Standard Disclaimer: None of this story or Virgin River or Glee situations and characters belong to me. I hope this chapter serves as piece of escapism today. Keep Naya and her family and friends in prayer. It is someone I love heavenly birthday today, and I am going to try to stay strong and keep holding on!

Chapter 16

September came in sunny and with a bit of occasional rain. Sam was sitting out on the porch when Stevie showed up for work. He came in sporadically now school had reopened. It was the peculiar look on his face that caused Sam to say, "Hold up, partner. How are you doing?"

"Good, Sam," he said.

"Pull up a chair. I haven't wanted to ask, but it's been on my mind. You and Maddie."

"Yeah," Stevie said, leaning against the porch rail rather than sitting. "Must show all over me, huh?"

"Something's showing. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I guess." He took a breath. "I told her that I thought maybe we should cool it. It killed her."

"Whooo," Sam said. "Rough."

"I feel like the biggest dog."

"I guess you had your reasons."

"I tried to explain—it's not that I don't like her. I really like her a lot. I'm not just saying that. And it's not just because of the fooling around we did. You know."

"I get that, yeah," Sam said.

"Can I tell you something?"

"It's all up to you, son."

"I really like the girl a lot. I maybe even love her, if that doesn't sound too stupid. But it turns out this is a little too hot for me to handle, and I don't want to screw up my life and her life because of that. I think it's best for her and me to put some distance between us. Does that make me a wimp?"

Sam felt a slow smile spread across his lips. "Nah. That makes you a person with a functioning brain."

"I feel like a damn dog. But Sam, that girl—she just does it to me. Holy God. I get close to her and I have no brain at all."

Sam sat forward in his chair, leaning toward Stevie. "There will be plenty of times in the distant future when too hot to handle will work right into your plans, Stevie. But you need to be smart. Sounds like you're being smart. I'm sorry you and the girl are having a hard time with this."

"I hope you're right about this. Because I feel like shit. Plus, I miss her like mad. And not just the making out… I miss her."

"Stevie, buddy, you are too young to be a daddy, and she is too young for a lot of things. She needs counseling, and I hope her parents are helping her. I'm sorry this hurts, but sometimes you have to do the difficult thing. And she's just too frickin' young to be put in that position. Someone has to be a grown-up. You're doing the right thing. If she's the right girl for you now, she'll appreciate you and will be there for you in the future."

"I don't know," he said, shaking his head sadly.

"Let the girl get a little older, pal. Maybe you can check back with her later."

"Or maybe not, Sam. 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."

Merce began to glow in the latter parts of the summer. She had a patient in her last trimester with a first baby and first babies were so much fun. This couple, unlike Harmony and Joe had been trying for a baby for quite a while, so they were filled with anxiety and excitement. Sugar and Rory Flanagan were in their late twenties and had been married eight years. Rory's dad owned a large orchard, and Rory and Sugar lived on the land with the extended family. The baby would come before the fall's apple crop.

Sam and Merce had solidified a couples' friendship with Quinn and Artie, and Jeff and Bree. They spent more time in Grace Valley, and the other couples came to Lima River twice—once to Merce's little cabin for dinner and once to Sam's bar. On the last visit Bree 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. Sam invited Artie, Russ Fabray and a friend of Russ's, Judge McIntosh, to fish with him and Preacher in the river, 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, Merce had opened up a little, but just a little. She admitted she was in a relationship with Sam and that he was the best thing that had happened to her since coming to Lima River. "It looks like you were made for each other," Bree said. "Kind of like Quinn and Artie—barely acquainted and like old soul mates."

To Janey she reported, "I never sleep by myself anymore. It feels more natural to have him near. And Janey—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, Sam would hardly let her out of his sight. She smiled secretly; there was always a bright spot to everything.

"Do you get any sleep?" Janey asked.

Merce laughed. "I sleep very well, every night. We don't have sex every night. But Janey," she said, shivering. "I've never known anything like this. Every time I look at him, I just want to get undressed. I swear I think I am going through my Hot in Lima phase."

"You deserve it, Merce, you are going through your sexual peak quite early but maybe it will last as long."

