Virgin River (Virgin River #1)(108)

“I’m not going to need surgery,” the old boy argued.

“You a betting man?” was all she said.

Doc Mullins rested a bit easier with the narcotic in him, which was good since it was over an hour, even with Jack’s fast and skillful driving. It wasn’t the distance so much as the roads—just getting to the county road that connected with the highway twisted and turned and was slow going. Mel watched out the window, remembering that first night she came here, terrified of these sharp twists and turns, the sheer drops, steep climbs. Now, with Jack managing the Hummer, she was comfortable. Before long they were out of the hills and speeding through the valley. With her attention focused on Doc, she couldn’t fully appreciate the landscape. It did occur to her, however, that every time she traveled anywhere around this county, she was amazed by the beauty as if seeing it for the first time.

She had a fleeting thought that if anything bad happened to Doc, it would be down to only her. How was she going to have a baby and take care of a town?

She thought about Joey’s question—are you staying there? It made her smile. It would hardly seem a punishment to live out her life in this glorious place.

This was only Mel’s second visit to the emergency room—the first was with Connie. She had taken Jeremy and Anne to labor and delivery the night the baby came, so she didn’t really know the staff in E.R. They all knew Doc, however. He’d been putting in regular appearances there for upwards of forty years. And they greeted Mel very enthusiastically, as if she were an old friend.

Doc was not one to allow fussing; he made it plain he didn’t think he needed to be there. Mel and Jack were seated outside the exam room while the emergency room doctor checked him over. Then another doctor went into the exam room and Doc was heard to bellow, “Aw, for Christ’s sake! Can’t I get a better surgeon than you? I don’t want to die on the goddamn table!”

Mel blanched, but she saw that some of the staff was chuckling. After a bit the surgeon came out to them. He had a smile on his face. He held out his hand. “Dr. Simon, Miss…?”

She stood and took his hand. “Monroe,” she said. “Mel Monroe. I work with Doc. Is he going to be all right?”

“Oh, I think so. Doctors. Great patients, aren’t we? I’m going to admit him and that gallbladder has to come out, but we can’t take him into surgery until we get him out of this biliary crisis. That could take a day or week. Good call, Miss Monroe. I assume he didn’t assist you a bit.”

“He tried not to. May I see him?”

“Of course.”

She found Doc in a raised position in the bed while the nurse was fiddling with the IV. The E.R. doctor was writing in the chart and when he saw her, gave a nod of hello. And on Doc’s face was the unhappy expression she had come to view with fondness.

Mel looked around the E.R.—far smaller and less crowded than the one she was used to in L.A. Still, memories flooded back to her—the days and nights she had spent working in that environment. The adrenaline rush of emergencies; the edgy environment that had excited and stimulated her. At the nurses’ station a young doctor was bent over a nurse, reading over her shoulder, making her laugh at some whispered remark. That could have been Mel and Mark a few years ago. She let her eyes slowly close as she realized that she had moved completely beyond that. That familiar pang of longing did not plague her anymore. Now the only man she longed for waited for her just outside this room, prepared to go through anything with her. Her hand crept absently to her tummy, resting there. It was all right, she realized. What I suffered was very bad; what I have is very good.

“Young woman,” Doc snapped. “You gonna be sick?”

“Hmm?” she said, coming out of the haze. “No. Of course not.”

“For a minute there you looked like you were going to cry. Or puke.”

She just smiled at him. “Sorry. I was on another planet there for a second. Are you feeling better?”

“I’ll live. You’d better go. There might be patients back at the house.”

“I’ll come back for your surgery,” she said.

“No! I’m probably going to die in surgery anyway with that young pup cutting me up—you’re needed back in Virgin River. Someone has to look after things. I guess you’re in charge. God help us all.”

“I’ll call to see how you’re doing, and I will come back when you have surgery. And Doc? Try to behave yourself. Try not to get thrown out of here.”

“Ach,” he scoffed.

She put her small cool hand on his wizened brow. “Feel better. I’ll watch your practice.”

In an uncharacteristically soft voice, she heard him say, “Thank you.”

On the drive back to Virgin River Mel said, “He’s going to need time to recover before he can start seeing patients again. I suppose I’ll be staying at his house for a while after he gets home.”



Doc’s age, weight and blood pressure put him at a disadvantage in both surgery and recovery. It was a week before the surgeon could operate, and while the normal hospital stay for a cholesystectomy was brief—couple of days at most—they kept Doc for another week.

For those two weeks, Mel drove back and forth to Valley Hospital to check on him, plus managed the meager amount of patient care in Virgin River. June and John offered assistance, should she need it, but she was holding up fine. She stayed at the clinic during the days, spent her nights with Jack across the street, and the only huge inconvenience was planning and executing a wedding.