Jack handed over the baby. “I’ll take the bar,” he said.
Mel didn’t have a lot of occasions to be in Paige and Preacher’s room behind the bar, but those few times she was, warm memories flooded back to her. This was where Jack had lived when she came to town; this was where David was no doubt conceived. She remembered the night so well—she’d had a major emotional meltdown, standing in the rain crying over her dead husband on the anniversary of his death, and Jack had held her. Then he’d dried her off, given her a brandy, put her to bed. Sometime later he’d joined her there and showed her a life and love she’d never known could exist for her.
Now the room held the influence of Paige—pictures of Christopher, some toys in the corner, flowers on the table. Paige had drifted into their lives almost exactly a year ago, a battered wife on the run, and with Preacher’s strength behind her, had divorced her abusive husband and seen him sent to prison.
Paige sat on the sofa and Mel took the big chair, settling David on the breast. He curled around her comfortably, gently kneading her breast with his chubby hand.
“John wanted me to talk to you—I’m sorry to bother your evening, but you weren’t around Doc’s much the last couple of days.”
“No problem. You’re not bothering my evening. He’s bothering my evening,” she said with a smile. “He’s crabby tonight. Too much running around, I think. Not to mention cookies. What’s on your mind?”
“I’m not getting pregnant,” she said. “It’s only been six months or so that I’ve been off the pill, but in my previous life it was as though I couldn’t keep from getting pregnant. What do you think I should do?”
“Well, let’s see—are your periods regular?”
“As clockwork,” she said.
“The assumption is that you’re ovulating regularly, then. Usually, if you’re going to do any kind of infertility workup, you start with Dad—make sure you’re dealing with an adequate sperm count. It’s the cheapest and quickest test, plus you don’t want to do a complete workup on Mom until you rule out Dad. And after all, we know you can get pregnant.”
“Well—I could before,” she said.
“Still, there was no indication any damage was caused beyond the miscarriage,” Mel said. “Bleeding stopped right after the D & C and you haven’t had any peculiarities—like real heavy or weird periods, have you?”
“No, not at all.”
“And you have relations on a regular basis?”
Paige rolled her eyes. “You have to remember, John has just discovered sex,” she said. Then she smiled a bit shyly.
“Oh,” Mel said. “I take that to mean—?” But she stopped herself.
“He can’t get enough,” she said. “But then, I haven’t had a loving partner until now, so I’m not complaining.”
“Well, that might be the problem. Having a lot of sex is a bad way to get pregnant. It depletes his sperm count. Before you try any fancy tests, you should drive to Fortuna, buy yourself an ovulation testing kit at the drugstore and ask Preacher to save up. It takes at least forty-eight hours to replenish the count. Make him wait. No more often than every couple of days. Every few days would be better and then only once—no marathons. And you want to make sure he’s been on ice a few days before the big day.” She smiled. “You get a reprieve on ovulation day, of course. Knock yourselves out.”
“Oh, brother,” she said, looking a bit stricken.
“How much do you want a baby?” Mel asked. “In fact, you might not hit pay dirt that first month. You might have to keep that kind of schedule for two or three months. Just because you’re both fertile doesn’t mean you get pregnant on one try.”
“Oh, boy,” she said. “I can just imagine how happy John’s going to be to hear this. I’ll have to remind him it was his idea to get your input.”
“If you like, we can do a sperm count before you put him through all this—but if it’s low, the prescription is going to be wait it out, see if it gets better. On the other hand, if it’s really high after all that sex, he’s good to go. No reason to cut him off. Are you a betting woman?”
“I have a feeling how this is going to turn out,” Paige said. “He’ll want to do what matters, but…”
Mel laughed in spite of herself. “Yeah, he’s been so happy for just months now. I guess I can expect those frowns and scowls back. My advice—try this for three months and then begin the infertility routine—starting with sperm count. Sure you want to do this?” she asked, taking the baby off the breast and putting him over her shoulder for a burp.
“I want a baby, yes,” she said. “But John was the first one to say he wanted children with me.”
“You can always wait until next year,” Mel said. “Spend the rest of this year seeing if you can get tired of it.”
“I’ll talk to John,” she said, noncommittal.
A few days later Mel ate a late lunch at the bar as Jack stood behind it. He filled her water glass. “I want to ask you something,” he said. “I have absolutely no idea how you’re going to answer this.”
“Sounds scary,” she said, taking a spoonful of Preacher’s delicious chicken soup into her mouth.
“Depends on your perspective. Ricky’s USMC graduation from basic is just around the corner and I want to go. I want us to go.”
She shrugged and said, “Of course, Jack.”
“I want us to go alone,” he said.
She swallowed. “Alone?”
He nodded. “I think it’s important, Mel. We have to carve a little time out for the two of us, just you and me.”
“Are you feeling neglected?” she asked.
