his waders, down into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a fist full of condoms. “This is tough, Rick, because I don’t want you to use these on her, and I don’t want you not to. I’m stuck here. Help me out, will you?”
“It’s okay, Jack. I’m not going to do her. She’s fourteen.”
Jack reached out and tousled his hair. Those freckles had given way to the stubble of a young beard; he wasn’t skinny anymore. The work he did at the bar plus the pastimes of hunting and fishing, not to mention chores for his grandma, had bulked the kid up and his shoulders and arms were muscled. Handsome kid, he thought. Real grown-up. He had a lot of responsibility—he worked hard, maintained his grades, did every physical thing around his grandma’s house that needed doing. With Jack’s supervision, Rick had painted her house. All that built toward creating a solid, reliable man—one who shouldn’t get shot in the foot by a teenage pregnancy.
“So, how old were you?” Ricky asked him.
“’Bout your age. But the girl was much older.”
“Much?”
“Way older than Lizzie. Older than me. Smarter than me.” He handed Rick the condoms and although Rick’s cheeks took on a dark stain, he accepted them. “I know you’re at that age—I was that age once. You know what the problem is. She might not look so young, but she’s got a long way to go yet. Huh?”
A shiver went through Ricky and Jack caught it. Well, it’s not as though he had been oblivious to Lizzie’s rather overmatured charms. Thus the talk. “Yeah,” Ricky said, a little breathless.
“Let’s be sure you know some things,” Jack said. “You know that old business about pulling out in time—you know that doesn’t work. Right? And trying to not put it all the way in? Useless. First of all, if you can do that, you’re a stronger man than I am, and even if you can, it’s not good enough—you can still get her pregnant. You know these things, right?”
“Of course I know that.”
“Rick, you understand, if there’s no backing out of this relationship with her and if there’s a strong potential for it to get more serious rather than less, you might have to be the one to take charge. Draw a line in the sand—insist on birth control at least. You got a midwife in town—there’s help available. For Liz. I think she’s too young to be having sex, personally. But I know she’s too young to be pregnant. You with me here, buddy?”
“I told you, I have it under control. But thanks, Jack. I know you just want me to do the right thing.”
“Which includes not getting caught off guard. If it’s getting close, you get her fixed up. Double protection—hers and yours. You have to use the head with the brain in it. Believe me, I’ve seen more than one good man go down because he was thinking with his dick.” He watched Ricky’s chin lower as he looked down and he knew. Liz was irresistible to him. He was fighting for his life. His pants were on fire.
“Yeah,” Ricky said. “I hear ya.”
“You make sure you always have a condom, okay? It’s your responsibility to keep her safe, son. If you use even one condom, Rick, you get her to Mel. Right away.”
“Do we have to talk about this anymore?”
Jack grabbed the boy’s arm and felt solid biceps in his grasp. Damn, Ricky was nearly six feet and still growing. “You wanna be a man, son? You have to think like one. It’s not enough to just feel like one.”
“Yeah,” he said. Then, “By the way, it’s not statutory unless I’m over eighteen.”
Jack laughed in spite of himself. “Too smart for your own goddamn good, aren’t you?”
“I hope so, Jack. Holy God, I hope so.”