Shelter Mountain (Virgin River #2)(101)

“Show Uncle Preach the baby. I’m going home. And I think you have like tons of laundry to do.”

“Tons.” Jack laughed.

Jack carried the baby to the living room and let Preacher have a peek. “You deliver him?” Preacher asked.

“It wasn’t my idea,” Jack said.

Preacher grinned hugely. “Looks like you did okay.”

“I’m not looking to do it again, however,” Jack said. But he smiled. Where’s Paige? Chris?”

“Rick’s standing guard,” Preacher said. “Wearing my sidearm. He’s a little too happy about it.”

“Yeah? Well, you better get back there. Disarm him.”

Jack put the baby back in the cradle next to Mel, whose face had resumed those soft, beautiful lines that had been there prior to her hard work. He went around the house collecting clothes, towels, sheets. He laundered, he cleaned, he set the house back in order. At nine o’clock there was a soft knock at the door and he opened it to find Preacher had returned. He lifted a bottle. “John said you might need a sedative,” he said.

“Yeah. Come on in. Be real quiet.”

Jack found a couple of glasses and Preacher tipped the bottle over them. Then he lifted his glass, Jack lifted his, and Preacher whispered, “Congratulations, Dad.”

Jack threw back the shot and when he brought back his head, his eyes were misting over. “My wife,” he said in a whisper. “You have no idea the strength that took. She was amazing. I watched her face—she went to a place of power I’ve never been. And then, when I handed her the baby, when she put my son against her breast…” He took another swallow. “When she nursed my son, she was in another place—there was such peace and love…. God,” he said.

“Yeah,” Preacher said. “That was God.” Preacher opened his arms and gave the man a huge hug, patting his back.

“I’ve never seen anything like that in my life,” Jack whispered.

Preacher clamped strong hands on Jack’s upper arms, giving him a little shake. “I’m real happy for you, man.” And then he left, Jack quietly closing the door behind him.

At midnight, Jack blew out most of the candles and sat in the rocker by her bed. By his bed. He lifted the baby to Mel at two in the morning and watched, mesmerized, as she nursed him for a few minutes on each side, burped him and handed him back to Jack with sleepy instructions to change him. Which he did.

At 5:00 a.m. he repeated the process of lifting his crying son to his mother’s arms, again watching as she breast-fed him. Again, changing him and cleaning him up. He held him and rocked him for an hour before putting him back in his cradle. At eight in the morning, it happened again, a feeding and changing, and Jack had not taken so much as a nap. He had watched every rise and fall of his son’s chest, each breath, frequently reaching out to gently touch his perfect little head.

At nine in the morning he heard the sound of saws and he went to the front porch. He couldn’t see that far down the road because of the fallen tree, but he knew what was happening—Preacher was having the road cleared.

At noon, Mel got out of bed. He was astonished by the fact that she sat up, put her feet on the floor, stood up and stretched. “Ah,” she said. “I think I’ll have a shower.”

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I feel so much better.” She put her hands in the small of her back. “My back doesn’t hurt anymore.” She walked into his arms, hugged him close and said, “Thank you, Jack. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Yeah, I think you could have.” He looked down the length of her.

“What’s the matter?”

“After seeing what you did last night, I can’t believe you can stand.”

She laughed softly. “Amazing, isn’t it? The way a woman’s body can open up and deliver a child that size? You don’t realize it yet, but that was a very wonderful experience you had. Delivering your own child.”

He kissed her brow. “What makes you think I don’t realize it?”

She touched his face. “Have you slept?”

“I can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m still too wired.”

“Well, maybe you do realize it. I’m going to get cleaned up a little, then I have things for you to do.”

“What things?” he asked. “I did my laundry.”

She laughed at him. “Jack, we haven’t eaten anything. And you have phone calls to make. You have to go into town. I heard saws—you think your truck will be pulled out by now?”

“It’s sitting in front of the cabin.”

She shook her head. “This place. The way people just act on instinct, without being asked. Okay, I’m starving. I’m going to clean up.”

When she got out of the shower, he had a bowl of hot soup waiting for her. “You sure you’ll be all right here by yourself?” he asked her.

“I can take it from here, cowboy,” she said, diving into her soup.

Jack hurried through his phone calls while Paige and Preacher packed up a nice takeout for him—a scrumptious stew, bread, some sandwiches, fruit and pie. He quickly foraged for some groceries from the kitchen—eggs, cheese, milk, juice. Jack couldn’t be away from them for long—he hurried back to the cabin. He found Mel and the baby napping, so he stoked the fire and leaned back on the couch, his feet stretched out in front of him on the chest that served as a coffee table. A kind of mellowness had settled over him, almost like having had a tranquilizer. He thought he might be visiting heaven, it was so sweet.