“Don’t,” she whispered against his mouth. “Don’t get mixed up with me, Jack.”
He kissed her again, holding her against him as though he would never let her go. “Don’t worry about me,” he said against her lips.
“You don’t understand. I have nothing to give. Nothing.”
“I haven’t asked you for a thing,” he said. But in his mind he was saying, you’re mistaken. You are giving, and taking—and it feels damn good.
All Mel could think, in the abstract, was that her body for once wasn’t hollow and so empty she ached. She drank it in, the feeling of being connected to something. To someone. Anchored. So wonderful to have that human contact again. In her soul she had forgotten how, but her body remembered. “You’re a good man, Jack,” she said against his lips. “I don’t want you to be hurt. Because I can’t love anyone.”
All he said was, “I can take care of myself.”
She kissed him again. Deeply. Passionately. For a long minute; two minutes, moving under his mouth with heat.
And the baby fussed.
She pulled away from him. “Oh, man, why’d I do that?” she asked. “That’s a mistake.”
He shrugged. “Mistake? Nah. We’re friends,” he said. “We’re close. You needed some comfort and—and here I am.”
“That just can’t happen,” she said, sounding a little desperate.
He took charge, feeling his own sense of desperation. “Mel, stop it. You were crying. That’s all.”
“I was kissing,” she said. “And so were you!”
He smiled at her. “You are so hard on yourself sometimes. It’s okay to feel something that doesn’t hurt once in a while.”
“Promise me that won’t happen again!”
“It won’t if you don’t want it to. But let me tell you something—if you do want it to, I’m going to let you. You know why? Because I like kissing. And I don’t beat myself up about it.”
“I’m not doing that,” she said. “I just don’t want to be stupid.”
“You’re punishing yourself. I can’t figure out why. But,” he said, lifting her off his lap and putting her on her feet. “You get to call the shots. Personally, I think you secretly like me. Trust me. And I think for a minute there, you also liked kissing me.” He grinned at her. “I could tell. I’m so smart that way.”
“You’re just desperate for a little female companionship,” she said.
“Oh, there are females around. That has nothing to do with anything.”
“Still—you have to promise.”
“Sure,” he said. “If that’s what you want.”
“It’s what I need.”
He stood up and looked down at her. He had warned himself of this and stupidly ignored his own warnings. He had to renew that trust. Fast. He lifted her chin with a finger and looked into her pretty, sad eyes. “Would you like me to take you and Chloe to the Anderson ranch? If I promise not to kiss you anymore?”
“Would you?” she said. “I want to take her, to see where she’ll live. And I don’t think I want to be alone.”
Jack knew it was imperative that Mel regain her sense of control. He went back to the bar to get his truck and poked his head in. “Doc, I’m going to drive Mel and the baby out to Andersons’。 You okay with that?”
“Sure,” the old boy said, not looking up from his game.
When Mel had the few amassed baby things packed up, he took her. They had no car seat, so she held the baby—and she got a little teary. But once they had traversed the long road up into the hills and were passing through the fenced pastures of grazing sheep, he could see that she was pulling herself together.
Lilly Anderson brought them into her home—a simple house that spoke of the abundance of life. The floors and windows were shining from the housekeeping attention they received; there were folded quilts on the ends of sofas and draped over chairs, crewel pictures on the walls, the smell of freshly baked bread, a pie cooling on the counter and dozens of pictures of children, of family, a collection that spanned many years. A wicker bassinet stood ready for Chloe. Lilly made Mel tea and they sat at the kitchen table and talked while Jack went with Buck to the corral where his grown sons had begun the spring shearing.
“I’ll be honest with you, Lilly. I got pretty attached to her.”
Lilly reached across the table for her hand. “It’s perfectly understandable. You should come out here often, hold her, rock her. You should stay close.”
“I don’t want you to go through that—when someone finally comes for her.”
Lilly got tears in her eyes in sympathy with the tears Mel was showing. “You must be such a tender heart,” Lilly said. “Don’t worry, Mel—now that I’m a grandma, lots of little ones pass through here and don’t stay. But while she’s here, promise you won’t be a stranger.”
“Thank you, Lilly. For understanding. My women and their babies—it’s what I live for.”
“It shows. We’re so lucky to have you with us.”
“But I’m not staying, you know…”
“You should think about that. This isn’t a bad place.”
“I’ll hang around long enough to be sure things are working out for Chloe. And I’ll try to make it a few days before I’m back to cuddle her,” Mel said.
“You come every day if you like. Twice a day.”
It wasn’t long before Mel joined Jack at the fence and stood watching the shearing. “You’ll have to come back for the lambing in a few weeks,” Buck said. “We like to shear before the lambing—it’s easier on the sheep.”
When they left the ranch, Jack drove around the hills of Virgin River. He didn’t say anything—he just let her see the beauty of the green fields, the high hills, grazing livestock. He took her for a little stretch along Highway 299 through a piece of the redwoods that, despite her morose mood, caused her to gasp in awe. The sky was still and blue, the breeze light and cool, but in the tallest trees it was dark except for those blinding flashes of bright sun that broke through. He could tell she was getting better, if slowly, quietly.
It was like this place was divided into two worlds—the dank and dark world of the deep forest where life was bleak and poor, the people desperate. And this world, the national forest of redwoods, the first-rate campgrounds, the hills and valleys where the fields were lush and plentiful, where health and contentment abounded.
Jack drove down a tree-canopied road toward the widest curve in the Virgin River, pulled the truck up to the edge and parked. There were two men in the river, waders held by suspenders, wearing tan fishing vests with many pockets and wicker creels held by shoulder straps, casting out into the water. The arcs of their lines were like a ballet, so graceful, so rhythmic.
“What are we doing?” she asked.
“I wanted you to see a few things before you cut and run. This is where a lot of the town and visitors like to fish, where I mostly fish. When the winter rains come, we come out here to watch the salmon leap up over the natural waterfalls to return to their home creeks to spawn. It’s really something to see. Now that the baby is at the Andersons’， I’ll take you to the coast if you like. Pretty soon the whales will be migrating north to cooler waters for the summer. They’ll travel close to the coastline with their new calves and it’s incredible.”