Shelter Mountain (24 page)

“We should think about naming your new playmate,” she said.

“I have a suggestion,” he said. “Emma.”

“I like Emma,” she said. “Old girlfriend?”

“Mother. My mother,” he said.

“Aw, that’s sweet. I think your mother would be happy you’re finally serious.”

“Mel? Are you nervous about—you know—giving birth?”

“Not at all. You know why, big fella? Because I’m meeting John Stone at Valley Hospital, and if everything goes to hell, I’m having a big fat epidural. Afterward, I’m having a rare steak and a tall beer.”

“Mel,” he said, running a hand down her hair onto her shoulder. “I want you to have the epidural.”

“Jack—are
you
nervous?”

“Oh, baby,
nervous
doesn’t touch it. You’re my whole
world. I don’t think watching you hurt is something I can do. But I gotta be there, you know?”

She smiled and shook her head. “You know how you always said I should trust you? Well, now it’s time for you to trust me. I know what I’m doing, Jack.”

“Yeah. Well, that makes one of us.”

When they were getting ready to leave the next morning to complete the trip to Sacramento, Mel was drying her hair in the hotel bathroom, which was large and had plenty of mirrors. In their little cabin in the woods there was just that one mirror at eye level. Jack was mesmerized by the sight of her, naked in front of those mirrors. He hadn’t really seen her like that. He’d seen her naked, of course, but lying down or standing almost a foot shorter than he as they showered. Now he bent, looked at her profile and said, “My God, Melinda. You’re huge.”

She threw him a look that suggested a different choice of words.

“I mean, you look awesome, Mel. Look at that!”

“Shut up, Jack,” she said.

When they got to Sam Sheridan’s house, Mel preceded Jack up the walk toward the front door while Jack began toting luggage and gifts. “Mel,” he called, causing her to turn around to see him smiling brightly. “You’re starting to
waddle,
” he said proudly.

“Uh!” she exclaimed, tossing her hair as she turned abruptly away from him.

Although Christmas Eve wasn’t until the following day, all of Jack’s sisters and at most of the husbands if not all the kids were there to meet them. Mel’s sister and family had arrived ahead of them, so it was, as usual, a teeming throng. When they got inside, the women rushed to her, embracing, examining her growth, exclaiming, “Oh, my God, you’re
huge!
” To which Mel giggled happily, proudly letting everyone rub their hands over her
belly. Joey screeched, “You’re waddling like a duck!” and they all crumbled into hysterical laughter, including Mel.

Jack was frowning darkly. A couple of the brothers-in-law, Dan and Ryan, came forward and said, “Need a hand unloading, Jack?”

“Yeah,” he said, his brows drawn together.

“What’s the problem?” Ryan asked.

“I said exactly those two words to her—
huge
and
waddle—
and she was very pissed about it.”

The men laughed. Bob clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Come, my brother. Let’s get you unloaded, get you a beer and teach you the facts of life. Out back, where men will be men and the women won’t hear us.”

Outside on the patio, now too cold for picnicking, there were a couple of large space heaters thoughtfully provided by Sam, who knew the men of the family would want their beer and cigars without interference. And where Sam also wanted to be, while his daughters overran his house and bossed people around. With Mel and Joey, there were six, not to mention granddaughters—a formidable and intimidating group of women.

It was there that Jack learned from the experience of four brothers-in-law and the occasional comment from Sam, that if having children was a partners’ project, pregnancy was definitely a team sport. The women were the ones who knew the rules. What a man said and what girlfriends or sisters said were viewed from entirely different perspectives. If your sister said you were huge, it was a badge of honor. If your husband said that, he thought you were fat. If your best friend said you waddled, it was adorable. If your husband said that, he thought you walked funny and he no longer found you attractive.

“And look out,” said Joey’s husband, Bill, father of three, “if you try to make love to her, she thinks you’re a pervert,
and if you don’t, she’ll accuse you of no longer finding her desirable as she sacrifices herself to bear your child.”

