by Robyn Carr
She stopped and chatted briefly with the Bristols and Carpenters, filling them in on the Givens baby, before going to the bar. She got onto the stool next to Doc. “Did you get any rest today?” she asked him.
“I don’t sleep in daylight,” he grumbled. He popped an antacid and Jack put a whiskey in front of him.
“Long night?” Hope asked her.
“Long night for the Givenses,” she said. “But they’re going to be fine.”
“Good work, Mel,” she said. “I knew I was smart to get you up here.” She stubbed out her cigarette and left, chatting her way out the door.
Without being asked, Jack put a cola in front of her. She mouthed the words, I’m sorry. His lips curved just slightly, hurt in his eyes, but he leaned toward her and placed a gentle kiss on her brow. Ow, she thought. This is bad.
And it just got worse. They had only the most superficial conversation while Mel picked at her dinner, but determined, she waited out the emptying of the bar. It was eight o’clock by the time Preacher was sweeping the floor and Jack was putting up clean glasses. “Are we going to talk about it?” she quietly asked Jack.
“How about we let it go and move forward,” he said.
“Jack,” she whispered so that Preacher wouldn’t hear. “I love you.”
“You don’t have to say that.”
“But it’s true. Please believe me.”
He lifted her chin and put a light kiss on her lips. “Okay,” he said. “I believe you.”
“Oh, God,” she said, tears gathering in her eyes.
“Don’t, Mel,” he said. “Don’t start crying again. I’m afraid I won’t understand why—and it’ll make things worse.”
She sucked it back, forced herself to still the nerves that were tightening inside her. Her fleeting thought was, God, what will I do if he’s through with me on account of that? “I’m going to your room,” she told him. “I’m going to stay there until you come to me and I’m going to convince you, somehow, that we belong to each other. Especially now.”
He gave a nod that was so slight, it was almost imperceptible, so she got off her stool and walked through the back of the bar to his quarters. Once alone, she couldn’t suppress the tears. They flowed freely down her cheeks. He thinks I’m going to spend the rest of my life explaining myself to my dead husband, apologizing for how I feel about Jack. Well, that’s what I was doing—what’s he to think? He won’t believe me if I tell him that’s not true, not how it’s going to be. It was just a one-time thing—the shock, the exhaustion, the high emotional state I’m in.
Mel sat in the big chair in his room, revisiting in her mind that night she sat in this spot, drenched from the rain, and he gently undressed her, dried her and put her to bed. That was when she knew, without a doubt, there was a partner here for her, even if she couldn’t admit it to herself for quite a while. Since the ultrasound, she was pretty convinced she had conceived that night. Jack opened her up, showed her passion she didn’t know existed, and put his baby in her. It was nothing short of a miracle—the love, the passion, the baby. She just didn’t know how difficult it would be to make that transition into a new life. A second life. A completely different life.
She sat in that chair for an hour. Waiting.
* * *
Jack put up all his clean glasses and dishes, wiped down the bar and poured himself a drink. There was a particular, old single malt, an aged Glenlivet, that he saved for special occasions. Or emergencies.
Preacher put away his broom and went to the bar. “Everything okay, man?” he asked.
Jack pulled down a glass and poured a shot for his friend. He lifted his toward Preacher in something of a toast and said solemnly, “Mel’s pregnant.” Then Jack took the shot in one swallow.
“Aw, man,” Preacher said. “What are you gonna do?”
“I’m going to be a father,” he said. “I’m going to marry her.”
Preacher picked up his glass and lifted it tentatively, taking a drink. “You sure about that?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“That what you want, man?”
“Absolutely.”
Preacher grinned. “Sarge. A family man. Who’d think?”
Jack tipped the bottle once more, over both glasses. “Yeah,” Jack said.
“Seems like, maybe, things aren’t so hot right now,” Preacher said.
“Nah,” he lied. “Just found out,” he further lied. “It’s gonna work out great. It’s gonna be perfect.” Then he smiled. “You know I never do anything I don’t want to do. Uncle Preacher.” He threw back the second shot and put his glass on the bar. “Good night.”
Jack felt bad about leaving Mel in his room for so long, but they both needed some time to compose themselves. If there were going to be more tears, this one time he wanted her to get that out of the way on her own. There’s only so much one man could do, so he didn’t rush to her. She was going to be feeling a little desperate—pregnant, just caught apologizing for it to the picture of Mark, afraid Jack wouldn’t be able to deal with that. There was nothing either of them could do about it—Jack had known from the beginning that Mark was still there, in her life, in her heart. He would never have all of her. Well, then, he’d make the most of what he did have. He wasn’t going to make her grovel; he was just going to love the heck out of her. He could manage this, even if it wasn’t the most ideal situation. In time, maybe she’d come around. Mark’s memory could fade enough so that even if Jack wasn’t the only man in her life, he would come to feel like the most important one. Maybe when she held their child, she would realize life was for the living.
