The sun came out, and though the December air was cold, the day was bright and sunny. When Mel got to town, she checked in with Doc to see if anything was going on. Then she went over to the bar to have a cup of coffee with her husband.
Jack was a definite morning person; it was his best time. He got his exercise splitting logs if the weather was decent, and he did this year round, even in summer when there was no need to lay a fire. He’d leave Mel sleeping and sneak away quietly. He liked to be around the bar first thing in the morning, check on what Preacher planned for food, inventory his supplies, make a list of chores to finish, be sure everything was set for the day.
She found him behind the bar with his coffee mug, Christopher sitting up on a stool, a bowl of cereal and glass of orange juice pushed slightly to one side as he colored on a page of his coloring book. His box of crayons was flipped open, at the ready.
Mel jumped up on a stool beside him and said, “Morning, buddy. How are you?”
“Mmm, good,” Christopher said, paying attention only to the page.
Jack poured her a mug of coffee. “Christopher, tell Mel what you told me this morning.”
“What?”
“You know. About how big you’re getting.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m getting big.”
“You are,” Mel agreed.
“And…?” Jack prompted.
“And John says I should have my own bed. My own room. Because I’m getting so big.”
“Well,” Mel said. “I suppose you should.”
Paige popped into the bar from the kitchen. “Hi, Mel,” she said brightly. Her cheeks were chafed pink, her eyes twinkling behind sleepy lids, and her smile was a tish secretive. Her lips were ruby, maybe a little swollen from kissing all night long. She seemed to flow into the room, serene. Mel thought, How amazing that you can always tell when someone’s had sex. Lotsa sex. “How are you doing on that cereal, kiddo?” Paige asked Christopher.
“Hmm,” he answered, coloring.
“I think he’s done,” Jack said. “He hasn’t touched it since the last time you checked on him.”
“Okay,” she said, picking up the bowl. “But please drink your juice,” Paige said, taking the bowl back to the kitchen.
Mel looked up at her husband. Jack lifted one eyebrow and gave her a half smile. Mel leaned across the bar and grabbed a fistful of Jack’s shirt, drawing him to her. She whispered, “What’s going on here?”
“That should be pretty obvious.”
“I want you to take me home this minute and…”
“I can’t,” Jack whispered back.
“Why not?”
“Because we have company. And you’re a screamer.”
“God, this is ridiculous. I’m so jealous I could spit.”
“It isn’t fun, that’s for sure. Well,” he said, throwing a look over his shoulder in the direction of the kitchen. “Some of us are having fun. Finally.”
Within a few minutes, Mike made his entrance. He said good morning to everyone, ruffled Christopher’s head of floppy hair and accepted a mug of steaming coffee from Jack. “How’s everyone doing this morning?” he asked.
“Beautiful morning,” Jack said, sipping from his cup.
“Sure is. I had a pretty decent night last night.” He leaned his cane up against the bar and went to the kitchen. He poked his head in and found Paige and Preacher in a serious lip-lock. Feeling somewhat the author of this hot embrace, he watched for a minute. Paige had her arms around Preacher’s neck while he had both his big hands on her bottom, holding her close against him. They were completely oblivious to being watched and he couldn’t resist. He cleared his throat.
Paige jumped and withdrew her arms, but Preacher refused to release Paige, not moving his hands. He looked over the top of her head with narrowed eyes.
“Beautiful morning,” Mike said. “Whenever you get a second, could I have breakfast? I’m starving.” He grinned and left them.
When he got back to the bar, he hoisted himself carefully up onto the stool and picked up his mug. “Things are working out pretty well around here,” he said. “I don’t think I’m the only one who had a good night last night.”
“That a fact?” Jack asked.
“I just hope I get breakfast before noon.”
Preacher had taken apart his weight bench and put it in the storage shed behind the bar, keeping back barbells and a couple of weights. There was a small tree there instead, as well as one in the bar. He had taken Christopher out into the woods to chop them down and they decorated them together. Beneath the one in the apartment, ready for Christmas morning, were gifts thoughtfully chosen by Preacher and Paige, some bought together, some individually.
Mel and Jack left for Sacramento for a big Sheridan family gathering a few days before Christmas and Mike could not be convinced to join them. Neither was he interested in going home to L.A.—not yet. He’d only been in Virgin River a few weeks and promised he would be fine at the cabin, so Mike would be with Preacher and his new family for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
Preacher was still in a state of shock and euphoria at the turn his life had taken. It had been more than three months since Paige had happened into his life and a matter of days that they’d been intimate. Nothing could have prepared him for the joy he felt. Working by her side through the day, he found in her a partner in full. They shared everything from the managing of the bar and cooking to the parenting of Christopher with complete compatibility. She was ever at his hand, looking for ways to help him just as he was always near, taking care of her every need.