“The last time we had sex, instead of crying out ‘Oh, God, Oh, God,’ she said ‘Ugh.’”

Ryan spewed out a mouthful of beer and fell into a fit laughter. “Been there, brother,” he finally choked out.

“You wanna know what’s coming, or you wanna be surprised?” Bob asked.

“Oh, please, I can’t take any more surprises,” Jack said.

“Okay, you’re coming up on where you love the baby more than her. Everything is about the baby—you consider her your brood mare.”

“What do you do about that?”

“Well, for starters, never talk about breeding.”

“Grovel,” said someone else. “Beg for forgiveness.”

“But don’t trip yourself up and claim she’s
way
more important than the baby, which brings you a whole new set of problems.”

“Aw, Jesus.”

“And since you don’t have the big belly and the backache, it would be advisable not to mention that this is all completely natural. She might deck you.”

“You’d think a frickin’ midwife could rise above these ridiculous notions.”

“Oh, it’s not her fault. There was an estrogen explosion in there—it’s beyond her control.”

“You want to be especially careful about admiring her breasts,” Jeannie’s husband, Dan, said. He took a pull on his cigar. “Especially since they’re, you know, only temporary.”

“God, that’s gonna be so hard. Because—”

“I know.” Someone else laughed. “Aren’t they
great?
”

“Pretty soon there’s going to be labor and delivery,” Bill said. “And the love of your life, whose back you’re trying to rub and whom you’re doing everything in your
power to encourage, to keep comfortable, is going to tell you to shut up and get your fucking hands off her.”

Everyone laughed so hard at that, even Sam, that it appeared to be a universal fact.

“Dad,” Jack said, stunned. “Did Mom ever say
fuck?
”

Sam drew leisurely on his cigar. “I think about five times,” he replied, throwing the men into a new fit of laughter.

“Why doesn’t anyone tell you these things before?” Jack asked.

“What difference would it have made, Jack? You didn’t know you were about to score a pregnancy, anyway. I know, I know—you thought you knew everything there was to know about women. Turns out you’re just as stupid as the rest of us.”

A few more jokes made the rounds before Jack said, “Someone’s missing.”

Everyone, even Joey’s husband, Bill, seemed to look down. Brie’s husband, almost an ex, was the only spouse not in attendance. Brie was the only sister no longer tethered; the only one without children. And she had so wanted a baby.

“Anyone seen him?” Jack asked.

“Nope,” someone said, the group shaking heads as one.

“How’s she doing?” he asked.

“She says she’s fine, but she is not so fine.”

“According to her sisters.”

“And he’s at the new house with the new woman, who was the old woman in Brie’s life. Having a family Christmas with her and her kids.”

“While my sister, who wanted a baby, is here with us,” Jack said.

“Yeah, the son of a bitch.”

“Can’t we have a few more and go over there?” Jack asked. “Just beat him up a little or something?”

“I wish. They’d all secretly love that, and we’d be grounded for life.”

“Can’t any of us stand up to those women?”

“Nope,” said at least three men in unison.

“I just don’t get it,” Jack said, for the millionth time.

“Jack, have you asked yourself, what if you’d been married to someone else when Mel came along? What would you do?”

“We’ve all asked ourselves that,” Ryan said dismally.

Jack
had
asked himself, though it was an unfathomable idea. There had been lots of women, yet no one before Mel. He’d been really fond of a few, yet somehow managed to not marry anyone. “I’d like to think I’d do the right thing and just kill myself.” He looked at the boys. “She getting out of this okay? Like with the house and stuff?”

“Shit. Don’t ask that,” Dan said.

“Oh, don’t tell me…”

“She’s getting the house,” Bob said. “She’s buying him out. And paying him alimony.”

“No way!”

“You were told not to ask.”

“How does that happen?”

“She’s an attorney, he’s a cop. She’s making the most money.”

“See—we need to go over there, beat him up.”

