Author: Robyn Carr

“That would be great,” he said, though he’d already had enough coffee to screw up his nerves pretty good.

Jack handed off David to Paul while he went for coffee and a bowl of dry Cheerios for his son. They settled in the Adirondack chairs, looking out over the valley below. David sat on the porch floor with his bowl of cereal between his legs.

“You don’t look too good,” Jack said.

“I’m not too good. I’ve really messed things up. After little Matt was born, after I went home, I was pretty shook up. All those months of hanging in there with Vanni and not really taking any time to grieve my best friend took a toll, I guess. Might’ve vented a little bit. There’s this girl back in Grants Pass…”

“You vent on this girl?” Jack asked.

“I vented in her. She’s pregnant.”

“Well, holy shit. That was brilliant. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking we were protected. I’d been with her a couple of times before. You know—before Matt was killed. How impressed are you with my timing, huh?”

“What are you going to do?” Jack asked.

“I’m going to support her, naturally. She’s having the baby, so I’m going to do my part. I’m not going to marry her because I don’t…Aw hell, I wouldn’t be doing her any favors. I met her in a bar a while back—little over a year ago. I wasn’t seeing her regularly. I feel terrible about this.”

“Man,” Jack said.

“What’s your best advice, bud?”

“How pregnant is she?”

“It happened after I got back to Grants Pass. A couple of months now. I’m going to have to tell Vanni. Pretty soon. I tried last night, but I screwed up. And even without knowing the details, she flipped out, tore my head off just thinking I had a girl back home I hadn’t mentioned. Man, that woman has a real short fuse. She’s going to kill me. No figure of speech here—she’s good with a gun.”

“Hold on there,” Jack said. “One thing at a time. You should probably get yourself tested for STDs—do that tomorrow. If you used protection, I don’t know…maybe there’s a chance this baby isn’t yours…”

“I thought of that. Thing is, she says she hadn’t been with a guy for so long, she got a little lazy with the pills and I used a condom I’d been carrying around for months…”

“She suggest marriage?”

“Yeah, that was the first thing…”

“Listen, Einstein—what if she’s not even pregnant, huh? Outside chance, but possible. Before you make a lifetime commitment to support someone you don’t know very well, you better get all the facts. Just don’t move too fast here, pal.”

“I gotta call Vanni tonight, and tell her. I’ve got her all confused and totally furious…”

“Paul, you can’t tell her on the phone,” Jack said.

“But—”

“Paul! She’s gonna hang up on you! And then the next time you show your face, she’s going to put a bullet in your head. And Walt will help her line up her shot.”

“Well, what am I gonna do? Huh? She thinks I have a woman back home—she wouldn’t give me a chance to explain any—”

Mel appeared in the doorway, her robe covering her huge pregnant tummy. Her face was freshly scrubbed, but her hair was mussed from sleep. She gave Paul a smile, then went to Jack, sitting on his lap.

“Morning,” she said to Paul. “I heard that. I can’t wait to hear why you’re going to be shot.”

“Aw, man…”

“Relax,” Jack said. “Really, this is the person you should talk to. And she never tells. It’s infuriating.”

Paul went through the facts slowly, embarrassingly. It made his neck red. He was not able to make much eye contact with Mel while he spoke, but at the end of the story he was amazed to look into her crystal-blue eyes and find they weren’t wide with shock. “I guess you’ve heard it all, huh?” Paul asked.

“Pretty much. This must be very difficult for you, Paul,” Mel said. “You’re worried.”

“You have no idea,” he said.

“Of course I do. I guess your first concern is whether you’re actually the father of this baby?”

“Um, I figure I am—but…”

“You should probably verify that as soon as possible. Remember, Paul—the lady knows who the mother is. You’re entitled to the same assurance. Ask her to offer that to you.”

“Mel,” he said pleadingly. “How in God’s name do you suggest I do that?”

“In an honest and straightforward manner,” she said. “You might be able to learn something from an ultrasound. It will at least show exactly how pregnant she is, and if you can narrow down the times you were in contact—”

“Time,” he said. “Just one time.”

“Then you know exactly how pregnant she is and an ultrasound will either verify or dispute the gestation. But if there was another partner involved at approximately the same time, it will require a paternity test. Blood types, DNA, etcetera.”

“I don’t want to upset her. Offend her.”

Mel smiled patiently. “Let’s see—the two of you didn’t have a conversation for six months and when you did, it escalated to intimacy rather quickly—do I have that right? Paul, if she’s offended by your desire to be sure you’re the father of this baby before you commit yourself personally and financially, you’re not going to have an easy time with this. It’s a very reasonable request. If she’s absolutely certain, I’m sure she’ll cooperate with you.”

“And if she doesn’t?” he asked.

“Tell her you’ll hire a lawyer to assert your paternal rights. She can be prevented from aborting or having the baby adopted, and you will be obligated to support your child, which I assume you’re prepared to do anyway.”

“If she’s having my baby, I’ll take care of her. Of course.”

Mel smiled. “Of course you will.”

