by Robyn Carr
“How was that trip to Valley Hospital?”
“Like Mr. Toad’s wild ride,” she said, making him laugh a little. She pushed her glass toward him and he gave her another splash of Crown.
“You want ice or water with that?” he asked her.
“No, this is good. Very good, in fact.”
She sipped her drink rather too quickly. She looked up at him, tilted her head to one side, then inclined it toward the glass.
“You sure? Because I think maybe that’s enough. Your cheeks are flushed and I can tell, you’re not cold anymore.”
“Just a tish.”
A tish was what she got—a couple of swallows.
“Thanks for taking me fishing,” she said. “Sorry you didn’t get in my pants again.”
A large surprised laugh escaped him. She was getting a little tiddly. “That’s okay, Melinda. Whenever you’re ready.”
“Aha! I knew it!”
“Like it’s been hard to tell.”
“You’re so transparent.” She downed the rest of her drink. “I’d better get going. I’m completely shot.” She stood up and nearly fell down. She grabbed at the bar to right herself and Jack came around to her side. He put an arm around her waist. She looked up at him with watery eyes and said, “Damn. I forgot to eat.”
“Let me make you some coffee,” he suggested.
“And ruin this perfectly good buzz? Hell, I’ve earned it.” She took a step and wavered. “Besides, I don’t think it’ll make me sober. Probably just wide-awake drunk.”
Jack tightened his hold around her and laughed in spite of himself. “All right, Mel. I can put you in my bed and take the couch...”
“But sometimes I have deer in my yard in the morning,” she said, a little whiny. “I want to go home. They might come back.”
Home. That sounded good to Jack, that she thought of that cabin as her home. “All right, Mel. I’ll take you home.”
“That’s a relief,” she said. “Because I’m pretty sure I already can’t drive. Even on a straight and undangerous road.”
“You’re a lightweight,” he said.
They took a couple of steps and her legs buckled a second time. He gave a sigh and bent to lift her into his arms. She patted his chest. “It’s good that you’re strong,” she said. “You’re good to have around. It’s like having my own personal valet.”
He chuckled under his breath. Preacher had gone upstairs for the night so he turned off the Open sign and managed to get his keys out of his pocket without dropping her. He locked the front door and took her down the steps and around to the back of the bar where he kept his truck. He put her in and she managed, though with some difficulty, to buckle her seat belt. When he got in and started the truck she said, “You know something, Jack? You’ve turned out to be my very good friend.”
“That’s nice, Mel.”
“I really appreciate this. Boy, whew. I’m sure not much of a drinker. I think I’m a one-beer girl. Two if I’ve had a side of beef and an apple pie.”
“I think you’ve assessed the situation correctly.”
“If I ask for the good stuff again, be sure to ask me if I’ve had food.”
“Sure will,” he said.
She laid her head back on the seat. Within five minutes, it lolled. And Jack spent the rest of the drive wondering a couple of things. One—what if she roused enough as he was taking her inside to invite him to stay? That would be okay, wouldn’t it? Even though she was just a “tish” disadvantaged? Or—what if she didn’t rouse and he just lay down beside her to be there in case she woke and decided it was time? That would be okay. Or maybe he could just wait on her couch, in case she needed anything...like sex. Then if she woke up during the night he’d be there. He’d be ready. He’d been ready.
He played a dozen scenarios in his mind. He would carry her to her room and she would wake and say, “Stay with me tonight.” He really didn’t have the strength to say no. Or, she would wake and he would kiss her and then she would say, “Okay.” Or morning would come, he would already be there and she would say, “Now, Jack.” Whoo boy. He was getting a little warm.
But she was still asleep when he pulled up in front of her cabin. He unbuckled her and lifted her out of the truck. He whacked her head on the door frame. “Ow!” she yelled, her hand going to her head.
“Sorry,” he said. And thought to himself, Foreplay that was not.
“S’okay.” She laid her head back on his shoulder.
