Virgin River (29 page)

The three of them had a nice evening with steak cooked on the backyard barbecue and red wine. The men insisted on cleaning up the dishes, so Mel took her glass of wine and wandered around the house a little bit. She found herself in what passed as Sam’s study, or office or bragging room. There was a desk, a TV, computer, bookshelves and wall upon wall of pictures and awards. All his daughters in their wedding dresses, all his granddaughters, ranging in age from five to eighteen, but the thing she hadn’t given any thought to at all were the pictures she would see of Jack. Pictures she had never seen around Jack’s room—a marine wearing rows of ribbons. Jack and his various squads and platoons, Jack and his parents, Jack and Generals. Jack and the guys who came to Virgin River for their Semper Fi reunions. And cases of medals. She didn’t know much about military awards, but there was no mistaking three purple hearts and silver and bronze stars.

She reached out and gently ran her fingers over the glass case that held the medals. Sam came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “He’s a hero,” he said softly. “Many times over.”

She looked over her shoulder at Sam. “You’d never know that from talking to him,” she said.

“Oh, I know.” He laughed. “He’s modest.”

“Dad,” Jack said, coming into the room, drying a wine glass with a dish towel. “I told you to put all that shit away.”

“Hah,” Sam said, just ignoring his son, turning his back on him. “This one is from Desert Storm,” he told Mel. “And this—Bosnia. There were downed fighter pilots—Jack and his unit went into a hot zone and pulled them out. He got shot in Afghanistan, but still managed to get his squad out of danger. And this one—the latest Iraq conflict—he saved six men.”

“Dad…”

“Your dishes done, son?” he asked without turning around, dismissing Jack.

Mel looked up at Sam. “Do you think this bothers him? The memories?”

“Oh, I’m sure some of them do. But it never bothered him enough to keep him from going back, time and again. They might’ve sent him anyway, but every bit of training and fighting—he volunteered. This boy has been awarded medals by many generals and one president. He was the marines’ best—and I’m damn proud of him. He won’t keep the medals with him. He’d put ’em in storage or something. I have to keep them here to keep them safe.”

“He’s not proud of this?” she asked.

Sam looked down at Mel. “Not the medals so much as the men. He was committed to his men, not military awards. You didn’t know this about my son?”

“I knew he was in the marines. I met some of his friends. These guys,” she said, pointing at a picture.

“He’s a leader of men, Melinda,” Sam said. He glanced over his shoulder and seeing that his son was gone, said, “He tends to act embarrassed that he was only a high-school graduate when his sisters—and their husbands for that matter—all hold college degrees, and even some post-graduate degrees among them. But I
think the man has accomplished more, done more good and saved more lives, than many a man or woman with more education. And if you know him, you know he’s very intelligent. If he’d gone to college, he’d have excelled there, as well, but this was his path.”

“He’s so gentle,” she heard herself say.

“He is that. I’ve seen him with each one of my granddaughters, handling them like they’re nitro and might blow up if he makes a wrong move. But he is not gentle when he’s in the fight. This man is not just a marine. He’s a highly decorated hero. His sisters and I stand in awe.”

“It must have been hard for you, when he was in combat.”

“Yes.” He looked at the pictures and medals with a wistful expression on his face. “You can’t imagine how much his mother and I missed him. Worried about him. But he did what he was driven to do. And he did it well.” Sam smiled. “We’d better get back to the kitchen. He gets surly when I brag.”

When Mel got up the next morning, Jack was not beside her. She heard him talking with his dad in another room; she heard them laughing, so she showered and dressed before joining them. She found them in the dining room, paperwork spread out all over the table.

“Board meeting?” she asked.

“Something like that,” Sam said. “So, son, everything look okay to you?”

“Great. As usual.” He stuck out his hand and shook his father’s. “Thanks, Dad. Appreciate it.”

Sam gathered up the papers, clutched them in a stack atop an accordion file and left the room.

“My dad was an agent for a brokerage firm before he retired. While I was in the marines, I’d send him money from time to time. He’s been investing for me for twenty years.”

“I didn’t think a marine made a lot of money,” she said.

“Not really.” He shrugged. “But if you’re single and you keep re-upping and going to war, there are bonuses, incentives, combat pay, promotions. My buddies—most of them—had those benefits eaten up by housing, braces on kids’ teeth, the usual. I always lived cheap and saved. My dad,” he said, “he always made that such an issue while I was growing up.”

