Virgin River (Virgin River #1)(63)

Mel had started thinking about the past more—that morning that the police came to the door to tell her that Mark was dead. They had worked the swing shift together at the hospital the night before. They’d taken their lunch hour together in the cafeteria. But Mark was on call and the E.R. was busy, so he stayed through the night. It happened when he was on his way home.

She had gone to the morgue to view him. Left alone with him for a little while, she took his cold, lifeless body into her arms, his chest riddled with three perfect holes, and wept until they dragged her away.

She had a video in her mind—one that ran from the pictures of Mark lying on the floor at the convenience store, the police at her door at dawn, through the funeral, those nights that she cried literally through the entire night, right up to the long days of packing up his things and the long months of not being able to part with them. She saw the film in her head as if from above, curled into a fetal position in her bed, grabbing herself around the gut as though she’d been run through by a knife, crying hard, loud tears. Cries so loud that she thought the neighbors would hear and call for help.

Rather than just telling his picture that she loved him, she began carrying on long, one-sided conversations with his flat, lifeless face. She would tell him everything she’d done all day and it would inevitably end with, “I still love you, damn you,” she would exclaim harshly. And urgently, “I still love you. I can’t stop loving you and missing you and wanting you back.”

Mel had always thought that Mark was the kind of lover, the kind of husband, who would find a way to contact her from beyond, because he was so devoted. But there had never been any evidence that he’d crossed back. When he went, he went all the way. He was so gone, it left her feeling desolate inside.

She woke up crying three days running. Jack had asked her if anything was wrong, if there was anything she wanted to talk about. “PMS,” she told him. “It’ll pass.”

“Mel, have I done anything?” He wanted to know.

“Of course not. Hormones. I swear.”

But she was starting to think that the brief reprieve she seemed to have experienced lately was now officially over and she was on her way back to the darkness of grief and longing. Back to the stark loneliness.

Then something happened to jar her out of it. She returned from her short walk to the corner store to watch her soap with Joy and a recovering Connie to see a rented car in front of Doc’s. When she went inside she was face-to-face with her sister’s bright smile. Mel gasped, dropped her bag and they swooped together, lifting each other off the ground, laughing and crying at once. When the crazy moments had passed, still holding Joey’s hand, Mel turned toward Doc to make a formal introduction. But before she could, Doc said, “Kind of scary, there being two of you.”

Mel ran her hand over Joey’s shiny and smooth brown hair. “Why are you here?” she asked.

“You know. I thought you might need me.”

“I’m okay,” she lied.

“Just in case, then.”

“That’s so sweet. Do you want to see the town? Where I live? Everything?”

“I want to see the man,” Joey whispered in Mel’s ear.

“We’ll do that last. Doc? Can I have the afternoon?”

“I certainly wouldn’t be able to stand having the two of you yakking and giggling around here all day.”

Mel rushed on Doc and gave him a kiss on his withered cheek, which the old boy quickly wiped off with a grimace.

Mel’s spirits were high and she didn’t think about Mark for a little while. She took Joey to all her favorite places, beginning with her cabin in the woods, which Joey thought was charming, if a little in need of her professional decorator’s touch. “You should have seen it when I arrived,” Mel laughed. “There was a bird’s nest in the oven!”

“God!”

Then they went to the river where there were at least ten men in waders and vests, angling. A couple of them turned and waved to her. “The first time I was here, Jack brought me and we saw a mama bear and her cub, right downriver, fishing. First and last bear I’ve ever seen. I think I’d like to keep it that way. The next time I came, I fished. I fly fished—not as good as what they’re doing, but I actually caught a fish. I have my own gear in the trunk.”

“No way!”

“Way!”

Next, to the Anderson ranch to visit little baby Chloe and see the new lambs. Buck Anderson lifted a couple of little lambs out of the pen and handed one to each woman.

Mel stuck her finger in a lamb’s mouth and he closed his little eyes and sucked, making the women say, “Awwww….”

“I raised six kids—three boys and three girls—and each and every one of them smuggled a lamb into their bedroom to sleep in their beds. Keeping the livestock out of the house was a lifetime chore,” he told them.

Mel drove her sister down Highway 299 through the redwoods and took great pleasure in her oohs and ahhs. They got out and walked through Fern Canyon, one of the filming sites of Spielberg’s The Lost World. She showed her the back roads of Virgin River, the green pastures, fields of crops, craggy knolls, towering pines, grazing livestock, vineyards in the valley. “If you’re going to stay awhile and I can pry myself away from Doc, I’ll take you to Grace Valley to meet some of my newer friends. They have a larger clinic there, complete with EKG, a small surgery and ultrasound.”