In the mornings, after the baby had that first really early feeding and was settled back to sleep, Mel liked to take her coffee out to Doc’s front porch and sit on the steps. She found she enjoyed watching this little town wake up. First the sun would create a kind of golden path through the tall pine trees onto the street, slowly lighting it. The sound of doors opening and closing could be heard. A Ford truck drove slowly from the east to the west down the street, tossing out papers—the Humboldt News. She liked getting the paper early—though it was hardly akin to the L.A. Times.
Soon the kids started to emerge. The bus picked them up at the far west end of the main street. Those in town would walk or ride their bikes down the street and gather there, chaining their bikes to trees in someone’s front yard. That would never happen in the city—someone just allowing their yard to be used as a bike lot while the kids were in school. She saw Liz come out of Connie’s house right next to the store; Liz sashayed across the street, book bag slung over one shoulder, fanny swaying seductively. Boy howdy, Mel was thinking. That girl’s advertising like mad.
Cars and trucks began to drop off the more rural kids. It was not yet seven—a long day for these country kids—driven to the bus stop, ride the bus for who knows how long since there was no school in Virgin River, then back to town, back to the farm or ranch. The kids who gathered there, probably thirty, ranged in age from five to seventeen and the mothers of the younger ones stood around chatting while they waited for the bus. Some of them held their coffee cups and laughed together like old, old friends.
Then it would come, the bus, driven by a big happy woman who got off, said hello to the parents, herding each one of the kids on board.
Jack came out of the bar, fishing rod in one hand, tackle box in the other. He put his gear in the back of his truck and lifted a hand to her. She waved back. Out to the river for some fishing. Not long after, Preacher was sweeping off the front porch. When he looked up, he lifted a hand, as well.
What had she said about this little town? That it didn’t resemble the pictures she’d seen? In the early morning the town was lovely. Rather than looking old and tired, the homes looked sweet and uncomplicated. They were unfussy clapboards in a variety of colors—blue, light green, beige with brown trim. Connie and Ron’s house, right next to the corner store, was the same yellow with white trim as their store. Only one house on the street had been painted recently, a white house with dark green shutters and trim. She saw Rick come out of that house, sprint across the porch, jump down to the street and into his little white truck. It was a safe-looking street. Friendly homes. No one walked out of their homes to see another person and fail to greet, wave, stop and talk.
A woman came out from behind the boarded-up church down the street and seemed to be walking unevenly toward her. As she neared, Mel stood up. “Hello,” she said, holding her coffee cup in both hands.
“You the nurse?” she asked.
“Nurse practitioner and midwife, yes. Can I help you with something?”
“No,” she said. “I heard about you is all.”
The woman’s eyes were drawn down sleepily, as though she had trouble staying awake, with dark circles under them. She was a large woman, maybe five-ten, and rather plain, her greasy hair pulled back. It was possible she was sick. Mel stuck out a hand. “Mel Monroe,” she said.
The woman hesitated a minute before accepting a handshake. She wiped her palm down her pant leg first, then reached out. Her grip was strong and clumsy, her nails dirty. “Cheryl,” she said in response. “Creighton.” She pulled her hand back and put both her hands in the pockets of baggy pants. Men’s pants, it looked like.
Mel stopped herself before saying, Ahhh. That would be the Cheryl who was supposed to clean the cabin; the Cheryl Hope suspected was drinking again. Which would explain her sallow complexion and weary eyes, not to mention all the little broken blood vessels in her cheeks. “Sure I can’t do anything for you?”
“No. They say you’re leaving right away.”
“Do they now,” she said with a smile. “Well, I have a few things I made a commitment to see through first.”
“That baby,” she said.
Mel tipped her head to one side. “Hardly anything goes unnoticed around here. Do you know anything about the baby, or her mother? I’d like to find the woman w—”
“So you could go sooner? Because if you want to go—I could take care of the baby…”
“You have an interest in the baby?” she asked. “May I ask why?”
“I just mean to help. I like to help out.”
“I really don’t need much help—but I sure would like to find the baby’s mother. She could be sick, giving birth alone like that.”
Mel chanced a glance toward the bar and noticed that Preacher had stopped sweeping and watched. At that same moment, Doc came out of the house. “Cheryl,” Doc said.
