Down by the River

by Robyn Carr

“I could never make the kind of money here that I made in San Diego!”

  “Fortunately you don’t need to. I got this house for just about the cost of renovation, which I used my IRAs for. It’s almost paid for. And around here people barter for things all the time. Plus, come spring, I plan to get a good-size garden going and maybe get some chickens or even a cow….”

  “Oh, Jesus Christ,” she swore, completely beside herself. Returning to the small town of her childhood was one thing, but becoming a subsistence farmer, living from day to day, was another. Was she supposed to milk the cow, gather the eggs, pull up a few carrots for lunch and then trot off to her job as a waitress at one of the oceanside bars? What was to become of all her suits? Her pumps? Her tennis clothes? This was Nancy Forrest, who had risen to the executive assistant to the senior vice president of a large brokerage firm!

  Chris had turned back to his sanding, taking long and meticulous strokes. “It’s a different kind of life here, I know. But damn, Nancy, it can be good. These people aren’t a bunch of hicks. They’re talented. Professional. Smart. Your new best friend is a doctor. We could be happy here.”

  “Not if we’re always hungry, Chris.”

  “We won’t be hungry.”

  “How do you know that!” she shouted at him. Why was he so dense? Did he think he could just keep sanding things and everything would work itself out?

  “Because life is simple here. If we sold the San Diego house, we’d have a couple hundred thousand to put by and—”

  “Chris, you dope! We were living on about eighty grand a year in San Diego!”

  “That’s just it, Nancy, you bigger dope,” he yelled back. “It doesn’t take that in Grace Valley! It doesn’t take half that!”

  “But Chris, I like making money, even if you don’t. I like the challenge of a difficult job. I like to be busy, to be in a position of accountability! I don’t know that Grace Valley has any of that for me!”

  He just looked at her for a long time, his hands still. “Well, Nance, that’s something you’ll have to work out for yourself. Because, see, here’s something I just barely found out. San Diego was way too much for me. No one there would ever have appreciated a couple of chairs, a sideboard with leaded-glass accents. No one needed me to lend a hand there. It was all about working to earn a buck, then another buck, then another.

  “But don’t get me wrong, Nancy. I don’t think Grace Valley is a good idea because here I can work with wood, have a garden and chickens and volunteer. I think it’s a good idea because it might be the best place for the boys. Now, at least. Now that I almost lost them.”

  It was impossible to argue with that. Of course it was a good place for them. It was clean and wholesome and pretty safe, considering. “But what will we use for money when they want to go to college?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, but I bet it’ll work out somehow.”

  Give it up, she told herself. He’s always been like this. He never worried about the money too much, he left that to her. And he didn’t worry about earning it much, either.

  “I took a leave of absence from my job. I have to make a decision about whether or not I’m going back.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t,” he said. “I love you.”

  “You do? You really do? You can blow off a paying job for this and still say you love me?”

  “Actually, I love you more now than I did last year. I finally realize what a bad husband I was. What a bad father. You know why, Nance? I wasn’t happy. I was miserable. Every day was another rotten day of insurance…and because I wasn’t happy, I was a screwup. Because I never felt good enough, I was a self-fulfilling prophecy.” He smiled a melancholy smile. “Now that I’ve found something that makes me feel good enough, makes me look forward to each day, am I going to lose you?”

  Tears gathered in her eyes. “I don’t know,” she said in a whisper.

  June stood in the doorway of the nursery. Two walls were painted yellow, the other two hung with yellow-and-blue wallpaper with carousel ponies dancing on ribbons…or so it seemed. Jim had managed to finish and install the white plantation shutters for the window, and she wondered how much help he might’ve gotten from Chris.

  The crib was in place, but all the others things—from shower gifts to Christmas gifts—were scattered about. Lots and lots of clothes. Little-boy clothes. She felt a pang. She was thrilled about her son, and left with a longing for a little girl. She wondered if she would feel so if she hadn’t thought for so long that this was a daughter.