And at night, when the little one was asleep, Preacher found he had become a master lover, something that had never in his wildest dreams seemed possible. He had never even considered it. And especially not with a woman like this—a young woman of what he considered stunning beauty with the disposition of an angel.
In no time at all he had learned every way to draw a sigh from her, to make her cry out. Preacher, so easily embarrassed and quiet, had become bold and daring with Paige. Experimental. He had begun to trust his hands, his instincts, much to her satisfaction. And this idea of paying attention to details, memorizing touches and sounds, asking her what she wanted, what she liked—well, this was pure genius. If he didn’t find this amazing thing he had with Paige to be so private, he might even thank Jack for the advice.
As he held her against him, flesh on flesh, he asked her, “Will you tell me if it’s too much? If I’m too demanding?”
“Yes, John,” she said, breathless. “Will you tell me?” she asked.
He answered with a lusty laugh. “Yeah. Sure. But you’ll have to dig me up to ask me.”
“Then do that thing you do…Again,” she said.
“And again and again and again?” he asked, teasing her.
“Ooh, John…”
This business of the female orgasm Preacher found to be the best discovery of his lifetime. It had to be better than a man’s; better for a man than his own. The one thing he didn’t even know he was capable of, he’d quickly become an expert at. He was quite sure it wasn’t even as much fun for her as it was for him. He had a dozen methods, but one of his favorites was to torture her delightfully by kissing her whole body, from her eyelids to her toes, spending a little extra time right in the center of her body. He liked to start with soft kisses, end with a strong tongue, and when he sensed, knew that she was ready to explode yet again, he’d get right inside her so that he could enjoy it. There was nothing in this world like it—that hot, gripping spasm that sometimes caused her to cry out his name and grab hold of him as if she was afraid he might float away. When he rocked with her through that miraculous release, more than once he said, “I think I could do this forever. I could do this for a living….”
He liked to catch her as she fell back to earth, gasping, breathless, weak from an electrifying orgasm. It was so pleasurable for him that he’d hold himself back, delay his own release so that he could bring it to her again. He’d let her have a moment to recover and then begin on her once more, slowly at first, sweetly, gently. Her responses would let him know that it was time for him to be more aggressive, put a little more muscle into it. It was she who determined the pressure and pace—and it made him laugh to think he was so worried that he might break her. She was like finely tempered steel—and she surprised him with her strength. Her power.
It wasn’t unusual for her to wrap her legs around his waist and refuse to let him go, or push him onto his back and climb on him, treating him to a bit of his own medicine, taking the choice to wait any longer away from him. Giving back what she’d gotten.
He had no idea his life could be so satisfying. So utterly fulfilling. Nor had he ever considered that it could be so much fun. Their sex was hot, then afterward they could laugh, banter a little, bring the lightness to their life that balanced everything.
“How can I love you this much?” he asked her.
“Or this often?” she countered, laughing.
“Paige, I want you to know something. I know it’s too soon for you to think about a whole lifetime, but I’m not fooling around here. I don’t have any expectations, I swear. I just want you to know that. I’m in all the way. Committed. I don’t want you to ever worry that I’m just passing the time.”
She ran her fingertips through the short hair at his temple. “Aren’t you a little afraid you could get tired of me, John?”
He shook his head. “I’m not that kind of guy. I take it slow—too slow, sometimes. I give things a lot of time—being sure is a good thing. But I don’t change my mind. I know in some things that can be bad. I like things to stay the same.”
“I won’t hold you to anything,” she said. “I’m just so happy to be here, like this, right now….”
“There’s something else I want to say about that, about us. I’m not the kind of guy who doesn’t want you to talk back or have your opinions or expects you to never have a bad day when you’re all cranky and annoyed. I want all of that—I want you to speak up, make demands, insist on the most exceptional treatment and get pissed off if you don’t get it. I want you to feel safe to yell at me just because you’re in a mood. If I’m not what you want for the long haul, I can live with that. What I could never live with is you being afraid of how I’ll act when you’re just being yourself.”
It was impossible to keep tears from gathering in her eyes. “John…No one’s ever loved me like that….”
“Well, baby, I do. In fact, that’s the only way I love you. Every part of you—strong and bossy, scared and needy—it doesn’t matter. If I’m gonna have you, it has to be all of you, not some little part that feels safe.”
