Virgin River (Virgin River #1)(88)

Jack took one look at her and said, “Whoa, boy.”

“Beer,” she said.

He served her up and said, “Wanna talk about it?”

“Sorry. Can’t.” She took a drink of the icy brew. “Business.”

“Must be sticky business. You’re pissed.”

“Boy howdy.”

“Anything I can do?”

“Just don’t ask me about it, because I’m bound by confidentiality.”

“Must be a doozie,” he said.

Yeah, a doozie, she thought.

Jack slid an envelope across the bar to her. She looked at the return address—it was from the clinic in Eureka he had visited. “Maybe this will brighten your mood a little. I’m clear.”

She smiled a small smile. “That’s good, Jack,” she said. “I thought it would come out like that.”

“Aren’t you going to look?” he asked.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I trust you.”

He leaned forward and put a light kiss on her brow. “Thanks, that’s nice,” he said. “You go ahead and sulk in your beer. Let me know if you need anything.”

She began to calm down with her beer. It was probably a half hour later that Doc Mullins came into the bar and sat on the stool beside her. She glared at him, then focused again on her glass.

Doc raised a finger to Jack and he set up a whiskey. Then wisely, left the two of them alone.

Doc had a sip, then another, then said, “You’re right. I can’t leave you out of the loop like that if you’re going to help take care of the town.”

She turned and looked at him, one eyebrow lifted. “Did you just apologize to me?”

“Not quite, I didn’t. But in this one instance, you’re right. I’m just used to acting on my own, is all. Meant no disrespect.”

“What are we going to do?” she asked him.

“You’re not going to do anything at all. This is on me. If there’s any malpractice involved, I don’t want it on you. You were always prepared to do the right thing. I wanted to do the right thing, too—but I had a different right thing in mind.”

“I think she should be examined. I can do it or we can make her an appointment with John Stone.”

“I’ll call John,” Doc said, taking another sip of his whiskey. “I want you away from this for now.”

“And this time, you’ll actually make the call?”

He turned and regarded her, glare for glare. “I’ll call him.”

Mel just concentrated on her beer, which had gone warm and dull.

“You do a good job, missy,” he said. “I’m getting too old for some things, especially the babies.” He looked down at his hands, some fingers bent, knuckles swollen. “I can still get things done, but these old hands aren’t good on the women. Better you take care of women’s health.”

She turned toward him. “First a partial apology. Then a partial compliment.”

“I apologize,” he said without looking at her. “I think you’re needed here.”

She let out her breath slowly. She knew how hard that was for him. She took another deep breath and put her arm around his shoulders. She leaned her head against him.

“Don’t go soft on me,” she said.

“Not a chance,” he returned.



Jack had no idea what had passed between Mel and Doc, but she said they were going back to the clinic and would have a bite to eat together there. He assumed they had issues to work out. Then she promised to come back to the bar before going home.

He served quite a few people at six. By seven the crowd was thinning and there were only a few people there when the door opened. Charmaine. She’d never come to Virgin River before; he’d let her know that he wanted to keep those two parts of his life separate. She wasn’t wearing waitress clothes tonight, so her intention was pretty obvious. She wore a nice pair of creased slacks, a crisp white blouse with the collar folded on the outside of a dark blue blazer. Her hair was down and full, makeup thick but perfect, heels. It pleased him to be reminded that she was a handsome woman, especially so when she didn’t wear those tight clothes that drew attention to her large breasts. She looked classy. Mature.

She sat up at the bar and smiled at him. “I thought I’d drop by and see how you’ve been,” she said.

“Good, Char. You?”

“Great.”

“How about a drink?” he asked.

“Sure. Yes. How about a Johnny Walker, ice. Make it a good Johnny.”

“You got it.” He set her up with a black label—he didn’t have any blue. Too pricey for his usual crowd. In fact, he didn’t move much of the black label. “So, what brings you to my neighborhood?”

“I wanted to check in. See if things are the same with you.”

He looked down for a second, disappointed. He had hoped not to have to do this again, and certainly not here. This was no place to discuss their relationship, such as it had been. He looked back into her eyes and simply nodded.

“No change, then?”

He shook his head, hoping he could leave it at that.

“Well,” she said, taking a sip of her drink. “I’m sorry to hear that. I was hoping that maybe we could… Never mind. I can tell by the look on your face—”