He walked in, looked across the room at her, and leaned down to pull off his boots. He yanked his shirt out of his pants and took it off, hanging it on the peg in his closet. He removed his belt and tossed it aside. Then he approached her and put out a hand to her.
She put her hand in his and let him draw her to her feet. She leaned her head against his chest and said again, “I’m sorry. I love you. I want to be with you.”
His arms went around her and he answered, “That’s good enough for me.”
Jack kissed her tenderly.
“You’ve had a couple of drinks,” she said. “Scotch.”
“It seemed like the thing to do,” he said. He slowly began to undress her, leaving her clothes in a pile on the floor, because when words failed him he had never failed to be able to speak to her body. There was no confusion about this—when he touched her, she was all his. When she responded to him, she held nothing back. There might be a glitch in her heart, some of it stuck in the past. But her body came alive under his lips, his hands.
He carried her to his bed, laid her sweetly on the sheets and went to work on her. He touched her, kissed and caressed her in the ways he knew filled her up, pleased her, gave her joy, released her. She rose to him, hot and ready, wrapping herself around him, giving. Taking. Crying out.
God, he didn’t know he could want this much. Love this much.
Okay, he thought—here’s the reality. He would always have this. He would make her body sing just as she sent him reeling into the most incredible madness a man can feel. He would hold her every night and wake up with her every morning and there would be many times, like this, when they would come together in this incomparable passion and no matter what else was going on, this mutual joy belonged only to them. Just the two of them. There were no ghosts present in these moments.
Sufficient compensation. Sweet consolation.
“Jack,” she said, snuggled up against him. “I hate that I hurt you.”
He buried his face in her hair and inhaled the sweet scent. “Let’s not talk about that anymore. It’s behind us. We have a lot in front of us.”
“Would it be a good idea for me to go to Joey for a little while? Give you some sp
ace? Try to get my head together?”
He rose over her and looked into her eyes. “Don’t, Mel. Don’t run just because we hit a rough patch. We’ll work through this.”
“You sure?”
“Mel,” he said hoarsely, his voice a mere whisper, “you have my baby inside you. I have to be a part of that. Come on...”
She fought the tears that threatened. “I know it must be hard to deal with an emotional basket case like me.”
He smiled at her and said, “I’ve heard that pregnant women get like that.”
“I think I’m just like that, period.”
“Marry me,” he said.
She touched his beautiful face. “You don’t have to.”
“Melinda, six months ago we were two people without attachments. Two people who had accepted we would never have any—and that we’d never have families. Now we have it all. We have each other and a baby. A baby we both want. Let’s not screw this up.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure about anything. I want this. If you can’t stay here, I’ll go anywhere you want to go.”
“But Jack, you love it here!”
“Don’t you realize I love you more? I need you in my life. You and our baby. God, Mel—I don’t care where that happens. As long as it happens.”
“Jack,” she said in a whisper. “What if you change your mind? What if something happens? You have to remember, I never thought anything terrible would happen to—”
He put a finger on her lips, stopping her. He didn’t want to hear his name. Not now. “Shh,” he said. “I want you to trust me. You know you’re safe with me.”
* * *
Mel awoke humming. The song this morning was “Mamma Mia” by ABBA, of all things. It made her smile. She got out of bed and showered. When she came out of the shower and put on one of Jack’s shirts, she found a steaming cup of coffee on the bathroom counter. There was a note under it. Half-caf. Daddy. Jack was already up and in the bar, taking care of breakfast. Taking care of her. Robbing her of caffeine.
She dressed for the day; she had been so out of focus lately, she had no idea what kind of schedule lay ahead. She couldn’t remember making any appointments for the morning. Still, she wasn’t rushing to Doc’s. It was early and she had a very important phone call to make.
“I wish I could see the look on your face when I tell you this, Joey,” Mel said. “I hope you’re sitting down. I’m pregnant.”
There was a gasp, then silence.
“Pregnant,” she said again. “Totally knocked up.”
“Are you sure?”
“Three months,” she said.
“Oh, my God! Mel!”
“I know. Kind of blew my mind, too.”
“Three months? Let’s see...”
“Don’t bother trying to do the math. I haven’t had a period since he touched me for the first time. I guess he’s potent enough for both of us. At first, I thought it so impossible, an absurd fantasy. I figured I was late because of stress, change, how weird my life is. But it’s real. I had an ultrasound.”
“Mel! How is this possible?”
“Don’t ask me—stranger things have happened. But not around here, apparently. I’m surrounded by women who were pretty sure they couldn’t get pregnant and voilà! There’s a rumor about the water... I’m thinking of calling my L.A. infertility specialist to tell him about this place.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to marry Jack.”
“Mel—do you love him?” Joey asked, her voice subdued. Cautious.
Mel drew in a breath, trying to calm her voice, which she knew would be tremulous and emotional. “I do,” she said. “Joey, I love him so much, I almost ache with it. I never thought I could love this much. I was in denial about that for a while, too.”
“Mel,” Joey said, then began to cry. “Oh, my sweet baby.”
