Moonlight Road (Virgin River #11)(53)

“Very nice of you, Mel,” he said.

She looked at her watch. “I’m going to leave you. I want to get that paperwork finished so I can get home early today. When you’re ready to settle up, Preacher’s in the kitchen. Just poke your head in.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Good luck on the job search, Aiden. I wish you were staying close, but I understand your need to find a bigger town. We can’t really support another OB around here.”

“Mel? Do you think Erin missed things that she still thinks about sometimes? You know—things that the rest of us took for granted. Like football games and dances? Sports and other after-school stuff. The prom? Things like that?”

“Probably. She’s been completely devoted to Marcie and Drew for twenty-five years. That wouldn’t have left much free time. And I do know she never moved out of her parents’ house. Most young people go away to college, get horrible first apartments with equally horrible first roommates. But Erin never left home because of the kids.”

He was quiet for a moment before he said, “What an amazing woman.”

“Isn’t she? I’m so glad you two met.” She walked briskly toward the door. “See you Monday at the picnic, Aiden.”

“See you,” he said. But he was thinking, she rushed home from school for child care and chores, and did that for twenty-five years? Aiden had grown up on the poor side, but he’d never missed a thing. He’d gone to the prom; he’d thought it was a totally useless waste of money not to get laid. It took quite a few years to recognize that girls didn’t see it the same way. But the way Erin thought of it? That was way out of his experience.

He took his plate back to the kitchen and put it on the counter. “Hey, Preach. What do I owe you?”

Preacher looked at it and scowled. “Was something wrong with it?”

“It was perfect,” Aiden said. He rubbed a hand on his stomach. “I ate some fish last night that was a little off, y’know? I didn’t want to press my luck.”

“Well, hey, I can’t charge you if you can’t eat it.”

Aiden laughed. “How you guys make a living is beyond me. Pretend I ate it. What’s the damage?”

“Eight,” Preacher said.

“And coffee?” Aiden asked, pulling out his wallet.

“Eight twenty-five.”

He put a ten on the worktable. He added a dollar. He added another dollar and pushed it toward Preacher. Nowhere he’d ever lived could you get a huge breakfast like that for eight dollars. Maybe the navy mess, but that stuff could be inedible. Preacher’s food was fantastic. “Thanks,” he said to the cook.

Preacher scooped up the bills. “And that, my friend, is how we make a living.”

Ten

Jack had supplies to get, for bar and kitchen stock as well as the Fourth of July picnic on Monday. He’d convinced Preacher they should supply the ribs and beer and that got the big man leafing through his recipes for barbecue ribs.

But Jack had another mission. He had an appointment with Dr. John Stone.

Jack had a lot of respect for John. Although Jack had ended up delivering his own babies, John had been good backup. But more important, John had saved Mel’s life when she’d suffered a postpartum hemorrhage. Of course, she’d lost her uterus, but John had tried to save it and understood that would be a hard loss for Mel. But her life, her life…What was there to think about? Jack couldn’t live without her.

He only had to sit in the waiting room for ten minutes before John came out and shook his hand. “Jack, how you doing, man?”

“Good, good,” Jack said. “It’s been a while. You coming out to the picnic on the Fourth?”

“I don’t know, Jack—I heard fireworks are out…”

Jack just laughed. “Listen, idiot, we don’t like to send sparks over a lot of dry timber in the middle of fire season. You could come for the company….”

“Might think about that. Come on back. I have the office. Dr. Hudson snuck out early. Her son bit someone on the playground.”

“Ew,” Jack said. “What do you do about biting?”

“There are many unproven theories,” John said. “But no matter what you hear—don’t bite back. I think that gets you a visit from Child Protective Services.”

They entered the small office, and while John went to sit behind the desk, Jack sat in a chair facing it. “We’re totally safe,” Jack said. “Social services still has us on a wait list for the newborn baby that was left on the clinic’s porch about four years ago.”

They both laughed.

“So,” Jack said. “You know why I’m here, right? To talk to you about how natural and everyday business this whole surrogate baby thing is for you…”

“Was,” John said. “We don’t do so much of that here. We tend to refer. We did have a woman who had a baby for her sister and we handled prenatal care and delivery. The clinic I worked with in Sausalito had a very busy fertility business—we could do everything but create life in test tubes. We could harvest eggs, collect and freeze sperm, inseminate, implant fertilized ova. The subjects…or parents and surrogate had their own lawyers to negotiate the terms and we had a consultant to keep us legal, but yeah, it was a pretty regular event.”