“What’s so important about today?” Mel asked.

“I guess I better tell him. Huh?”

“He doesn’t know,” Mel said, and it was not a question.

“No.” She lifted her eyes and they welled with tears. “He’s going to be so mad.”

“Sweetheart, you didn’t get this way alone. You remember that. I’ll give you a few days to settle in, then we’ll drive down to Grace Valley and get an ultrasound. You’ll be able to see your baby. I think you’ll be able to determine the sex, if you want to know.”

“Okay,” she said. “Yes, I want to know.”

“You can think about who you would like to deliver your baby. You’ll meet the OB in Grace Valley when you have the ultrasound, and given this is a first pregnancy, there’s plenty of time for you to get to Valley Hospital. Or, you can have the baby here, but I don’t administer anesthesia, something you might want to keep in mind.”

“Okay. I don’t know what to do yet,” she said.

“You take your time. Some advice?”

“Sure,” she said. “Join the club.”

“Don’t wait. Tell him right away. Get that part behind you.”

Liz shuddered. “Yeah,” she said. “I know.”

Rick parked his little truck right next to Jack’s behind the bar and, whistling, he bounded up the back steps and into the kitchen. Preacher was rolling out dough for pies, and right beside him, sitting up on the counter crosslegged and pounding at his own little wad of dough, was Christopher. Preacher’s shadow. Rick tousled the boy’s hair. “How you doing, buddy? Makin’ pies?”

“I’m making my own,” he said, concentrating.

“Good for you,” Rick said.

Preacher said, “Rick, there’s someone out in the bar here to see you.”

“Oh, yeah?” he said, grinning.

“Listen, Rick,” Preacher said. “Nice and easy, Rick. Take it nice and easy. Use your head. Think before you talk, okay?”

“Yeah?” he said again, in question.

Rick went into the next room and saw that Jack was behind the bar serving beer to a couple of men. He met Rick’s eyes and his expression was real serious. Then he inclined his head slightly, into the room. Rick glanced across the room to a corner table, and when he saw her there, his eyes lit up and he grinned. Liz, he thought. Oh, God—Liz! His heart actually started to hammer—he hadn’t seen her since last May and he had missed her like mad! He couldn’t imagine the number of times he thought about her. He’d dreamed about her.

As he walked quickly around the bar toward her, she stood. And as she stood, her hands automatically went to her middle, as if holding up her round tummy, and the bottom suddenly dropped out of Rick’s world. He stopped dead in his tracks, stunned. Paralyzed. His mouth hung open and his eyes went from her face to her belly to her face. He wanted to run for his life. He wanted to die.

From across the room he could see that tears instantly gathered in her eyes. She was scared, he could see that. He heard Preacher’s voice in his head—nice and easy; think before you talk. He managed to close his mouth, swallow and take slow steps toward her. As he neared, she lifted her chin bravely, even though a big, fat tear spilled over.

His head was spinning. How could this be? It couldn’t be his—she said she was okay—no baby. Next thought—I’m a senior in high school and the only girl I ever did anything with is pregnant, standing here right in front of me, scared to death of me. While I’m scared to death of her… Please, God, let this not happen to me.

Then, helplessly, What does she think—I’m going to blame her?

And then he concentrated real hard, as if grabbing hold of his brain—get a grip. A pregnant girl you did it with is standing in front of you, scared to death of you. He heard Jack in his head—it’s not enough to feel like a man, Rick—you have to think like a man. Do the right thing.

He had limited options. He could run, he could deny, he could pass out, and when they brought him around, she and her belly would be gone.

Another tear spilled down her cheek while he was in shock. He tried to imagine what Jack would do, because he admired and respected Jack. What would Preacher do? And he got a picture in his mind of Preacher watching over Paige and Chris. He decided that no matter what he was feeling, he’d just act like them. He’d deal with the real issues later. For now, he was at least going to look like a man.

He stood in front of her, looked into her eyes, her terrified eyes, and managed a soft smile. He put an arm around her waist and drew her close enough to put a kiss on her forehead. His life was unraveling, but what he noticed was that she smelled so good—like he remembered. “Lizzie,” he whispered. She let her head drop against his shoulder and he could feel the trembling, feel her shoulders quaking. He pulled her against him and held her. “Don’t cry,” he whispered. “Come on, Lizzie. Don’t cry.”

He looked over his shoulder at Jack and Jack solemnly inclined his head toward the door. He turned back to Liz. “Come on. We have to go somewhere and talk. Come on,” he said, his arm around her waist, leading her out of the bar as she leaned against him in tears.

He led her out behind the bar where there were no people, where they were alone, and stood with her under a tree. “Here now,” he said. “How we gonna talk if you cry?”

“Rick,” she said, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Rick.”

He lifted her chin with a finger and took in her red eyes, her chapped cheeks. He tried to keep his voice soft. Tender. “What happened, Lizzie? You said it was all right.”

She shrugged. “I thought it was. It seemed like that’s what you wanted me to say.”

“Only if it was true,” he said.

