Second Chance Pass (Virgin River #5)(32)

Paul went through the facts slowly, embarrassingly. It made his neck red. He was not able to make much eye contact with Mel while he spoke, but at the end of the story he was amazed to look into her crystal-blue eyes and find they weren’t wide with shock. “I guess you’ve heard it all, huh?” Paul asked.

“Pretty much. This must be very difficult for you, Paul,” Mel said. “You’re worried.”

“You have no idea,” he said.

“Of course I do. I guess your first concern is whether you’re actually the father of this baby?”

“Um, I figure I am—but…”

“You should probably verify that as soon as possible. Remember, Paul—the lady knows who the mother is. You’re entitled to the same assurance. Ask her to offer that to you.”

“Mel,” he said pleadingly. “How in God’s name do you suggest I do that?”

“In an honest and straightforward manner,” she said. “You might be able to learn something from an ultrasound. It will at least show exactly how pregnant she is, and if you can narrow down the times you were in contact—”

“Time,” he said. “Just one time.”

“Then you know exactly how pregnant she is and an ultrasound will either verify or dispute the gestation. But if there was another partner involved at approximately the same time, it will require a paternity test. Blood types, DNA, etcetera.”

“I don’t want to upset her. Offend her.”

Mel smiled patiently. “Let’s see—the two of you didn’t have a conversation for six months and when you did, it escalated to intimacy rather quickly—do I have that right? Paul, if she’s offended by your desire to be sure you’re the father of this baby before you commit yourself personally and financially, you’re not going to have an easy time with this. It’s a very reasonable request. If she’s absolutely certain, I’m sure she’ll cooperate with you.”

“And if she doesn’t?” he asked.

“Tell her you’ll hire a lawyer to assert your paternal rights. She can be prevented from aborting or having the baby adopted, and you will be obligated to support your child, which I assume you’re prepared to do anyway.”

“If she’s having my baby, I’ll take care of her. Of course.”

Mel smiled. “Of course you will.”

“And Vanni?” Paul asked.

“Oh,” Mel said. “She’s not taking it well?”

“She doesn’t know. I tried to tell her last night and I got as far as telling her I dated a woman in Grants Pass when she came unhinged because I hadn’t told her sooner.”

Mel made a face. “Take care of that, Paul. If you have feelings for Vanessa, it isn’t fair to leave her confused and wondering. She deserves the truth.”

“She’s going to shoot me in the head,” he said miserably.

“I doubt that. She might need time to consider the facts, however.” Then she smiled patiently. “Paul, you’ve played around with this long enough. If you care about her, assert yourself. Explain. You didn’t betray her—you didn’t break the law. You have to behave responsibly toward both women—that’s all there is to it.”

“Yeah,” he said.

“This will work out. Babies are miracles of life—no matter the extenuating circumstances. Don’t lose sight of that.”

“Yeah,” he said again. He leaned toward her, kissed her brow as she sat on her husband’s lap. “Thanks, Mel.”

“Sure,” she said. “Best of luck.”

He shook Jack’s hand, ruffled David’s floppy golden hair and headed for his truck. Once he’d turned around and was headed off the Sheridan property, Mel looked at Jack to find him grinning hugely. “Melinda,” he said. “Did you just get involved in someone’s relationship?”

She lifted a brow. “Do you really want to mess with a woman who’s about seventeen months pregnant?”

“I’m just saying…”

“Try shutting up,” she advised. “I believe I was asked.”

“You did,” he laughed. “You got right in there, got your hands dirty in someone’s relationship. Just admit it—it’s irresistible. You’re just as nosy as I am.”

She glared at him. “Jack, no one is as nosy as you are.”

Right after Paul left, the phone rang at Jack’s house. He knew who it was; it was a regular Sunday morning call. He lifted Mel off his lap and dashed for the phone, grinning from ear to ear.

There had been a boy in Virgin River who was like a son to Jack. Ricky. He’d taken him under his wing when he was only thirteen because it was just Rick and his grandmother. Jack taught him to hunt and fish, did what he could to teach him the ways of the world. He’d pridefully watched as he grew tall and strong, a young man of impeccable character who could take the toughest stuff life could serve up and hold his head up, stand straight and do a man’s job. The boy had gotten close to Preacher, to Mel, to the Marines from Jack’s old squad who still gathered there.

At eighteen Ricky had signed up. What was the young protégé of a bunch of tough old Marines going to do but sign up? And Semper Fi suited him. Ricky had excelled. He’d gone from Basic to Airborne to Sniper training to Reconnaissance training to SERE—Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape training. In every program he’d been the best. He was nineteen years old and at least six feet of proud, muscled, skilled Marine. He just phoned to say he had ten days of leave coming up in a couple of months.