“Not at all. In fact, I feel pretty spoiled. But I still think we should make a habit of taking some time now and then, when we can be away from the town, the baby, the bar, the patients, everything. Regularly.”
She gave him a seductive half smile and lifted one brow. “Why, Jack…”
“It’s not even about that,” he said. “Well, it can be about that.” He grinned. Both hands braced on the bar, he leaned toward her. “You’re my wife, my lover and best friend. I want you all to myself once in a while.”
“What am I going to do about nursing David?”
“You’ll manage. You pump for extra bottles anyway, and he’s certainly not dependent on the breast anymore—he has bottles regularly. There are lots of people who’d be more than happy to keep him a couple of nights, but I thought about calling Brie. She’s still not working and loves an excuse to come up here. Plus, I haven’t seen her in so long. I’d like to see her again—just to see how she’s doing. Looking. You know.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Come away with me, Mel. Just a couple of nights.”
“I would love that. I’ll call Brie this afternoon.”
Mel left the baby napping at Doc’s and drove out to her homesite. She parked and got out of the Hummer. Leaning against the hood, she watched Jack driving nails into Sheet-rock inside the frame of their house. Momentarily he stopped and came to where she stood. He opened his arms to her and she filled them. Thank God, she thought. My man is mine again. Those silent, distant days seemed to be behind them.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked her.
“I wanted to tell you something,” she said. “Brie is coming. She’s thrilled to come and babysit. She’ll stay at least a week, probably two. In fact, she said there was nothing in Sacramento to demand her quick return.”
She looked up at him and could see the struggle in his eyes. He wanted Brie—he wanted her near if she felt that it was good for her. He wanted to take care of her in any way he could, but he also wanted a private life with his wife. A private life reclaimed not all that long ago. And there was absolutely no privacy in that little cabin; every sound was shared by all.
“This is good, that she’s coming,” Mel said. “I think she needs to get out of Sacramento for a while—it’ll do her good. And when we get this house finished, I think we should try to buy the cabin from Hope. It’ll be a good place to have when we’re bursting at our seams. You have a very large family.”
He smiled at her. “Well, Mrs. Sheridan, you’re certainly throwing money around today, aren’t you?”
She shrugged. “We have plenty of money. We should think about hiring subs, get this house moving. If you get bored, we’ll find you something else to build.”
“I wanted to do it for you,” he said. “I wanted to show you how much I would do, how far I would go. How hard I would work.”
“You can’t possibly think I don’t already know all that.”
“You’re not serious,” Preacher said to Paige. “That can’t be right.”
“That’s what Mel says,” she told him.
“Wow. Who’d ever think that the way to get pregnant is by not having sex.” It seemed as though he might’ve hung his head.
“John, it’s up to you. We don’t have to do this. Right now, anyway. I’m not insisting…”
“No, we’ll do it. We want a baby. I want a baby as much as you do and getting your period makes you cry. So we’ll do it.” He shook his head. “How’m I gonna know when it’s okay?”
“Well—a few days between. You know? And just once, John, on those days. Except on ovulation day.” She grinned at him. “You can go crazy on ovulation day.”
“Damn, I’m going to miss it,” he moaned.
“John, I don’t have any facts to support this, but I don’t think everyone is having as much sex as we are….”
He had a confused look on his face. “Well, why not?”
She laughed at him. “Oh, John…”
“Did you get your little thing? Your little ovulation thing?”
“I’m going to run over to Fortuna later for some supplies for the bar and I’ll pick up a couple of kits, exactly the kind we need, because Mel said it could take longer than just a couple of months for us to make this work—if that’s the problem.”
“More than a couple of months?” he asked weakly.
Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, Paige was saying to herself. “We try this for two or three months,” she said. “If it doesn’t work by then, we’ll get you tested, maybe try something else.”
He put his head in his hand. “Wow,” he said. Then, lifting his head bravely, he said, “It’s okay. We can do it.”
She put a hand on his arm. “John, ovulation day is just around the corner. A couple of weeks. That’s your reward.”
“I promise you, Paige. I’m going to make it your reward. I promise.”
Oh my, she thought. This was going to be interesting.
“I think we’re going to have to get a sitter for Christopher and close the bar on ovulation day,” he said.
Before Mel and Jack could leave for Ricky’s graduation from basic training, a newcomer appeared in Virgin River. The lunch crowd had cleared out and Jack was behind the bar when a young woman came in. She had reddish-blond hair and that golden complexion that suggested freckles. Her lips were peach colored and she was smiling so brightly that Jack tilted his head, returning the smile, wondering who this might be. She came right up to the bar and leaned on it. “Jack Sheridan?” she asked.
“That’s me.”
She put out her hand. “I’m Vanessa Rutledge. Matt Rutledge’s wife. We have some people in common.”