“Hey, Doc. Just telling the nurse here—I could help out with that baby. Watch her for you and stuff.”
“Why’d you want to do that, Cheryl?”
She shrugged. “Jack told me about it.”
“Thanks. We’ll sure keep you in mind,” Doc said.
“’Kay,” she said with another shrug. She looked at Mel. “Nice meetin’ you. Explains a lot, now I see you.” And she turned and walked back the way she’d come.
Mel looked up at Doc and found him frowning. “What was that all about?” she asked him.
“Seems like she wanted to see what you look like. She tends to follow Jack around like a lovesick puppy.”
“He shouldn’t serve her.”
“He doesn’t,” Doc said. “Jack’s a generous guy, but not a foolish one. Giving Cheryl booze would be like throwing kerosene on a fire. Besides, she can’t afford Jack’s place. I think she gets some of that rotgut they keep out in the woods.”
“That’s going to kill her.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Can’t somebody help her?”
“She look to you like she wants help?”
“Has anyone tried? Has Jack—”
“Jack can’t do anything for her,” Doc said. “That would put an awful lot of useless ideas in her head.”
He turned around and went back into the house. Mel followed him and said, “Do you think it’s possible she gave birth?”
“Anything’s possible. But I doubt it.”
“What if we checked her? It would be obvious.”
Doc looked down at her and lifted one snowy brow. “Think I should call the sheriff? Get a warrant?” And he walked off toward the kitchen.
What an odd little town, Mel found herself thinking.
While the baby napped, Mel took a break and wandered down to the store. Connie poked her head out of the back and said, “Hey, Mel. Can I get you something?”
“I just thought I’d look at your magazines, Connie. I’m bored.”
“Help yourself. We’re watching our soap, if you want to come back here with us.”
“Thanks,” she said, going to the very small book rack. There were a few paperbacks and five magazines. Guns, trucks, fishing, hunting and Playboy. She picked up a paperback novel and the Playboy and went to the back where she’d seen Connie.
A parted curtain hung in the doorway to the back room. Inside, Connie and Joy sat in old canvas lawn chairs in front of the small desk, coffee cups in hand, their eyes focused on a small TV that sat on a shelf. The women were complete physical opposites—Connie being small and trim with short hair dyed fire-engine-red, and Joy must be easily five-nine and two-fifty, very plain with her long, graying hair pulled back into a ponytail, her face round and cheerful. They were an odd pair and it was said they’d been best friends since they were kids. “Come on back,” Joy said. “Help yourself to coffee if you want.”
On the television a very pretty woman looked into the eyes of a very handsome man and said, “Brent, I never loved anyone but you! Ever!”
“Oh, she is such a liar!” Connie said.
“No, she’s not—she didn’t love any of them. She just screwed ’em all,” Joy said.
On the TV: “Belinda, the bab—”
“Brent, the baby is yours!”
“The baby is Donovan’s,” Joy told the TV.
Mel leaned a hip against the desk. “What is this?”
“Riverside Falls,” Connie said. “Brent and the slut Belinda.”
“This is what Lizzie is going to be doing if Connie can’t get her out of those slutty clothes.”
“I have a plan,” Connie said. “As she grows out of her clothes and I replace them, we’re going to get a more conservative wardrobe.”
Joy laughed loudly. “Connie, it looks like she already grew out of them!”
The camera pulled back and Mel saw that the couple on screen were in bed together, their naked bodies barely concealed by a sheet. “Whew,” she said. “Soaps have come a long way.”
“You ever watch any soaps, honey?” Connie asked.
“Not since college. We watched General Hospital.” Mel put down her magazine and book on the desk and helped herself to a cup of coffee. “We used to get our patients to keep an eye on it for us. I had one long-term care patient—an old guy—and I used to give him his bath at two every afternoon and we’d watch it together.”
“There is only one man left on this show that Belinda hasn’t done—and he’s seventy. The patriarch.” Connie sighed. “They’re going to have to bring in some new talent for Belinda.”