Christmas Eve they had ham and potatoes au gratin while Christmas Day it would be stuffed turkey. The clan started to gather at about four and the house throbbed with noise and laughter. They ate, drank, gathered in the family room,
stuffed
themselves into the family room, and sang carols. The men sang too loudly and off key and the women, to the last one, had to drive home. Mel and Joey steered their husbands to their beds, where they flopped down and would surely live to regret having beer, drinks
and then brandies and cigars. The only thing that annoyed Mel more than Jack drinking too much on Christmas Eve was that he couldn’t stand up long enough to shower off the smell of illegal Cubans.

The kids were tucked in and the men were asleep, to put it politely. Joey was in her pajamas and Mel was in a soft and roomy sweat suit. They met in the family room. Mel brought the quilt and pillows out from her bedroom and they huddled on the couch together, eating ice cream and talking.

“You’re feeling well, except for the heartburn?”

“I’m feeling pretty wonderful,” Mel said. “For someone who has an entire gymboree inside of her.”

“And things in Virgin River are great?”

“Oh, Joey, you should see Preacher and Paige—I’ve never seen a transformation like that in my life. They are so in love, there’s practically a halo around them both. When they look at each other, there’s steam.”

There was a sound that caused both women to lean forward on the couch and look toward the front door as it opened. Brie came in. She was wearing her coat, her purse slung over her shoulder, tear stains on her cheeks. She stood in front of them and said, “I don’t want to go home. Alone. On Christmas Eve.”

“Oh, baby,” Mel said, opening her arms.

Mel and Joey instinctively slid apart so that Brie could sit between them. Brie dropped her purse, shed her coat, kicked off her shoes and climbed onto the couch in that little space they provided. And cried.

“It’s not like I haven’t gotten people through divorces,” she said. “But you can’t imagine what it’s like when the man you love, a man who’s leaving you, asks you to be his friend.”

“God, what nerve!” Mel said.

“You know what’s worse? I hate him for what he’s done—and I still can’t stop wanting him back.”

“Oh, Brie…”

“If he came to me tonight and said, ‘I’ve made a terrible mistake,’I think I’d forgive him. Do you know he’s asked me for alimony? That he’s going to spend on her and her kids? She’s getting alimony and child support from her husband, and I’m paying them, too, and they both have good jobs. They’re going to make money on the deal.”

“The bastard…”

“And I can’t wait to start hating him for that. But I’m so afraid I’ll start hating him, which closes the door on letting him back. I want him back,” she wept. “I think I still love the son of a bitch.”

Mel and Joey put arms around her and held her as she cried.

“I’m so sorry,” Brie said. “It’s Christmas. And I bet this is the first really good Christmas you’ve had in a while, Mel.”

“We’re family,” she said. “We rejoice together. We share our pain. You’re staying right here with us. We’re sleeping on the couch tonight, anyway. I bet it pulls out.”

“Why are you sleeping on the couch?”

“Our drunk husbands stink,” Joey said.

J
ack rolled over early Christmas morning with a loud moan and a splitting head, and some memory of learning the facts of pregnant women over far too much alcohol. Or was that the previous night? He wasn’t sure. There might have been inappropriate joking in the presence of the women, but he hoped they’d all been too drunk for that. His mouth tasted vaguely like a kitty litter box. He opened one bloodshot eye and saw that the bed beside him was empty. “Oh-oh,” he said. The sudden knowledge that the only man in the Sheridan family not in trouble would be Sam did not comfort him much.

He dragged himself out of bed and looked at the clock—6:00 a.m. There was time to mend his fences before the masses descended on them again, but he would first have to find his wife. He hoped she was still in Sacramento.

He rinsed his mouth and ran a brush over hair that was spiking every which way. The only thought he had was that he really hoped his lousy brothers-in-law were all in worse trouble than he undoubtedly was. Because surely they had done this to him. Bad influences, to the last.