“Smart man,” she said, and she wasn’t speaking of Sam.

Jack grinned. “You thought I was making a killing on that little Virgin River bar?”

“I figured you didn’t need to. With a military retirement and low cost of living…”

“Nah. That aside, I’m set,” he said. “If the bar burns to the ground, all I have to do is support Preach for the rest of his life. And I’d like to make sure Ricky gets an education. That’s about it.” He reached for her hand. “Otherwise, I have everything I need.”

That afternoon the rest of the family descended on the Sheridan home—four sisters and their husbands, eight nieces. As they came, one family at a time, they flung themselves on Jack. His sisters ran to him, hugging and kissing him. His brothers-in-law embraced him fondly. He picked up each one of his nieces and hugged them like they were his daughters, spun them around, laughed into their pretty faces.

Mel wasn’t sure what she had expected them to be like. Having seen the family picture in his room and those around the house, she knew they were a good looking family; good genes. His sisters were very different from each other, but each was svelte, lovely, smart. Donna, the oldest, was very tall, probably five-ten, with short, frosted hair, Jeannie was nearly as tall, quite thin and chic, Mary was next tallest at perhaps five-five, but so trim and fragile-looking it was hard to imagine her handling a big commercial jet. Donna and Jeannie each had three daughters, Mary had two. And then there was Brie, the baby, celebrating her thirtieth birthday. She was the only sister who did not yet have children. She was just about the same size as Mel with long light brown hair that fell down her back almost to her waist—a little bitty thing who put away hardened criminals for a living. And their men, like Jack and Sam, were big guys, the nieces, each one beautiful.

Jack’s sisters brought some of Mel’s closest friends with them—Ralph Lauren, Lilly Pulitzer, Michael Kors and Coach. Each one of them had a strong sense of style, but what was more obvious than their collective taste in fashion was their warmth and humor. They all met Mel with delight, eschewing the offered handshake and immediately embracing her. It was a very physical, affectionate family. Every time Mel stole a look at Jack he had his arms around a sister or niece, frequently dropping kisses on their heads or cheeks. Just as frequently he would seek out Mel and put a possessive arm about her shoulders or waist. And to her surprise, so would Sam, as though they’d been close for years.

All Brie had wanted for her birthday was to have the family together and her brother home. “He’s not so
very far away,” Mel said. “Don’t you get to see him often?”

“Not nearly often enough,” Brie said. “Jack has been essentially gone for twenty-three years. Since he was seventeen.”

It was a loud day, filled with laughter and good food. Sam took care of the meat while the sisters brought delicious side dishes. After dinner, the kids took off to watch DVDs on the big screen or jump in the backyard pool or play video games on grandpa’s computer. It was just the adults sitting around the patio tables and they told stories about Jack that almost made him blush.

“Remember, Dad, when you were giving away Jack’s bed and were going to surprise him with a new bigger one because he’d gotten so tall? So heavy?” Immediate laughter from everyone—Mel was the only one not intimate with this story. “A friend of the family wanted the bed for one of his younger kids. He was a respected member of the PTA…”

“Aw, you act like he was the frickin’ preacher or something,” Jack protested.

“And when they pulled off the mattress, Jack’s private library was exposed for all eyes to see,” Donna said, and everyone howled.

“I’d been raising girls,” Sam said. “I completely forgot what boys were doing when they were supposed to be doing homework.”

“At least it was good, solid, decent girlie magazines and not pictures of women in bras from Sears catalog,” Jack said in his defense. “Fine, upstanding, naked women!”

“Here, here,” the brothers-in-law intoned.

“You know,” Mel said, “I’ve noticed there’s only one bathroom besides the master bath in this house…”

Immediate noise erupted—shouts, laughter, whistles, jeering. “We used to have the biggest fights over the bathroom,” one of the women said.

“I wasn’t in that,” Jack insisted.

“You were the
worst!
” it was accused.

“Plus, when he got the bathroom, he’d stay in there for hours! He wouldn’t give it up until all the hot water was gone!”

“Mom had to give him a timer for his shower—so the rest of us could get clean, too. Of course, he just ignored it. And Mom would say, now, now, I know Jack’s trying. Because Jack was her little precious.”

“I started showering at night—it was the only way,” Donna said.

