“Or maybe not, Jack. I think I hurt her real bad. I might not get another shot.”

“Do yourself a favor. Don’t keep going back to the scene of the crime. It’ll just buy you trouble.”

Mel began to glow in the brightness of summer. She had a patient in her last trimester with a first baby and first babies were so much fun. This couple, unlike Polly and Darryl, unlike the sad and anonymous couple in the woods, had been trying for a baby for quite a while, so they were filled with anxiety and excitement. Anne and Jeremy Givens were in their late twenties and had been married eight years. Jeremy’s dad owned a large orchard, and Jeremy and Anne lived on the land with the extended family. The baby would come before the apple crop.

Jack and Mel had solidified a couples’ friendship with June and Jim, and John and Susan. They spent more time in Grace Valley and the other couples came to Virgin River twice—once to Mel’s little cabin for dinner, once to Jack’s bar. On the last visit Susan announced that she wouldn’t be leaving town again, unless she could use the twisting, bumpy, thirty-minute drive to start labor. She was about to pop. Jack invited Jim, Elmer Hudson and a friend of Elmer’s, Judge Forrest, to fish with him and Preacher in the Virgin, and their catch was good. It made her almost as happy that the men were friends as it did that she had these women friends in her life. Given the time she was spending with her girlfriends, Mel had opened up a little, but just a little. She admitted she was in a relationship with Jack and that he was the best thing that had happened to her in Virgin River. “It looks like you were made for each other,” Susan said. “Kind of like June and Jim—barely acquainted and like old soul mates.”

To Joey she reported, “I never sleep by myself anymore. It feels more natural to have him near. And Joey—it’s so nice not to be alone anymore.” She didn’t dare tell her sister that after going out to a marijuana grow to deliver a baby, Jack would hardly let her out of his sight. She smiled secretly; there was always a bright spot to everything.

“Do you get any sleep?” Joey asked.

Mel laughed. “I sleep very well, every night. But Joey,” she said, shivering. “I’ve never known anything like this. Every time I look at him, I just want to get undressed.”

“You deserve it, Mel.”

“He asked me to do something that has me a little tense—he’s going to Sacramento for his youngest sister’s birthday—a gathering of the whole family. And he wants me to go.”

“Why would that make you tense? You sprung me on him and it went very well. He’s crazy about me,” she added with a laugh.

“I’m not worried that they won’t like me. I’m worried they might make more of this than there is.”

“Ah,” Joey said. “Holding back a little?”

“Not on purpose,” she answered. “For some reason I just can’t stop feeling that I’m married to someone else.”

“Oh, Mel—go! That other guy—the one you still feel married to? He’s not going to get in the way of this. In fact, if he’s watching, he’s probably glad you have someone special to warm up your nights.”

“If he’s watching,” she said, “I’m blushing.”

Jack convinced her. All the way to Sacramento, she was nervous as a cat. “I just don’t want your family to think we’re in a serious relationship.”

“Aren’t we?” he asked her. “Aren’t you?”

“You know there’s no one else in my life,” she said. “I’m completely monogamous. I just need time…You know…”

“Man,” he said, laughing. “This figures.”

“What?”

“All those years I made sure the woman I was seeing at the time knew I couldn’t be tied down…There are women out there, Mel, who would think I’m getting just what I deserve right now.”

“You know what I mean. It’s just my issues…”

“I’m waiting out the issues. And I’m serious about that.”

“You’re very patient with me, Jack. And I appreciate it. I just don’t want them to get the wrong idea. And we will sleep in separate bedrooms at your dad’s.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I’m over forty years old. I sleep with you every night. I told my dad that one bedroom would be just fine.”

She sighed heavily. Nervously. “Okay then. But we’re not doing it at your dad’s.”

And he laughed at her.

It was so much hotter in Sacramento in July than in Virgin River. Hotter even than L.A. in July—Sacramento was located on an inland valley and had no ocean breezes to cool the land.

Sam Sheridan still lived in the house where he’d raised his five children—a spacious ranch-style home in the suburbs with a lush yard, pool and a big kitchen. When Mel met him, she looked into the eyes of an older version of Jack—a man of the same height and girth with thick, steel-gray hair, a big smile and a powerful handshake. Jack and Sam embraced like brothers, so happy to be together. The three of them had a nice evening with steak cooked on the backyard barbecue and red wine. The men insisted on cleaning up the dishes, so Mel took her glass of wine and wandered around the house a little bit. She found herself in what passed as Sam’s study, or office or bragging room. There was a desk, a TV, computer, bookshelves and wall upon wall of pictures and awards. All his daughters in their wedding dresses, all his granddaughters, ranging in age from five to eighteen, but the thing she hadn’t given any thought to at all were the pictures she would see of Jack. Pictures she had never seen around Jack’s room—a marine wearing rows of ribbons. Jack and his various squads and platoons, Jack and his parents, Jack and Generals. Jack and the guys who came to Virgin River for their Semper Fi reunions. And cases of medals. She didn’t know much about military awards, but there was no mistaking three purple hearts and silver and bronze stars.

