Whispering Rock (16 page)

Read Whispering Rock Online

Authors: Robyn Carr

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary

“Try not to be cute,” she said through her tears. “I think my back already hurts.”

“Can I get you something? Soda? Crackers? Arsenic?”

“Very funny.” She turned her head to look at him. “Are you upset?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry it happened so soon. Sorry for you. I know there are times you get damned uncomfortable and I wanted you to get a break.”

“I should never have gone away with you.”

“Nah. You were already pregnant. Wanna bet?”

“You knew before that?”

“I wondered why you were so emotional, and that was a possible reason. I never bought your whole sterile thing. But I don’t have a problem with it. I wanted more kids. I like the idea of a larger family than the three of us. I come from a big family.”

“There will not be five, I can guarantee you that,” she said. Then she bored a hole through him with her eyes. “Snip, snip.”

“You’re not going to blame this on me, Mel. I suggested birth control. A couple of times, as a matter of fact. You were the one said it could never happen twice. And then explained that whole business about not ovulating while you’re nursing. How’s that working for you so far? Hmm?”

“Screw you,” she said, not sweetly.

“Well, obviously…”

“I’d like you to understand I wasn’t relying on that breast-
feeding thing. I’m a midwife—I know that’s not foolproof. I really didn’t think it possible that… Shit,” she said. She sighed deeply. “I just barely got back into my jeans….”

“Yeah, those jeans. Whoa, damn. Those jeans really do it to me. No one wears a pair of jeans like you do.”

“Aren’t you getting a little sick of having a fat wife?”

“You’re not fat. You’re perfect. I love your body, pregnant and unpregnant. I know you’re trying to get me all worked up, but I’m not going there. You can try to pick a fight with me all day and I just won’t play. It wouldn’t be a fair fight—you’re out to get me and we both know it. Do you have appointments this morning?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to go to Grace Valley for an ultrasound. I want to know when I have to have the house done.”

 

All the way to Grace Valley, she ragged on him. She threatened him with dire consequences if he got all puffed up and studly about this. It was easy for him to take it in stride—exactly how many eight-pound babies had he pushed out? And if he joked about this even once, she was going to make him pay. Perhaps for life.

Jack had some premonitions. His patience was going to be severely tested for the next several months. He was not going to be having much sex. John Stone, her OB, was going to think this was hilarious. He might have to kill John.

“Well, Melinda, you little devil,” John said, grinning.

She rested the back of her hand over her eyes while John and Jack studied the ultrasound, examining that little heartbeat in a barely moving mass. John pointed out small buds where arms and legs would be growing.

“When was your last period?” John asked her.

She took the hand off her eyes and glared at her husband. “Um, she hasn’t exactly ever had one.”

“Huh?” John said.

“That I know of,” Jack said with a shrug.

“A year and a half ago, all right?” she said crisply. “Approximately. I’ve been nursing. I’ve been pregnant. I’ve been cast into hell and will live out my days with sore boobs and fat ankles.”

“Whew. Going right for the mood swings, huh? Okay, looks like about eight weeks to me. That’s an educated guess. I’m thinking mid to late May. How does that sound?”

“Oh, duckie,” she answered.

“You’ll have to excuse my wife,” Jack said. “She was counting on still being infertile. This might cause her to finally give up that illusion.”

“I told you if you made one joke—”

“Melinda,” Jack said, his expression stern, “I was
not
joking.”

“I would just like to know how this is possible!” she ranted. “David is like a miracle pregnancy, and before I even get him off the breast, I’ve got another one cooking.”

“Ever hear the saying, pregnancy cures infertility?” John asked her.

“Yes!” she said, disgusted.

“You know what I’m talking about—probably better than me. I guess you didn’t think it would apply to you, huh?”

“What
are
you talking about?” Jack asked John.

“A lot of conditions that cause infertility are made better by pregnancy—endometriosis being one. Often when you finally score that first miraculous conception, the rest follow more easily. And when you change partners, you change chemistry. You’re going to want to keep these things in mind,” he said. And he grinned. “You want to continue nursing?” John asked Mel.

She got tears in her eyes. “I wasn’t quite ready to quit,” she said.