She kissed him, quick, on the lips. He brushed a tear off her cheek.
“I know that baby you lost wasn’t planned, and it still hurt you pretty bad that it didn’t make it. Maybe someday, when you’re ready, you’ll talk to me about adding to our family. Giving Chris a little brother or sister.”
“You’d like children?” she asked.
“I never thought I would. But with you, it comes to mind.” He laughed. “It comes to mind pretty hard. It’ll keep, Paige. It’s just an idea….”
She gently touched his face. “You do understand that if there’s a baby between us, you might have to cut back a little?”
“How much?” he asked, that frown that she had come to adore drawing his brows together. And she laughed at him.
“You’re teasing me,” he said. “Okay, you asked for it,” he said, starting on her eyelids.
She grabbed his face in her hands and stopped him. “John,” she said. “I want it, too. Everything. All of you. I’ve never been this happy.”
He smiled. “More where that came from,” he said. “Forever, if you want.”
Mel was so excited about Christmas in Sacramento, she could barely contain herself. All of Jack’s sisters and their families would be around both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, but the bonus was that Mel’s sister, Joey, husband Bill and the three kids were flying in. There was plenty of room at Sam Sheridan’s house for them—Jack’s sisters all having their own homes in town. Mel and Joey, being the only family they had, had been generously and affectionately drawn into the Sheridan clan. This was only Mel’s third visit to Jack’s family, and she already felt as though she was going home.
She had left the Hummer for Doc’s use, in the event he had to get someone to a hospital. The back of Jack’s truck was loaded with gifts, many of which they bought when they stopped over in Redding to spend the night and finish shopping. And to enjoy the comforts of a hotel room, which did not have paper-thin walls or one of the Marines across the hall.
Though they didn’t consider the money wasted by any means, it was not a night of wild passion as it might have been a few months earlier. Mel was now seven months pregnant, a little baby girl literally romping inside of her. Sex was lovely, but way more tame than it had been at the time they conceived this little genius. Instead of crying out Jack’s name with passion in the aftermath of her orgasm she said, “Ugh.”
“You know, if I weren’t an incredibly secure man, that might really bother me,” Jack said.
“I’m sorry, darling. My back hurts, my boobs hurt, and I think I’m carrying a marching band, not your baby girl.”
“I guess that kind of eliminates the potential for lots more sex tonight.”
“It’s starting to eliminate the potential for lots more sex before spring,” she informed him.
She lay on her back, her belly sticking up like a mountain on top of her little frame, and Jack couldn’t keep his hands off of it. While there was a time he couldn’t keep his hands off the rest of her—and she had no doubt they would be there again before long—right now it was the antics of his baby within her that occupied him thoroughly. He would let go a loud bellow when her entire abdomen shifted, caving in on one side and protruding enormously on the other. And he especially liked when it appeared a foot was sliding in a large lump up one side. She could actually doze while he occupied himself with her pregnancy. It brought to her mind what he was going to look like rolling a ball on the floor with their baby girl, bouncing her on his knee, twirling her around over his head.
“We should think about naming your new playmate,” she said.
“I have a suggestion,” he said. “Emma.”
“I like Emma,” she said. “Old girlfriend?”
“Mother. My mother,” he said.
“Aw, that’s sweet. I think your mother would be happy you’re finally serious.”
“Mel? Are you nervous about—you know—giving birth?”
“Not at all. You know why, big fella? Because I’m meeting John Stone at Valley Hospital, and if everything goes to hell, I’m having a big fat epidural. Afterward, I’m having a rare steak and a tall beer.”
“Mel,” he said, running a hand down her hair onto her shoulder. “I want you to have the epidural.”
“Jack—are you nervous?”
“Oh, baby, nervous doesn’t touch it. You’re my whole world. I don’t think watching you hurt is something I can do. But I gotta be there, you know?”
She smiled and shook her head. “You know how you always said I should trust you? Well, now it’s time for you to trust me. I know what I’m doing, Jack.”
“Yeah. Well, that makes one of us.”
When they were getting ready to leave the next morning to complete the trip to Sacramento, Mel was drying her hair in the hotel bathroom, which was large and had plenty of mirrors. In their little cabin in the woods there was just that one mirror at eye level. Jack was mesmerized by the sight of her, naked in front of those mirrors. He hadn’t really seen her like that. He’d seen her naked, of course, but lying down or standing almost a foot shorter than he as they showered. Now he bent, looked at her profile and said, “My God, Melinda. You’re huge.”
She threw him a look that suggested a different choice of words.
“I mean, you look awesome, Mel. Look at that!”