Back on TV, Belinda bit at Brent’s lip, then his chin, then slipped lower in the bed and disappeared under the sheet. All three women in the back room leaned toward the TV. The lump in the sheet that was Belinda’s head went lower and momentarily Brent threw back his head and let a delicious moan escape.
“My God,” Mel said.
Connie fanned her face.
“I think that’s her secret weapon,” Joy said. And the program cut to commercial.
Connie and Joy looked at each other, giggled and got up out of their chairs. “Well, not much has changed since yesterday. That baby’s gonna be in college before it gets out who the daddy is.”
“I’m not even sure it is Donovan’s. She was with Carter, too.”
“That was a long time ago—it couldn’t be his.”
“How long have you two been watching this soap?” Mel asked.
“Oh, God, fifteen years?” Connie answered by way of a question.
“At least.”
“You find a magazine, honey?”
Mel made a face and held up the Playboy.
“My, my,” Connie said.
“I’m not too interested in trucks, fish, guns or game,” she said. “Don’t you ever get any others in?”
“If you tell me what you want, I’ll have Ron pick ’em up on his next run. We only carry what we sell.”
“Makes sense,” she said. “I hope I haven’t just snatched up some poor guy’s Playboy that he’s looking forward to.”
“Don’t you worry about it,” Connie said. “Hey, there’s a little potluck at the bar tonight for Joy’s birthday. Why don’t you come on over?”
“Aw, I don’t have a present!”
“We don’t do presents, honey,” Joy said. “Just come and party.”
“Well, happy birthday anyway, Joy. I’ll check with Doc,” she said. “What time? If I can come, should I bring something for the potluck?”
“We’ll get over there about six, and no, don’t you worry about bringing anything. I don’t guess you do any cooking at Doc’s and we have the food covered. Nothing new on that baby, huh?”
“Not a peep.”
“Damnedest thing,” Joy said. “Bet whoever’s it is came from another one of the towns.”
“I’m starting to think that, too,” Mel said. She pulled some bills out of her pocket to pay for her stuff. “Maybe I’ll see you later, then.”
On her way back to Doc’s she passed the bar. Jack was sitting on the porch with his feet up on the rail. She wandered over. Sitting beside him was a fishing tackle box full of beautiful feathery flies. Small pliers, scissors and a razor blade were sticking out of the tackle box, as well as little plastic envelopes that contained colorful feathers, silver hooks and other paraphernalia.
“Break time?” he asked her.
“I’ve been on break all day, except for a little diaper changing and feeding. The baby’s asleep, there aren’t any patients and Doc is afraid to play gin with me. It turns out I can beat his socks off.”
Jack laughed. He leaned forward and peered at the book and magazine. He looked at her face and raised an eyebrow. “Little light reading?” he asked.
She lifted the magazine. “It was either this or guns, trucks, hunting or fishing. You want to borrow it when I’m through?”
“No, thanks,” he laughed.
“You don’t like naked women?”
“I love naked women—I just don’t feel like looking at pictures of them. It seems like you’d get enough of that in your line of work,” he said.
“Like I said, the choices were pretty limited. I haven’t seen one of these in years, but when I was in college my roommates and I used to laugh ourselves stupid at the advice column. And they used to have some interesting stories. Does Playboy still run fiction?”
“I have absolutely no idea, Melinda,” he said, grinning.
“You know what I’ve noticed about this town? Everyone has a satellite dish and at least one gun.”
“A couple of items that seem to be necessary. No cable TV out here. You shoot?” he asked.
“I hate guns,” she said with a shudder. “Try to imagine the number of gunshot deaths in a trauma center in L.A.” She shivered again. He has no idea, she thought.
“The guns around here aren’t the kind people use on each other. Hardly a handgun in the town, although I have a couple, just because I’ve had them for a long time. This is rifle and shotgun country—used for hunting, euthanizing a sick or wounded animal, protection from wildlife. I could teach you to shoot, so you’d be more comfortable with guns.”
“No way. I hate to even be around them. All these guns I see in the gun racks in the trucks—are they loaded?”
“You bet. You don’t take a minute to load your rifle if a bear is charging you. Bear fish in the same rivers we do.”
“Whew, fishing just took on a whole new meaning. Who shot all the animals on the walls in the bar?” she asked.
