Virgin River (Virgin River #1)(56)

May aged bright and sunny—and brought with it a bunch of men in pickups and campers. There was a great deal of horn-honking at the bar in the afternoon and Mel looked out to see this gathering descend on Jack’s. She watched as he came out on his porch and greeted them with bear hugs and shouts and whistles.

“What’s going on?” she asked Doc Mullins.

“Hmm. I think it’s another Semper Fi reunion. Jack’s old buddies from the Marine Corps. They come up here to hunt, fish, play poker, drink and yell into the night.”

“Really? He never mentioned that.” And, she thought, is this my cue to be scarce? Because that afterwork beer, the occasional kiss, had become the best part of her day. She was further bewildered by the fact that he hadn’t tried anything more. And yet, if he had, she would have worried about the consequences. She shouldn’t be involved with anyone, even Jack. Not until she was sure she could handle it. Thing was, she just couldn’t bring herself to give up that little bit of kissing. She was sure that Mark would understand. If their situations had been reversed, she told herself, she would.

But with the marines in town, there would be none of that.

Doc seemed to have no inclination to stay away, and at the end of the day he took himself over to the bar. “Coming?” he asked her.

“I don’t know… I don’t want to distract anyone from their reunion…”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” he said. “The whole town looks forward to seeing these boys.”

She went with him and found that of course Doc was greeted by these visiting men as if they were old friends. Jack dropped a possessive arm around Mel’s shoulders and said, “Boys, meet Mel Monroe, new nurse midwife in town. She’s been working with Doc. Mel, meet Zeke, Mike Valenzuela, Cornhusker—Corny for short, Josh Phillips, Joe Benson, Tom Stephens and Paul Haggerty. There will be a test later—no name tags.”

“Doc, you are a fine and smart gentleman,” Zeke said, grinning, reaching for her hand, obviously under the impression Doc had hired her rather than resisted her. “Miss Monroe, it’s an honor. An honor.”

“Call me Mel,” she said.

The noise with which they descended on her was invigorating. The next surprise for her, and perhaps it shouldn’t have been, was that Preacher was one of them. And of course they drew Rick in as though he were a younger brother.

Mel learned that Preacher had served under Jack when he was just a kid of eighteen in the first conflict in Iraq—Desert Storm—it turned out he was much younger than he looked. During that same time a cop from L.A. by the name of Mike Valenzuela and a builder from Oregon by the name of Paul Haggerty also served with them, but the two latter marines, being reservists, were called up for the latest Iraq conflict, again with Preacher and Jack, who were still on active duty at that time. The others, all reservists, were called up for Iraq where they were united in Baghdad and Fallujah. Zeke was a fireman from Fresno; Josh Phillips, a paramedic, and Tom Stephens, a news helicopter pilot—were both from the Reno area. Joe Benson was an architect from the same Oregon town as Paul Haggerty—Paul often built Joe’s houses. And Corny, another firefighter, came the farthest, from Washington state, but he was born and raised in Nebraska, thus the nickname.

Jack was older than these men by four years or more, the next oldest in the crowd being Mike at thirty-six. Four of them were married with kids—Zeke, Josh, Tom and Corny. Mel was fascinated by the way they talked about their women with lusty smiles and glittering eyes. No jokes about the old ball and chain here. Rather, they sounded as though they couldn’t wait to get home to them.

“How’s Patti doing?” someone asked Josh.

He curved his hands over his flat belly to indicate a pregnant tummy and grinning boastfully, said, “She’s ripe as a tomato. I can hardly keep my hands off her.”

“If she’s ripe as a tomato, I bet you get slapped down like crazy,” Zeke laughed. “I got another one on Christa.”

“No way! I thought she said you were through!”

“She said that two kids ago—but I snuck one more by her. She’s cooking number four. What can I say—that girl’s been lightin’ my fire since high school. You should see her, man. She’s lit up like a beacon. Nobody cooks ’em like Christa. Whew.”

“Hey, buddy, congratulations, man! But I don’t think you know when to quit.”

“I don’t. It’s like I can’t quit. But Christa says she’s all done with me. She said after this one, snip snip.”

“I think I can go one more,” Corny said. “Got my girls. I feel a boy coming on.”

No one could better appreciate this kind of enthusiasm for pregnant women than a midwife. Mel was loving it. Loving them.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that a lot,” Jack said. “Eight nieces later, no one got their boy. My brothers-in-law have run through all their chances, I think.”

“Maybe you’re packin’ a boy, Jack.”

“I don’t even kid myself about that,” he laughed.

Jack was among the five single men with Preacher, Mike, Paul and Joe. Confirmed bachelors, Mel was warned. They loved women, but couldn’t be caught. “Except Mike,” Zeke said. “He gets caught regular.” Mel learned that Mike was twice divorced and had a girlfriend back in L.A. who was trying to be wife number three.