Virgin River (5 page)

“It’s me. I need a favor. Right away.”

“What is it, Jack?”

“Weren’t you asked to clean that McCrea cabin for the nurse coming to town?”

“Uh…Yeah. Didn’t get to it though. I had…I think it was the flu.”

It was the Smirnoff flu, he thought. Or even more likely, the Everclear flu—that really evil 190-proof pure grain alcohol. “Can you do it today? I’m going out there to repair the porch and I need that place cleaned. I mean, really cleaned. She’s here and is staying with Doc for now—but that place has to be whipped into shape. So?”

“You’re going to be there?”

“Most of the day. I can call someone else. I thought I’d give you a crack at it first, but you have to be sober.”

“I’m sober,” she insisted. “Totally.”

He doubted it. He expected she would have a flask with her as she cleaned. But the risk he was taking, and it was not a pleasant risk, was that she would do it for him, and do it very well if it was for him. Cheryl had had a crush on him since he hit town and found excuses to be around him. He tried very hard never to give her any encouragement. But despite her struggle with alcohol, she was a strong woman and good at cleaning when she put her mind to it.

“The door’s open. Get started and I’ll be out later.”

He hung up the phone and Preacher said, “Need a hand, man?”

“I do,” he said. “Let’s close up and get the cabin fixed up. She might be persuaded to stay.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It’s what the town needs,” he said.

“Yeah,” Preacher said. “Sure.”

If Mel practiced any other kind of medicine, she might’ve put the baby in the old doctor’s arthritic hands and gotten in her car to leave. But a midwife would never do that—couldn’t turn her back on an abandoned newborn. For that matter, she couldn’t shake a profound concern for the baby’s mother. It was settled within seconds; she couldn’t leave the baby to an old doctor who might not hear her cry in the night. And she had to be close by if the mother sought medical attention because women in childbirth and postpartum were her specialty.

During the rest of the day, Mel had ample opportunity to check out the rest of Doc’s house. The spare room he provided turned out to be more than something for overnight guests—it was furnished with two hospital beds, an IV stand, tray table, bedside bureau and oxygen canister. The only chair in the room happened to be a rocking chair, and Mel was sure that was by design, for the use of a new mother and baby. The baby was provided with a Plexiglas incubator from the downstairs exam room.

The doctor’s house was completely functional as a clinic and hospital. The downstairs living room was a waiting room, the dining room was fronted by a counter for check-in. There was an exam room, treatment room, both small, and the doctor’s office. In the kitchen there was a small table where he no doubt ate his meals when he wasn’t at Jack’s. No ordinary kitchen, this one had an autoclave for sterilizing and a locked medicine chest for narcotic drugs kept on hand. In the refrigerator, a few units of blood and plasma, as well as food. More blood than food.

The upstairs had two bedrooms only—the one with the hospital beds and Doc Mullins’s. Her accommodations were not the most comfortable, though better than the filthy cabin. But the room was cold and stark; hardwood floors, small rug, rough sheets with a plastic mattress protector that crinkled noisily. She already missed her down comforter, four hundred count sheets, soft Egyptian towels and thick, plush carpet. It had occurred to her that she would be leaving behind creature comforts, but she thought it might be good for her, thought she was ready for a big change.

Mel’s friends and sister had tried to talk her out of
this, but unfortunately they had failed. She had barely gotten over the traumatic experience of giving away all of Mark’s clothes and personal items. She’d kept his picture, his watch, the cuff links she had given him on his last birthday—platinum—and his wedding ring. When the job in Virgin River came available, she’d sold all the furniture in their house then put it on the market. There was an offer in three days, even at those ridiculous L.A. prices. She’d packed three boxes of little treasures—favorite books, CDs, pictures, bric-abrac. The desktop computer was given away to a friend, but she’d brought the laptop and her digital camera. As far as clothes, she’d filled three suitcases and an overnight and gave the rest away. No more strapless dresses for fancy charity events; no more sexy nighties for those nights that Mark didn’t have to work late.

