Virgin River (Virgin River #1)(43)

“My truck? I can’t see you in my truck,” he said doubtfully.

“Why not? I’ll gas it up, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m worried about you driving it off a cliff and leaving me with that piece of shit you call a car.”

She pursed her lips. “Some days, you’re more than I can take. Really.”

He picked up his keys and flipped them at her. She caught them. “Don’t hurt the truck. As God is my witness, I will never be caught driving that foreign job.”

She drove his truck out of town and the minute she was on the winding mountain roads, in the trees, driving up up up and then down down down over the mountain, her heart started to beat a little wildly. She was afraid, plain and simple. But she’d been haunted for two weeks and couldn’t live with the feeling. And that brought a plan into focus.

She surprised herself by remembering where Clifford Paulis’s camp was. She wondered if she was driven by some psychic energy. Her sense of direction in the hills, through the trees, was perfectly lousy. But—before long she was there, recognizing the nearly invisible old logging road that led to their compound. She drove in, made a big turn inside the opening so that she was pointed toward the way out, and then got out of the truck. She stood right beside the driver’s door and yelled,

“Clifford!”

No one appeared immediately, but in a few moments a bearded man came out from around a camper shell that had been pulled off a pickup and she recognized him as one of the men she’d seen on her last visit. She crooked her finger at him, beckoning him to her. He shuffled slowly toward her and as he neared, she reached back into the truck and pulled out the box. “I thought maybe you guys could use this,” she said. “It was going to waste at the clinic.”

He looked at her dumbly.

“Go ahead,” she said, pushing the box toward him. “No strings. Just a little neighborly gesture.”

He seemed to take the box reluctantly. He looked inside.

She dazzled him with her prettiest smile. When he smiled back, his teeth were godawful, but she didn’t react. After all, she’d seen people like him before. But before, she’d call one agency or another, hand them off, clear her charts. It was different out here.

She got in the truck and put it in gear to leave. In the rearview mirror she saw him hurrying toward that camper shell, and a couple of guys had come out from behind and joined him. It made her heart feel better. Good.

When she got back to town, she returned the keys to Doc, who sat behind his desk in his cramped office. “I guess you think I don’t know what you did,” he said. She lifted her chin in some defiance. “I thought I told you—stay away from there. It isn’t an innocent place and no one knows what might happen.”

“You go,” she said.

“And I told you not to.”

“Did we have some understanding? That I was going to follow your nonmedical orders? Because I don’t recall that in my personal life, I’m obligated to do everything you tell me.”

“Guess you’re not obligated to use your brain in your personal life, either.”

“I filled your truck up with gas, you old pain in the ass.”

“I didn’t get caught in that piece of shit foreign job of yours, you obstinate little strumpet.”

And she laughed at him so hard, tears came to her eyes and she had to leave, laughing all the way back to her cabin.

It was a bright and sunny afternoon when Mel went to Doc’s office. She tapped lightly and stuck her head in. “Do you have any idea what’s taking social services so long to do something about Chloe?” she asked him.

“Certainly don’t,” he said.

“Maybe I should do a follow-up—give them a call.”

“I said I’d take care of it,” he answered, not looking up.

“It’s just that—you know—I got attached. I didn’t mean to, didn’t intend to, but there it is. I’d hate for Lilly Anderson to go through that withdrawal. It doesn’t feel good.”

“She’s raised a passel of kids. She knows the score.”

“I know, but…” She stopped talking as she heard the front door open. She leaned out of his office and looked down the hall. Right inside the door stood Polly. She seemed to be holding her belly up with her hands and instead of that usual glow on her cheeks, she looked just a bit pale. Nervous. Right behind her was a young man in almost identical overalls, holding a small, worn suitcase. Mel looked back at Doc and said,

“Showtime.”

Polly wasn’t even sure how far apart the pains were. “It feels like one big one,” she said. “Mostly down real low.”

“Okay, let’s just go upstairs and get settled.”

“Can Darryl come?”

Mel reached over and took the suitcase from Darryl. “Of course. That would help a lot. I’m going to concentrate on you.” She took Polly’s hand. “Come on.”

Once upstairs, she had Polly sit in the rocker while she went about the business of getting a bed ready with the plastic mattress protector and clean sheets. “Good timing, Polly. My cottage was ready at the same time my littlest patient went out to Lilly Anderson’s ranch to stay. I’m all moved out and you, Darryl and the baby can have the whole room.”