Virgin River
Page 48
Author: Robyn Carr
What the hell, he told himself. She might never really belong to me; good thing he can’t come back from the grave and snatch her away. But that baby is mine. And I want it. I want her. Whatever she has to spare…
Chapter Fifteen
M el showered, put on clean clothes and prepared to go to the bar to take her medicine. She felt terrible; her heart ached when she thought of the look in Jack’s eyes. He never should have witnessed that performance. It must have shattered him. She could only hope he would forgive her.
She brought a change of clothes and her makeup for work the next day. If Jack didn’t want to come back to her cabin with her, she would force her company on him. They had to get beyond this. This was her fault. It wasn’t just the two of them anymore. He wanted this baby. He wanted her and the baby. She was going to find a way to make this right.
There were only about a dozen customers in the bar when she got there—the Bristols and Carpenters sitting at a table for four, Hope and Doc at the bar, a couple of men playing cribbage with a pitcher of beer, and a young family. Jack stood behind the bar and lifted his chin slightly in greeting as she entered. It was a very subdued gesture; there was going to be penance to pay.
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, lay 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 space?
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.
“Shhh,” 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.”
What the hell, he told himself. She might never really belong to me; good thing he can’t come back from the grave and snatch her away. But that baby is mine. And I want it. I want her. Whatever she has to spare…
Chapter Fifteen
M el showered, put on clean clothes and prepared to go to the bar to take her medicine. She felt terrible; her heart ached when she thought of the look in Jack’s eyes. He never should have witnessed that performance. It must have shattered him. She could only hope he would forgive her.
She brought a change of clothes and her makeup for work the next day. If Jack didn’t want to come back to her cabin with her, she would force her company on him. They had to get beyond this. This was her fault. It wasn’t just the two of them anymore. He wanted this baby. He wanted her and the baby. She was going to find a way to make this right.
There were only about a dozen customers in the bar when she got there—the Bristols and Carpenters sitting at a table for four, Hope and Doc at the bar, a couple of men playing cribbage with a pitcher of beer, and a young family. Jack stood behind the bar and lifted his chin slightly in greeting as she entered. It was a very subdued gesture; there was going to be penance to pay.
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, lay 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 space?
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.
“Shhh,” 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.”