Mel was going to be starting over no matter what. She had nothing to go back to; she hadn’t wanted anything to tie her to L.A. Now that things in Virgin River were not going as planned, Mel decided to stay and help out for a couple of days and then head out to Colorado. Well, she thought, it’ll be good to be near Joey, Bill and the kids. I can start over there as well as anywhere.

It had been just Mel and Joey for a long time now. Joey was four years her senior and had been married to Bill for fifteen years. Their mother had died when Mel was only four—she could barely remember her. And their father, considerably older than their mother had been, had passed peacefully in his La-Z-boy at the age of seventy, ten years ago.

Mark’s parents were still alive and well in L.A., but she had never warmed to them. They had always been
stuffy and cool toward her. Mark’s death had brought them briefly closer, but it took only a few months for her to realize that they never called her. She checked on them, asked after their grief, but it seemed they’d let her drift out of sight. She was not surprised to note that she didn’t miss them. She hadn’t even told them she was leaving town.

She had wonderful friends, true. Girlfriends from nursing school and from the hospital. They called with regularity. Got her out of the house. Let her talk about him and cry about him. But after a while, though she loved them, she began to associate them with Mark’s death. Every time she saw them, the pitying looks in their eyes was enough to bring out her pain. It was as if everything had been rolled up into one big miserable ball. She just wanted to start over so badly. Someplace where no one knew how empty her life had become.

Late in the day, Mel handed off the baby to Doc while she took a badly needed shower, scrubbing from head to toe. After she had bathed and dried her hair and donned her long flannel nightgown and big furry slippers, she went downstairs to Doc’s office to collect the infant and a bottle. He gave her such a look, seeing her like that. It startled his eyes open. “I’ll feed her, rock her, and put her down,” she said. “Unless you have something else in mind for her.”

“By all means,” he said, handing the baby over.

Up in her room, Mel rocked and fed the baby. And of course, the tears began to well in her eyes.

The other thing no one in this town knew was that she couldn’t have children. She and Mark had been seeking help for their infertility. Because she was twenty-eight and he thirty-four when they married, and
they’d already been together for two years, they didn’t want to wait. She had never used birth control and after one year of no results they went to see the specialists.

Nothing appeared to be wrong with Mark, but she’d had to have her tubes blown out and her endometriosis scraped off the outside of her uterus. But still, nothing. She’d taken hormones and stood on her head after intercourse. She took her temperature every day to see when she was ovulating. She went through so many home pregnancy tests, she should have bought stock in the company. Nothing. They had just completed their first fifteen-thousand-dollar attempt at in vitro fertilization when Mark was killed. Somewhere in a freezer in L.A. were more fertilized ovum—if she ever became desperate enough to try to go it alone.

Alone. That was the operative word. She had wanted a baby so badly. And now she held in her arms an abandoned little girl. A beautiful baby girl with pink skin and a sheer cap of brown hair. It made her literally weep with longing.

The baby was healthy and strong, eating with gusto, belching with strength. She slept soundly despite the crying that went on in the bed right beside her.

That night Doc Mullins sat up in bed, book in his lap, listening. So—she was in pain. Desperate pain. And she covered it with that flip wit and sarcasm.

Nothing is ever what it seems, he thought, flicking off his light.

M
el woke to the ringing of the phone. She checked the baby; she had only awoken twice in the night and still slept soundly. She found her slippers and went downstairs to see if she could rustle up some coffee. Doc Mullins was already in the kitchen, dressed.

“Going out to the Driscolls’—sounds like Jeananne might be having an asthma attack. There’s the key to the drug box. I wrote down the number for my pager—cell phones aren’t worth a damn out here. If any patients wander in while I’m gone, you can take care of them.”

“I thought you just wanted me to babysit,” she said.

“You came here to work, didn’t you?”

“You said you didn’t want me,” she pointed out to him.

“You said you didn’t want us, either, but here we are. Let’s see what you got.” He shrugged on his jacket and picked up his bag. Then jutted his chin toward her, lifted his eyebrows as if to say,
Well?

