Virgin River (Virgin River #1)(98)

“Something tells me he’s not going to say that,” John said. “But, there’s only one way to find out. And—at three months—I’d recommend you not wait much longer.”

“I’m afraid,” she said quietly.

“Of Jack?” June asked, shocked.

“Jesus, of everything! I’m not even sure I should be here! From the beginning, I thought it was a mistake, making such a big change. I’m a city girl.”

“You’d never know it,” June said. “You seem to fit in just fine.”

“Some days I think this place was just what I needed. Other days I ask myself what I’m doing here. Not only that, do you know how scary it is to think of being committed again and opening myself up to the pain that follows when something goes terribly, terribly wrong? I’m afraid to move on—even though you’re right—I already have. I still cry sometimes—over my dead husband. How can I ask another man to put up with that?” She drew in a jagged breath. “At the very least, we should have been able to plan for a possible baby before…”

June held her hand. “Hardly any of us manages to work things out that neatly,” she said. June lifted Mel’s chin with a finger and looked into her eyes. “I think you should try to remember two things—you have a baby inside you now, a baby you longed for. And a good man back in Virgin River. Go with it, Mel. You’ll know what to do.”

Mel knew John and June were right. It was important to face this head-on and tell Jack as soon as possible. Let him have time to react. Respond. When she got back to Virgin River, she intended to go straight to the bar. But there, in front of Doc’s, was a car she recognized. Anne and Jeremy Givens. It was her time. When she got inside she found the Givenses with Doc, waiting in the kitchen with a cup of tea. “So this is it?” Mel asked.

“I think so,” Anne said. “I’ve been in labor all day, and now I’m having contractions less than five minutes apart and some spotting. That’s when you said to call, right?”

“That’s what we decided. Would you like to come upstairs, settle in and let me check you?”

“I’m scared,” Anne said. “I didn’t think I would be.”

“Darling, there is nothing in the world to be afraid of. You’re going to sail through this. Jeremy, why don’t you let me get Anne comfortable and then you can come upstairs.”

“But I want to be there for everything!” he said.

Mel laughed in amusement. “She’s just going to get undressed, Jeremy. I bet you’ve been there for that about a million times.” She took Anne’s suitcase and her arm.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go have a baby.”

Once settled in, Anne proved to be only four centimeters dilated. Back at the hospital in L.A. they would call that the price of admission—anything less than four centimeters and you were sent home to labor a little longer. Mel observed a couple of contractions and they were coming strong and long. That business about sailing through was perhaps overly optimistic.

Jeremy was at his wife’s side as soon as he was invited and, unlike Darryl, he was completely prepared for the rigors of labor. This couple actually had had some birthing training. Mel told Jeremy to walk his wife up and down the upstairs hallway and left Anne in his able hands to go downstairs to use the phone to call Jack.

“Hi,” she said. “I have a delivery, so I’m not coming to the bar.”

“You think it’ll be long?” he asked.

“There’s no telling. She hasn’t progressed very far yet.”

“Can I bring you anything? Something to eat?”

“No, Jack, not for me. Doc can walk across the street if he wants to. But listen—my instinct tells me maybe he shouldn’t have a whiskey tonight.”

“Don’t worry about Doc—his instincts are pretty good, too. Mel? My door will be unlocked.”

“Thank you,” she said. “If we finish up before morning, I’ll sneak into your room. Would that be all right?”

He laughed his low, sexy laugh. “It’s always all right, Melinda. I might not be able to sleep for hoping.”

“I’ll hope, too—but for Anne’s sake, not yours or mine.”

Anne’s blood pressure was stable and her labor was difficult. Three hours later, in spite of walking, squatting and laboring, she was still only at four centimeters. At midnight she was at a possible five. Doc suggested a Pitocin drip and breaking her water, which Mel had just been considering. Her contractions were coming every two minutes. Near midnight Mel checked her and with great relief, found that she had progressed to eight centimeters. But then, just thirty minutes later, she was back at five. Mel had been down this road before—the cervix had swollen and appeared as though it was shrinking. That indicated they might not be able to have a vaginal birth. She examined Anne during a contraction when her cervix widened and literally tried to hold her cervix open to the great discomfort of the patient, but it just wasn’t working. Anne was wet with sweat and growing more exhausted by the minute. It was three-thirty in the morning when Mel made the call to John Stone. “God, I’m sorry to do this to you,” she said. “I have a delivery that might be going south. I’ve got a patient who’s been laboring for hours, stuck at five. Her cervix advanced to eight and swelled back to five. She’s not progressing. We could ride this out, but mother is wilting and I have no indication that…I think it’s very possible the baby’s not going to fit. I suspect I’m going to need a caesarian.”