Now, he thought, I should stay to be sure she doesn’t have a concussion. And that she doesn’t need sex for it. Or just to be there in case she did...
He carried her across the porch, through the door to her room and, flipping on the light, laid her on the bed. Without opening her eyes she said, “Thank you, Jack.”
“You’re welcome, Melinda,” he said. “Your head okay?”
“What head?”
“Okay. Let’s get your boots off.”
“Boots. Off.” She lifted a leg, making him laugh. He pulled the boot off. The leg dropped and the other one came up. He pulled that one off and the leg dropped. Then she curled into a cute little package, pulling the quilt around her. He looked down at her and saw that it was lights out for Melinda. Then he saw the picture.
Something hit him, and it didn’t feel particularly good. He picked up the picture and looked at the man’s face. So, you’re the guy, he thought. He didn’t look like a bad guy—but clearly he had done something to Mel. Something she was having trouble getting beyond. Maybe he’d left her for another woman—but that seemed impossible to imagine. Maybe he left her for a man. Oh, please let it be so—I can make that better—just give me five minutes. Or maybe he looked harmless but had been an impossible asshole and she’d broken off with him, but still loved him helplessly. And here she had his picture right there, to be the last face she saw before falling asleep at night.
At some point she was going to give Jack a chance to make that picture go away, but it wasn’t going to be tonight. Probably just as well. If she woke to find him there, either in her bed or ready to be, she would put the blame on Crown Royal. He wanted it to come from desire—and he wanted it to be real.
He scribbled a note. I’ll be back for you at 8:00 a.m. Jack. He left it by the coffeepot. Then he went to his truck to get something he’d purchased earlier in the day. He brought the leather case holding the dismantled fly-fishing rod and reel and the waders into the house and left them by the front door. And went home.
* * *
At 8:00 a.m. he was back in front of her cabin and what he saw made him smile. All the disappointing thoughts that had plagued him the night before vanished. She was sitting in her Adirondack chair in her new waders, idly casting her fly into the yard. A steaming cup of coffee rested on the wide chair arm beside her.
He got out of the truck, grinning. “You found it,” he said, walking to the porch.
“I love it! Did you get this for me?”
“I did.”
“But why?”
“When we go fishing, I need to stand beside you. Not in back of you, smelling your hair and feeling you against me. You need your own stuff. How do they fit?”
She stood up and turned around for him. “Perfect. I’ve been practicing.”
“Getting any better?”
“I am. I’m sorry about last night, Jack. I had been tense and hungry and freezing all day and it really hit me.”
“Yeah. It’s okay.”
“I should keep this in my trunk, huh? In case we have a light day at Doc’s and can just sneak off and fish.”
“Good idea, Mel.”
“Let me put my gear away,” she said happily.
And he thought—Just give me time. I’m going to get that picture put in storage.
* * *
Ricky hadn’t been around the bar the week right after Connie’s heart attack, hanging close to the family in case they needed him for anything. When he did come into the bar, it was late and there were only two men at a table and Preacher behind the bar. Ricky sat up at the bar, his eyes downcast.
“How’s everybody doing?” Preacher asked.
He shrugged. “Connie’s doing pretty good I guess. They sent Liz back to her mom’s in Eureka.”
“Eureka isn’t the end of the world, man. You can visit her.”
Ricky looked down. “Yeah, but...probably shouldn’t,” he said. “She was...she was the first girl I felt that way about.” He looked up. “You know. That way.”
The two men at the table stood and wandered out of the bar. “Close call?” Preacher asked him.
“I wish. Holy God,” Rick said, shaking his head. “I thought I had it under control.”
Preacher did something he’d never done before. He drew a couple of cold drafts and put one in front of Rick, one in front of himself. “Tough call, that control thing.”
“Tell me about it. This for me?”
Preacher lifted an eyebrow. “I thought maybe you might need it right about now.”