“Do you have appointments today?”

“I only make appointments on Wednesdays—the rest are walk-ins. Or call-outs, like this one.”

“I wouldn’t even know what to charge,” she argued.

“Neither do I,” he said. “Hardly matters—these people aren’t made of money and damn few have insurance. Just make sure you keep good records and I’ll work it out. It’s probably beyond you, anyway. You don’t look all that bright.”

“You know,” she said, “I’ve worked with some legendary assholes, but you’re competing for first place here.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said gruffly.

“That figures,” she answered tiredly. “Incidentally, the night was fine.”

No comment from the old goat. He started for the door and on his way out, grabbed a cane. “Are you limping?” Mel asked him.

“Arthritis,” he said. He dug an antacid out of his pocket and popped it in his mouth. “And heartburn. Got any more questions?”

“God, no!”

“Good.”

Mel got a bottle ready and while it was in the microwave, she went upstairs to dress. By the time that was accomplished, the baby started to stir. She changed her and picked her up and found herself saying, “Sweet Chloe, sweet baby…” If she and Mark had had a girl, she was to be Chloe. A boy would be Adam. What was she doing?

“But you have to be someone, don’t you?” she told the baby.

When she was coming down the stairs, the baby swaddled and held against her shoulder, Jack was opening the front door. He was balancing a covered dish on his hand, a thermos tucked under his arm. “Sorry, Jack—you just missed him.”

“This is for you. Doc stopped by the bar and said I’d better get you some breakfast, that you were pretty cranky.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “I’m cranky, huh? He’s a giant pain in the ass! How do you put up with him?”

“He reminds me of my grandfather. How’d it go last night? She sleep?”

“She did very well. Only woke up a couple of times. I’m just about to feed her.”

“Why don’t I give her a bottle while you eat. I brought coffee.”

“Really, I didn’t know they made men like you,” she said, letting him follow her into the kitchen. When he put down the plate and thermos, she handed over the baby and tested the bottle. “You seem very comfortable with a newborn. For a man. A man with some nieces in Sacramento.” He just smiled at her. She passed him the bottle and got out two coffee mugs. “Ever married?” she asked him, then instantly regretted it. It was going to lead to him asking her.

“I was married to the Marine Corps,” he said. “And she was a real bitch.”

“How many years?” she asked, pouring coffee.

“Just over twenty years. I went in as a kid. How about you?”

“I was never in the marines,” she said with a smile.

He grinned at her. “Married?”

She couldn’t meet his eyes and lie, so she concentrated on the coffee mug. “I was married to a hospital, and my bitch was as mean as your bitch.” That wasn’t a total lie. Mark used to complain about the schedules they kept—grueling. He was in emergency medicine.
He’d just finished a thirty-six hour shift when he stopped at the convenience store, interrupting the robbery. She shuddered involuntarily. She pushed a mug toward him. “Did you see a lot of combat?” she asked.

“A lot of combat,” he answered, directing the bottle into the baby’s mouth expertly. “Somalia, Bosnia, Afghanistan, Iraq. Twice.”

“No wonder you just want to fish.”

“Twenty years in the marines will make a fisherman out of just about anyone.”

“You seem too young to have retired.”

“I’m forty. I decided it was time to get out when I got shot in the butt.”

“Ouch. Complete recovery?” she asked, then surprised herself by feeling her cheeks grow warm.

He lifted a corner of his mouth. “Except for the dimple. Wanna see?”

“Thanks, no. So, Doc left me in charge and I have no idea what to expect. Maybe you should tell me where the nearest hospital is—and do they provide ambulance service to the town?”

“That would be Valley Hospital—and they have ambulance service, but it takes so long to get here, Doc usually fires up his old truck and makes the run himself. If you’re desperate and have about an hour to spare, the Grace Valley doctors have an ambulance, but I don’t think I’ve seen an ambulance in this town since I’ve been here. I heard the helicopter came for the guy who almost died in the truck accident. I think the helicopter got as much notice as the accident.”

