“Walt?” came Muriel’s voice before he could gather his wits and say hello. “Darling, I’m sorry—I know what time it is.”
Darling? Did she call him darling? Oh, those Hollywood types probably called everyone darling. “It’s all right,” he said sleepily. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, I’m okay. This is honestly the first chance I’ve had to call in days. But it’s not going to stay this crazy. I hope.”
“What’s going on?”
“Well, everything. The production company has been staging small parties in key places all over town, trying to create some preproduction buzz about the movie by having cast members show up. I’ve been researching the character, spending some time with the writer, rehearsing lines they’ll only rewrite the second I have them down, looking at wardrobe and set sketches with the production designer, and generally going out to lunch, drinks, dinner, drinks, and talking till midnight. Then I fall into bed and sleep like a dead woman till 5:00 a.m. when I get up and jump on the treadmill.”
He just shook his head in confusion. “What’s the treadmill got to do with anything?”
She laughed. “I have to be in good shape. And I don’t have the dogs or horses to help me do that. I hired my old trainer back to firm things up a bit. I know it doesn’t sound like it, but I’m working my ass off.”
“Well, stop going out for all those drinks and you’ll feel better.”
“I stick to club soda when I’m meeting with actors, producers, promoters, et cetera. They’re not catching me with my pants down.”
He smiled and felt instant shame for having baited her like that. And pride; she was a consummate professional—he should have known that. “That’s my girl.”
“Tell me what’s going on there.”
“Shelby came back,” he said.
Silence answered him. “She
did?
” Muriel finally asked in a shocked breath.
“Yes, ma’am. And apparently Luke did enough groveling to satisfy her, because she’s moved in with him. And this morning he paid me a visit, asked my permission to propose.”
“Get out of town! Did you grant it?”
“No. I told him to go to hell. I should have just shot him. I told him that.”
“Oh, you’d like me to believe you’re that kind of bully, wouldn’t you?”
“The silly girl seems to love him. And you should see him. Whipped into shape that fast. I bet if we pulled up his shirt, there would be lash marks all over his back. He’s limp as a noodle.”
“I bet he’s not,” she said with a laugh. “Well, good for Shelby. That maneuver never worked for me. When I stomped off into the night, they just said, ‘Okay, bah-bye.’”
“What’s Jack Whatshisname like?”
“Are you ever going to say his last name?” she asked with a deep sigh.
“No.”
“He’s a nice man. Professional, punctual, talented, and very much enjoys the way people fall at his feet. And they should. He’s got the gift. I like him. I think working with him again will be a good experience.”
“Muriel,” he said softly, “when are you coming home?”
Equally soft, she answered, “I don’t know, Walt. And yes, I miss you.”
Since Muriel had left, he’d been going low profile, generally fixing himself a little dinner at home by himself. Since talking with her for a while last night, he was feeling a little more secure about things and decided on Jack’s for dinner. In fact, he got there a bit early, before the dinner crowd. The TV perched high in the corner was on so Jack and anyone who cared could keep up with the news, with the action in Iraq.
Jack was toting his son David in the backpack while he served. “General,” he greeted. “Good to see you, sir. Been a while.”
“I guess it has,” Walt said, hopping up on a stool. “What do you hear from Iraq?”
“Rick writes at least every couple of weeks. He doesn’t scare me, but CNN and Fox News make me shiver. There were just a couple of big bombings over there. Casualties on our side.”
Jack had a young protégé who’d entered the Marine Corps at eighteen and after a year of special training, had deployed to Iraq. The boy was like a son to Jack.
“You’ll get a kick out of this, sir. I’m getting computer literate. E-mail is sometimes quick and easy for Rick when he’s near a computer and I don’t want to miss out on anything. Preacher’s been after me for years—he has the books on the computer. And of course Mel needs one at home. So…I’ve finally had a conversion.”
“Welcome aboard,” Walt laughed.
“I suppose you’ve been spending time with the neighbor lady.” Jack put the general’s preferred brew in front of him without being asked.
