Virgin River (Virgin River #1)(103)

“How about we let it go and move forward,” he said.

“Jack,” she whispered so that Preacher wouldn’t hear. “I love you.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“But it’s true. Please believe me.”

He lifted her chin and put a light kiss on her lips. “Okay,” he said. “I believe you.”

“Oh, God,” she said, tears gathering in her eyes.

“Don’t, Mel,” he said. “Don’t start crying again. I’m afraid I won’t understand why—

and it’ll make things worse.”

She sucked it back, forced herself to still the nerves that were tightening inside her. Her fleeting thought was, God, what will I do if he’s through with me on account of that? “I’m going to your room,” she told him. “I’m going to stay there until you come to me and I’m going to convince you, somehow, that we belong to each other. Especially now.”

He gave a nod that was so slight, it was almost imperceptible, so she got off her stool and walked through the back of the bar to his quarters. Once alone, she couldn’t suppress the tears. They flowed freely down her cheeks. He thinks I’m going to spend the rest of my life explaining myself to my dead husband, apologizing for how I feel about Jack. Well, that’s what I was doing—what’s he to think? He won’t believe me if I tell him that’s not true, not how it’s going to be. It was just a one-time thing—the shock, the exhaustion, the high emotional state I’m in.

Mel sat in the big chair in his room, revisiting in her mind that night she sat in this spot, drenched from the rain, and he gently undressed her, dried her and put her to bed. That was when she knew, without a doubt, there was a partner here for her, even if she couldn’t admit it to herself for quite a while. Since the ultrasound, she was pretty convinced she had conceived that night. Jack opened her up, showed her passion she didn’t know existed, and put his baby in her. It was nothing short of a miracle—the love, the passion, the baby. She just didn’t know how difficult it would be to make that transition into a new life. A second life. A completely different life. She sat in that chair for an hour. Waiting.

Jack put up all his clean glasses and dishes, wiped down the bar and poured himself a drink. There was a particular, old single malt, an aged Glenlivet, that he saved for special occasions. Or emergencies.

Preacher put away his broom and went to the bar. “Everything okay, man?” he asked. Jack pulled down a glass and poured a shot for his friend. He lifted his toward Preacher in something of a toast and said, solemnly, “Mel’s pregnant.” Then Jack took the shot in one swallow.

“Aw, man,” Preacher said. “What are you gonna do?”

“I’m going to be a father,” he said. “I’m going to marry her.”

Preacher picked up his glass and lifted it tentatively, taking a drink. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“That what you want, man?”

“Absolutely.”

Preacher grinned. “Sarge. A family man. Who’d think?”

Jack tipped the bottle once more, over both glasses. “Yeah,” Jack said.

“Seems like, maybe, things aren’t so hot right now,” Preacher said.

“Nah,” he lied. “Just found out,” he further lied. “It’s gonna work out great. It’s gonna be perfect.” Then he smiled. “You know I never do anything I don’t want to do. Uncle Preacher.” He threw back the second shot and put his glass on the bar. “Good night.”

Jack felt bad about leaving Mel in his room for so long, but they both needed some time to compose themselves. If there were going to be more tears, this one time he wanted her to get that out of the way on her own. There’s only so much one man could do, so he didn’t rush to her. She was going to be feeling a little desperate—

pregnant, just caught apologizing for it to the picture of Mark, afraid Jack wouldn’t be able to deal with that. There was nothing either of them could do about it—Jack had known from the beginning that Mark was still there, in her life, in her heart. He would never have all of her. Well, then, he’d make the most of what he did have. He wasn’t going to make her grovel; he was just going to love the heck out of her. He could manage this, even if it wasn’t the most ideal situation. In time, maybe she’d come around. Mark’s memory could fade enough so that even if Jack wasn’t the only man in her life, he would come to feel like the most important one. Maybe when she held their child, she would realize life was for the living.

He walked in, looked across the room at her, and leaned down to pull off his boots. He yanked his shirt out of his pants and took it off, hanging it on the peg in his closet. He removed his belt and tossed it aside. Then he approached her and put out a hand to her.

She put her hand in his and let him draw her to her feet. She leaned her head against his chest and said again, “I’m sorry. I love you. I want to be with you.”

His arms went around her and he answered. “That’s good enough for me.”

Jack kissed her tenderly.

“You’ve had a couple of drinks,” she said. “Scotch.”

“It seemed like the thing to do,” he said. He slowly began to undress her, leaving her clothes in a pile on the floor, because when words failed him he had never failed to be able to speak to her body. There was no confusion about this—when he touched her, she was all his. When she responded to him, she held nothing back. There might be a glitch in her heart, some of it stuck in the past. But her body came alive under his lips, his hands.