Home to You

by Robyn Carr

  “No,” Doc said.

  “Yes,” she said. “If you argue with me now, I’ll get Jack and Preacher to put you in a fireman’s carry and dump you in the Hummer. That should make your belly feel good.” She looked at his face. “How’s your back?”

  “Terrible. This one is kind of bad.”

  “You’re getting jaundiced, Doc,” she said. “We can’t wait. I suspect you’re in a biliary crisis. I’m going to start an IV and I don’t want any lip.”

  Before she could get the needle in, both Jack and Preacher arrived. “We’ll get him in the car and I’ll drive you,” Jack said. “What’s the matter with him?”

  “I think it’s a gallbladder attack, but he’s not talking. It’s serious. His blood pressure is up and he’s in terrible pain.”

  “Waste of time,” Doc said. “It’ll pass.”

  “Please be still,” she implored. “I don’t want to have to ask these big boys to hold you down.”

  Once the IV was in, she made a mad dash to the drug cabinet while Jack and Preacher each got on either side of him, walking him slowly out the door, Jack holding the Ringer’s over his head. When they got to the Hummer she joined them. Doc said, “I’m not lying down.”

  “I think you should—”

  “I can’t,” he said. “Bad enough sitting up.”

  “All right then, we’ll take out the gurney and put up the backseat. I’ll pull the IV bag hook forward and sit beside you. Have you taken anything for the pain yet?”

  “I was just starting to have very kind thoughts toward morphine,” he said. Jack adjusted the backseat, leaving the gurney on Doc’s porch. Doc climbed clumsily into the backseat. “We just don’t have good enough drugs,” he muttered.

  “Can you make it to the hospital without drugs? Give the doctor a clean slate?”

  “Arrrggghhh,” he grumbled.

  “If you insist, I’ll give you something—but it would be better to let the E.R. decide what’s best.” She took a breath. “I grabbed some morphine.”

  He peered at her through slits. “Hit me,” he said. “It’s just god-awful.”

  She sighed and drew up a syringe from the vial in her bag, putting it right into the IV. It took only moments for him to say, “Ahhh...”

  “Have you seen anyone about this?” she asked him.

  “I’m a doctor, young woman. I can take care of myself.”

  “Oh, brother,” she said.

  “There’s a clinic in Garberville,” Jack said as he started the car. “It’s closer than Valley Hospital.”

  “We’re going to need a surgeon,” Mel informed him.

  “I’m not going to need surgery,” the old boy argued.

  “You a betting man?” was all she said.

  Doc Mullins rested a bit easier with the narcotic in him, which was good since it was over an hour, even with Jack’s fast and skillful driving. It wasn’t the distance so much as the roads—just getting to the county road that connected with the highway twisted and turned and was slow going. Mel watched out the window, remembering that first night she came here, terrified of these sharp twists and turns, the sheer drops, steep climbs. Now, with Jack managing the Hummer, she was comfortable. Before long they were out of the hills and speeding through the valley. With her attention focused on Doc, she couldn’t fully appreciate the landscape. It did occur to her, however, that every time she traveled anywhere around this county, she was amazed by the beauty as if seeing it for the first time.

  She had a fleeting thought that if anything bad happened to Doc, it would be down to only her. How was she going to have a baby and take care of a town?

  She thought about Joey’s question—are you staying there? It made her smile. It would hardly seem a punishment to live out her life in this glorious place.

  This was only Mel’s second visit to the emergency room—the first was with Connie. She had taken Jeremy and Anne to labor and delivery the night the baby came, so she didn’t really know the staff in E.R. They all knew Doc, however. He’d been putting in regular appearances there for upwards of forty years. And they greeted Mel very enthusiastically, as if she were an old friend.

  Doc was not one to allow fussing; he made it plain he didn’t think he needed to be there. Mel and Jack were seated outside the exam room while the emergency room doctor checked him over. Then another doctor went into the exam room and Doc was heard to bellow, “Aw, for Christ’s sake! Can’t I get a better surgeon than you? I don’t want to die on the goddamn table!”

