a tiny mountain town of six hundred. When her father chose this property a couple of years before his retirement from the Army, she and Matt had taken a look at it. Matt fell in love with it at once. “When I go,” he had said, “plant me on that little hill, under that tree.”
“Stop it!” she had laughed, slapping his arm, neither of them realizing how prophetic his words would be.
There was a time, years before she met Matt, that Vanni had envisioned herself as a high-powered news anchor; using her degree in communications. She decided to take a year before pursuing an eighty-hour-a-week career path and, on a whim, went to work as a flight attendant. One year turned into five because she loved the job, the travel, the people. She’d still been working for the airline when Matt left for Iraq. It was her loneliness and advancing pregnancy that had sent her packing to Virgin River. She had thought it would be temporary—she’d have the baby, wait for her husband’s return from war and move on to his next assignment with him. Instead Matt was brought here, to that little hill with the tree on it.
She didn’t cry as much anymore, though she missed him; missed the laughter, the long, late-night talks. Missed having someone hold her, whisper to her.
Walt had the diaper bag slung over his shoulder and was headed for the car. “Vanessa, you spend too much time talking to that grave. We should’ve put him somewhere else. Out of sight.”
“Oh, dear,” she said, lifting a curious eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Matt hasn’t been complaining that I’m bothering him, has he?”
“Not funny,” he said.
“You worry too much,” she told her dad, taking the baby from him to put him in the car seat. “I’m not brooding. There are some things no one but Matt should hear. And gee, he’s so handy…”
“Vanessa! For God’s sake!” He took a breath. “You need girlfriends.”
She laughed at him. “I have plenty of girlfriends.” She had lots of girlfriends from flying days and, even though they didn’t live nearby, they were great about visiting and staying in touch, giving her every opportunity to talk about Matt, about grief, then about the baby and recovery. “You’ll be happy to know Nikki’s coming up for the weekend,” she said. “A girlfriend.”
Walt hefted himself into the driver’s seat. “We’ve been seeing a lot of Nikki lately. Either she can’t stay away from the new baby or things aren’t going so well with her and that…that…” Walt couldn’t seem to finish.
“She can’t stay away from the baby and no, things aren’t going well with Craig. I smell a split coming,” Vanessa said.
“I never liked him,” Walt said with a grunt.
“No one likes him. He’s an ass,” Vanni said. Her best friend, too sweet for her own good, wanted a husband and children, but instead was stuck with a live-in arrangement that had gone flat years ago, leaving her almost as alone as Vanni.
Vanni had other friends besides fellow flight attendants. She’d begun to grow close to some of the women in town—her midwife, Mel Sheridan; Paige, who worked alongside her husband in the only bar and grill in town; Brie, Mel’s sister-in-law. Still, there were some things only Matt would understand.
When you live in a place like Virgin River where the doctor’s office only makes appointments on Wednesdays, it’s a pretty good bet there won’t be any waiting around. Sure enough, Mel was standing in the reception area right inside the door waiting for them to arrive. Her face lit up in delight as they walked in and she immediately reached for the baby. “Ooooh, come heeeere,” she sang. “Let me look at you!” She lifted him as if weighing him. Then she cuddled him close. “He’s looking good, Vanni. Getting nice and fat on the breast.” She looked at Walt. “How’s Grandpa doing?”
“Grandpa could use more sleep,” Walt grumbled.
Vanessa made a face. “There’s no reason in the world he has to get up. He certainly can’t help me nurse the baby.”
“I wake up, that’s all. And if I’m up and Vanni’s up, I might as well see if she needs anything.”
Mel smiled at him. “That’s a good grandpa,” she said. “He’ll be sleeping through the night before you know it.”
“When did David sleep through the night?” Vanni asked of Mel’s one-year-old.
“The first time or the last time?” Mel asked. “You might not want to ask that—we have sleeping issues at our house. And now Jack lets him in the bed with us. Take my advice, don’t start that!”
Vanessa peered at Mel’s growing tummy. David had just turned a year and their second baby was due in May. “I hope you have a really big bed,” she said.
“There will be plenty of room when I kick Jack out of it. Come on—let’s look at Mattie first and take care of his shots.” Mel carried the baby back to the exam room with Vanessa following behind.
Mel had delivered little Matt right in Vanessa’s bedroom and their bond had grown deep and strong. It didn’t take long to determine the baby was at a good weight and in excellent health. “I’ll take him out to Walt while you get into a gown, how’s that?”
“Thanks,” Vanni said.
A few minutes later Mel was back. “Your dad took the baby over to Jack’s for a cup of coffee. And some male bonding, I suppose.”
Vanni had taken her place on the exam table, and Mel checked her heart, blood pressure, and got her in position for a pelvic. “Everything looks great. You had a wonderful delivery, Vanni—you’re in excellent shape. And boy, did you lose weight quickly. Isn’t breast-feeding a miracle?”
“I’m not back in my old jeans yet.”
“I bet you’re close. Go ahead, sit up,” Mel said, offering a hand. “Anything we should talk about?”
“Lots of things. Can I ask you something personal?”
“You can always ask,” Mel said while writing in the chart.
“I know that before you married Jack, you were widowed…”
Mel stopped writing. She closed the chart and looked at Vanni with a sympathetic smile. “I’ve been expecting this conversation,” she said.
“How long was it?” Vanni asked, and Mel knew exactly what she was referring to.
“I met Jack nine months after my husband’s death. I married him six months later. And if you confer with the town historian and gossips, you’ll learn that I was at least three months pregnant at the time. Closer to four.”
“We have a town historian?”
“About six hundred of them,” Mel said with a laugh. “If you have anything you’d like to keep secret, you should consider moving to another town.”
“Matt’s only been dead a few months, but he’s been gone almost a year…Mel, he wasn’t on a business trip. He was in combat, out of touch. I talked to him a total of three times, saw his face once on live video cam. The letters were short and sparse. It’s been a really long time since—”