“It made me feel guilty, like I was doing something wrong—I was so committed to the idea that I’d lost my one true love and would never feel anything even close to that again in my life. I never considered the possibility that I might find something even more powerful. It seemed, briefly, like a betrayal. Jack even caught me crying to Mark’s picture that I was sorry, that I didn’t expect it to happen, and promising never to forget him. God. It was an awful moment.”
“Baby girl, you haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve been through such a lot.”
“Well, in my sane state, I know that. Jack knew about my problems, and he just hung in there, just kept loving me and loving me, putting all my needs ahead of his own, promising me I’d be safe with him, that I could trust him. Oh, God,” she said, tears coming in spite of the fact that she was so, so happy. “God, he’s wonderful. Joey,” she said in a near whisper, “he wants the baby as much as I do.”
“This is just unbelievable. When are you getting married? Because we’re going to be there.”
“We haven’t had a chance to even talk about it—I just broke it to him yesterday and he asked me last night. I’ll let you know when I know.”
“But does this mean you’re staying there?”
Mel laughed. “You were right, you know—coming here was completely crazy. It was irrational. To think I’d choose to go to a town where there’s no mall, much less a day spa, and one restaurant that doesn’t have a menu? Please. No medical technology, ambulance service or local police—how is it I thought that would be easier, less stressful? I almost slid off the mountain on my way into town!”
“Ah... Mel...”
“We don’t even have cable, no cell phone signal most of the time. And there’s not a single person here who can admire my Cole Haan boots which, by the way, are starting to look like crap from traipsing around forests and farms. Did you know that any critical illness or injury has to be airlifted out of here? A person would be crazy to find this relaxing. Renewing.” She laughed. “The state I was in, when I was leaving L.A., I thought I absolutely had to escape all the challenges. It never occurred to me that challenge would be good for me. A completely new challenge.”
“Mel...”
“When I told Jack I was pregnant, after promising him I had the birth control taken care of, he should have said, ‘I’m outta here, babe.’ But you know what he said? He said, ‘I have to have you and the baby in my life, and if you can’t stay here, I’ll go anywhere.’” She sniffed a little and a tear rolled down her cheek. “When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I do is check to see if there are deer in the yard. Then I wonder what Preacher’s in the mood to fix for dinner. Jack’s usually already gone back to town—he likes splitting logs in the early morning—half the town wakes up to the sound of his ax striking wood. I see him five or ten times through the day and he always looks at me like we’ve been apart for a year. If I have a patient in labor, he stays up all night, just in case I need something. And when there are no patients at night, when he holds me before I fall asleep, bad TV reception is the last thing on my mind.
“Am I staying here? I came here because I believed I’d lost everything that mattered, and ended up finding everything I’ve ever wanted in the world. Yeah, Joey. I’m staying. Jack’s here. Besides, I belong here now. I belong to them. They belong to me.”
* * *
Right after a light breakfast, she headed for Doc’s. She supposed it was in order to tell him right away, but when she walked into the house, she was greeted by quiet. Good, she thought. No patients yet. She went to Doc’s office and tapped lightly on the door, then pushed it open. He was sitting in the chair at his desk, leaning back, his eyes closed. Hmm. Doesn’t sleep in daylight, huh? She stood over him. It was good to see Doc docile for once.
Mel was about to leave and wait for a better time, but something made her take a closer look at Doc.
His eyes were pinched closed, his face in a grimace and his coloring wasn’t right. He was gray. She reached down and squeezed his wrist with the forefingers of one hand. His pulse was racing. Mel felt Doc’s brow and found his skin clammy. His eyes opened into slits. “What is it?” she asked him.
“Nothing,” he said. “Heartburn.”
Heartburn does not make your pulse race and your skin clammy, she thought. She ran for the stethoscope and blood pressure cuff in the exam room, returning to him. “You going to tell me what it is—or make me guess?”
“I told you... Nothing. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.”
She took his blood pressure, though she had to struggle with him for cooperation. “Did you have breakfast?” she asked him.
“A while ago.”
“What did you have? Bacon and eggs? Sausage?”
“It wasn’t that great. Preacher’s a little off on the cooking...”
His blood pressure was elevated. “Any chest pains?” she asked.
“No.”
She palpated his abdomen, although excess lipid tissue on his pot belly made it impossible to feel his internal organs while he was sitting upright. And he slapped at her hand, trying to push her away. But as she palpated, he grunted in pain. “How many of them have you had?” she asked him.
“How many what?”
“Attacks. Like this.”
“One or two,” he said.
“Don’t lie to the nice little nurse,” she chastised. “How long has this been going on?” She pulled the lids back on his eyes and they had begun to yellow. He was jaundicing. “You waiting for your liver to blow?”
“It’ll pass.”
He was having a major league gallbladder attack, and she wasn’t sure that was all. She didn’t even think about it—she picked up the phone and called the bar. “Jack,” she said, “come over, please. I have to get Doc to the hospital.” And she hung up.