  “I can wash the clothes and put everything away for you while you’re at work,” Annie said from behind her. Then she felt her future sister-in-law’s hand on her shoulder. “Or I can leave it all as it is and help you with it tonight.”

  It took her a moment. “Leave it for later,” she finally said. She had to go to work until at least early afternoon, but she didn’t want to miss any more of this process. And then a sudden tightening caught her attention and her hand went to her swollen abdomen. “Whew,” she said, amazed.

  From behind her Annie reached around and felt the hardened mound.

  “Braxton Hicks,” June said.

  “A pretty solid one,” Annie said. “You sure about that?”

  “Worse than sure. I already went running to the hospital once, certain I was in early labor. John hooked me up to a monitor and ultrasound. I felt pretty stupid. I’m a doctor. I should know better.”

  “When are you due, exactly?”

  “We’re not sure. I wasn’t paying attention. But judging by the progression of the baby, it looks like early February.”

  “Just a month, then,” Annie said, smiling. “It’s always nice to get to the point that the baby can come perfectly safely.”

  “I could use another week or two,” June said, though in truth she’d grown tired of wetting her pants with every sneeze or laugh. And her lower back was beginning to ache. “I’d like to get married.”

  “All that holding out,” Annie said, “only to be in a big hurry.”

  “Well, I thought I was being rational. I didn’t know I was being an idiot. I’ve noticed that pregnancy kills some otherwise healthy brain cells.”

  “In case you were wondering, you don’t get them back, either. Your son will be sure to remind you of that often. So, when is the big day?”

  “I thought we’d better dash off to Lake Tahoe or Reno, have a Nevada wedding quick, but that’s not intelligent. One, I’m not up to the long drive. Two, my town is obviously as into this as I am. They won’t be happily excluded. My being married is not nearly as important to most of them as being invited to the wedding. So Jim and I are going to drive to the county courthouse today at lunchtime and get a license. Then we thought we’d get a preacher from Rockport to come over here on New Year’s Eve. We’ll open up the church, have a little party after.”

  “New Year’s Eve. Nice idea. We have to get back on the second.”

  “No one ever has anything fun to do on New Year’s around here. Maybe it’ll start a tradition.”

  “A marrying tradition. How long are you planning to work?”

  June shrugged. “Well, if I don’t know when I’m due, how do I know when to quit working? I feel perfectly fine, except for the backache, swollen ankles, weak bladder, heartburn and this broken rib from someone’s foot. I guess I’ll quit when my water breaks.”

  “Oh, you young moderns,” Annie said, shaking her head.

  Later that morning June made a phone call that she never in her wildest dreams thought might take place. She called Nancy Forrest and asked her for two favors. “First, will you help me find a dress to get married in? A nice cream muu-muu, perhaps?”

  “Sure.” Nancy laughed. “We’ll get you fixed up. Pregnant women are much better taken care of by the designers than they were when I was imitating a water buffalo.”

  “Thanks. And another thing. If you’re free on New Year’s Eve, would you be my matron of honor?”

  “Oh, June!”
she exclaimed in a rather weak breath. “Oh, June!”

  “I hope that was a yes.”

  “Oh, June, yes!” And then she wept into the phone.

  “Stop it!” June commanded. “This is supposed to be a happy occasion.”

  “You couldn’t possibly honor me more,” Nancy said.

  “Isn’t it odd,” June said, “the way things come around?”

  Jim was at the café at the agreed-upon time, but no June. They were going to get a marriage license, so he wore a tie but not a jacket. He had a cup of coffee, then a second. Sam wandered in, then Tom.

  “That a tie?” Sam asked Jim.

  Jim lifted one brow. “Been that long since you’ve seen one?” he returned.

  “Going to a funeral?” Tom asked, smiling.

  “Nope.”

  “Then he must be getting married,” Sam reasoned.

  “Not exactly,” Jim said, not wishing to say more.

  “You want a grilled cheese to go with that coffee?” George asked him.