“Mel was going to breast-feed right up to basic training,” Jack said.

“I thought he’d be my only baby and I didn’t want to rush him,” she said, a tear spilling over. She got a very pathetic look on her face.

On that note, Jack leaned down and scooped her up from behind, holding her. He had a unique sense for when it would work and when it would get him smacked. Right at that moment, she needed a little human contact, support from her man.

“Then how about let’s evaluate your vitamin program, add some supplements and maybe you can get David down to a couple of meaningful feedings a day—the ones that comfort you and him most. You’d better add lots of water to your regimen—you have to keep the fetus in fluids, too.” John grabbed her hand. “Easy does it, Mel. You’re in good health, you had a very successful delivery and at one time you would have said this was the answer to your prayers. Try not to make Jack feel like shit.”

That night, lying in her husband’s arms, she asked, “Did I make you feel like shit?”

“Only a little bit. It’s not like I tricked you. As I recall, you were an incredibly willing accomplice.” He sighed. “Incredibly.”

“I’m just in shock. Stunned. Not quite ready.”

“I know. Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are pregnant? You shine. There’s light around you. Your eyes are brighter, your cheeks rosy, you smile and feel your belly all the time—”


You
smile and feel my belly all the time….”

“I can’t believe I’m getting all this,” he said wistfully.
“You and a couple of kids. A few years ago I thought I’d be alone the rest of my life.”

“Do you know how old you’re going to be when David graduates from college?”

“What’s the difference? Does Sam look old to you? I think I can hang in there.”

“Snip, snip,” she said.

He rolled onto his back and looked at the ceiling. “Everyone around me is in a mood,” he said.

“Is that so?”

“Well, there’s Preacher—he’s pretty prickly when it’s not ovulation day, which you might have warned me about….”

“That would have been confidential.”

“Well, not anymore. I think Paige might be a little put out that he told all the boys he was staying home to have sex.”

“You think?” she asked, laughing in spite of herself.

“And Mike is past moody. I think that’s because my sister isn’t here—and believe me, I don’t know how to take that. I want Brie to be happy. It would be nice to have Mike happy, but not if he’s getting happy on Brie, if you get my drift. I’m celebrating, I’m celebrating,” he said before she could scold him. “And this little surprise has had an effect on your mood, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“I
mind,
” she informed him.

“I just wish things would get back to normal,” he said.

And Mel thought—when has anything been normal for us?

 

The notebook Jack had been using to make all his building calculations was getting worn and bent. He had been folding it in half to stuff into a back pocket while he worked on the house, and some of his numbers were wearing thin and faint. But he was attached to it and that was what he had out, along
with his calculator and pen, while he was on the phone. He had pulled up a stool to the kitchen counter and gone down a list of general contractors, all highly recommended and all men whose work he had seen at one time or another.

Everyone, it seemed, was pretty busy. Booked.

He called Paul Haggerty in Grants Pass, Oregon. “I know this is a shot in the dark, Paul, but is there any way you can help me with this? I’m on a real deadline here and I can’t find any general contractors or crews.”

“What’ve you got?”

“Well, the house is framed, drywall is up, it’s plumbed, wiring is mostly done, the roof is on—and Melinda has a bun in the oven.”

“Whoa! How about that! Congratulations, my man!”

“Thanks, buddy—but she’s very pissy. She needs a house.”

“Gotcha. Let me make some calls, see what I can do. Maybe we can get this done for you before the weather turns.”

“I’ll pay overtime. I’ll sell my soul.”

Paul laughed. “Take it easy. I wouldn’t take your soul—I’m pretty sure it’s tarnished. Overtime might cut through some tight schedules, however.”

“I’d sure appreciate it. I’ll wait to hear from you.”

When he hung up the phone, Preacher turned from his chore of chopping vegetables for his soup. “What’s going on, man?” he asked.

“I have to get that house finished.”

“Mel getting impatient?”

“No. Mel’s got another one cooking.”

“Oh?”

“She’s pregnant again, Preach.”

“Oh! Wow, that’s great, man!” he said, sticking out his hand.

“Thanks. But just so you’re warned, she’s not too thrilled yet. Watch your step.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“David’s still a baby, and she feels like she just finished being pregnant. Plus she’s moody, she’s exhausted, she’s puking and she thinks I did it to her on purpose.”