She reached out and gently ran her fingers over the glass case that held the medals. Sam came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “He’s a hero,” he said softly. “Many times over.”

She looked over her shoulder at Sam. “You’d never know that from talking to him,”

she said.

“Oh, I know.” He laughed. “He’s modest.”

“Dad,” Jack said, coming into the room, drying a wine glass with a dish towel. “I told you to put all that shit away.”

“Hah,” Sam said, just ignoring his son, turning his back on him. “This one is from Desert Storm,” he told Mel. “And this—Bosnia. There were downed fighter pilots—

Jack and his unit went into a hot zone and pulled them out. He got shot in Afghanistan, but still managed to get his squad out of danger. And this one—the latest Iraq conflict—he saved six men.”

“Dad…”

“Your dishes done, son?” he asked without turning around, dismissing Jack. Mel looked up at Sam. “Do you think this bothers him? The memories?”

“Oh, I’m sure some of them do. But it never bothered him enough to keep him from going back, time and again. They might’ve sent him anyway, but every bit of training and fighting—he volunteered. This boy has been awarded medals by many generals and one president. He was the marines’ best—and I’m damn proud of him. He won’t keep the medals with him. He’d put ’em in storage or something. I have to keep them here to keep them safe.”

“He’s not proud of this?” she asked.

Sam looked down at Mel. “Not the medals so much as the men. He was committed to his men, not military awards. You didn’t know this about my son?”

“I knew he was in the marines. I met some of his friends. These guys,” she said, pointing at a picture.

“He’s a leader of men, Melinda,” Sam said. He glanced over his shoulder and seeing that his son was gone, said, “He tends to act embarrassed that he was only a highschool graduate when his sisters—and their husbands for that matter—all hold college degrees, and even some postgraduate degrees among them. But I think the man has accomplished more, done more good and saved more lives, than many a man or woman with more education. And if you know him, you know he’s very intelligent. If he’d gone to college, he’d have excelled there, as well, but this was his path.”

“He’s so gentle,” she heard herself say.

“He is that. I’ve seen him with each one of my granddaughters, handling them like they’re nitro and might blow up if he makes a wrong move. But he is not gentle when he’s in the fight. This man is not just a marine. He’s a highly decorated hero. His sisters and I stand in awe.”

“It must have been hard for you, when he was in combat.”

“Yes.” He looked at the pictures and medals with a wistful expression on his face.

“You can’t imagine how much his mother and I missed him. Worried about him. But he did what he was driven to do. And he did it well.” Sam smiled. “We’d better get back to the kitchen. He gets surly when I brag.”

When Mel got up the next morning, Jack was not beside her. She heard him talking with his dad in another room; she heard them laughing, so she showered and dressed before joining them. She found them in the dining room, paperwork spread out all over the table.

“Board meeting?” she asked.

“Something like that,” Sam said. “So, son, everything look okay to you?”

“Great. As usual.” He stuck out his hand and shook his father’s. “Thanks, Dad. Appreciate it.”

Sam gathered up the papers, clutched them in a stack atop an accordion file and left the room.

“My dad was an agent for a brokerage firm before he retired. While I was in the marines, I’d send him money from time to time. He’s been investing for me for twenty years.”

“I didn’t think a marine made a lot of money,” she said.

“Not really.” He shrugged. “But if you’re single and you keep re-upping and going to war, there are bonuses, incentives, combat pay, promotions. My buddies—most of them—had those benefits eaten up by housing, braces on kids’ teeth, the usual. I always lived cheap and saved. My dad,” he said, “he always made that such an issue while I was growing up.”

“Smart man,” she said, and she wasn’t speaking of Sam.

Jack grinned. “You thought I was making a killing on that little Virgin River bar?”

“I figured you didn’t need to. With a military retirement and low cost of living…”

“Nah. That aside, I’m set,” he said. “If the bar burns to the ground, all I have to do is support Preach for the rest of his life. And I’d like to make sure Ricky gets an education. That’s about it.” He reached for her hand. “Otherwise, I have everything I need.”

That afternoon the rest of the family descended on the Sheridan home—four sisters and their husbands, eight nieces. As they came, one family at a time, they flung themselves on Jack. His sisters ran to him, hugging and kissing him. His brothers-inlaw embraced him fondly. He picked up each one of his nieces and hugged them like they were his daughters, spun them around, laughed into their pretty faces. Mel wasn’t sure what she had expected them to be like. Having seen the family picture in his room and those around the house, she knew they were a good looking family; good genes. His sisters were very different from each other, but each was svelte, lovely, smart. Donna, the oldest, was very tall, probably five-ten, with short, frosted hair, Jeannie was nearly as tall, quite thin and chic, Mary was next tallest at perhaps five-five, but so trim and fragile-looking it was hard to imagine her handling a big commercial jet. Donna and Jeannie each had three daughters, Mary had two. And then there was Brie, the baby, celebrating her thirtieth birthday. She was the only sister who did not yet have children. She was just about the same size as Mel with long light brown hair that fell down her back almost to her waist—a little bitty thing who put away hardened criminals for a living. And their men, like Jack and Sam, were big guys, the nieces, each one beautiful.