  But Jim hoped he would get something to eat with June after they got the license. “No, thanks.” He glanced out the window toward the clinic and saw June coming toward the café, but most certainly not to meet him and drive to the courthouse. She wore her white lab coat, stethoscope around her neck, no jacket. “Excuse me,” he said to the men, going out the door to meet her halfway.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said as she neared him. She reached him and put her hands on his cheeks to kiss his mouth. “John had to go to the hospital for an emergency and Dad and I are swamped over there. I think everyone held their Christmas colds until after the holiday.”

  He shrugged. “I guess you can’t help that.”

  “You’re wearing a tie.”

  “I haven’t ever done this before. I don’t know how you dress for a license purchase.”

  “You’re very cute. I didn’t know you had a tie.”

  “I have two,” he said, smiling.

  “Do you have a suit? For New Year’s Eve?”

  “Am I going to need it?” he teased.

  “Can you hang a little loose until this afternoon? I’m sure I’ll finish up early enough to go today.”

  He had his doubts. He wanted out of the tie, at once. He put his hands on her stomach, leaned down and said to his son, “If she’s too busy to have you, you’re on your own.” Then he kissed it.

  Inside the café the men watched. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anything like that before,” George said.

  “Then you haven’t lived,” Tom assured him.

  A few hours later, when the last prescription had been written, June called Jim. “Is it too late?”

  “We’ll have to try again tomorrow, honey. They close in fifteen minutes.”

  “Oh, damn! Do you hate me?”

  Hate her? Never had he felt such admiration! That she could do all she did, so unselfishly, while heavy with his child, filled him with a sort of reverence. On top of this, he found her deliciously sexy, swollen ankles and all. Keeping his hands off her while she was this far along was torture, and he couldn’t wait until she was unburdened and his again. But his sister was standing a few feet away from him, so he said, “We’ll try again tomorrow. Annie is making a pot roast for dinner. You’ll love her pot roast.”

  “I owe you,” she said.

  “I can’t wait to collect. For years to come.”

  In the middle of the night, the phone rang next to June’s head. She had been having a heated argument with Birdie in her dream, and she’d been winning! They weren’t arguing about June getting married, and she couldn’t remember what it had been, but… She answered the phone sleepily, looking at the clock. One-thirty.

  “June, I’m sorry to do this to you,” John said. “I’m at the hospital in Rockport and I just got a page from Mary Lou Granger. Her little one is having an asthma attack that isn’t subsiding with the use of the inhaler.”

  “Sure, John. What’s got you at Rockport?”

  “One of my OBs is dilated to nine. I thought of calling Elmer, but he looked a little worn out at the end of the day today.”

  “No, I’m glad you didn’t call him. I’ll be happy to go. I don’t have that many more night calls in me.”

  “I told Mary Lou to go to the clinic.”

  “Perfect. I’ll pull on some sweats and get over there.”

  “Thanks, June. I’ll make it up to you.”

  Actually, she thought, she was going to be making up to him for a while. He was doing everything in his power to make this pregnancy and birth as uncomplicated and restful as possible.

  “What is it?” Jim asked.

  “I’m going to run over to the clinic to meet an asthmatic patient. I should be back in bed, putting my cold feet on you in an hour or less.”

  He sat up. “I’ll go with you,” he muttered.

  “Why?” she asked, dressing quickly.

  “I don’t know. It’s dark. Maybe icy.”

  “The temperature was dropping this afternoon. El Niño is back, melting everything in sight.”

  “It’s very wet,” he said.

  She laughed at him. “And you’re very sweet. Are you going to accompany me at night for the rest of my career in medicine, or is this a one-time thing?”

  He lay back down. “You’re right,” he said. “Wear your rubbers.”

  “If you’d been wearing yours…” she began, but she stopped herself because, of course, she wouldn’t change a thing. Before she left the room she could hear the soft purr of his snore.