"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 with him."

"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. You know how awful Matt's parents were. I don't even know if he has told them that I am black."

"Ah," Janey said. "I talked to him about this but do you two just screw all the time and not talk to each other?"

"Not on purpose," she answered. "For some reason I just can't stop feeling that I'm married to someone else; so I don't try to invest in my relationship with him like that. I am afraid I will fall in love with him, too, and that would be unfair to Sam, so I keep our relationship compartmentalized."

"Oh, Merce—go! Matt—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. He would rather hear you screaming out in passion than in grief and guilt."

"If he's watching," she said, "Hell n,o that sounds like he's a voyeur and in heaven voyeurism is not allowed you freak."

Sam convinced her that his family did know she was black and were eager to meet 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, Merce, who would think I'm reaping what I have sown 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, Sam. 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 house."

"Nope," he said firmly. "I'm a grown man. I will 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 than in Lima River. Hotter even than L.A.. Sacramento was located on an inland valley and had no ocean breezes to cool the land.

Dwight Evans 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 Merce met him, she looked into the eyes of an older version of Sam—a man of the same height and girth with thick, graying blonde hair, a big smile and a powerful handshake. Dwight and Sam embraced like brothers, so happy to be together.

The three of them had a nice evening with steaks cooked on the backyard barbecue and red wine. The men insisted on cleaning up the dishes, so Merce took her glass of wine and wandered around the house a little bit. She found herself in what passed as Dwight'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 Sam. Pictures she had never seen around Sam's room—a marine wearing rows of ribbons. Sam and his various squads and platoons, Sam and his parents, Sam and Generals. Sam and the guys who came to Lima 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. Dwight 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," Sam said, coming into the room, drying a wine glass with a dish towel. "I told you to put all that shit away."

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

Merce 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 Merce. "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, Mercedes," Dwight said. He glanced over his shoulder and seeing that his son was gone, said, "He tends to act embarrassed that he was only a high-school graduate when his sisters—and their husbands for that matter—all hold college degrees, and even some post-graduate degrees among them. But I think my son 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 not dumb. If he'd gone to college, he'd have graduated and became an officer sooner, but this was his path."

"He's so humble, thoughtful, and kind," 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." Dwight smiled. "We'd better get back to the kitchen. He gets surly when I brag."

When Merce got up the next morning, Sam 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.

"Morning executive meeting?" she asked.

"Something like that," Dwight said. "So, son, does everything look okay to you?"

"Great. As usual." He stuck out his hand and shook his father's. "Thanks, Dad. I appreciate everything you do for me."

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

"My dad was a partner 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 Dwight.

Sam grinned. "You thought I was making a killing on that little Lima River bar?"

"I figured you didn't need to. With a military retirement and low cost of living…"

"Nah. My retirement is set aside, I'm set," he said. "If the bar burns to the ground, all I have to do is find another way for Preacher and I to occupy ourselves. And I'd like to make sure Stevie 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 Evans home—four sisters and their husbands, eight nieces. As they came, one family at a time, they flung themselves on Sam. His sisters ran to him, hugging and kissing him. His brothers-in-law 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.

Merce 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 thin, 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 named after her mother was smaller 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 height as Merce with long light brown hair that fell down her back almost to her waist—a little bitty thing. And their men, like Dwight and Sam, were big guys, the nieces, each one of them beautiful.

Sam's sisters brought some of Merce's old closet friends with them—high quality fashion. Each one of them had a strong sense of style, but what was more obvious than their collective taste in fashion was their warmth and humor. They all met Merce with delight, eschewing the offered handshake and immediately embracing her in tight hugs. It was a very physical, affectionate family. Every time Merce stole a look at Sam he had his arms around a sister or niece, frequently dropping kisses on their heads or cheeks. Just as frequently he would seek out Merce and put a possessive arm about her shoulders or waist. And to her surprise, so would Dwight, as though they'd been close for years.

All Brie had wanted for her birthday was to have the family together and her brother home. "He's not so very far away," Merce said. "Don't you get to see him often?"

"Not nearly often enough," Brie said. "Sam has been essentially gone for twenty odd years. Since he was eighteen."