“Ohhh,” he said. “Okay. But you? You okay?”

“Hey.” He grinned. “I’m great. I’d have five more. But I wouldn’t live to tell about it.”

“This ever make you feel… You know. Old?”

“Oh hell, no. Every time I get her pregnant, I feel about ten years younger. And if you tell her I said that, we’re both gonna die.”

“Okay then, we go easy with Mel. But hey. Good for you, man.”

 

When police officers are assigned a new area or beat, one of the first things they do is get intimate with it. Learn all the roads, houses, vehicles and people. In the city, where the population is dense, it takes a while, but eventually every yard and alley, every building and business, every suspicious character becomes part of a familiar landscape.

In the country, in the mountains, there’s a lot more ground to cover, an awful lot of back roads and hidden trails, but the people, buildings and vehicles are a little more sparse. Mike spent as much as a few hours every day driving and hiking the countryside surrounding Virgin River and the neighboring towns. He made frequent runs by the old rest stop, but nothing much seemed to have changed there—he’d expect to see a lot of trash if the place had been used recently for a party.

As he roamed closer to the countryside and mountains surrounding Clear River he saw a couple of structures he
chose not to get too close to—one appeared to be a very small prefab house and the other a storage shed. Both had recent tire tracks leading to them—off-road vehicle tracks, probably quads or Jeeps. Neither was in plain sight, though it wasn’t certain they were hidden in the trees and growth; it could be the owner’s preference to be unobtrusive. But on the chance one or both were illegal grows, he kept his distance—sometimes such enterprises were booby-trapped. And besides wanting to know what was out there, this wasn’t really his business. It was all just part of knowing the lay of the land, and it was lonely work.

There was a lot of interesting signage out this way. No Trespassing and No Hunting were pretty common, but now and then he’d see Trespassers Will Be Shot, Guard Dogs Patrolling and Hunters Will Be Hunted. They didn’t sell such signs at the hardware store—they were hand stenciled or spray painted. One sign that said Firearms Prohibited In This Area was riddled with buckshot.

Quite often he ended up at the place he’d begun to think of as Whispering Rock, the place he’d shared with Brie last spring. He’d park his SUV upstream and walk along the riverbank. From time to time there’d be a fisherman or two, though the water here was too shallow for a good catch. He’d seen a young couple sharing a blanket on the ground, doing what appeared to be homework. When he’d walked into the clearing they’d looked up in surprise, maybe a little nervous by his sudden presence—so he’d smiled, waved and walked back upriver, leaving them alone.

He liked to be there in the late afternoon when the sun was shining. He could almost see Brie leaning against that big boulder, eyes drifting closed, smiling her secret smile. He stayed a little later than usual one day, through the setting
of the sun. He’d just been thinking how nuts it was to do that without a flashlight when he heard a car engine. He assumed it would be young lovers, for this was not a place to be in the dark—there were no lights and it was far off the main road. Before he could be seen, he started up the river, back toward his vehicle. Something made him stop; the car had pulled into the clearing, the lights remained on, but he didn’t hear the sound of a car door. He stood and just listened for a moment. Young lovers would kill the lights. What other business was there at this isolated bend in the river, after dark?

He waited; the engine continued to run, the lights shone. Mike walked the short distance back to that spot, looked through the trees and saw the form of a single man inside the truck. Waiting. Now his curiosity was stirred and he watched.

It was probably ten minutes before a second vehicle pulled up to the clearing, another truck. The engines of both vehicles remained on, headlights illuminating the clearing, but when the second vehicle arrived, one man emerged from each truck.

Then it got interesting. From the first truck stepped Detective Delaney and from the second, a man Mike recognized as a well-known illegal grower. He was a big guy, just over six feet, and wore his signature Shady Brady hat. Over the past year Mike, Jack and Preacher had all had a little unexpected traffic with him. The first time was before Mike got to Virgin River—the man took Mel out to an illegal grow to deliver a baby. Most recently, the man showed them where to find Paige when her abusive ex-husband abducted her; it was very probable the guy had saved her life. He was an enigma—clearly a criminal, but apparently with a humanitarian side.

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