“Shut up, Jack,” she said.
When they got to Sam Sheridan’s house, Mel preceded Jack up the walk toward the front door while Jack began toting luggage and gifts. “Mel,” he called, causing her to turn around to see him smiling brightly. “You’re starting to waddle,” he said proudly.
“Uh!” she exclaimed, tossing her hair as she turned abruptly away from him.
Although Christmas Eve wasn’t until the following day, all of Jack’s sisters and at most of the husbands if not all the kids were there to meet them. Mel’s sister and family had arrived ahead of them, so it was, as usual, a teeming throng. When they got inside, the women rushed to her, embracing, examining her growth, exclaiming, “Oh, my God, you’re huge!” To which Mel giggled happily, proudly letting everyone rub their hands over her belly. Joey screeched, “You’re waddling like a duck!” and they all crumbled into hysterical laughter, including Mel.
Jack was frowning darkly. A couple of the brothers-in-law, Dan and Ryan, came forward and said, “Need a hand unloading, Jack?”
“Yeah,” he said, his brows drawn together.
“What’s the problem?” Ryan asked.
“I said exactly those two words to her—huge and waddle—and she was very pissed about it.”
The men laughed. Bob clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Come, my brother. Let’s get you unloaded, get you a beer and teach you the facts of life. Out back, where men will be men and the women won’t hear us.”
Outside on the patio, now too cold for picnicking, there were a couple of large space heaters thoughtfully provided by Sam, who knew the men of the family would want their beer and cigars without interference. And where Sam also wanted to be, while his daughters overran his house and bossed people around. With Mel and Joey, there were six, not to mention granddaughters—a formidable and intimidating group of women.
It was there that Jack learned from the experience of four brothers-in-law and the occasional comment from Sam, that if having children was a partners’ project, pregnancy was definitely a team sport. The women were the ones who knew the rules. What a man said and what girlfriends or sisters said were viewed from entirely different perspectives. If your sister said you were huge, it was a badge of honor. If your husband said that, he thought you were fat. If your best friend said you waddled, it was adorable. If your husband said that, he thought you walked funny and he no longer found you attractive.
“And look out,” said Joey’s husband, Bill, father of three, “if you try to make love to her, she thinks you’re a pervert, and if you don’t, she’ll accuse you of no longer finding her desirable as she sacrifices herself to bear your child.”
“The last time we had sex, instead of crying out ‘Oh, God, Oh, God,’ she said ‘Ugh.’”
Ryan spewed out a mouthful of beer and fell into a fit laughter. “Been there, brother,” he finally choked out.
“You wanna know what’s coming, or you wanna be surprised?” Bob asked.
“Oh, please, I can’t take any more surprises,” Jack said.
“Okay, you’re coming up on where you love the baby more than her. Everything is about the baby—you consider her your brood mare.”
“What do you do about that?”
“Well, for starters, never talk about breeding.”
“Grovel,” said someone else. “Beg for forgiveness.”
“But don’t trip yourself up and claim she’s way more important than the baby, which brings you a whole new set of problems.”
“Aw, Jesus.”
“And since you don’t have the big belly and the backache, it would be advisable not to mention that this is all completely natural. She might deck you.”
“You’d think a frickin’ midwife could rise above these ridiculous notions.”
“Oh, it’s not her fault. There was an estrogen explosion in there—it’s beyond her control.”
“You want to be especially careful about admiring her breasts,” Jeannie’s husband, Dan, said. He took a pull on his cigar. “Especially since they’re, you know, only temporary.”
“God, that’s gonna be so hard. Because—”
“I know.” Someone else laughed. “Aren’t they great?”
“Pretty soon there’s going to be labor and delivery,” Bill said. “And the love of your life, whose back you’re trying to rub and whom you’re doing everything in your power to encourage, to keep comfortable, is going to tell you to shut up and get your fucking hands off her.”
Everyone laughed so hard at that, even Sam, that it appeared to be a universal fact.
“Dad,” Jack said, stunned. “Did Mom ever say fuck?”
Sam drew leisurely on his cigar. “I think about five times,” he replied, throwing the men into a new fit of laughter.
“Why doesn’t anyone tell you these things before?” Jack asked.
“What difference would it have made, Jack? You didn’t know you were about to score a pregnancy, anyway. I know, I know—you thought you knew everything there was to know about women. Turns out you’re just as stupid as the rest of us.”
A few more jokes made the rounds before Jack said, “Someone’s missing.”
Everyone, even Joey’s husband, Bill, seemed to look down. Brie’s husband, almost an ex, was the only spouse not in attendance. Brie was the only sister no longer tethered; the only one without children. And she had so wanted a baby.