“As a matter of fact, Muriel has left town for a while and I’m taking care of the dogs and horses.” Walt said this with a touch of pride. The studio contract had provided for help with her dogs on location and someone to stay at the farmhouse and take care of the horses, but Walt didn’t want these valuable extensions of Muriel in the hands of strangers and had asked her to trust him to do the job. “She’s gone back to Hollywood to make a movie. I imagine she’ll have long weekends here and there, but it’ll probably be close to six months before they’re done.”
“No kidding?” Jack said. “I had no idea.”
“It was pretty sudden.”
“Must’ve been sudden.”
“Oh-ho,” Walt said, sipping his beer. “One minute she was considering a script she described as having possibilities for her if the right people were involved. The next minute I was driving her to the airport.”
“Whoa.”
“My exact reaction,” Walt said. “I’ve spoken with her a couple of times. She’s hard at work. And the animals are fine.”
Jack smiled. “Gives you some time on your hands, then.”
Walt just nodded. It was hard after all these years to regress. He’d forced himself to get used to living a single man’s life after his wife died. In fact, he had never expected to find another woman to fill that space. But once Muriel had, it astonished him how quickly he got used to female companionship. And not just any companion, but a woman who seemed perfect for him. While she was here, riding, shooting, hunting, refurbishing her house, he realized they were made for each other. But the minute the call came from Hollywood he began to think he’d been ridiculous to imagine they had anything in common. It was so easy for her to pack up her cosmetics and dainties, board a fancy Lear and take off for another kind of life.
“I saw Shelby and Luke the other night. They came by for a beer and a take-out dinner. Looks like things are back on track there,” Jack said.
“I guess so,” Walt said. “Do they look content?”
Jack leaned toward him. “In every sense of the word,” he said. Then he laughed. “Took Luke lots longer to bite the dust than I gave him credit for.”
“I just want Shelby to be in good hands,” Walt said.
“Oh, General, there’s no question about that. Luke gave up the fight.” And he grinned. “He’s all hers.”
“Better be,” Walt growled. “I wouldn’t mind shooting him.”
Jack laughed at him. Walt put the fear of God in a lot of men, but there was no evidence he’d actually done any physical harm. However, he had enough hot air in him to float a balloon.
Only a moment later, Mike V came in the back door and sat up next to Walt. Then came Paul, whose approach was always signaled by the banging of his muddy boots on the porch before coming inside. Walt remembered why this place soothed him; a few men enjoying a beer at the end of the day, Jack with his coffee cup—male camaraderie. And then Mel came in, the baby tucked under her coat.
After she said hello to everyone, she asked Mike, “Brie coming out to dinner?”
“Not tonight. She’s going to get the baby settled early, if possible. Little Ness likes to burn the midnight oil.”
Mel looked at Paul. “Vanni?”
He shook his head. “Vanni’s cooking tonight.”
“And Abby?” Mel asked, speaking of their houseguest.
Paul shook his head. “Cameron’s taking her over to Grace Valley for an ultrasound, and he offered to take her to Fortuna for something to eat afterward, just to get her out of the house.”
“Ah,” Mel said. “I knew he had an errand and I’m on call till he gets back. That’s nice of him to do for Abby.”
Paul nodded. Then with a semitortured look he tried to conceal, he turned to Walt. “Vanni mentioned Muriel’s out of town, sir. Would you like some dinner?”
Walt looked him up and down shrewdly. Paul had his wife all to himself for a change and was going to begrudgingly invite her father to join them? “I don’t think so, son. Though the deep sincerity of your offer touches me.”
Everyone laughed but for an indignant Paul. “Aw, come on, I was really nice about that! Sir.”
“You were a peach,” Walt said, knowing he was getting a little grumpy. “I’ll just sit here and have dinner with Jack.”
“Where’s Muriel, Walt?” Mel asked.
He was tired of explaining about this, and it hadn’t been all that long. “Making a movie,” he said unhappily.
“Really? How exciting! Since she was looking forward to a long break from that, it must be quite an important film.”
“Yeah, so she says. Jack Whatshisname is the star.”
“Jack What’s…Jack who?”
“You know. Big star.
