Second Chance Pass (Virgin River #5)(102)

Rick finally brought him in, a great big Chinook, over thirty pounds. And that was more than enough fishing; Rick’s ears were ringing from Jack’s mother-henning.

When they got back to the bar, Preacher whistled in admiration and loaded the fish on the scale. “Thirty-seven point four. You catch him all by yourself, Rick?”

Rick made a face at Jack. “Not exactly.”

When Jack took Rick to Garberville, they sat in the truck for a minute, waiting for the bus to board. “Got any last-minute advice?” Rick asked him.

“Yeah. Trust your gut. Follow your orders, but trust your instincts.”

“I want you to know that I’m not afraid of it. I’m not. In fact, I might be a little excited. It was the right thing to do, Jack. For me.”

“I believe you.”

“You take good care of Mel and the kids, huh?”

“You bet I will. I’ll write every week,” Jack said. “Nothing will happen in Virgin River that you won’t hear about.”

“Whoopee,” he said, and laughed. Jack went to tousle his hair the way he used to, but it was shaved down so short, he knuckled his scalp instead. “I’m going now,” Rick said.

Jack got out of the truck and met him around the front. He gave him a robust hug. “Take care, son. Be safe.”

“I will. Now you get outta here. Don’t hang around and stare at the bus, like you did last time.”

Jack couldn’t stop himself—he grabbed him and hugged him again. “This time next year, Rick. I’ll get the boys to come. You bring your friends.”

“Sure,” he said. Then he turned and walked to the bus, straight and tall, his duffel over his shoulder. He never turned around to look back.

June grew old and hot. Small fires dotted a mountainous landscape that had remained dry and dangerous, while in Arizona, Nevada, Colorado and Utah several big fires had threatened to run out of control and, it being early in the season, this didn’t bode well. Northern California had escaped the big ones so far, but it was a frightening prospect as the rains continued to elude them. Cal Fire and Department of Forestry was patrolling campgrounds like crazy, making sure fires were only lit in designated areas and with permits, in many cases prohibiting fires of any kind.

Mel was keeping a very close eye on her husband. The first days after Ricky left found Jack a little on the quiet side, but he was coming around. He talked about the young man a lot, read the newspapers and had a satellite TV installed in the bar so he and Preacher could keep up on CNN reports of the war. He had the Chinook mounted, taking down his big, ugly sturgeon and replacing it with Rick’s fish. He had also written about a dozen letters already, and let her read over some of them while they were in progress. “Jack,” she had said, laughing. “Do you really think Ricky cares what Preacher made for dinner, or how many temper tantrums Davie threw today?”

“I think he wants to hear everything. I remember.”

Of course he did, she thought. He remembered every long night he spent in battle zones, often in the same landscape, the same country where Rick served this very minute. He remembered every face of a young marine, every wounded man, every letter from home. For Jack to have been through it himself and let Rick go with such pride and confidence made him, in Mel’s mind, the strongest man alive.

“I have an idea,” she told him. “Go ask your sister and brother-in-law if they know any news that should be sent Rick’s way.”

Jack’s eyes briefly widened, then he walked briskly out the back door of the bar, across the yard to that RV, and banged on the door. Mel watched from the window as Brie stepped outside. A short conversation ensued and then she could hear her husband’s loud whoop of excitement just as he lifted his sister off her feet and swung her around and around. Then he was back, lifting Mel off her feet, bringing her face up to his. He covered her mouth in a searing, demanding kiss—but she found herself laughing against his lips. “Jack, she’s pregnant, not me!”

“It’s almost as good,” he said. “They want a baby so much. This is wonderful news.” Then he scowled a little bit and said, “Did you just leak some confidential medical information?”

“No,” she said. “Brie said I could tell you.”

“Then why didn’t you just tell me?”

“This was much more fun. Are you done kissing me already?”

“Baby, I want to way more than kiss you. I’ll be very careful. How about it?”

She played with the hair at his temple. Not many women knew what it was like to have a man like this. A powerful and lusty man like Jack. He always put her needs and feelings ahead of his own, always looking to care for her in every way, keeping her safe, making sure she knew how loved she was. How wanted. In his love, in his arms, she always felt beautiful and sexy. Desired. Cherished. She kissed him on the lips and said, “Later. And you don’t have to be all that careful—I’m all right now.”

“But your poor little body has been through so much,” he said.

“John Stone was just here this morning, so he gave me a little check. I have my operator’s license back.”

“Oh, baby,” he said in a breath.

“But, Jack, you are not to write Rick about that!”

He grinned at her and said, “Just as well. I could never put it into words, what I feel with you.”