“Preacher got the buck. I caught the fish and shot the bear.”
She was shaking her head. “How can you get any satisfaction out of killing innocent animals?”
“The buck and fish were innocent,” he admitted. “But that bear wasn’t. I didn’t want to shoot her, but I was working on the bar and she was poking around right back there, maybe looking for trash. Bear are scavengers—they’ll eat anything. It was a real dry summer. Her cub wandered too close to me and riled her up. Pissed her off. She must have gotten the idea I was going to interfere with the cub. So…?”
“Aw. What happened to the cub?”
“I locked him in the bar until Fish and Game could come out for him. They relocated him.”
“That’s too bad. For her. She was just being a mother.”
“I didn’t want to shoot that bear,” he said. “I don’t even hunt bear. I carry repellent—sort of a pepper spray. That day the repellent was in the truck, but the rifle was handy. I wouldn’t have shot her, but it kind of got down to her or me.” He grinned at her. “City girl,” he said.
“Yeah, I’m just a city girl. With no dead animals on my walls. Think I’ll keep it that way.”
Friday night, big night in Virgin River. There were more than the usual number of cars parked around the bar, though the people Mel knew best would have walked over. Mel had said to Doc, “There’s a potluck for Joy’s birthday at Jack’s tonight. I assume you’re going over. Maybe later, if you could spell me for a half hour, I can just drop in and wish her a happy birthday.”
Doc scoffed at that idea. All he wanted was to go collect his one whiskey of the day, have a bite to eat and turn in. So Mel fed and settled the baby while he was across the street. She fluffed her hair and put on a little lipstick, ready for what she expected to be a fairly dull evening, but an evening with a few friendly faces nonetheless. It was seven-thirty before Chloe slept and she was able to leave. “I won’t be long,” she told Doc.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “Dance till dawn for all I care.”
“Will you call me if you need me?” she asked Doc.
“Hardly ever have a party in this town,” he said. “You should take advantage of it. I know how to change and feed. Been doing it a lot longer than you.”
When she walked in, she found the place nearly full of people. The jukebox, which was hardly ever playing, provided background music. Country. Jack and Preacher were behind the bar, Ricky was busy bussing tables. She looked around until she found Joy.
“Sorry to be showing up so late, Joy. The baby didn’t really want to settle down tonight.” She plucked her sweater away from herself and gave a little sniff. “I think I might smell like cheese.”
“You’re fine—and there’s still plenty of food left so grab yourself a plate.”
A few tables had been pushed together to line a wall and upon them, dish after casserole dish of delicious-looking food. Right in the center was a sheet cake practically covered with candles. After she’d put some food on her plate, people started wandering over to say hello and chat. She greeted Fish Bristol, noted fisherman in these parts, and his wife Carrie. Harv, who was found in the bar almost every morning, was a lineman for the telephone company, but before getting out on the road he had his breakfast at Jack’s. “My wife can’t be bothered to get out of bed just to cook breakfast,” he said with a laugh. She noticed that Liz was tucked away in the corner, looking miserably bored, her long, shapely legs crossed, her short skirt just barely covering her privates. Mel gave her a wave, coaxing a very small smile out of Liz. Mel was introduced to a sheep rancher and his wife, Buck and Lilly Anderson—Buck, tall and skinny and balding and Lilly, short and round and rosy cheeked. “Any news on that baby?” Lilly asked.
“Nothing,” she said.
“Is she a good baby?”
“Oh, God, she’s perfect. An angel.”
“And no one’s asked if they can take her? Adopt her?”
“I haven’t even heard from social services yet,” Mel said.
Connie brought a friend over to introduce. “Mel, this is Jo Fitch. She and her husband live on the end of the street—the biggest house there.”
“I’m so glad to finally meet you,” Jo said. “No one expected such a young, pretty girl. We—”
Before Jo could finish she was joined by a man who slipped an arm about Jo’s waist and, while swirling a drink in his glass, boldly looked Mel up and down and said, “Well, well, well…so this is our little nurse? Ohhh, nurse, I’m not feeling so good!” And then he treated himself to a great big laugh.
“My husband, Nick,” Jo said. If Mel wasn’t mistaken, she said it somewhat nervously.