It was a loud day, filled with laughter and good food. Sam took care of the meat while the sisters brought delicious side dishes. After dinner, the kids took off to watch DVDs on the big screen or jump in the backyard pool or play video games on grandpa's computer. It was just the adults sitting around the patio tables and they told stories about Sam that almost made him blush.

"Remember, Dad, when you were giving away Sam's bed and were going to surprise him with a new bigger one because he'd gotten so tall? So heavy?" Immediate laughter from everyone—Merce was the only one not intimate with this story. "A friend of the family wanted the bed for one of his younger kids. He was a respected member of the PTA…"

"Aw, you act like he was the frickin' preacher or something," Sam protested.

"And when they pulled off the mattress, Sam's private library of porn was exposed for all eyes to see," Donna said, and everyone howled.

"I'd been raising girls," Dwight said. "I completely forgot what boys were doing when they were supposed to be doing homework."

"At least it was good, solid, decent girlie magazines and not pictures of women in bras from Sears catalog," Sam said in his defense. "Fine, upstanding, naked women who were working for a living!"

"Here, here," the brothers-in-law intoned.

"You know," Merce said, "I've noticed there's only one bathroom besides the master bath in this house…"

Immediate noise erupted—shouts, laughter, whistles, jeering. "We used to have the biggest fights over the bathroom," one of the women said.

"I wasn't in that," Sam insisted.

"You were the worst!" it was accused.

"Plus, when he got the bathroom, he'd stay in there for hours! He wouldn't give it up until all the hot water was gone!"

"Mom had to give him a timer for his shower—so the rest of us could get clean, too. Of course, he just ignored it. And Mom would say, now, now, I know Sam's trying. Because Sam was her little precious mama's boy."

"I started showering at night—it was the only way," Donna said.

"Speaking of nights—do you know what he used to do to us at night? Mary and I had the same bedroom, and it was crammed to the ceiling with our stuff. Sam and one of his friends used to sneak in when we were asleep and tie strings to our fingers and toes and connect the strings to stuff around the room, so when we turned over in our sleep—everything came crashing down around us!"

"That's nothing," Jeannie said. "I used to come home from school and find all my stuffed animals missing body parts sometimes!"

"They act like they never did anything to me," Sam said.

"Do you remember the time we were all in the family room, all five of us, and Mom came into the room with a bunch of condoms in her hand and said, 'Guess what I found floating in the washer? Sam, I imagine these must belong to you.'"

Wild laughter erupted and Sam got all stirred up.

"Yeah, but they weren't mine, were they? Because mine were right where I'd left them! I suspect they belonged to Donna!"

"I believed in practicing safe sex," Donna declared.

"Mom would never have believed it—Donna was her other pride and joy!"

"Donna was screwing around all over town!"

"I can't take these stories," Dwight said, standing up and going for a beer, making them all laugh.

"It's okay, Dad," Donna yelled. "I don't need birth control anymore because I am going through menopause!"

When it was time to clean up and the sun had set, the men went off somewhere and three of the sisters insisted that the birthday girl and the guest relax while they did the work. Merce was left with Brie. They sat at the patio table by candlelight.

"My brother has never brought a woman home before," Brie said.

"After watching him with his family—all these females—it's so hard not to imagine why. He's completely comfortable with women. He should have been married years ago. He should have a big family of his own," Merce said.

"It just never happened," Brie put in. "I blame it on the marines."

"When I first met him, I asked him if he'd ever been married and he said, 'I was married to the marines, and she was a real bitch.'" Brie laughed. "Have you visited him in Lima River?" Merce asked her.

"Not en masse," she said. "But we've all gotten up there at one time or another. The guys like to fish with Sam and Preacher. Dad will go up there for as long as a couple of weeks at a time—he loves that little bar of Sam's."

"Sam seems to have found his niche, his happy place," Merce said. "I've only been there a little over four months, and my adjustment hasn't been that easy. I'm used to big-city medicine where you can get anything you want, when you want it. This is a whole new game. And I had to drive for two hours to get a decent hairdo that will be low maintenance enough and lasting."

