Virgin River (Virgin River #1)(28)

The cabin in Virgin River might be ready, but Mel sure wasn’t. The baby at Doc’s was keeping her in town for now, but it was impractical to think of her caring for Chloe out at the cabin—there was only the one plexiglass incubator, no car seat for traveling back and forth, no phone. Of course, it was no punishment to have her living right across the street. But he wanted her in the cabin he’d renovated, he wanted that real bad.

Charmaine was so right—he had needs. But somehow when he looked at this young Mel, he knew it would never be like this—an arrangement for sex every couple of weeks. Jack had absolutely no idea what it might become, but he already knew it was going to be more than that. He had a very long history of not getting hooked up, so this disturbed him. The chances were real good he was casting adrift in a sea of sheer loneliness. Because Mel had complications. He had no idea what they were, but that occasional sadness in her eyes came out of the past, something she was trying to get over.

But he wanted her. He wanted all of her; he wanted everything with her.

“That’s the thing,” he said. “I have needs. And right now I think what I need is completely different from what I’ve needed in the past. I could easily keep coming here, Charmaine. I sure don’t suffer, you’re awful good to me. But the past two years when I’ve been here, I’ve been here completely. It shouldn’t be any other way.”

“The last time was different,” she said. “I knew something was wrong.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. It’s really the first time my head wasn’t connected to my body. You deserve better than that.”

She lifted her chin and gave her hair a toss. “What if I said I didn’t care?”

God, he felt so bad doing this. “I do,” was all he could say. She got teary. “Okay, then,” she said bravely. “Okay, then.”

When he left he knew it was going to be a while before he felt all right about what he’d just done. That business about playing it fast and loose, about having no ties or commitments, that wasn’t really how it was. All that no commitment bullshit meant was that you didn’t talk about it, you never took it to the next level. He had had a contract of sorts with Charmaine, even if it wasn’t a formal one, a legal one, even if it was pretty casual in the give-and-take department. She had stuck to the contract; he had just broken it. And let her down.

Chapter Five

I n the mornings, after the baby had that first really early feeding and was settled back to sleep, Mel liked to take her coffee out to Doc’s front porch and sit on the steps. She found she enjoyed watching this little town wake up. First the sun would create a kind of golden path through the tall pine trees onto the street, slowly lighting it. The sound of doors opening and closing could be heard. A Ford truck drove slowly from the east to the west down the street, tossing out papers—the Humboldt News. She liked getting the paper early—though it was hardly akin to the L.A. Times. Soon the kids started to emerge. The bus picked them up at the far west end of the main street. Those in town would walk or ride their bikes down the street and gather there, chaining their bikes to trees in someone’s front yard. That would never happen in the city—someone just allowing their yard to be used as a bike lot while the kids were in school. She saw Liz come out of Connie’s house right next to the store; Liz sashayed across the street, book bag slung over one shoulder, fanny swaying seductively. Boy howdy, Mel was thinking. That girl’s advertising like mad. Cars and trucks began to drop off the more rural kids. It was not yet seven—a long day for these country kids—driven to the bus stop, ride the bus for who knows how long since there was no school in Virgin River, then back to town, back to the farm or ranch. The kids who gathered there, probably thirty, ranged in age from five to seventeen and the mothers of the younger ones stood around chatting while they waited for the bus. Some of them held their coffee cups and laughed together like old, old friends.

Then it would come, the bus, driven by a big happy woman who got off, said hello to the parents, herding each one of the kids on board.

Jack came out of the bar, fishing rod in one hand, tackle box in the other. He put his gear in the back of his truck and lifted a hand to her. She waved back. Out to the river for some fishing. Not long after, Preacher was sweeping off the front porch. When he looked up, he lifted a hand, as well.

What had she said about this little town? That it didn’t resemble the pictures she’d seen? In the early morning the town was lovely. Rather than looking old and tired, the homes looked sweet and uncomplicated. They were unfussy clapboards in a variety of colors—blue, light green, beige with brown trim. Connie and Ron’s house, right next to the corner store, was the same yellow with white trim as their store. Only one house on the street had been painted recently, a white house with dark green shutters and trim. She saw Rick come out of that house, sprint across the porch, jump down to the street and into his little white truck. It was a safe-looking street. Friendly homes. No one walked out of their homes to see another person and fail to greet, wave, stop and talk.

A woman came out from behind the boarded-up church down the street and seemed to be walking unevenly toward her. As she neared, Mel stood up. “Hello,” she said, holding her coffee cup in both hands.

“You the nurse?” she asked.

“Nurse practitioner and midwife, yes. Can I help you with something?”