“I didn’t know, that’s all. I just didn’t know.”

“I thought you got your period. Didn’t you tell me that?” he asked her.

She shrugged again. “I never got ’em very much. I only had, like, four last year, all year. You asked me every day, so I said it was okay, so you’d stop asking me. And you broke up with me. Right then. That minute. On the phone. Pretty soon, that was all I thought about…not anything else. Just that you broke it off. That you didn’t want me. Like I did something wrong, something bad. I felt like such a—”

“Stop. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, ashamed of how he’d made her feel.

“That’s how it felt,” she said in a whimper.

It took him less than half a minute to remember those details, and to feel like total crap at the accuracy. Just a couple of days after the little mishap that caused this pregnancy, Liz went home to her mom in Eureka. He called her all the time, kept asking her if she was okay, if she’d gotten her period so they could relax that they hadn’t been caught. Finally she said yes, they were okay. And in that very same conversation he told her they should cool it, not see each other anymore. He told her he cared about her, but holy God—they obviously couldn’t control themselves. And they were both too young to get caught with a baby.

Except, no, they weren’t.

He pulled her into his arms. “Oh, Liz, baby,” he said. “I broke it off to keep you safe!” To keep me safe! “I didn’t want to lose control again and get you in trouble.” Get me in trouble! “You’re so young! Too young!” I’m too young! “Oh, God, Lizzie. You should have told me the truth.”

“I didn’t know,” she said again, crumbling into sobs against him.

“Okay, baby, don’t cry. It’s not your fault. It’s my fault. Come on, don’t cry.”

But she was going to cry for a long time, it seemed. First, because she’d been so scared of what he would say, and second, because she was so relieved. He held her for what seemed like forever, but it at least gave him time to think of what he might say next. When finally the tears abated, he said, “Can we go for a ride? Is that okay?”

She nodded.

He wiped the tears from her cheeks with the backs of his fingers. “Should you tell your aunt Connie?”

“It’s okay,” she said. “She knows I came to talk to you. To tell you.”

“Okay, then. We’ll go for a ride, settle down a little bit, and then we’ll face the music with Connie. Hmm?”

“Should you ask Jack?”

He put an arm around her shoulders and led her to his little truck. Jack had seen her belly, had seen Rick take her out of the bar. “Jack knows exactly what I’m doing right now.” The only thing I can do, he thought. What I should have done before this happened. Try to act like the grown-up. A little too late…

“Where are we going?”

“Let’s go out to the river. We’ll sit on a rock and talk about what’s coming. How about that?”

“You’re sticking by me?” she asked.

“Sure I am, Liz.”

“Do you love me, Rick?” she asked him.

He looked down at her round belly; he’d put that there. Holy shit, he thought. Love? That was a stretch. He wanted no part of this. So he forced himself to think about Preach and Jack, how they were around women. And he put a soft kiss on her temple. “Of course I do. I want you to stop being afraid now. Everything is going to be okay. Maybe not so easy, but okay.”

Ordinarily Jack would have left the bar as soon as possible after the dinner hour had passed. Preacher was occupied with little Christopher and Paige, and he had a sense that Rick might come back. Rick would feel that he had to explain things. There wasn’t too much to explain—it had been pretty obvious by Lizzie’s presence. But still, Rick looked to Jack as if he were a father, and Jack had never been unhappy about that. Not even now.

Jack had talked to Mel briefly, before she went home for the night. “We have a situation, and I think you know all about it.”

“I can’t talk about it, darling,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“I just want to help,” he said.

“I know, Jack. I still can’t talk about a patient.”

“Can’t you give me any advice?” he asked.

She leaned toward him, kissed him and said, “You don’t need any advice. You’ll know exactly what to do.” She looked down at his swollen hand, up at his black eye. “You’re a mess. Try not to get into a fight tonight.” She smiled her sweetest smile. “Follow your instincts with Rick. It’s not as though you haven’t been there yourself.”

There was that, he thought. He was certain their baby had been conceived the first time they’d been together. The only time he’d had unprotected sex in more years than he could remember.

It was about eight-thirty and he was close to giving up. Preacher had bathed Christopher and put him in the bed beside his mother and was back downstairs, pouring a short whiskey with Jack, when Rick came in. He was tall, already six feet. Hard work around the bar had honed his arms and shoulders, made him strong. He was seventeen now, and this was his last year of high school. With his high cheekbones, square jaw and thick, expressive brows, he was a handsome youth. But as he walked into the bar, head down and hands in his jacket pockets, he seemed to have new lines on his face. He might have aged about ten years in the past few hours.

The bar was empty but for Jack and Preacher, so Rick jumped up on a bar stool and faced them. He ran a hand through his hair and looked at the two men who, if they hadn’t just about raised him since he was thirteen, sure had mentored him. “So, by now you’ve figured most of this out. Right?”

“Liz seems to be pregnant,” Jack said.

“Yeah. That little slip last spring—it hit solid ground. The baby is due in February, as near as she can figure out. As near as Mel can figure out. She’s very pregnant.”