Whispering Rock (Virgin River #3)(51)

She had tracked down a mobile unit that was operated by a foundation—and with the help of Dr. June Hudson in Grace Valley, they were trying to put together a visit from this unit to their towns. They could hold a mammogram event day, turn it into a party and get everyone x-rayed. “We can get them to come on the cheap, but we’ll still have to come up with some money—probably more than most of my patients can afford,” Mel had said.

June had had a perfect idea for subsidizing the cost. The fall festival in Grace Valley was coming up soon—the second weekend in October. They planned to set up a booth and sell homespun small-town items, from needlework to baked goods. There were lots of city folks who flocked to the festival looking for some of that small-town mystique. Mel’s mission was to go around Virgin River, from farm to ranch to neighbors in town, requesting donated items they could sell at the mammogram booth.

Recruiting Brie was not only a great help, but fun for Mel to introduce her sister-in-law. On the days the Marines were off hunting, Mel and Brie drove the back roads of Virgin River, visiting all the women Mel knew—those who had attended her baby shower and parties at the bar, women who had been patients over the past year. Brie was meeting many of them for the first time and was instantly charmed by their welcoming natures, the way they drew her in as if she’d been around for years. Every stop they made involved at least a cup of coffee, usually cookies or thin slices of cake, so that by the time the day was drawing to a close, they were too stuffed to even think about dinner. And of course David was with them all day long, which amounted to a lot of cuddling all over town. Snuggling and sugar, since country women couldn’t stand it if they couldn’t put a cookie in his fat little hand.

The Virgin River women were fantastic—little surprise. They promised everything from pies to quilts—stock that would be picked up the day before the festival or brought to Grace Valley by the women themselves.

When they got back to town the hunters had returned and Mel was delighted to see no evidence of murdered wildlife in the truck beds or tied to roofs. But her elation was short-lived, because once inside the bar she learned that they had bagged two bucks, four-by-fours, both of which had already been taken to the meat processor to be butchered. “Oh,” she whined emotionally. “Who did it?”

Jack looked at his feet. But he made an attempt. “I think Ricky did it.”

Mel met Rick’s eyes and the boy put up two hands, palms toward her. It wasn’t him. Mel leaned against her husband and, unbelievably, started to cry. Jack shook his head, put an arm around her and led her away from the gathering, back toward the kitchen. As he did so, David was bouncing up and down on Mel’s hip, waving his arms wildly and reaching for his dad. “Melinda,” Jack said. “You knew we were going hunting. We didn’t torture the deer. We’re going to have venison.”

“I hate it,” she sniveled.

“I know you hate it, but it’s not a cruel thing. It’s probably more humane than the way cattle are slaughtered.”

“Don’t try to make me feel better about this.”

“Jesus, I wouldn’t dare,” he said. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t know,” she whimpered. “I’m weepy.”

“No shit. Here, let me have him. He’s out of his mind.”

“Sugar,” she said. “I should go nurse him.”

“He’s going to be riding his bike up to the breast before long.”

“He doesn’t want to give it up.”

“Understandable. But you’re worn out. Maybe you should go home and go to bed.”

“I don’t sleep till he sleeps. And he isn’t going to sleep until he detoxes.”

“All right,” Jack said, taking his son. “Go cry or wash your face or nap or something. I’ll hang on to the wild one until he calms down a little.” He kissed her forehead. “This really isn’t like you. Not even over deer.”

“By the way, you smell really bad,” she said.

“Thank you, my love. You smell really good. I’ll wash this off before I smell the rest of you, how’s that?”

She let go of her son and went to the bathroom while Jack took David back to the gathering.

“Is she all right?” Brie asked.

“She’ll be fine. She loves the deer.”

“Want me to take him?”

“Nah, he’s fine. He needs to work off your afternoon. Let me guess—you stopped at every farm and ranch in Virgin River and he’s had fifty cookies.”

“Maybe not fifty…”

He looked at his son’s face. His eyes were wild, his smile bright and drooly, his arms flapping. “Someone should have been in charge,” he said. “Have a beer, Brie. In fact, we should probably give this one a beer—he’s electric. Jeez.”

Just as he made that suggestion, Mike brought Brie a beer and when she took it, he draped an arm around her shoulders with familiarity. There was really no need for Mike to talk about her with him, Jack thought. He was working on celebrating her, as he had been instructed to do. But whatever was going on between Mike and Brie, it was putting a light in both their eyes. He was trying to relax about that.

“So—you make that baby today?” someone yelled at Preacher.