“Speaking of nights—do you know what he used to do to us at night? Mary and I had the same bedroom, and it was crammed to the ceiling with our stuff. Jack and one of his friends used to sneak in when we were asleep and tie strings to our fingers and toes and connect the strings to stuff around the room, so when we turned over in our sleep—everything came crashing down around us!”

“That’s nothing,” Jeannie said. “I used to come home from school and find all my stuffed animals with nooses around their necks, hanging from my bed canopy!”

“They act like they never did anything to me,” Jack said.

“Do you remember the time we were all in the family room, all five of us, and Mom came into the room with a bunch of condoms in her hand and said, ‘Guess what I found floating in the washer? Jack, I imagine these must belong to you.’”

Wild laughter erupted and Jack got all stirred up.
“Yeah, but they weren’t mine, were they? Because mine were right where I’d left them! I suspect Donna!”

“I was a feminist,” Donna declared.

“Mom would never have believed it—Donna was her pride and joy!”

“Donna was screwing around!”

“I can’t take these stories,” Sam said, standing up and going for a beer, making them all laugh.

“It’s okay, Dad,” Donna yelled. “I don’t need birth control anymore!”

When it was time to clean up and the sun had set, the men went off somewhere and three of the sisters insisted that the birthday girl and the guest relax while they did the work. Mel was left with Brie. They sat at the patio table by candlelight.

“My brother has never brought a woman home before,” Brie said.

“After watching him with his family—all these females—it’s so hard to imagine. He’s completely comfortable with women. He should have been married years ago. He should have a big family of his own,” Mel said.

“It just never happened,” Brie put in. “I blame it on the marines.”

“When I first met him, I asked him if he’d ever been married and he said, ‘I was married to the marines, and she was a real bitch.’” Brie laughed. “Have you visited him in Virgin River?” Mel asked.

“Not en masse,” she said. “But we’ve all gotten up there at one time or another. The guys like to fish with Jack and Preacher. Dad will go up there for as long as a couple of weeks at a time—he loves that little bar of Jack’s.”

“Jack seems to have found his niche, his happy place,” Mel said. “I’ve only been there a little over four months, and my adjustment hasn’t been that easy. I’m used to big-city medicine where you can get anything you want, and fast. This is a whole new game. And I had to drive for two hours to get a decent haircut and frost job.”

“What made you choose Virgin River?” Brie asked her.

“Hmm. The flip side of big-city medicine—I’d had it with the chaos and crime. As I told Jack, I left the E.R. not just because I felt drawn to midwifery, but I thought I could get away from having half my patients brought in by the police. And guess what? The first woman I ever delivered had multiple felony warrants and was being arrested when she went into labor. She was handcuffed to the bed when I examined her prior to delivery.” She chuckled. “I was looking for something smaller and simpler.” She laughed. “I got smaller, but simpler? Little towns like Virgin River have their own challenges.”

“Like?”

“Like how about loading a critical patient in the back of a pickup truck and speeding down the mountain, hanging on for dear life, trying to get her to the hospital before she goes into cardiac arrest. Man, did I ever lust after that big, chaotic emergency room that day. And there’s always the adventure of having your services requested by a big, gun-toting drug farmer in the middle of the night… Um, if you tell Jack that version of the story, there’s going to be a scene.”

Brie laughed. “He doesn’t know?”

“Not some of the details. He was very pissed that I
went alone to an unknown location with a man who was basically a stranger.”

“Holy smoke.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a good thing I did. There were complications with the delivery. But I don’t think that will cheer up Jack too much.” She shrugged. “Jack’s protective. Of everyone.”

“Have you found your niche?” Brie asked.

“I kind of crave a trip to Nordstrom’s,” Mel said. “I wouldn’t mind a facial and leg wax, either. On the other hand, I didn’t realize I could get by on so little. So simply. There’s something about that… It’s freeing, in a way. And there’s no question, it’s beautiful. Sometimes it’s so quiet, your ears ring. But when I first got there, I thought I’d really screwed up big—it was so much more rugged and isolated than I expected. The mountain roads terrified me, and Doc and I manage in that clinic with the most rudimentary equipment. The cabin I was promised, rent free for a year, was horrible. In fact, my first morning there the porch collapsed and dumped me into a deep, freezing mud puddle. The cabin was so filthy, I was on my way out of town—running for my life—when a medical emergency stopped me and I reluctantly stayed a few days that turned into a couple of weeks.”