“How do you do,” Mel said politely, deciding that he’d had a bit too much to drink. She turned to Connie and said, “Everything is so delicious.”
“So, nurse Melinda—how do you like our little town?” he asked her.
“Please, just call me Mel,” she said. “It’s great. You’re very lucky.”
“Yep,” he said, looking her over again. “We really got lucky. Where do I sign up for an examination?” And he laughed at himself some more.
It came back to her then—Jo Ellen and that husband of hers. This was the guy. He’d been slapped down by more than one woman, Hope had said. He couldn’t possibly be more obvious. “Gosh, excuse me just a second, I’ll be right back. I need something to drink.”
He grabbed her arm and said, “Let me—”
She shook him off firmly, smiling all the while. “No, no. You wait right here,” and she scooted away as fast as she could. On her way to the bar she stopped to say hello to Doug and Sue Carpenter, frequent visitors at Jack’s. She met the elder Fishburns—Polly’s mother and father-in-law. When she got to the bar and hopped up on a stool in front of Jack, setting her plate down, she didn’t have his attention right away. He was looking into the crowded room, frowning.
Finally he looked at her. “Could I have a beer?” she asked him.
“Sure,” he said.
“You don’t look too happy,” she observed.
His expression relaxed. “Just keeping an eye on things,” he said. “Having fun?”
“Hmm,” she nodded, taking a sip. “Have you eaten this stuff? It’s almost as good as Preacher’s. These country women can cook!”
“That’s why most of them are—how should I put it? Robust?”
She laughed at him. Leaving her beer for a moment, she ate a little more off her plate. “Yet another reason for me to get back to civilization.”
She stayed there for a moment longer, then he was beside her again. Nick. “I waited,” he said.
“Oh, Nick. Sorry—but I have to mingle. I’m new in town you know.” And off the stool she leaped, beer in her hand, leaving the plate behind.
As Nick made to follow, he found his wrist clamped down on the bar. Jack looked into his eyes darkly. “Your wife is waiting for you over there.”
“Be a sport, Jack,” Nick said laughing.
“You’d better behave yourself,” Jack warned.
Nick laughed heartily. “Now, Jack—you can’t have all the pretty girls to yourself. I mean, come on, man! All our wives are hot for you—cut a guy some slack.” And he made his escape.
Jack watched closely from behind the bar. He was able to serve drinks and draw drafts without taking his eyes off the room. Nick seemed to follow Mel around like a smitten puppy, sidling up as close as possible, but Mel was quick. She’d go around to the far sides of tables to crouch to speak to people, get other men between her and Nick, slip across the room as if there was someone she just had to see, always leaving Nick in her dust. Preacher was behind the bar with him and at a point said, “Want me to give him a little advice before he gets his nose broken?”
“No,” Jack said flatly. Jack was thinking that breaking his nose was going to feel very good. If Nick put one hand on her, he was going to come apart.
“Good,” Preacher said. “I haven’t been to a good bar fight in years.”
In keeping an eye on things, he saw Connie’s young niece stand up and walk over to the buffet, stick her finger into the icing on the cake and then into her mouth, slowly, so slowly pulling her finger back out while glancing over her shoulder at Rick—and his boy Ricky froze at one of the tables where he was picking up glasses. Jack saw him see her; saw Ricky almost tremble for a moment, mouth open slightly, eyes wide, taking her in—those long legs, full breasts. Oh, boy, Jack thought.
Someone lit the candles on the cake and everyone got up from their tables and came from the edges of the room to gather round, sing and watch Joy knock herself out trying to blow out fifty-three of them.
Mel stood at the rear of the crowd; Jack’s eyes were back on her. Jack scowled blackly as Nick came up behind her. He couldn’t see what was happening through the crowd, but he noted that a smile grew on Nick’s face just as Mel’s chin raised up, her eyes grew round and startled and she threw a panicked look in Jack’s direction. Jack pushed himself off the bar and was making fast tracks to the other side when Mel reacted.