“God, I hope these people are healthy until he gets back,” she said. Mel dug into the eggs. This seemed to
be a Spanish omelet, and it was just as delicious as the one she’d eaten the day before. “Mmm,” she said appreciatively. “Here’s another thing—I can’t get any cell phone reception here. I should let my family know I’m here safely. More or less.”

“The pines are too tall, the mountains too steep. Use the land line—and don’t worry about the long distance cost. You have to be in touch with your family. Who is your family?”

“Just an older married sister in Colorado Springs. She and her husband put up a collective and huge fuss about this—as if I was going into the Peace Corps or something. I should’ve listened.”

“There will be a lot of people around here glad you didn’t,” he said.

“I’m stubborn that way.”

He smiled appreciatively.

It made her instantly think, don’t get any ideas, buster. I’m married to someone. Just because he isn’t here, doesn’t mean it’s over.

However, there was something about a guy—at least six foot two and two hundred pounds of rock-hard muscle—holding a newborn with gentle deftness and skill. Then she saw him lower his lips to the baby’s head and inhale her scent, and some of the ice around Mel’s broken heart started to melt.

“I’m going into Eureka today for supplies,” he said. “Need anything?”

“Disposable diapers. Newborn. And since you know everyone, could you ask around if anyone can help out with the baby? Either full-time, part-time, whatever. It would be better for her to be in a family home than here at Doc’s with me.”

“Besides,” he said, “you want to get out of here.”

“I’ll help out with the baby for a couple of days, but I don’t want to stretch it out. I can’t stay here, Jack.”

“I’ll ask around,” he said. And decided he might just forget to do that. Because, yes, she could.

Little baby Chloe had only been asleep thirty minutes after her morning bottle when the first patient of the day arrived. A healthy and scrubbed looking young farm girl wearing overalls in the middle of which protruded a very large pregnant tummy, carrying two large jars of what appeared to be preserved blackberries. She put the berries on the floor just inside the door. “I heard there was a new lady doctor in town,” she said.

“Not exactly,” Mel said. “I’m a nurse practitioner.”

Her face fell in disappointment. “Oh,” she said. “I thought it would be so nice to have a woman doctor around when it’s time.”

“Time?” Mel asked. “To deliver?”

“Uh-huh. I like Doc, don’t get me wrong. But—”

“When are you due?” Mel asked.

She rubbed her swollen belly. “I think about a month, but I’m not really sure,” she said. She wore laced-up work boots, a yellow sweater underneath the overalls and her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She looked twenty years old, at most. “It’s my first.”

“I’m a midwife, as well,” Mel said, and the young woman’s face lit up in a beautiful smile. “But I have to warn you—I’m only here temporarily. I’m planning to leave as soon as—” She thought about what she should say. Then, instead of explaining about the baby, she said, “Have you had a checkup recently? Blood pressure, weight, et cetera?”

“It’s been a few weeks,” she said. “I guess I’m about due.”

“Why don’t we do that since you’re here, if I can find what I need,” Mel said. “What’s your name?”

“Polly Fishburn.”

“I bet you have a chart around here somewhere,” Mel said. She went behind the counter and started opening file drawers. A brief search turned up a chart. She went in search of litmus, and other obstetric supplies in the exam room. “Come on back, Polly,” she called. “When was the last time you had an internal exam?”

“Not since the very first,” she said. She made a face. “I was dreading the next one.”

Mel smiled, thinking about Doc’s bent and arthritic fingers. That couldn’t be pleasant. “Want me to have a look? See if you’re doing anything, like dilating or effacing? It might save you having Doc do it later. Just get undressed, put on this little gown, and I’ll be right back.”

