Shelter Mountain
Page 42

Author: Robyn Carr
Mel passed the baby into Liz’s arms. Rick and Liz held him, wept over him, their heads together. While Rick’s shoulders silently shook, Liz’s cries were wrenching. Then Mel watched as they slowly unwrapped him, touched him, examined every inch of him as though she’d presented them with a living baby. Mel’s vision blurred with her tears; she felt them on her cheeks. Inside, her own baby kicked.
Mel gently massaged Liz’s uterus for a few minutes, then the placenta came. As she examined it for completeness, it came to mind that this was where the baby had lived, and died. There was no sense to this. When she looked at Liz and Rick she saw that despite the fact tears ran down their cheeks, they were studying the naked baby, touching him with soft, loving strokes, holding his tiny fingers in their hands. Mel looked down, overcome.
John’s hand was on her shoulder. He whispered in her ear. “How about I finish up for you here?”
She nodded and moved away. Ordinarily, she’d have insisted on completing the cleanup, but the combination of this sudden, intense loss and her own pregnancy put her in a whole different place. She watched as John examined Liz to see if she needed stitches and covered her up. He checked Liz and Rick to make sure they were okay, though neither of them seemed aware of him. Then he dropped an arm around Mel’s shoulders and said, “Let’s give them a few moments. Come on.”
He pulled Mel out of the room, and once she was outside, she leaned against him and sobbed. John held her while she cried hard tears. While he held her close, he felt her baby move inside her and in spite of his desire to be the strong one, his eyes became wet. At long last she drew a jagged breath and looked up at him. She smiled and wiped some wetness from his cheek. “Thank you for coming.”
“I couldn’t let you go through that alone,” John said.
“I wasn’t alone,” she said softly. “I was with two of the strongest, bravest kids I’ve ever known.”
Doc transported the baby to Valley Hospital, where an autopsy would be performed, but it wasn’t unusual in such situations to find no distinct cause of death. Liz had come through the delivery well, despite the devastating outcome. It took Mel a couple of hours, with John’s help, to get everything situated and cleaned up. John gave Liz a sedative and soon after, she slept. By that time, Doc was back and Rick was stretched out on the narrow bed beside Liz, holding her in his strong arms. Mel offered Rick a sedative, as well. “No,” he said stoically. “I’m going to stay awake for Liz. She might need me.”
It was ten when John left and Mel walked across the street to the bar, each foot dragging in depressed misery. When she walked in, she found that not only had Jack stayed, but Paige, Preacher and Mike were still up, waiting this out for her. Jack stood up from the table.
She walked in, looked at them, and shook her head. “Those poor kids,” she said.
Jack enfolded her in his arms, and for a moment she laid her head against his chest. Then she said, “I’m so cold inside—I need the fire. And a brandy. Just a swallow of brandy, please.”
He led her over to the fire and when she sat there, Paige reached for her hand. “Bad?”
“The baby was gone before she delivered.” To anyone else she might have reported it as very sad. To her intimates, she said, “My heart is in a million pieces, it hurts so bad for them.”
Jack brought Mel a small snifter of Remy. She lifted it to her lips with a shaky hand and took a sip, then put it back on the table. She pulled her coat tighter around her, her back to the fire. “You never know where you’re going to find courage,” she said. “My God, those two kids. They clung to each other and got through the worst day of their lives.”
“At least they’re young,” Paige said.
“Yeah, at least that.”
Then the room was silent while Mel absorbed the heat of the fire, quietly partaking of half her brandy. Then she said, “Jack, I want you to go home and get some rest. I’m going to stay with the kids tonight, in case they need me.”
His back straightened immediately. “Mel, Doc can do that. Or you could’ve asked John to stay—Liz is his patient, after all. You’re—”
“I’m going to stay at Doc’s. And I’d like you to go home and try to sleep. Rick’s going to need you tomorrow.”
“I’ll wait here in case—”
“Please,” she said. “Let’s not argue about this. You must know I won’t leave them now.”
“Mel…”
“I’ve made up my mind, Jack. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Although Preacher offered Jack his bed or at least the couch in his apartment, Jack did as he was told and went to the cabin. Of course he didn’t sleep. On a night like this, he really needed his wife’s belly pressed up against him, feeling his son move around in there, alive. But he understood; Mel was as stubborn as she was strong and had she gone home with him, she’d have worried about Liz and Rick all night.
At four in the morning, he’d had all he could take. He got out of bed and dressed. He put on his heavy suede jacket and leather gloves and drove back into town. He parked his truck outside of Doc’s, right next to Rick’s, got out and leaned against the door. He could have let himself into the bar and started coffee, but there was no point in waking the house; Preacher and Paige should be allowed whatever sleep they could manage. This would have deeply affected them, as well.
Jack stood there, unmindful of the cold, his breath swirling in a steamy cloud above him, until the very first rays of winter sun began to creep over the mountain, more than two hours later. He was going to be right there when Mel came out, when she gave up her vigil, and he would get her breakfast and take her home to make sure she got some rest. He spent a lot of time just looking at the ground, wondering how such an unkind thing could happen.