Cuckoo’s Nest
guy…”
“Nicholson? Holy shit,” Mel said.
“Melinda, we were going to stop saying shit in front of the kids,” Jack patiently reminded her, glancing over his shoulder toward David in the backpack.
“Oh shit, I forgot. But, Walt, that’s really something, isn’t it? I mean, he’s huge. This must be a thrill for her.”
Walt got a fairly dangerous gleam in his eye. “I suppose she’s thrilled to the heart of her bottom.”
“Well, no wonder you’re so pissy,” Mel said with a laugh. “Jack, since everyone’s clearing out, I’m going to get some dinner from Preacher to take home. I’ll get the kids fed and settled. Can you sneak away quickly if I get a call? Since Cameron’s headed for Grace Valley, I need to be on call for medical emergencies.”
“Don’t worry about it, Mel,” Mike said. “I’m going home, I’ll back you up. If you get a call before Jack locks up, just holler. I’ll walk over and sit with the kids.”
“Thanks, Mike. Jack? Want to help me get loaded up?”
“Sure, babe. Let me get this little guy into his jacket and I’ll give you a hand. Walt, I’ll have your dinner in a minute.”
“Take your time,” he said. “I have a beer to finish.” And wounds to lick, he thought.
He’d been at the Davenport Hotel Steak House because that’s where he and the partners in his former pediatric practice liked to have dinner together every other month or so and she was there for one of her best friends’ wedding. Nikki Jorgensen had married Joe Benson and the reception was at that hotel; Vanni was the matron of honor and Abby an attendant. One thing led to another and Abby fled to the hotel bar to escape all that true love and mush at the reception. Cameron had no idea some of his friends from Virgin River were in the banquet room when he met Abby in the bar. It was a fling—the kind of fling Cameron thought he’d outgrown and Abby had never before in her life considered. And of course it had to lead to pregnancy, something they were both carefully trying to prevent.
When she came to Virgin River to sit out her pregnancy, Cameron was the last person she expected to run into. But Cameron had ties to Virgin River and loved the place. He had known old Doc Mullins, deceased a few months ago, Mel and Jack Sheridan, Vanni and Paul. He saw a chance for a change of lifestyle and decided to give Virgin River a year. No small part of that decision was the fact that he couldn’t find the woman he’d had a wonderful night of love with. How strange that he ended up in the same town she’d chosen to hide out in. Cameron was certified in family practice and pediatrics and his service to Virgin River was invaluable.
Right now the complications in his relationship with Abby were extreme. Abby was in hiding because she’d been legally married when she met Cameron, though she hadn’t seen her husband in almost a year. The husband was a semifamous rock star who’d had her sign a prenup promising fidelity or there would be no alimony. When the divorce was final, he’d also left her with a hefty pile of credit-card bills and she needed
his
money to pay off
his
debts. If anyone found out she’d conceived the twins before the divorce was final, she’d be in a deep financial mess.
Cameron was trying to take it nice and slow. Abby had lots of reasons to fear rushing into a serious relationship. The first time she did that, she ended up married to an unfaithful jerk who tied her up with a binding prenuptial agreement. The second time she’d thrown caution to the wind, she’d gotten pregnant. With
twins.
So Cameron had called her and said, “Mel would like you to have an ultrasound and meet Dr. Stone, the OB in Grace Valley. I thought maybe I could take you and then, if you’d like, we could have dinner in Fortuna. Something simple and quiet. Just a chance for you to get out. And for us to spend an hour or two together.”
And she had said, “That’s a very nice offer, but why don’t I just take myself to Grace Valley, meet the doctor, have the ultrasound and come back home?”
“Because, Abby, I’d like to
see
the ultrasound.” When that statement was answered with silence, he said, “It’s typical for Mel to take an OB consult to meet John Stone—he won’t think there’s anything unusual about me taking you. This can be our secret as long as that’s what you need, but really—we have to spend a little time together at some point. Talk, like we did before all this happened. Get to know each other. Again.”