Mel checked on the baby, who was napping in the kitchen, then went back to her patient. Polly appeared to be in excellent health with normal weight gain, good blood pressure, and… “Oh, boy, Polly. Baby’s head is down.” Mel stood and pressed down on her tummy while her fingers stretched toward the young woman’s cervix. “And… You’re just barely dilated and effaced about fifty percent. You’re having a small contraction right now. Can you feel that tightening? Braxton Hicks contractions.” She smiled at her patient. “Where are you having the baby?”

“Here—I think.”

Mel laughed. “If you do that anytime soon, we’re going to be roommates. I’m staying upstairs.”

“When do you think it’ll come?” Polly asked.

“One to four weeks, and that’s just a guess,” she said. She stepped back and snapped off her gloves.

“Will you deliver the baby?” Polly asked.

“I’ll be honest with you, Polly—I’m planning to leave as soon as it’s reasonable. But if I’m still here when you go into labor, and if Doc says it’s okay, I’d be more than happy to.” She put out a hand to help Polly sit up. “Get dressed. I’ll see you out front.”

When she walked out of the exam room and back toward the front of the house, she found the waiting room was full of people.

By the end of the day Mel had seen over thirty patients, at least twenty-eight of whom just wanted a look at “the new lady doctor.” They wanted to visit, ask her questions about herself, bring her welcome gifts.

It was at once a huge surprise to her, and also what she had secretly expected when she took the job.

By six o’clock, Mel was exhausted, but the day had flown. She held the baby on her shoulder, gently jiggling her. “Have you had anything to eat?” she asked Doc Mullins.

“When, during our open house, would I have eaten?” he shot back. But it was not nearly as sarcastic as Mel imagined he wished it to be.

“Would you like to walk across the street while I feed the baby?” she asked. “Because after you and little Chloe have eaten, I really need some fresh air. No, make that—I’m desperate for a change of scenery. And I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

He put out his old, gnarled hands. “Chloe?” he asked.

She shrugged. “She has to be called something.”

“Go,” he said. “I’ll see that she’s fed. Then I’ll poke around here for something.”

She handed over the baby with a smile. “I know you’re trying to act miserable and just can’t pull it off,” she said. “But thank you—I’d really like to get out of here for an hour.”

She grabbed her jacket off the peg by the front door and stepped out into the spring night. Out here, away from the smog and industry of city life, there were at least a million more stars. She took a deep breath. She wondered if a person actually got used to air like this—so much cleaner than the smog of L.A., it shocked the lungs.

There were quite a few people at Jack’s—unlike that stormy night when she’d arrived. Two women she’d met earlier in the day were there with their husbands—Connie and Ron of the corner store, and Connie’s best friend Joy and husband Bruce. Bruce, she learned, delivered the mail and was also the person who would take any specimens to the lab at Valley Hospital, if needed. They introduced her to Carrie and Fish Bristol and Doug and Sue Carpenter. There were a couple of guys at the bar and another two at a table playing cribbage—by their canvas vests she took them for fishermen.

Mel hung up her jacket, gave her sweater a little tug to bring it over the waist of her jeans, and popped up on a bar stool. She did not realize she was wearing a smile. That her eyes shone. They had all come out to see her, welcome her, tell her about themselves, ask her for advice. When the day was full of people who needed her—even those who weren’t necessarily sick—it filled her up inside. Passed for happiness, if she dared go that far.

“Lot of action across the street today, I hear,” Jack said, giving the bar a wipe at her place.

“You were closed,” she said.

“I had things to do—and so did Preacher. We stay open most of the time, but if something comes up, we put up a sign and try to get back by dinner.”

“If something comes up?” she asked.

“Like fishing,” Preacher said, putting a rack of glasses under the bar, then he went back to the kitchen. Out of the back came the kid, Ricky, bussing tables. When he spied Mel he grinned hugely and came over to the bar with his tray of dishes. “Miss Monroe—you still here? Awesome.” Then he went to the kitchen.

“He is too cute.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Jack advised. “He’s at the crush age. A very dangerous sixteen. What do you feel like?”

“You know—I wouldn’t mind a cold beer,” she said. And it instantly appeared before her. “What’s for dinner?” she asked.