“Thanks,” he said, lifting the glass. “She doesn’t look like a kid, but she’s just a kid. She’s way too young.”
“Way,” Preacher agreed. “You got a handle on it now?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Now that it’s too late.”
“Welcome to the world.” Preacher drank half his draft.
Rick just looked into his. “It’s just that I’d die if anyone got hurt, you know. If I hurt her. If I let you and Jack down.”
Preacher put his big hands on the bar and leaned toward Rick. “Hey, Ricky, don’t worry about letting us down. Some things are just nature, you know? You’re a human being. You do the best you can. Try to think ahead next time, if you get my drift.”
“I do now.”
Jack came into the bar from the back. He noticed right away that Ricky and Preacher had beers and that Ricky wore a troubled expression. “Do I need to toast anything?” He poured himself a glass of beer.
“I’m pretty sure that’s a no,” Ricky said.
“Ricky here, if I’m reading him right, has entered the world of men. And wishes a little bit he hadn’t.”
“Instead of giving me a handful of rubbers, you should’ve had me laminated,” he said to Jack.
“Oh, boy. You gonna be okay, buddy?” Jack asked. “She gonna be okay?”
“I don’t know. When am I gonna know? How am I gonna know?”
“A month,” Jack said. “Maybe less. Depends on her cycle. You’re going to have to ask her, Rick. If she got her period.”
“I’m gonna die,” Ricky said miserably.
“Okay then. Let’s toast to your continued good luck. Since you got, you know, lucky.”
“Right now I gotta wonder why they call it that,” Ricky said.
Nine
The grass grew tall in the pastures, the ewes fat with lambing imminent. The cows were ready to calve and Sondra Patterson was almost to term.
Sondra was expecting her third child, and the first two had come to her quickly and easily, so she and Doc claimed. She had decided to have this one at home, as she had the first two. This would be the first home birth for Mel, and she looked forward to it with nervous delight.
May aged bright and sunny—and brought with it a bunch of men in pickups and campers. There was a great deal of horn-honking at the bar in the afternoon and Mel looked out to see this gathering descend on Jack’s. She watched as he came out on his porch and greeted them with bear hugs and shouts and whistles.
“What’s going on?” she asked Doc Mullins.
“Hmm. I think it’s another Semper Fi reunion. Jack’s old buddies from the Marine Corps. They come up here to hunt, fish, play poker, drink and yell into the night.”
“Really? He never mentioned that.” And, she thought, is this my cue to be scarce? Because that after-work beer, the occasional kiss, had become the best part of her day. She was further bewildered by the fact that he hadn’t tried anything more. And yet, if he had, she would have worried about the consequences. She shouldn’t be involved with anyone, even Jack. Not until she was sure she could handle it. Thing was, she just couldn’t bring herself to give up that little bit of kissing. She was sure that Mark would understand. If their situations had been reversed, she told herself, she would.
But with the marines in town, there would be none of that.
Doc seemed to have no inclination to stay away, and at the end of the day he took himself over to the bar. “Coming?” he asked her.
“I don’t know... I don’t want to distract anyone from their reunion...”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” he said. “The whole town looks forward to seeing these boys.”
She went with him and found that of course Doc was greeted by these visiting men as if they were old friends. Jack dropped a possessive arm around Mel’s shoulders and said, “Boys, meet Mel Monroe, new nurse midwife in town. She’s been working with Doc. Mel, meet Zeke, Mike Valenzuela, Cornhusker—Corny for short, Josh Phillips, Joe Benson, Tom Stephens and Paul Haggerty. There will be a test later—no name tags.”
“Doc, you are a fine and smart gentleman,” Zeke said, grinning, reaching for her hand, obviously under the impression Doc had hired her rather than resisted her. “Miss Monroe, it’s an honor. An honor.”
“Call me Mel,” she said.
The noise with which they descended on her was invigorating. The next surprise for her, and perhaps it shouldn’t have been, was that Preacher was one of them. And of course they drew Rick in as though he were a younger brother.
