Virgin River (12 page)

She looked up at the most gorgeous sky imaginable, with more stars than she thought existed. He stepped behind her and with his hands on both of her upper arms, he gently squeezed.

“You just can’t see this in the city. In any city.”

“It is beautiful,” she said softly. “I admit, this is beautiful country.”

“It’s majestic. One of these days, before you pack it in and run for your life, I’d like to show you some things. The redwoods, the rivers, the coast. It’s almost time for whale watching.” She leaned back against him and couldn’t deny it felt pretty good to be shored up by Jack. “I’m sorry about what happened tonight.” He leaned down and inhaled the scent of her hair. “I was
really impressed with how well you handled it—but I’m sorry he… I hate that he touched you like that. I thought I had an eye on him.”

“Too quick for me. Too quick for you,” she said.

He turned her around and looked into her eyes. He thought he saw an invitation there in her upturned face and he lowered his.

She put a hand on his chest. “I have to go in now,” she said, a little breathless.

He straightened.

“We both know I couldn’t throw you,” she said, smiling weakly.

“You’ll never have to,” he said. But he still held her arms, so reluctant to let go.

“Good night, Jack. And thanks for everything. Despite Nick—I had a good time.”

“Glad to hear it,” he said. And he let go.

She turned, and with her head down, went the rest of the way alone.

He stood in the street until she was inside, then headed back to the bar. On his way, he saw Ricky’s truck parked right in front of Connie’s house. Well, damn—the boy sure didn’t waste any time. Ricky didn’t have a mom or dad and his grandmother wasn’t well. Jack had been looking out for him for a long time and he knew this day would come eventually—they’d have to have THE talk. But not tonight. Tonight Jack would have that talk with himself.

Preacher had the chairs upside down on the tables and was sweeping up. Jack walked right by him at a good clip. “Where you going in such a hurry?” Preacher asked.

“Shower,” he said miserably.

It was because Connie and Ron liked Ricky so much that they had no problem with him staying out in front of the house talking with Liz for a few minutes. They trusted him, he knew this. But maybe they shouldn’t because if they knew what one look at Liz had done to him, they’d lock her up.

She leaned against the porch, crossed her legs in front of her, pulled a cigarette out of her purse and lit it.

“What are you doing that for?” he asked her.

“Got a problem with it?” she said, blowing out smoke.

He shrugged. “Makes your mouth taste like shit,” he said. “No one’s going to want to kiss you if you smoke.”

She smiled at him. “Someone wants to kiss me?” she asked.

He took the cigarette out of her hand and tossed it. Then he grabbed her around the waist and brought her onto his lips. Yeah, he thought. Makes your mouth taste bad, but not bad enough.

She curved right to him and of course it happened to him. Happened all the time these days. When she opened her mouth and pressed harder against him, it happened even more. Holy God, he was dying. He could feel her full, hard breasts against his chest and right now all he wanted was to palm one. Against her lips he said, “You shouldn’t smoke.”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll cut your life short.”

“We wouldn’t want that.”

“You’re beautiful,” he said. “Really beautiful.”

“So are you.”

“Guys aren’t beautiful. You want a ride to school Monday?”

“Sure. What time?”

“Pick you up at seven. What class are you?”

“Freshman,” she said.

It stopped happening to him real fast. “Four…fourteen?” he asked her.

“Yeah. And you’re…?”

“Ah… A junior. Sixteen.” He backed away a little. “Damn. Holy God.”

“Did I just lose my ride?” she asked, tugging her sweater down a little bit, which only made her boobs pop out more.

He smiled at her. “Nah. What the heck, huh? See you Monday morning.” He started to walk away, then turned back abruptly and decided on another kiss. Deep and strong. Long. And then another, still longer. Maybe deeper. She sure didn’t feel fourteen.

O
ne 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 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.