Jack would not be left behind. He brought the beer and cigars.
Susan was very fit for a woman who had just delivered, but still she stayed on the couch, bassinet nearby, and let her friends fuss over her. In typical country fashion, women brought food so that the new parents wouldn’t have to be bothered with cooking. Mel was surprised to see such an air of celebration and atmosphere of an open house so soon after bringing a baby home.
There was another couple present, a very pregnant Julianna Dickson and her husband Mike. John dropped an arm around Julianna’s shoulders and said to Mel, “This one is legendary—she could never seem to wait for the doctor. June and I finally got to attend one of her births—it was the last baby, and it was sheer luck. She delivers with about fifteen minutes notice. This is number six. We’re going to admit her tomorrow and induce.”
“Don’t let the baby hear you say that,” Julianna said. “You know what always happens.”
“Maybe we should go over there right now?”
“Maybe you should strap yourself to me and keep one hand on my stomach.”
The women gathered in the living room around Susan with cups of coffee and cake. John plucked the baby out of his bassinet to show him off. As Jim already had baby Jamie in his arms, John offered the baby to Jack. And he willingly, happily took him into his arms. He cooed at the little bundle.
Mel’s eyes warmed as she watched him.
“You’re pretty good at that for a bachelor,” John said appreciatively.
“Nieces,” he said.
“Eight of them,” Mel added.
Jack jiggled and the baby sent up a loud wail. “I guess you’re not that good,” John said.
“Jack did fine. He’s hungry,” Susan said, reaching for the baby.
“Okay—there’s going to be breast-feeding,” John said. “We should find something to do.”
Jack pulled cigars out of his breast pocket and immediately a very grateful hum of approval sounded. Jim handed Jamie off to June and left the women and babies in the house to go outside and indulge.
“They’re going to stink,” Julianna said.
“To high heaven,” June agreed.
“At least they’re out of our hair.” Susan settled the newborn onto her breast and Mel watched with longing. “Mel,” she said. “How’d it go in Sacramento? With Jack’s family?”
“Oh, they’re fantastic,” she said, coming back to herself again. “Four sisters who tell every secret he’d ever dream of keeping, and eight nieces, all beautiful, all in love with their uncle Jack. It was delightful. So, Susan—how was your labor? Back labor, like you predicted?”
“Epidural,” she said with a grin. “Piece of cake.”
“I’ve never had time for one of those,” Julianna said somewhat wistfully, smoothing a hand over her round tummy.
“You and Julianna are awful close to the same due date,” Mel observed.
They all laughed. “I might’ve neglected to mention—the big fight John and I had before this little conception? It happened at a night of cards with Julianna and Mike.”
“We were both so furious with our husbands—they had both been banished. Apparently we let them both into bed at about the same time.” More laughter. Julianna rubbed her swollen tummy. “I meant to stop doing this…”
“What in the world happened?” Mel wanted to know.
“Long story short—they had a couple of beers and started in on working women. I wanted to work alongside John and June in the clinic, but John wanted me to stay home, mind my own business and clean house. And make sure he had one of those solid country meals in front of him when he got home. Now, I come from the part of the world where a salad with some chicken strips is a dining delight.”
“Mike, on the other hand, thought it was wonderful that I didn’t work. With five kids and a farmhouse to run,” Julianna said.
“Oh, brother,” Mel said.
“They were made to suffer very appropriately,” June put in. “No conversation, no sex. Perfect discipline for idiots.”
“How’d it turn out?” Mel asked.
“Well, when I’m not nine months pregnant or post partum and nursing, I run the clinic.”
“And very well, at that.”
“But a side effect was… Well, as you can plainly see—we had been knocked up. You might not want to drink the water around here,” Susan advised.
“No kidding,” said June, propping Jamie on her shoulder.
I drank the water, Mel almost said.
Nursing done, Susan passed the baby to Mel. She smiled gratefully and took the little guy. His rosy round face was contented in sleep; little baby noises escaped him.
The women talked about their labors, about their men, and they brought Mel into the conversation very well with questions about her midwifery experiences. June went to the kitchen for the coffeepot and refilled them all while Mel happily cuddled with the newborn. Her breasts actually ached as she held him. Hormones are amazing, she found herself thinking.
On the way back to Virgin River, Jack said, “Your friends throw a nice little party.”
“Don’t they?” she replied, reaching across the truck’s front seat to hold his hand.
“All these babies,” Jack said. “Everywhere you look.”
“Everywhere.”
He pulled up in front of her cabin. “I’ll shower off the cigars,” he said.
“Thanks,” she answered. “It actually makes me a little nauseous.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t realize.”
“No big deal. But I’ll be glad to loan you the shower. And meet you in the bed. I’m suddenly exhausted.”
Mel was just pulling up to the clinic in the morning when beside her an old pickup was pulling into the next parking spot. She recognized the man at once—Calvin. She hadn’t seen him since that first time, when she treated his facial wounds. He jumped out of the truck as she got out of the Hummer. His hands were plunged into his pockets and he seemed to nearly vibrate with the jitters. She suddenly realized something—the man who took her to deliver his baby in the backwoods, also a grower, didn’t seem to be on anything. This guy was wired. High. She’d never have gotten in a truck, in the middle of the night, with Calvin—baby or no baby. She further realized that without a plan of any kind, she could get hurt if she refused such a request from Calvin. He was pretty scary, and clearly unstable.
Before she could even address him, he said, “I need something. Back pain.”
“What do you need?” she asked calmly, very practiced in handling his type back in the city.
“Pain medicine. I need something for pain. Fentanyl, maybe. OxyContin. Morphine. Something.”
“Did you hurt your back?” she asked, trying to avoid his eyes as she proceeded to Doc’s front porch. He was jerking and tweaking, and upright rather than sitting on a low stool, she became aware of his size. He was almost six feet and broad-shouldered. It was clear he’d gotten his hands on something not depressive. Maybe methamphetamine, as Doc had earlier suspected. He wanted a narcotic to bring him down. The pot from his garden must not be doing it for him.