  Mel blanched, but she saw that some of the staff was chuckling. After a bit the surgeon came out to them. He had a smile on his face. He held out his hand. “Dr. Simon, Miss...?”

  She stood and took his hand. “Monroe,” she said. “Mel Monroe. I work with Doc. Is he going to be all right?”

  “Oh, I think so. Doctors. Great patients, aren’t we? I’m going to admit him and that gallbladder has to come out, but we can’t take him into surgery until we get him out of this biliary crisis. That could take a day or week. Good call, Miss Monroe. I assume he didn’t assist you a bit.”

  “He tried not to. May I see him?”

  “Of course.”

  She found Doc in a raised position in the bed while the nurse was fiddling with the IV. The E.R. doctor was writing in the chart and when he saw her, gave a nod of hello. And on Doc’s face was the unhappy expression she had come to view with fondness.

  Mel looked around the E.R.—far smaller and less crowded than the one she was used to in L.A. Still, memories flooded back to her—the days and nights she had spent working in that environment. The adrenaline rush of emergencies; the edgy environment that had excited and stimulated her. At the nurses’ station a young doctor was bent over a nurse, reading over her shoulder, making her laugh at some whispered remark. That could have been Mel and Mark a few years ago. She let her eyes slowly close as she realized that she had moved completely beyond that. That familiar pang of longing did not plague her anymore. Now the only man she longed for waited for her just outside this room, prepared to go through anything with her. Her hand crept absently to her tummy, resting there. It was all right, she realized. What I suffered was very bad; what I have is very good.

  “Young woman,” Doc snapped. “You gonna be sick?”

  “Hmm?” she said, coming out of the haze. “No. Of course not.”

  “For a minute there you looked like you were going to cry. Or puke.”

  She just smiled at him. “Sorry. I was on another planet there for a second. Are you feeling better?”

  “I’ll live. You’d better go. There might be patients back at the house.”

  “I’ll come back for your surgery,” she said.

  “No! I’m probably going to die in surgery anyway with that young pup cutting me up—you’re needed back in Virgin River. Someone has to look after things. I guess you’re in charge. God help us all.”

  “I’ll call to see how you’re doing, and I will come back when you have surgery. And Doc? Try to behave yourself. Try not to get thrown out of here.”

  “Ach,” he scoffed.

  She put her small cool hand on his wizened brow. “Feel better. I’ll watch your practice.”

  In an uncharacteristically soft voice, she heard him say, “Thank you.”

  On the drive back to Virgin River Mel said, “He’s going to need time to recover before he can start seeing patients again. I suppose I’ll be staying at his house for a while after he gets home.”

  * * *

  Doc’s age, weight and blood pressure put him at a disadvantage in both surgery and recovery. It was a week before the surgeon could operate, and while the normal hospital stay for a cholesystectomy was brief—couple of days at most—they kept Doc for another week.

  For those two weeks, Mel drove back and fort
h to Valley Hospital to check on him, plus managed the meager amount of patient care in Virgin River. June and John offered assistance, should she need it, but she was holding up fine. She stayed at the clinic during the days, spent her nights with Jack across the street, and the only huge inconvenience was planning and executing a wedding.

  Jack told his dad and sisters that he and Mel were marrying, news which was met with much approval and excitement. He saved the news about the baby; he wanted to see the looks on their faces when they found out. Since there were no inns or motels in Virgin River, the couple decided they’d have a small, family-only wedding in Sacramento as soon as possible—at the Sheridan house. Jack told his sisters to plan something simple, quiet and quick for three weeks from the date Doc had gone into the hospital. He and Mel would drive down, tie the knot, and hurry home. “What about a honeymoon?” Sam asked.

  “Don’t worry about that,” Jack said. And what he thought was, I’m going to be on a honeymoon for the rest of my life.

  Rick took the news of the pregnancy and fast approaching marriage with a bit of shock. “You okay with this?” he asked Jack.

  “Oh, yeah. Big-time. I’m ready for a family, Rick.” He put his hand around the back of the boy’s neck and pulled him against his shoulder. “In addition to you and Preach, that is. You okay with it?”