Mel felt a hand run over her bottom and inch between her legs. She was stunned for a moment, disbelieving. Then her instincts kicked in and shifted her beer to her other hand, threw an elbow back into his gut, brought that same elbow up under his chin, swept his legs out from under him with one booted foot, lifting him off his feet to send him crashing to the floor, flat on his back. She put her foot on his chest and glared into his eyes. “Don’t you ever try anything like that again!” All this without spilling a drop of her beer.
Jack froze at the end of the bar. Whoa, he thought. Damn.
A second passed. Then Mel looked around the now silent room in some embarrassment. Everyone was shocked and staring. “Oh!” she said, but her foot still held Nick on his back. Nick who, it seemed, couldn’t draw a breath, just lay there, stunned. She removed her foot. “Oh…” she said.
A laugh broke out of the crowd. Someone clapped. A woman yelped approvingly. Mel backed away somewhat sheepishly. She ended up at the bar, right in front of Jack. Right where she felt safest. Jack put a hand on her shoulder and glared in Nick’s direction.
Mel felt awfully sorry for Jo Ellen. What’s a woman from a town this size supposed to do with an obnoxious husband like that? Once Jo peeled him off the floor and took him home, the party became much more fun, and the jokes were fabulous. Several men asked her to arm wrestle and she had clearly become a hero to the women.
The stories of Nick’s antics were both shocking and entertaining. Once, when he was feeling invincible and couldn’t resist a breast, he’d been coldcocked by a woman. Up till tonight that was the most legendary put down he’d suffered. He’d collected a number of slaps, but by some miracle had not yet been beat to a pulp by an angry husband; he was apparently regarded as a pathetic joke. It seemed that when there was some kind of community or neighborhood party, like tonight, he’d have a couple of pops and get frisky, take chances that, by the light of day, he managed to keep under control. His reputation was firmly established.
“And yet you keep inviting him,” Mel observed to Connie.
“It’s just us here, kiddo. We’re kind of stuck with each other.”
“He should be told that if he can’t mind his manners, he won’t be included anymore.”
“The problem with that is it would leave Jo out—and she’s good people. I feel a whole lot sorrier for Jo than any of the women he pesters,” Connie said. “Makes her look like a damn fool. We can pretty much take care of ourselves.” She patted Mel’s arm. “And you, girl—I doubt he’s going to give you any more trouble.”
At nine o’clock the party abruptly ended. It was as though someone had rung a bell—all the women gathered up their dishes, men stacked up plates and picked up trash, goodbyes were being said and people were filing out the door. Mel was at the back of the group, following, when Jack called her. “Hold up,” he said. So she went back and jumped up on the stool. He put a cup of coffee in front of her. “Did I call you a city girl?” he asked with a smile.
“I didn’t even know I could still do that,” she said, accepting the coffee.
“Mind if I ask how you learned that?”
“It was a long time ago—when I was in my last year of college. There had been some rapes around the campus and a bunch of us went to a self-defense instructor together. To tell you the truth, I was never sure that would work in a real situation. I mean, with an instructor, mats on the floor, everything rehearsed and knowing exactly what to expect—that’s one thing. But I wasn’t sure I could react the same way if a real rapist jumped out from behind a parked car.”
“Now you know. He never saw it coming.”
“Yeah, that worked to my advantage, too.” She sipped her coffee.
“I didn’t see what he did,” he said. “I could tell by the stupid grin on his face and the shocked look on yours that something happened.”
She put her cup on the bar. “Major butt grope,” she said. And she noted that Jack’s expression went instantly dark; mean, narrowed eyes, deep frown. “Whew, easy buddy, it wasn’t your butt. I saw you making a move—what were you about to do?”
“Way too much,” he said. “I don’t like seeing something like that in my bar. I was watching him all night. The second he saw you, it was a target lock-on.”
“He was a giant nuisance, but I’m pretty sure he’ll leave me alone now,” she said. “It was kind of funny the way the party just suddenly stopped like that. Did someone look at their watch or something?”
“Livestock don’t give days off,” he said.
“Neither do babies,” she said, getting off the stool.
“I’ll walk you,” Jack said.
“You don’t have to, Jack. I’m okay.”
He came around the bar anyway. “Indulge me. It’s been an interesting night.” He took her arm, telling himself he was just being gentlemanly but, in fact, if he saw the chance, he was going to get his lips on hers. He’d been wanting to kiss her for days.
