Paradise Valley (Virgin River #7)(37)

“So—tell me your plan,” she said. “I know you have one.”

“The beginning of one. I’m solvent for a while yet. I won’t be desperate for more income before the end of summer, but I should start looking. I want to hang close for now because those babies could come in a couple of months, hopefully not earlier, and then after they’re born, I want to help Abby get a couple months under her belt before I start working two or three jobs. There’s room for her in the clinic while I look around for something to rent that will hold all of us, something real close. I can give her my room and sleep in the patient room. If there’s a God, I’ll find a nice, comfortable three-bedroom not far from here.”

“I can help you out there. The cabin’s empty. Two bedrooms and a loft, ten minutes from town, no farther away than I am.”

“Don’t you need it for family and friends?”

“Now that Luke Riordan has those cabins on the river all fixed up, we’re in great shape. The Sheridans show up from time to time, but we have a guest room and guesthouse. We bought the cabin to have a handy alternative for emergencies. This qualifies.”

He hung his head and shook it. “You must think I’m a complete idiot.”

Her laughter brought his head up. “Me?” she asked. “Cameron, I never planned a pregnancy in my life, and I’m the expert! Just work it out if you can. I want the best for all of you.”

He smiled. “I’ll work out some rent agreement with you and Jack.”

“Don’t be absurd. You practically work for free. The longer I can keep you around, the better. Besides, that cabin has good fortune. I gave birth to David there.” She laughed at the shudder she saw pass through him. He was no doubt imagining his twins coming out in that cabin. She put a hand on his arm. “Work things out any way you can, Cameron. You can have the cabin for as long as you need it.”

“Should you check with Jack about that?”

“Please,” she scoffed. “Jack will do anything I ask.” Then she grinned. “Besides, Jack would approve of this idea. If it works for you.”

Six

Abby was primping in front of the mirror, Vanessa standing in the bathroom doorway, arms crossed over her chest, watching. “My face is fat,” Abby said.

“It’s not,” Vanessa argued. “You look beautiful. Amazing. And huge.”

Cameron was cooking Abby dinner at the clinic tonight. He thought they should talk about a few things, which was totally reasonable. Abby plucked at the mother-to-be top Vanni had loaned her. “Are you sure you wore this the very last week of your pregnancy?”

“I was only having one, remember. Abby, you look wonderful. You do want to look wonderful, don’t you?”

“I’ll be content if I don’t spoil his appetite with the way I look,” she said, but she leaned closer to the mirror to carefully line her lips. Then she ran the comb through her shiny hair one more time. Then she licked a finger and smoothed it over one finely arched eyebrow, shaping it.

“Uh-huh,” Vanni said doubtfully. “So, what’s on the agenda tonight? What does he want to talk about?”

“Not sure,” Abby said. Then she ran her hands over her belly. “It’s not like we don’t have plenty on the roster. Vanni, I’m only six months pregnant and I look like I’m going to drop them tomorrow. I don’t know if I can stretch anymore!”

“Bet you can.” Vanni laughed. “I won’t wait up.”

“I’ll be home early,” Abby promised.

“Please, not on my account. Why don’t you just throw caution to the wind and try to enjoy yourself.” She glanced at Abby’s big belly. “You enjoyed yourself once. I bet you can again. Cam’s a great guy.”

Abby knew this, and not just because Vanni wouldn’t let her forget it. If she had to get knocked up by a virtual stranger, at least she picked a decent guy. And it was just too bad that their relationship was so rife with complications, with unknowns. The only things that were for sure—Abby was a nice person, Cameron was a great guy, and two babies were going to come barreling out of her in about two months, give or take. She could already tell she’d never make it to term.

Abby got to town promptly at six and found the clinic door unlocked. “Hello?” she called after stepping inside.

Cam looked down the hall from the kitchen, a plain white apron wrapped around his h*ps and a spoon in his hand. He smiled at her. “Hi. Go ahead and lock that door, Abby. They have to knock after clinic hours.”

“Sure,” she said, throwing the dead bolt. When she got to the kitchen, he had discarded the spoon and helped her out of her coat. He hung it on the peg by the back door and said, “You look pretty, Abby. Beautiful, in fact.”

“Thanks. I look full-term and I’m not even close.”

“You look perfect. Healthy and strong and very pregnant.” He grinned at her. “You feel okay?”

“Sure,” she said. “Fine.” In fact, her back was aching, her ankles were swelling and she was getting these mysterious pains in her lower abdomen that Mel and John Stone described as ligament-stretching pains that felt at least like a pulled muscle, sometimes every bit as powerful as a knife thrust. Sleeping was getting difficult and heartburn had settled in with a vengeance. “I get some heartburn” was all she admitted to. “It’s a good excuse to eat ice cream at night. What did you cook?”