He still had on last night’s trousers. Not a good sign. However, she had not killed him in his sleep—and that
was
a good sign. She was probably saving his execution for later, when he could feel it. He stood up straight in front of the mirror. He stuck out his hairy chest. He flexed, popping out tattooed biceps. I am a marine, he said to himself. She is five foot three. He sagged visibly. Who am I kidding? was his next thought.

He crept out of the bedroom into a silent house. Ah, there they were. Mel, Brie and Joey, on the sofa bed. Brie? Well, he’d find out about that later. He knelt on Mel’s side and gently moved her hair away from her eyes. One eye opened and there was not a smile in it. “Baby, are you pissed?” he asked gently.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry. I might’ve had one too many.”

“I know. I hope you’re in agony.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“Trying not to sleep in an ashtray.”

“What’s Brie doing here?”

“We’ll talk about that later.”

“Am I going to be punished?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. And she closed her eye.

It turned out that the great lover, Jack Sheridan, didn’t know his way around women nearly so well as he thought. He decided to shower and dress, in an attempt to get some points for effort. That accomplished, he crept quietly to the kitchen to make coffee and take aspirin. He was in no condition to fight; he had a hangover. And within a few hours there would be that huge gang of people back at the house, tearing into presents, yelling, laughing, making his head want to explode.

Sam met him there. “Gonna be fun today,” he said. “You boys, you sure know how get the women all spooled up.”

“Save it. Want me to help you get the bird ready?”

“Yeah, we should do that. Then we make brunch.”

“I’m good with brunch,” he said. “Did you notice Brie is here?”

“I noticed that,” Sam said. “And I noticed that so far, two of the five married women in this family did not spend the night in bed with their husbands.”

“Okay,
save
it. Since I’m going to get it later, I don’t need your two cents.”

“Whatever you say, son,” he said. “If you get in really deep, maybe you can take her back to my office and show her all your medals, tell her how you’ve barely escaped death a dozen times and she just doesn’t scare you.”

Jack glared at his father. Sam laughed, having far too much fun with this. Then Jack got busy cooking. He sautéed onion and celery in butter, washed the turkey, mixed the stuffing, peeled the potatoes. He had noticed that when Mel saw him doing domestic things, it softened her.

Brie was the next one in the kitchen, cozy in one of Mel’s long flannel nightgowns—the kind she used when she’d be around other people in her nightwear because at home, with Jack, his body heat was so intense, she could hardly bear to wear anything at all. Brie put her arms around Sam and said, “Morning, Daddy. I just couldn’t go home last night.”

It tore at Jack’s heart and he wanted to kill Brad. Wanted to put his arms around Brie.

“I’m glad you were here, honey,” Sam said. “You know this is always your house. Stay tonight, too.”

“Maybe,” she said, burying her face in his chest as he held her.

Next came Mel. She was still in last night’s sweat suit. But when she walked sleepily into the kitchen, she walked right into Jack’s arms and he must have breathed an audible sigh of relief because she whispered, “You’re still going to be punished. But not on Christmas.”

He smiled and kissed the top of her head because here
was something he thought he knew about women for sure—if there was any kind of delay in the execution, they tended to lose interest. If she wasn’t mad enough to go after him right now, she wasn’t mad enough.

Christmas in Virgin River was a much quieter affair. For the first time since opening, the bar was closed for the day. Christopher had his gifts in the morning, which left him with plenty to occupy him throughout the day. Preacher turned out a delicious roast duck and all the trimmings while Paige worked on pies. Mike showed up at five with gifts—books for Christopher, a green cashmere sweater for Paige the color of her eyes, and for Preacher, specialty items for the kitchen purchased at Williams-Sonoma. “This is
great!
” Preacher said with enthusiasm.

“I don’t even know what some of that stuff is,” Mike said. “But it’s guaranteed for someone who loves to cook.”

“Let’s see, we have a mandoline, a thermostatic tray—Jesus, this stuff is incredible. A gravy separator, which I don’t really need ’cause my gravy is
perfect.
A grip-and-flip spatula, scoop-and-strain ladle, micro grater. Good work, Mike,” he said, grinning.