They walked across the porch and down the steps, out into the street. There were no streetlights, but the moon was high and full and cast a soft glow over the town. There was a light on in the upstairs bedroom at Doc’s. Jack stopped right in the middle of the street. “Look, Mel. Look at that sky. You can’t find that anywhere else on earth. All those stars, that moon—the clear black sky. That belongs to us.”
She looked up at the most gorgeous sky imaginable, with more stars than she thought existed. He stepped behind her and with his hands on both of her upper arms, he gently squeezed.
“You just can’t see this in the city. In any city.”
“It is beautiful,” she said softly. “I admit, this is beautiful country.”
“It’s majestic. One of these days, before you pack it in and run for your life, I’d like to show you some things. The redwoods, the rivers, the coast. It’s almost time for whale watching.” She leaned back against him and couldn’t deny it felt pretty good to be shored up by Jack. “I’m sorry about what happened tonight.” He leaned down and inhaled the scent of her hair. “I was really impressed with how well you handled it—but I’m sorry he…I hate that he touched you like that. I thought I had an eye on him.”
“Too quick for me. Too quick for you,” she said.
He turned her around and looked into her eyes. He thought he saw an invitation there in her upturned face and he lowered his.
She put a hand on his chest. “I have to go in now,” she said, a little breathless.
He straightened.
“We both know I couldn’t throw you,” she said, smiling weakly.
“You’ll never have to,” he said. But he still held her arms, so reluctant to let go.
“Good night, Jack. And thanks for everything. Despite Nick—I had a good time.”
“Glad to hear it,” he said. And he let go.
She turned, and with her head down, went the rest of the way alone.
He stood in the street until she was inside, then headed back to the bar. On his way, he saw Ricky’s truck parked right in front of Connie’s house. Well, damn—the boy sure didn’t waste any time. Ricky didn’t have a mom or dad and his grandmother wasn’t well. Jack had been looking out for him for a long time and he knew this day would come eventually—they’d have to have THE talk. But not tonight. Tonight Jack would have that talk with himself.
Preacher had the chairs upside down on the tables and was sweeping up. Jack walked right by him at a good clip. “Where you going in such a hurry?” Preacher asked.
“Shower,” he said miserably.
It was because Connie and Ron liked Ricky so much that they had no problem with him staying out in front of the house talking with Liz for a few minutes. They trusted him, he knew this. But maybe they shouldn’t because if they knew what one look at Liz had done to him, they’d lock her up.
She leaned against the porch, crossed her legs in front of her, pulled a cigarette out of her purse and lit it.
“What are you doing that for?” he asked her.
“Got a problem with it?” she said, blowing out smoke.
He shrugged. “Makes your mouth taste like shit,” he said. “No one’s going to want to kiss you if you smoke.”
She smiled at him. “Someone wants to kiss me?” she asked.
He took the cigarette out of her hand and tossed it. Then he grabbed her around the waist and brought her onto his lips. Yeah, he thought. Makes your mouth taste bad, but not bad enough.
She curved right to him and of course it happened to him. Happened all the time these days. When she opened her mouth and pressed harder against him, it happened even more. Holy God, he was dying. He could feel her full, hard breasts against his chest and right now all he wanted was to palm one. Against her lips he said, “You shouldn’t smoke.”
“Yeah.”
“It’ll cut your life short.”
“We wouldn’t want that.”
“You’re beautiful,” he said. “Really beautiful.”
“So are you.”
“Guys aren’t beautiful. You want a ride to school Monday?”
“Sure. What time?”
“Pick you up at seven. What class are you?”
“Freshman,” she said.
It stopped happening to him real fast. “Four…fourteen?” he asked her.
“Yeah. And you’re…?”
“Ah…A junior. Sixteen.” He backed away a little. “Damn. Holy God.”
“Did I just lose my ride?” she asked, tugging her sweater down a little bit, which only made her boobs pop out more.
He smiled at her. “Nah. What the heck, huh? See you Monday morning.” He started to walk away, then turned back abruptly and decided on another kiss. Deep and strong. Long. And then another, still longer. Maybe deeper. She sure didn’t feel fourteen.