Mel learned that Preacher had served under Jack when he was just a kid of eighteen in the first conflict in Iraq—Desert Storm—it turned out he was much younger than he looked. During that same time a cop from L.A. by the name of Mike Valenzuela and a builder from Oregon by the name of Paul Haggerty also served with them, but the two latter marines, being reservists, were called up for the latest Iraq conflict, again with Preacher and Jack, who were still on active duty at that time. The others, all reservists, were called up for Iraq where they were united in Baghdad and Fallujah. Zeke was a fireman from Fresno; Josh Phillips, a paramedic, and Tom Stephens, a news helicopter pilot—were both from the Reno area. Joe Benson was an architect from the same Oregon town as Paul Haggerty—Paul often built Joe’s houses. And Corny, another firefighter, came the farthest, from Washington state, but he was born and raised in Nebraska, thus the nickname.
Jack was older than these men by four years or more, the next oldest in the crowd being Mike at thirty-six. Four of them were married with kids—Zeke, Josh, Tom and Corny. Mel was fascinated by the way they talked about their women with lusty smiles and glittering eyes. No jokes about the old ball and chain here. Rather, they sounded as though they couldn’t wait to get home to them.
“How’s Patti doing?” someone asked Josh.
He curved his hands over his flat belly to indicate a pregnant tummy and grinning boastfully, said, “She’s ripe as a tomato. I can hardly keep my hands off her.”
“If she’s ripe as a tomato, I bet you get slapped down like crazy,” Zeke laughed. “I got another one on Christa.”
“No way! I thought she said you were through!”
“She said that two kids ago—but I snuck one more by her. She’s cooking number four. What can I say—that girl’s been lightin’ my fire since high school. You should see her, man. She’s lit up like a beacon. Nobody cooks ’em like Christa. Whew.”
“Hey, buddy, congratulations, man! But I don’t think you know when to quit.”
“I don’t. It’s like I can’t quit. But Christa says s
he’s all done with me. She said after this one, snip snip.”
“I think I can go one more,” Corny said. “Got my girls. I feel a boy coming on.”
No one could better appreciate this kind of enthusiasm for pregnant women than a midwife. Mel was loving it. Loving them.
“Yeah, I’ve heard that a lot,” Jack said. “Eight nieces later, no one got their boy. My brothers-in-law have run through all their chances, I think.”
“Maybe you’re packin’ a boy, Jack.”
“I don’t even kid myself about that,” he laughed.
Jack was among the five single men with Preacher, Mike, Paul and Joe. Confirmed bachelors, Mel was warned. They loved women, but couldn’t be caught. “Except Mike,” Zeke said. “He gets caught regular.” Mel learned that Mike was twice divorced and had a girlfriend back in L.A. who was trying to be wife number three.
The camaraderie was engaging, electrifying. These guys were tight, it was real easy to see. Mel didn’t exactly rush away—she had fun. Other folks from town who frequented the bar seemed, like Doc, to be acquainted with this band of brothers and dropped in to partake of the reunion, every bit as welcoming of them as Jack and Preacher had been.
As she left that evening, Jack broke away from his buddies to walk her to her car. “Oh, now there will be talk,” she said.
“There’s already talk, but around here, what do you expect? Listen, Mel, you shouldn’t stay away on account of them—they’re a good bunch of guys. But let me tell you what the agenda will be. There will be lots of beer and poker, fishing all day. They’ll stay in their campers, make too much noise, and fill the place up with cigar smoke. Preacher will have something on the stove every day. And I sense a lot of fish coming our way. Preacher’s got a stuffed trout that will knock you down, it’s so good.”
She put a hand against his chest. “Don’t worry about it, Jack. You just enjoy yourself.”
“You’re not going to ignore me for five days, are you?”
“I’ll come by after work for a beer, but you know I like my cabin, my peace and quiet. Have fun. That’s the important thing.”