As they were sitting down to dinner, Paige came into the bar wearing her new sweater and, Mike noticed, dangling in the V of the neck, a very beautiful diamond pendant necklace. “Well,” he said, “someone had a very nice Christmas.”

She touched the necklace, a huge and lovely surprise from her man. Who knew Preacher could buy jewelry? Who knew Preacher knew what jewelry
was!
“I feel badly, Mike. We had nothing for you.”

“Being here with you three is Christmas enough for me,” he said, meaning it.

“Did you talk to your family today?” she asked him.

“Oh, yeah—about a hundred of them. All at Mom and Dad’s.”

Preacher set about carving the duck. “You don’t miss being there, with them?”

“Not yet,” he said. “Not until I get a little something back, you know? I need the space. They’re Latino and Latina—very demonstrative. Close. Intense, you know? Anxious and annoyingly well meaning. I want to at least be able to cut my meat with my right hand before I visit.”

“I get that,” Preacher said. “You watch. You’ll have it in no time.”

After dinner Paige left the men to a game of cribbage in front of the fire while she cleaned up. A little while later Christopher was downstairs, all scrubbed with one of his old books in his hand. He crawled up into Preacher’s lap as if he’d been doing it since he started walking. And Preacher drew him up like a father would. “This the one you want?” he asked Christopher.

“Horton,” he said.

“You don’t want to try a new one? We read Horton every night.”

“Mazy the lazy bird…” Christopher pointed out.

Mike turned his chair toward the hearth and put his feet up, enjoying the sound of Preacher’s voice telling the story by heart, Christopher adding lines that Preacher deliberately left out just for fun. My man Preacher, he was thinking—all soft and sweet, his voice rough and gravelly as sandpaper, holding a kid on his lap like he’d been doing it all his life. This was a guy who you didn’t want to see coming at you with a scowl on his face and his fists up. A picture of him in fatigues, toting an M16, a snarl on his face…The guy could take down a whole army. Mike looked at him now with new eyes. Transformed into a big, cuddly bear. Committed. Devoted. All in.

It wasn’t long before he stopped reading, dropped a
kiss on the head of his sleeping boy and said to Mike, “Pour us a little something. I’ll be right back.”

Mike picked out the whiskey Preacher seemed to favor—a nice mild Canadian—and brought the bottle and two glasses to the table. When Christopher was tucked in and Preacher back, Mike lifted his glass to Preacher. “To you, old man. I think maybe you have it all.”

“I have to drink to that,” he said, sitting down. “Thing is—I really am going to have it all. When all that crap with Lassiter is settled and behind her some more, we’re going to talk about making a lifetime commitment. And children. More children, you know, because we already have a perfect family.” He took a breath. “Man, I never thought this would happen to me.”

Mike was shocked at first, but recovered quickly. “Well, hey,” he said. “Congratulations. I guess everything worked out like it was supposed to.”

“Whew,” Preacher said before he could stop himself.

Mike chuckled. Good for him, he thought. It’s not as though Preacher hadn’t waited long enough to find this kind of happiness. “She’s a great girl, Preacher.”

“Have you seen how good that kid is?” Preacher asked. “Because she is just an awesome mother, that’s why.”

“And she’ll be an awesome wife, too,” Mike said.

“We have a few issues to work out. That business with her ex—it’s still pretty ripe,” Preacher said.

Mike sat forward. “How so?”

“Well, he’s called here. He’s not supposed to, but he’s called.”

“You tell anyone about that?” Mike asked, sitting up straighter.

“Yeah, we got in touch with her lawyer, who will get in touch with the judge. She didn’t talk to him, but I had to tell her. I’m not going to be keeping things back from Paige. He called a few times, thinking she’d talk to him.
He wants to know if anything can be worked out, if he can at least have Chris for weekends or something. Jesus, man—I’d be scared to death of that. I can’t imagine that.”