  She bundled up extra warm, shivering against the night because, El Niño or no, it was chilly. The cloudy sky blackened the earth and there was nothing darker than a small country town under a winter sky after midnight. If there were any insomniacs in Grace Valley, she didn’t know them.

  It was smart of John to send the Grangers to the clinic; they were on the opposite side of the valley from June. If she had to travel all the way out to their farm, precious time would be lost. Plus, if oxygen was needed, the supply in the clinic was easier for a big fat pregnant woman to handle than the tank she carried in her truck with her other emergency supplies.

  She came down Valley Drive and turned into the clinic parking lot, pulling around to the back door. The Grangers hadn’t arrived yet; she had time to set up a treatment room for them. Their little girl, Katie, must be seven or eight by now, the oldest of three. She was the only one with asthma and allergies, and had been stablized with medication. All this was going through June’s mind as she exited the truck and headed for the back door.

  An unusual sound caused her to pause. Water? Someone had left the water running? She looked around each side of the clinic, which was surrounded by blacktop, and saw that there wasn’t even a hose hooked up. But why would there be? The rain had been almost constant since mid-October. The ground everywhere was one big soggy mess.

  From the illumination of the streetlights she could see the slick dampness on the street. The night-lights were on in the back of the café, but the church and parsonage were depressingly dark. However, the parking lot that separated the buildings was not just wet, it was moving.

  With a deep, sinking feeling inside, June went back to her little truck, got in, started the ignition and pulled around to the side of the clinic, her headlights pointing toward the café and church. It looked like the ocean had come inland. The river, usually a narrow ribbon of water that ran from the mountains to the sea a good football field behind the café, was now a fat and raging beast that had almost reached the buildings. It was already up to café and parsonage, and very likely the church basement was flooded.

  She left the truck lights on, shining on the flooded river, then dashed for the clinic, as much as a woman in her condition could dash. She went in through the back door, flipped the lights on in her office and dialed Tom’s number first. But she heard a noise. Shuffling. She put the phone on the desk and went back to the clinic hallway to investigate.

  She
never saw it coming as Conrad Davis gave her a right hook to the jaw. Her head bounced against the doorjamb and everything went dark as she slid down the wall to the floor, unconscious.

  Conrad looked down at her. Several things came to his addled, drug-craving mind at once. This was June, the beloved town doctor he had struck unconscious. She was hugely pregnant besides. And he’d been rummaging around in the clinic for quite a while, failing to find narcotics or money. Fresh out of jail, this was the only place that had come to mind for him to rob.

  He’d better either kill her or run. He was a badass with no conscience, but he’d never killed anyone. He might for drugs, but she didn’t have drugs.

  He bolted outside, his pockets painfully empty, and noticed her small truck was running, the lights shining on the rising river across the street. He had parked his truck behind a garage two blocks away. It was suddenly settled in his mind. He was through with this town, with the people, with Erline and her brats. He decided to run the truck north as far as the gas in the tank would take him, then he’d sell it. Buy something a little smaller, cheaper, and have money left over for some pot, some meth, some ecstasy. He jumped into the truck and headed out of town. The way that water was rising, there wouldn’t be a town much longer, anyway.

  It never occurred to him to sound the alarm.

  Jim woke to the ringing of the phone. “Hullo?” he said.

  “Oh. Hi. Is this Jim?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” he said sleepily.

  “This is Mary Lou Granger. Can I speak to June, please?”

  “She’s at the clinic. Meeting someone with asthma, she said. You can get her there.”

  “I’m the one with asthma. My daughter, that is. Katie. And no one answers at the clinic. We can’t get there.”

  “Wha…?” He was sitting up now. One thing came pounding through. No one answers at the clinic. Car trouble? Accident? He was standing, turning on the light, tossing clothes around in search of jeans.

  “The river’s up and there’s flooding in some of the low areas. We live out in the country, you know, the opposite side of the valley from you. We have to go so far around to cross the river, we might as well go to Rockport. To the emergency room there. But where’s June?”