“Anyone seen him?” Jack asked.
“Nope,” someone said, the group shaking heads as one.
“How’s she doing?” he asked.
“She says she’s fine, but she is not so fine.”
“According to her sisters.”
“And he’s at the new house with the new woman, who was the old woman in Brie’s life. Having a family Christmas with her and her kids.”
“While my sister, who wanted a baby, is here with us,” Jack said.
“Yeah, the son of a bitch.”
“Can’t we have a few more and go over there?” Jack asked. “Just beat him up a little or something?”
“I wish. They’d all secretly love that, and we’d be grounded for life.”
“Can’t any of us stand up to those women?”
“Nope,” said at least three men in unison.
“I just don’t get it,” Jack said, for the millionth time.
“Jack, have you asked yourself, what if you’d been married to someone else when Mel came along? What would you do?”
“We’ve all asked ourselves that,” Ryan said dismally.
Jack had asked himself, though it was an unfathomable idea. There had been lots of women, yet no one before Mel. He’d been really fond of a few, yet somehow managed to not marry anyone. “I’d like to think I’d do the right thing and just kill myself.” He looked at the boys. “She getting out of this okay? Like with the house and stuff?”
“Shit. Don’t ask that,” Dan said.
“Oh, don’t tell me…”
“She’s getting the house,” Bob said. “She’s buying him out. And paying him alimony.”
“No way!”
“You were told not to ask.”
“How does that happen?”
“She’s an attorney, he’s a cop. She’s making the most money.”
“See—we need to go over there, beat him up.”
Christmas Eve they had ham and potatoes au gratin while Christmas Day it would be stuffed turkey. The clan started to gather at about four and the house throbbed with noise and laughter. They ate, drank, gathered in the family room, stuffed themselves into the family room, and sang carols. The men sang too loudly and off key and the women, to the last one, had to drive home. Mel and Joey steered their husbands to their beds, where they flopped down and would surely live to regret having beer, drinks and then brandies and cigars. The only thing that annoyed Mel more than Jack drinking too much on Christmas Eve was that he couldn’t stand up long enough to shower off the smell of illegal Cubans.
The kids were tucked in and the men were asleep, to put it politely. Joey was in her pajamas and Mel was in a soft and roomy sweat suit. They met in the family room. Mel brought the quilt and pillows out from her bedroom and they huddled on the couch together, eating ice cream and talking.
“You’re feeling well, except for the heartburn?”
“I’m feeling pretty wonderful,” Mel said. “For someone who has an entire gymboree inside of her.”
“And things in Virgin River are great?”
“Oh, Joey, you should see Preacher and Paige—I’ve never seen a transformation like that in my life. They are so in love, there’s practically a halo around them both. When they look at each other, there’s steam.”
There was a sound that caused both women to lean forward on the couch and look toward the front door as it opened. Brie came in. She was wearing her coat, her purse slung over her shoulder, tear stains on her cheeks. She stood in front of them and said, “I don’t want to go home. Alone. On Christmas Eve.”
“Oh, baby,” Mel said, opening her arms.
Mel and Joey instinctively slid apart so that Brie could sit between them. Brie dropped her purse, shed her coat, kicked off her shoes and climbed onto the couch in that little space they provided. And cried.
“It’s not like I haven’t gotten people through divorces,” she said. “But you can’t imagine what it’s like when the man you love, a man who’s leaving you, asks you to be his friend.”
“God, what nerve!” Mel said.
“You know what’s worse? I hate him for what he’s done—and I still can’t stop wanting him back.”
“Oh, Brie…”
“If he came to me tonight and said, ‘I’ve made a terrible mistake,’ I think I’d forgive him. Do you know he’s asked me for alimony? That he’s going to spend on her and her kids? She’s getting alimony and child support from her husband, and I’m paying them, too, and they both have good jobs. They’re going to make money on the deal.”
“The bastard…”
“And I can’t wait to start hating him for that. But I’m so afraid I’ll start hating him, which closes the door on letting him back. I want him back,” she wept. “I think I still love the son of a bitch.”
Mel and Joey put arms around her and held her as she cried.
“I’m so sorry,” Brie said. “It’s Christmas. And I bet this is the first really good Christmas you’ve had in a while, Mel.”
“We’re family,” she said. “We rejoice together. We share our pain. You’re staying right here with us. We’re sleeping on the couch tonight, anyway. I bet it pulls out.”
“Why are you sleeping on the couch?”
“Our drunk husbands stink,” Joey said.