“Paige doing okay?” Mike asked.

He shrugged. “Stirred her up pretty good, but she never caved. The woman is brave. I see it grow, more every day. She refused to get sucked in, even if it did make her shake a little bit. But I gotta tell you—I’d be tempted to take Paige and Chris and run for it if there was any chance the court would turn him over to that brutal lunatic.” He took a sip of his drink and said, “I couldn’t let that happen. I have to do better by Paige and Chris than that.”

“Yeah,” Mike said. “I sure understand.”

“Yeah? You do?”

“Of course I do. You have to take care of your woman. Your family. Whatever that takes.”

“Right after Christmas gets handled, we’re going to call Brie. She knows everything about this kind of monster. And, she knows everyone in California. She’ll have advice.”

“Good idea,” Mike agreed.

“Yeah,” Preacher said. “You know, I never figured myself for a family man. I thought I’d be fishing and cooking it up for the other fishermen in this little bar for the rest of my life. There aren’t any women around here, not to speak of. What are the chances some woman wanders in here and needs me.”

“She more than needs you,” Mike said.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “She does.”

“You and Jack,” Mike said with a bit of a laugh. The two most unlikely candidates for domestic bliss Mike could think of. Jack, because he’d always had a woman somewhere, but never one that held his interest long enough for any kind of commitment. Jack used to say, “Me? Marriage? I highly doubt it’s possible.” And then Preacher, who seemed not to notice women existed.

“Jack,” Preacher said, shaking his head. “You shoulda been here for that,” he said, laughing. “Our Jack—Jesus, I hate to think the number of women he ran through, never lost a minute of sleep.” Preacher looked over at Mike, grinning. “Took Mel about thirty seconds to turn him into a big pile of quivering mush.”

“Yeah?” Mike said, smiling.

“Then it got fun,” he said. “She wasn’t having any of him.”

“Wait a minute—I was up here last year to fish with the boys. Looked to me like he had a lock on her. Next thing I hear, she’s pregnant and he’s going to marry her. I figured he finally ran into one that could trip him up.”

Preacher whistled. “Nah, it didn’t go down like that. Jack went after her like a bobcat goes after a hen, and she just kept dodging him. He rebuilt her whole cabin for her without being asked, and I think
maybe
it got him kissed. Sometimes she’d come in the bar for a beer and he’d light up like a frickin’ Christmas tree. And she’d leave and he’d head for the shower. Poor bastard. He was after her for months. I guess no one ever said no before.”

They used to all say yes to me, too, Mike thought.

“Now when you look at ’em, it looks like they’ve been together since they were kids,” Preacher said. Then more softly, “And that’s how I feel with Paige. Like she’s been in my life forever.”

Mike thought about that for a moment and then said, “Good for you, man.” Mike finished his drink and stood up. “I’m going to let you get back to your girl. I’ll make it an early night.”

“You sure, man? Because I think Paige is busy putting away Christopher’s gifts.”

“Yeah, I’m going to head back out to the cabin. Hey, dinner was fantastic. One of your best ever.” He carefully
stretched out his back, then his arm. “I’ll see you sometime tomorrow, I guess. Thanks for Christmas.”

Funny the way things work out, Mike thought. Jack and Preacher, two men who thought they’d never hook up, totally down for the count. Their women had them both in the palms of their pretty little hands.

Now Mike, he thought he’d hook up. Actually, he thought it would be automatic, which probably led him into marriage without him giving it enough serious thought. All his brothers had fat, happy wives and lots of kids. His sisters had made good marriages for themselves, added to the grandchildren. But he’d screwed up his marriages, thanks to that good old Latino prowess, that itch that has to be scratched real quick, without thinking about the consequences. Well, that was no longer an issue.

But he watched Jack and Preacher and had to wonder about how good it would feel to have someone in his life he’d die for. Damn, what a buzz that would be. He’d never felt that way about a woman.