  “Hey, man. You’re not too young, that’s for sure.” Then he grinned. “I really thought she was out of your league.”

  “She is, buddy. But what the heck.”

  The evening before Mel was due to pick up Doc at Valley Hospital and bring him home, Jack asked, “Do you have to spend the nights at Doc’s?”

  “Probably just for a few days—long enough to make sure he’s getting around all right. He’s ambulatory at the hospital, but he’s miserable. His grimace isn’t just from being ornery at the moment. He’ll need pain medication—and I don’t want him administering his own. He could get confused and overdose.”

  Jack sat in the big chair in his room and said, “Come here,” to Mel. She went to him and he pulled her down onto his lap. “I have something for you.” He pulled a small box out of his pocket, shocking her into silence. It was definitely a ring box. “I don’t know how practical this is in a place like Virgin River. It might be a little fussy. But I couldn’t help myself. I want to give you everything—but this will have to do.”

  She opened the box to find a diamond ring so beautiful it brought tears to her eyes. It was a wide gold band with three large diamonds set in; classy and understated, yet very rich and unique. “Jack, what were you thinking? This is beautiful! The diamonds are huge!”

  “I understand if you can’t wear it often, given your work. And if you don’t like the design—”

  “Are you kidding? It’s gorgeous!”

  “I went ahead and got a band like it, no diamonds. Is that okay?”

  “Only perfect. Where in the world did you find this thing?”

  “Not the Virgin River jewelry store, that’s for sure. I had to drive over to the coast. Are you sure you like it?”

  She threw her arms around his neck. “You gave me a baby,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting this, too!”

  “I didn’t know I was giving you a baby,” he said, grinning. “This, I did on purpose.”

  She laughed at him and said, “People will think we’re uppity.”

  “Mel—I got it a while ago. When I first thought you might be pregnant. Probably before you did. Even if it had turned out you weren’t, I was set on this. This idea to marry you, to have my life with you... It’s not something I feel like I have to do. It’s what I want.”

  “God, how did this happen?”

  “I don’t care how,” he said.

  He went with her the next day to pick up Doc and bring him home. Mel got him settled in his bed at home where he proved to be a very annoying patient; however, it seemed he would make a full recovery and be back to his old schedule in no time. He might not be seeing patients by the time Mel and Jack slipped down to Sacramento for a couple of days, but he’d be able to look after himself.

  Meanwhile, with all Mel had to do, running the clinic and looking after Doc, Jack, Preacher or Ricky were bringing his meals, and Mel was able to escape to the bar for an hour here and there, just for a change of scenery. Nights she spent in the hospital bed down the hall from Doc. Alone.

  After just a few such nights, she was startled awake by noise downstairs. She sat up sleepily and listened. It was unusual, but not unheard-of, for someone to come pounding at the doctor’s door after hours, so when Mel heard the knocking, she rolled over and looked at the clock. It was 1:00 a.m., which implied an emergency and as she was shrugging into her robe, she began to form contingency plans if she had to go out on a call. Jack could come to the house to look after Doc—or maybe go with her, leaving Doc to sleep through till morning without her.

  She remembered hearing about that near-fatal truck accident some years ago and thought, What if I’m not enough help? Who could I call?

  When she opened the front door, no one was there. Then the pounding came again and she realized that whoever it was had come to the back, to the kitchen door. She looked through the glass to see the face of that man from the compound. Calvin. If he was coming to fetch her out to that camp, she wouldn’t go. She’d have to send him away. If he’d come to ask her for drugs, she thought she might have to call Jack.

  She opened the door with an excuse on her lips when he rushed her, the back of his forearm against her neck. He shoved her backward with enough force that she knocked over a chair, crashed into the countertop and sent coffee cups that were drying in the dish rack hurtling to the floor. He had a snarl on his lips, a glazed look in his eyes, and a big hunting knife in his hand. She screamed, a noise that was quickly cut off as he grabbed her by the hair and put the knife to her throat.