“And Vanni?” Paul asked.

“Oh,” Mel said. “She’s not taking it well?”

“She doesn’t know. I tried to tell her last night and I got as far as telling her I dated a woman in Grants Pass when she came unhinged because I hadn’t told her sooner.”

Mel made a face. “Take care of that, Paul. If you have feelings for Vanessa, it isn’t fair to leave her confused and wondering. She deserves the truth.”

“She’s going to shoot me in the head,” he said miserably.

“I doubt that. She might need time to consider the facts, however.” Then she smiled patiently. “Paul, you’ve played around with this long enough. If you care about her, assert yourself. Explain. You didn’t betray her—you didn’t break the law. You have to behave responsibly toward both women—that’s all there is to it.”

“Yeah,” he said.

“This will work out. Babies are miracles of life—no matter the extenuating circumstances. Don’t lose sight of that.”

“Yeah,” he said again. He leaned toward her, kissed her brow as she sat on her husband’s lap. “Thanks, Mel.”

“Sure,” she said. “Best of luck.”

He shook Jack’s hand, ruffled David’s floppy golden hair and headed for his truck. Once he’d turned around and was headed off the Sheridan property, Mel looked at Jack to find him grinning hugely. “Melinda,” he said. “Did you just get involved in someone’s relationship?”

She lifted a brow. “Do you really want to mess with a woman who’s about seventeen months pregnant?”

“I’m just saying…”

“Try shutting up,” she advised. “I believe I was asked.”

“You did,” he laughed. “You got right in there, got your hands dirty in someone’s relationship. Just admit it—it’s irresistible. You’re just as nosy as I am.”

She glared at him. “Jack, no one is as nosy as you are.”

Right after Paul left, the phone rang at Jack’s house. He knew who it was; it was a regular Sunday morning call. He lifted Mel off his lap and dashed for the phone, grinning from ear to ear.

There had been a boy in Virgin River who was like a son to Jack. Ricky. He’d taken him under his wing when he was only thirteen because it was just Rick and his grandmother. Jack taught him to hunt and fish, did what he could to teach him the ways of the world. He’d pridefully watched as he grew tall and strong, a young man of impeccable character who could take the toughest stuff life could serve up and hold his head up, stand straight and do a man’s job. The boy had gotten close to Preacher, to Mel, to the Marines from Jack’s old squad who still gathered there.

At eighteen Ricky had signed up. What was the young protégé of a bunch of tough old Marines going to do but sign up? And Semper Fi suited him. Ricky had excelled. He’d gone from Basic to Airborne to Sniper training to Reconnaissance training to SERE—Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape training. In every program he’d been the best. He was nineteen years old and at least six feet of proud, muscled, skilled Marine. He just phoned to say he had ten days of leave coming up in a couple of months.

And then he had orders for Iraq.

“No sniveling, Jack,” Rick said. “I want you to remember when you were going—you didn’t want your parents and your sisters acting like you were walking into a grave, right? So—we’ll have a drink. Maybe smoke one of those nasty cigars you and Preach like so much. Tell some dirty jokes. I might even let you cheat me out of some money at poker…”

“You got it, kid. It’ll be great. I’ll even call some of the boys…”

“Aw, they don’t have to come. They’re your boys, not mine. And there’s no hunting now anyway.”

“We’ll see. Virgin River’s going to want to celebrate you a little bit. We only send our best.”

“Thanks. I can’t wait to see you.”

Jack straightened his spine, took a deep breath and told himself they were going to have to make his leave in Virgin River memorable and positive—there’d be no whining and worrying. After all, Jack had gone into war five times and the only really bad injury he’d sustained was a pretty miserable shot in the ass. Not everyone who went to war came out crippled. Or dead. Rick was sharp. And this was what Rick wanted.

Ricky had grown up too fast. He lost his parents in an accident when he was so young, he didn’t even remember them. At sixteen he’d fallen ass over teakettle in love with a girl two years younger than him and they’d had a baby together, a baby that hadn’t lived.

Mel came into the kitchen to find Jack leaning on the counter, looking down. He lifted his gaze. “Ricky’s coming home in a couple of months,” he said. “He’s got ten days.”

“Oh-oh,” she said, knowing something was bad about this.

“Then he’s going to Iraq.”

She was quiet for a moment. Her eyes misted over. She pursed her lips and then said, “Damn it!”

Five

P aul stopped off for dinner on his way into Grants Pass, took a run by his office to check messages and any paperwork that might be left on his desk. There were a couple messages from Terri asking him to call. When he finally got home, it was after seven and he found a few messages from Terri on his home phone, left over the weekend, asking him to call her. Then the last one—all upset, full of tears and little gasping breaths, saying she couldn’t stand feeling so ignored, so alone. She mumbled something about maybe it just wasn’t worth it. The time of the last call on the caller ID showed the call came in only an hour ago. He dialed her number and there was no answer, so he flew out the door and drove to her apartment. Aw, Jesus, don’t do this, he was thinking all the way there. Don’t go crazy on me.