Virgin River (Virgin River #1)(57)

“You realize what this means,” she said. “These little kisses are no longer our little secret.”

He looked down into her eyes. The shouts had subsided into a low rumble of laughter.

“Mel, they are not little. And since it’s leaked,” he said, grabbing her up in his arms, lifting her up to him again, her feet clear of the ground, and planted another one on her, to the excited shouts of the old 192nd. Even with that riot in the background, she found herself responding. She was growing addicted to the perfect flavor of his mouth.

When it was done she said, “I knew it was a mistake to let you get to first base.”

“Hah, I haven’t even thrown out the first pitch yet. You’re invited to go fishing with us, if you like.”

“Thanks, but I have things to do. I’ll see you tomorrow night for a beer. And I’ll get myself to my car. I’m not going to make out in front of them for the next week.”

A little local research revealed to Mel that there was an ultrasound machine in Grace Valley, about thirty minutes away in northern Mendocino county. She had a long chat with one of the town doctors, June Hudson, and they worked out a deal for the use of the ultrasound—the deal was that June would provide this service out of the goodness of her heart. “The ultrasound was donated,” she said. “Women from at least a half dozen surrounding towns make use of it.”

Mel arranged to bring Sondra in for a screening that day but Sondra insisted on baking six dozen cookies that she would leave at the Grace Valley clinic. “Are you sure your husband can’t come along? It’s really something to see,” Mel said.

“It would have to be him and the kids,” Sondra said. “And I’m really looking forward to getting away for a few hours.”

The two of them set out for Grace Valley, driving down through the foothills and along back roads that led them past farms, pastures, vineyards, ranches, flower fields and through a few towns that were not even specs on a map. Sondra, having lived in this part of the country all her life, was able to give Mel a running commentary on where they were, whose ranch was whose, what kind of crops were being grown—

mostly alfalfa and silage for the cattle—orchards of fruit and nuts, and the inevitable lumber harvesting. It was a gorgeous day, a beautiful drive, and when they entered the town, Mel was instantly impressed by the shiny clean appearance of the place.

“It’s kind of brand-new,” Sondra said. “A flood nearly wiped them out not long ago and they did a lot of rebuilding and painting. You can still see the high water marks on some of the big old trees.”

There was a café, a service station, a big church, the clinic, and lots of well-kept little houses. Mel pulled up to the clinic and got out. Inside she was immediately faced with Dr. Hudson, a trim woman in her late thirties, dressed much like Mel. She was clad in jeans and boots, chambray shirt with a stethoscope around her neck. She smiled and stuck out her hand. “It’s such a pleasure, Ms. Monroe,” she said. “I’m delighted you’re working with Doc Mullins—he’s due a little assistance.”

“Please, call me Mel. You know the doctor?”

“Sure. Everybody knows everybody.”

“How long have you been in Grace Valley?” Mel asked.

June laughed. “I’ve been here all my life. Except for medical school.” June stuck her hand out toward Sondra. “This must be Mrs. Patterson.”

“I’ve brought you cookies,” she said. “It’s really generous of you to do this for me. I never had one with the other two kids.”

“It’s a very convenient precaution,” June said, gladly taking the box of cookies. She opened it up, inhaled deeply and said, “Oh, these are sinful looking.” Then looking back at Sondra and Mel she said, “If you knew how many people from the neighboring towns helped us rebuild after the flood, then you’d know generosity. Come on, let’s see what we’ve got. Then if you have time, we can go grab a bite to eat at the café.”

Over the course of the next hour, they determined that Sondra would give birth to a baby boy, the baby was already in position and there was nothing to indicate there would be complications. They met Dr. Stone, a drop-dead gorgeous blond man June referred to as a city-boy transplant. At the café, they met June’s father, the town doctor before her, and he asked after Old Mullins, who couldn’t be any older than Doc Hudson. “He still as ornery as ever?” Doc Hudson wanted to know.

“I’m softening him up,” Mel said.

“So, what’s your story?” June asked over lunch. “How long have you been in Virgin River?”

“Just a couple of months. I came up here from L.A., looking for a change, but I admit, I wasn’t prepared for country medicine. I took all of our resources and hospital technology for granted.”

“How do you like it so far?”

“It has its challenges. There are aspects of rural living that I think might be growing on me,” Mel said. “But I’m not sure how long it’s going to work out for me. My sister is in Colorado Springs, married with three children, and she really wants Aunt Mel nearby.” She took a bite of a delicious hamburger and said, “I don’t want to completely miss out on her kids’ childhoods.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” Sondra said.