When the door to Doc’s opened, he lifted his head. It was not Mel but Rick who stepped out onto the porch. All Jack could think was, what a damned awful way to become a man. Rick just stood there for a moment, then he slowly stepped down from the porch into the street. He met Jack’s eyes and there was such pain, such loss.
Jack stepped toward him and put a hand behind the boy’s neck, pulling him onto his shoulder. He heard Rick let go a deep, painful sigh. Jack put his other arm around him and Rick let it go. He fell against Jack and the tears began. “Yeah, buddy. Get it out. I got you.”
“Why couldn’t I do anything?” Rick asked softly.
“None of us could, son. It’s damned awful. I’m so sorry.”
Rick cried softly and mournfully, his shoulders shaking while Jack held him. Through all the challenges of this pregnancy, all the sadness surrounding Liz and Rick’s situation and their struggles to get through it like grown-ups, with a little dignity, nothing could have prepared any of them to face this. The boy who had become a man, who stepped up and took responsibility, leaned against Jack, shattered, quietly weeping in the anguish of grief. His heart was shredded, and Jack’s was aching as he held him.
A single tear traced a path down Jack’s stubbled cheek.
Sixteen
Liz stayed two nights in Doc’s hospital room, Rick with her the entire time. They did a lot of weeping and holding on to each other. Mel spent a good deal of time there, trying to comfort. She told them that it was important to remember two things: that it was nothing they or anyone else did, and there was no reason to believe that it would ever happen again. It was extremely rare for an intrauterine death not precipitated by eclampsia or another complication of pregnancy, but sadly, it happened from time to time.
Jack and Mel made the arrangements for the burial of Rick and Liz’s baby. Liz wanted to take him home to Eureka, where she’d grown up and her grandparents were buried. And then Liz wanted to stay with her mother, who had become much more sensitive to the young couple, given their tragedy. She extended to Rick the invitation that he was welcome as much and as often as he wanted to be there, for his support was desperately needed to get Liz through these dark days.
Mel grieved. It was certainly not the first fatality for her, but medicine and midwifery in a small town made your patients your friends, and these young people were very special to her. Jack, not really knowing what to do for his wife, took her to June Hudson’s house in Grace Valley where John and Susan were present with June and Jim and old Doc Hudson. They had a solemn dinner together, talking about their worst moments, their tragic losses. It was far from cheery, but it got Mel through it—remembering that this was the downside of medicine and that she was not alone.
During that dinner, Jack had the passing thought that the need for these clinicians to share their war stories was not unlike what soldiers did, what his Marines had done. It was a leveler; it reminded you that everyone had a role in holding one another up, in sharing the victories and the tragedies.
Rick took his strength from Jack and Preacher, who watched over him closely, spending long hours at the end of the day talking and giving him the sturdiness of their shoulders, the camaraderie of their shared experiences. These men who had been to war had buried those they loved, young lives cut tragically short. Loss was no stranger to them. And Rick had joined their ranks too soon.
The whole town seemed to suffer for Rick and Liz, but it was clear to Paige that Mel’s pain was unique. As she grew round with her own baby’s birth imminent, a time that should bring her great joy, she was too quiet. Paige was familiar with the story of how Mel came to Virgin River, and just as she was about to flee, an abandoned newborn was found on Doc’s porch and Mel put her own needs aside to stay, to take care of that baby until a home could be found for her. For many weeks and months after LillyAnderson had fostered the baby, Mel had gone to the Anderson ranch to hold her. Their bond was a strong one.
So Paige went to the clinic one afternoon and asked Mel to go for a ride with her—she had an errand and didn’t want to go alone, she said. She drove up to the Anderson ranch and Mel said, “What are we doing here?”
“Good medicine,” Paige said. “Come on.”
Paige put her arm around Mel’s shoulders and led her up the porch. When Lilly came to the door, Paige said, “Someone needs to hold a living baby.”
Mel shot her a look, began to shake her head, but Lilly reached for her hand and said, “Of course you do,” and drew her inside.
Little Chloe was sleeping, but that didn’t matter to Lilly. If there was something Mel needed, there wasn’t a person in Virgin River who wouldn’t move heaven and earth to help her. Chloe was almost a year old now. Lilly lifted her daughter out of the crib and handed her to Mel. Mel held that little life against her, drawing strength from the baby’s cuddle, from her sleepy sighs. It wasn’t quite the same as holding a newborn, a healthy baby pulled from its mother’s womb, but it served its purpose. Lilly left Mel alone in the baby’s room and Mel rocked Chloe for a long time while Paige and Lilly had tea in the kitchen. The warmth of life against Mel’s chest seemed to give some healing. Inside her, her own baby kicked and squirmed, letting himself be known. For each movement, even the ones that were uncomfortable, she gave grateful thanks.
On the way back to town, Mel said, “How did you know to do that?”
Paige shrugged. “It hasn’t been that long, Mel. It wasn’t a full-term baby, but—”
For a moment Mel was shocked speechless. Then she reached across the front seat and grabbed Paige’s hand as she drove. “Oh, Paige, I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks, Mel. But—”
“No, I’m sorry! We were all so focused on how dangerous your husband was, the fact of losing his baby just didn’t seem…Oh, God, me of all people! That was your baby! Paige, please forgive me. I should have helped with your grief. And instead, you’re helping with mine.”