  “Drugs,” he said simply. “Just gimme what you got, then I’m getting the hell out of these mountains.”

  “They’re in there... I have to get the key,” she said, indicating the drug cabinet.

  “Forget it,” he said. As he held her, he tried kicking the wooden door. The whole cabinet shook and wobbled; she could hear the contents bouncing around.

  “Don’t!” she cried. “You’ll break the vials! You want the drugs or not?”

  He stopped. “Where’s the key?” he said.

  “In the office.”

  He pulled her backward, flipped the lock on the back door and said, “Come on. Let’s move it.” With one arm around her waist and the knife at her throat, he walked her out of the kitchen. She had no option but to lead him to the office.

  He held her in front of him, hostage style, as they slowly shuffled down the hall to the office. As she opened the drawer to reach for the key, he started to laugh. He grabbed her hand. “I’ll take this,” he said, pulling at her ring.

  “Oh, God,” she cried, retreating. But he easily pulled her back by the hair and threatened her with the knife right in front of her face. She froze and let him pull off the ring.

  He shoved it in his pocket and said, “Hurry up. I ain’t got all night.”

  “Don’t hurt me,” she said. “You can have anything you want.”

  He laughed. “And what if I want you, too?”

  She thought she might vomit on the spot. She willed herself to be brave, to be strong, to let this ordeal end.

  But he was going to kill her. She knew who he was, what he’d done, and suddenly she knew—he was going to kill her. As soon as he had what he wanted, that knife would slice across her throat.

  Lying on top of the desk were the Hummer keys, obvious by the trademark and remote. He scooped them up, put them in his pocket with the ring and steered her out of the office back toward the kitchen. And he muttered, “Asshole doesn’t pay me enough to sit in the woods
with Maxine and a bunch of old bums. But this should catch me up.” And then he laughed.

  * * *

  Jack rolled out of bed to answer the ringing phone. “Mel’s in trouble,” came Doc’s gravelly voice. “Someone’s trying to get in the back of the house. Downstairs. She’s down there. Glass broke.”

  Jack dropped the phone and grabbed his jeans off the chair. No time for a shirt or shoes, he took his 9 mm handgun out of the holster that hung on a hook in the closet, checked to be sure it was loaded and that he had one in the chamber and bolted out the door. He crossed the street at a dead run. He didn’t think—he was on automatic. His jaw ground, his temples pulsed and his blood was roaring in his ears.

  There was an old truck at the clinic beside Doc’s truck and Mel’s Hummer. He knew exactly who was in there.

  He looked into the front door window in time to see Calvin pushing Mel into the office, and they had come from the direction of the kitchen where the drug cabinet sat. He ran around to the back of the house and looked into the kitchen door window; they were still out of sight. Then they came back into view from down the hall and Jack ducked—but not before he saw that Calvin had a big, serrated knife against her neck. He waited; he wasn’t going to give him the time or opportunity to flee or to do any damage to Mel before fleeing. It was a long few seconds as he waited for them to get back into the kitchen. He could hear their movements, the man’s hostile voice as he held Mel.

  They were almost to the drug cabinet when Jack kicked the door. It crashed open and bounced off the opposite wall, but he was already inside. Legs braced apart, arms raised, pistol pointed at the man who held his woman, he said, “Put down the knife. Carefully.”

  “You’re gonna let me out of here, and she’ll come with me to be sure,” Calvin said.

  Knife against her throat, Mel looked at Jack and saw a man she had never seen before. The expression on his face should be enough to terrify the man who held her. Bare chested, barefoot, his jeans zipped but not buttoned, his shoulders and arms frighteningly huge, big tattoos on his swollen biceps, he looked like a wild man. He looked over the barrel of the gun, his eyes narrow, and a set to his jaw told her he was going to act. There was no question. He did not look at Mel, but at Calvin. And for a woman terrified of guns, she was unafraid. She believed in him. She knew, in that instant, that he would risk his life for her, but he would never put her at risk. Never. If he was going to make a move, she wouldn’t be in danger. Her expression went from frightened to trusting.