“Of?”
“Of you saying, ‘Holy shit—I’m forty! What do I want with a baby?’”
He laughed at her. “I didn’t say that, did I? Nah, I’m ready. A family sounds good.”
“Jack,” she said. “I’m still afraid.”
“Of?”
“Of believing in us. My last stab at something like this ended so, so badly. I thought I’d never get over it. I’m not sure I am yet.”
“Well, you’re just going to have to take a leap of faith,” he said.
“I think I can do that,” she said. “If you’re there to catch me.”
“I’m here,” he said. “I haven’t let you down yet, have I?”
She put her hand against his face. “No, Jack. You sure haven’t.”
Jack had seen his brothers-in-law, all puffed up with testosterone pride when they’d gotten their wives pregnant, when the babies came. He never pretended to really understand it. He was too busy with his career, with his troops, when it seemed to him a woman getting pregnant was probably the worst career suicide a man could suffer. He didn’t get their male egos; he thought his sisters were just getting fat and mean.
He got it now. He felt as though his chest might explode. There was a fire in his belly and it was all he could do to keep from running up a flag. He couldn’t wait until he and Mel could make some plans, get married, tell the world they were lifetime partners and bringing a baby on board.
She shooed him out of the cabin, told him to go take care of the dinner crowd while she showered off that long night with a patient. She promised to drive into town to have a diet cola at the bar and tell those present that Anne and Jeremy and their baby boy were doing fine. Then later, they’d go back home together.
He was almost to town when he turned around to go back. Preacher might get testy, being stuck with the bar and cooking, too, but he just had to hold her for a minute more. He tiptoed up the porch steps, took off his boots, and silently opened the door. He expected to hear the shower running, but instead he heard her weeping.
“I’m sorry,” she was saying through her tears. “I’m so, so sorry.” Then she sobbed briefly. “I never planned this. Oh, Mark, please understand…”
He stole a peek into the bedroom and saw Mel sitting on the edge of her bed, talking to the picture of her dead husband. It cut through him like a knife; damn near ripped his heart out.
“Please understand—this was the last thing I expected,” she cried. “It’s just the way it happened, and it took me by surprise. Total surprise. I promise I’ll never forget you!”
He cleared his throat and she jumped. She looked at him, tears running down her cheeks. “Jack!” she gasped.
He held up a hand. “I’ll go,” he said. “You can work this out with Mark. I’ll see you later.”
He turned to leave and she ran after him, tugging on his shirt. “Jack, please…”
“It’s okay, Mel,” he said, profound sadness showing in his eyes. He forced a smile. “It’s not as if I didn’t know what I was up against.”
“No! You don’t understand!”
“Sure I do,” he said, tenderly touching her cheek. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere. Except back to the bar. I think I need a drink.”
Jack walked out of the cabin, collected his boots on her porch and got back into his truck. So, he thought. Probably the best day of my life, turned to total shit. She’s still back there, with him. She can love you like she’s yours, but she’s not. Not yet.
Hadn’t he always known this was the risk he was taking, as long as he loved her? That she might not be able to let go of him? Ever?
What the hell, he told himself. She might never really belong to me; good thing he can’t come back from the grave and snatch her away. But that baby is mine. And I want it. I want her. Whatever she has to spare…
Fifteen
Mel showered, put on clean clothes and prepared to go to the bar to take her medicine. She felt terrible; her heart ached when she thought of the look in Jack’s eyes. He never should have witnessed that performance. It must have shattered him. She could only hope he would forgive her.
She brought a change of clothes and her makeup for work the next day. If Jack didn’t want to come back to her cabin with her, she would force her company on him. They had to get beyond this. This was her fault. It wasn’t just the two of them anymore. He wanted this baby. He wanted her and the baby. She was going to find a way to make this right.
There were only about a dozen customers in the bar when she got there—the Bristols and Carpenters sitting at a table for four, Hope and Doc at the bar, a couple of men playing cribbage with a pitcher of beer, and a young family. Jack stood behind the bar and lifted his chin slightly in greeting as she entered. It was a very subdued gesture; there was going to be penance to pay.
She stopped and chatted briefly with the Bristols and Carpenters, filling them in on the Givens baby, before going to the bar. She got onto the stool next to Doc. “Did you get any rest today?” she asked him.
“I don’t sleep in daylight,” he grumbled. He popped an antacid and Jack put a whiskey in front of him.
“Long night?” Hope asked her.
“Long night for the Givenses,” she said. “But they’re going to be fine.”
“Good work, Mel,” she said. “I knew I was smart to get you up here.” She stubbed out her cigarette and left, chatting her way out the door.
Without being asked, Jack put a cola in front of her. She mouthed the words, I’m sorry. His lips curved just slightly, hurt in his eyes, but he leaned toward her and placed a gentle kiss on her brow. Ow, she thought. This is bad.
And it just got worse. They had only the most superficial conversation while Mel picked at her dinner, but determined, she waited out the emptying of the bar. It was eight o’clock by the time Preacher was sweeping the floor and Jack was putting up clean glasses. “Are we going to talk about it?” she quietly asked Jack.
“How about we let it go and move forward,” he said.
“Jack,” she whispered so that Preacher wouldn’t hear. “I love you.”
“You don’t have to say that.”
“But it’s true. Please believe me.”
He lifted her chin and put a light kiss on her lips. “Okay,” he said. “I believe you.”
“Oh, God,” she said, tears gathering in her eyes.
“Don’t, Mel,” he said. “Don’t start crying again. I’m afraid I won’t understand why—and it’ll make things worse.”
She sucked it back, forced herself to still the nerves that were tightening inside her. Her fleeting thought was, God, what will I do if he’s through with me on account of that? “I’m going to your room,” she told him. “I’m going to stay there until you come to me and I’m going to convince you, somehow, that we belong to each other. Especially now.”
He gave a nod that was so slight, it was almost imperceptible, so she got off her stool and walked through the back of the bar to his quarters. Once alone, she couldn’t suppress the tears. They flowed freely down her cheeks. He thinks I’m going to spend the rest of my life explaining myself to my dead husband, apologizing for how I feel about Jack. Well, that’s what I was doing—what’s he to think? He won’t believe me if I tell him that’s not true, not how it’s going to be. It was just a one-time thing—the shock, the exhaustion, the high emotional state I’m in.