Shelter Mountain (Virgin River #2)(91)

At four in the morning, he’d had all he could take. He got out of bed and dressed. He put on his heavy suede jacket and leather gloves and drove back into town. He parked his truck outside of Doc’s, right next to Rick’s, got out and leaned against the door. He could have let himself into the bar and started coffee, but there was no point in waking the house; Preacher and Paige should be allowed whatever sleep they could manage. This would have deeply affected them, as well.

Jack stood there, unmindful of the cold, his breath swirling in a steamy cloud above him, until the very first rays of winter sun began to creep over the mountain, more than two hours later. He was going to be right there when Mel came out, when she gave up her vigil, and he would get her breakfast and take her home to make sure she got some rest. He spent a lot of time just looking at the ground, wondering how such an unkind thing could happen.

When the door to Doc’s opened, he lifted his head. It was not Mel but Rick who stepped out onto the porch. All Jack could think was, what a damned awful way to become a man. Rick just stood there for a moment, then he slowly stepped down from the porch into the street. He met Jack’s eyes and there was such pain, such loss.

Jack stepped toward him and put a hand behind the boy’s neck, pulling him onto his shoulder. He heard Rick let go a deep, painful sigh. Jack put his other arm around him and Rick let it go. He fell against Jack and the tears began. “Yeah, buddy. Get it out. I got you.”

“Why couldn’t I do anything?” Rick asked softly.

“None of us could, son. It’s damned awful. I’m so sorry.”

Rick cried softly and mournfully, his shoulders shaking while Jack held him. Through all the challenges of this pregnancy, all the sadness surrounding Liz and Rick’s situation and their struggles to get through it like grown-ups, with a little dignity, nothing could have prepared any of them to face this. The boy who had become a man, who stepped up and took responsibility, leaned against Jack, shattered, quietly weeping in the anguish of grief. His heart was shredded, and Jack’s was aching as he held him.

A single tear traced a path down Jack’s stubbled cheek.

Sixteen

Liz stayed two nights in Doc’s hospital room, Rick with her the entire time. They did a lot of weeping and holding on to each other. Mel spent a good deal of time there, trying to comfort. She told them that it was important to remember two things: that it was nothing they or anyone else did, and there was no reason to believe that it would ever happen again. It was extremely rare for an intrauterine death not precipitated by eclampsia or another complication of pregnancy, but sadly, it happened from time to time.

Jack and Mel made the arrangements for the burial of Rick and Liz’s baby. Liz wanted to take him home to Eureka, where she’d grown up and her grandparents were buried. And then Liz wanted to stay with her mother, who had become much more sensitive to the young couple, given their tragedy. She extended to Rick the invitation that he was welcome as much and as often as he wanted to be there, for his support was desperately needed to get Liz through these dark days.

Mel grieved. It was certainly not the first fatality for her, but medicine and midwifery in a small town made your patients your friends, and these young people were very special to her. Jack, not really knowing what to do for his wife, took her to June Hudson’s house in Grace Valley where John and Susan were present with June and Jim and old Doc Hudson. They had a solemn dinner together, talking about their worst moments, their tragic losses. It was far from cheery, but it got Mel through it—remembering that this was the downside of medicine and that she was not alone.

During that dinner, Jack had the passing thought that the need for these clinicians to share their war stories was not unlike what soldiers did, what his Marines had done. It was a leveler; it reminded you that everyone had a role in holding one another up, in sharing the victories and the tragedies.

Rick took his strength from Jack and Preacher, who watched over him closely, spending long hours at the end of the day talking and giving him the sturdiness of their shoulders, the camaraderie of their shared experiences. These men who had been to war had buried those they loved, young lives cut tragically short. Loss was no stranger to them. And Rick had joined their ranks too soon.

The whole town seemed to suffer for Rick and Liz, but it was clear to Paige that Mel’s pain was unique. As she grew round with her own baby’s birth imminent, a time that should bring her great joy, she was too quiet. Paige was familiar with the story of how Mel came to Virgin River, and just as she was about to flee, an abandoned newborn was found on Doc’s porch and Mel put her own needs aside to stay, to take care of that baby until a home could be found for her. For many weeks and months after LillyAnderson had fostered the baby, Mel had gone to the Anderson ranch to hold her. Their bond was a strong one.

So Paige went to the clinic one afternoon and asked Mel to go for a ride with her—she had an errand and didn’t want to go alone, she said. She drove up to the Anderson ranch and Mel said, “What are we doing here?”

“Good medicine,” Paige said. “Come on.”

Paige put her arm around Mel’s shoulders and led her up the porch. When Lilly came to the door, Paige said, “Someone needs to hold a living baby.”

Mel shot her a look, began to shake her head, but Lilly reached for her hand and said, “Of course you do,” and drew her inside.

Little Chloe was sleeping, but that didn’t matter to Lilly. If there was something Mel needed, there wasn’t a person in Virgin River who wouldn’t move heaven and earth to help her. Chloe was almost a year old now. Lilly lifted her daughter out of the crib and handed her to Mel. Mel held that little life against her, drawing strength from the baby’s cuddle, from her sleepy sighs. It wasn’t quite the same as holding a newborn, a healthy baby pulled from its mother’s womb, but it served its purpose. Lilly left Mel alone in the baby’s room and Mel rocked Chloe for a long time while Paige and Lilly had tea in the kitchen. The warmth of life against Mel’s chest seemed to give some healing. Inside her, her own baby kicked and squirmed, letting himself be known. For each movement, even the ones that were uncomfortable, she gave grateful thanks.