He could hear the reluctance in her voice when she finally accepted. What the hell? He’d backed her into a corner. He knew the babies were his and he wasn’t going to give them up. He couldn’t force her into a romantic relationship, he
wouldn’t
force her to acknowledge the relationship that produced the babies, but he wasn’t going away quietly. They were his children. It meant a lot to him.
She
meant a lot to him. But he couldn’t make her fall in love with him.
Cameron arranged for the ultrasound to be scheduled for the end of the day, when John was done with his appointments. It would be logical to go have dinner after that. He picked her up at 4:00 p.m. and conversation was a little lumpy and strained on the way over. He’d prepared a script:
Tell me about growing up. I’d like to hear about your flight-attendant years. What are your plans for after the babies are born?
But none of that worked out because she took the conversation in another direction right off the bat. “I need to tell you something, Cameron. Vanessa has guessed about our secret. She remembered that I slipped away from the reception and of course she knew you lived in Grants Pass. It must have been something in the way you looked at me or spoke to me, but she knew. She was very direct. She told me you were a good man and deserved a chance.”
He was speechless. “God bless Vanessa,” he finally said in a breath.
“Yes, well, I trust her and I know she has good judgment, but that doesn’t eliminate certain difficult facts. One, even though I slept with you, I don’t really know you. We’re probably highly incompatible. And two, I’m still hung out to dry by a nasty little prenup. An unfair, diabolical prenup that was the closest thing to a swindle I know. And three, Vanessa is sworn to secrecy because I don’t want anyone to know about us. I’m pretty embarrassed about what I did. I can’t afford to risk word leaking back to my rotten ex.”
“Well,” he said. “That certainly spells it out for me.”
“I intend to protect these children to the best of my ability.”
He reached across the front seat and gave her hand a pat. “I really appreciate that, Abby. That’s courageous of you.” She looked at him and saw that his eyes had grown very dark, almost navy blue. And dead serious. “So do I.”
And from there all the way to Grace Valley they traveled in silence.
John Stone was as cordial as he could possibly be, happy to see Cam and delighted to meet Abby. They talked for a while about how he’d like to follow the pregnancy closely, along with Mel, because he assumed the babies would come early. It was important to be sure the babies were in position for a vaginal birth, and ultrasounds would be required. John didn’t want her to be too far from a neonatal intensive care unit if they came too early or if a C-section was required. He asked her to step up her appointments for caution’s sake.
And then he set her up for the ultrasound. “Little early to determine the sex of the babies. Do you want to know if it’s obvious?”
“Yes. Sure,” she answered.
He’d barely gotten started when he laughed. “Whoa,” he chortled. “Right out in front, we got ourselves one boy. He’s blocking the other one, but in a couple of months they’ll be bigger, move around a little more and we’ll get a better view.”
And Cameron, who had seen and done so much medically, especially where children were concerned, began to lose the edge of control he’d always managed to maintain. His eyes clouded; his heart pounded.
A son! Oh God, a son!
He tried to blink back the emotion, but couldn’t seem to stop it. He grabbed Abby’s hand and squeezed it. “Look, Abby,” he said in a whisper. “That one in front, the bossy one taking over, it’s a boy.”
Thank God she was emotional, too. It might take the focus off him. “My God,” she whispered.
“They look perfect,” John said. “And you’re on target for July second, but if we make thirty-six weeks, we’re in good shape. They look good, Abby.” He was poking her belly, trying to get them to move around, directing the wand to check their internal organs, their limbs, their skulls. “I’m going to have Mel draw some blood, check for things like Down syndrome, spina bifida, a few other genetic abnormalities. But there’s no reason for you to be less than completely optimistic.”
She looked up into Cam’s eyes, he looked down into hers. Both of them had tears on their cheeks. Cameron gently wiped hers away.
“Oh boy,” John said.
Cameron looked up. “Listen, John, whatever it is you think you might know, you don’t know anything. Am I clear?”
“Everything in this clinic is confidential,” John said. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No,” Abby and Cam said in unison.
“Well then,” John said. “You have at least one boy on the way. And my lips are sealed. But damn—those are some good-looking babies.” He grinned. “I can’t wait. How about you?”