"What made you choose Lima River?" Brie asked her.

"Hmm. The flip side of big-city medicine—I'd had it with the chaos and crime. As I told Sam, I left the E.R. not just because I felt drawn to midwifery, but I thought I could get away from it, but then the pandemic hit." She chuckled. "I was looking for something smaller and simpler." She laughed. "I got smaller, but simpler? Little towns like Lima River have their own challenges."

"Like?"

"Like how about loading a critical patient in the back of a pickup truck and speeding down the mountain, hanging on for dear life, trying to get her to the hospital before she goes into cardiac arrest. Did I ever lust after that big, chaotic emergency room that day. And there's always the adventure of having your services requested by a big, gun-toting drug farmer in the middle of the night… Um, if you tell Sam that version of the story, there's going to be a scene."

Brie laughed. "He doesn't know?"

"Not some of the details. He was very pissed that I went alone to an unknown location with a man who was basically a stranger."

"Holy smoke."

"Yeah, well, it's a good thing I did. There were complications with the delivery. But I don't think that will cheer up Sam too much." She shrugged. "Sam's protective. Of everyone."

"Have you found your niche?" Brie asked.

"I didn't realize I could get by on so little. Live so simply. There's something about that… It's freeing, in a way. And there's no question, it's beautiful. Sometimes it's so quiet, your ears ring. But when I first got there, I thought I'd really screwed up big time—it was so much more rugged and isolated than I expected. The mountain roads terrified me, and Doc and I managed in that clinic with the most rudimentary equipment. The cabin I was promised, rent free for a year, was horrible. In fact, my first morning there the porch collapsed and dumped me into a deep, freezing mud puddle. The cabin was so filthy, I was on my way out of town—running for my life—when a medical emergency stopped me and I reluctantly stayed a few days that turned into a couple of weeks."

"That turned into some months…" Brie observed.

"Sam renovated the cabin without being asked, while I stayed at Doc's house," Merce said. "About the time I was going to make a break for it, he showed it to me. I said I'd give it a few more days. Then my first delivery occurred, and I realized I should give the place a chance. There's something about a successful delivery in a place like Lima River where there's no backup, no anesthesia… Just me and the mother… It's indescribable."

"Then there's Sam," Brie said.

"Sam," Merce repeated. "I don't know when I've met a kinder, stronger, more generous man. Your brother is wonderful, Brie. He's amazing. Everyone in Lima River loves him."

"My brother is in love with you," Brie said.

Merce shouldn't have been shocked. Although he hadn't said the words, she already knew it. Felt it. At first she thought he was just a remarkable lover, but soon she realized that he couldn't touch her that way without an emotional investment, as well as a physical one. He gave her everything he had—and not just in the bedroom. It was in her mind to tell Brie—I'm a recent widow! I need time to digest this! I don't feel free yet—free to accept another man's love! Her cheeks grew warm and instead she said nothing.

"I realize I'm biased, but when a man like Sam loves a woman and brings her to meet us, it's a great honor."

"I agree," Merce said quietly.

Late, in the dark of night, as he held her in his arms in the bed in his father's house, she said, "You have the most wonderful family."

"They love you, too."

"It was such fun watching you all together. They're ruthless—you don't have a secret left!" And she laughed.

"I told you. No slack here."

"But what fun, to have all that history, all those hysterical stories."

"Oh—I listened to you and Janey for a few days. You didn't grow up deprived." He kissed her neck. "I'm just glad you had fun. I knew you would." He kissed her neck again, nuzzling closer.

"Your sisters are all so put together," she said. "Very classy, very sharp. I used to dress like that, before I moved to a place where you're overdressed in good jeans. You should have seen my closet in L.A.—it was huge, and bulging."

He pulled the T-shirt she wore up and over her head. "I like what you're wearing right now. In fact, I find you overdressed in this thong."

"Sam, I thought we decided, we're not going to do it in your father's house…"

"No, you said you weren't going to." He slipped the thong down. "I'm thinking of going after that G-spot again and have you squirting over me drenching me in your heat…"

"Oh, God," she said, weakening. "We shouldn't. You know how loud we get…"

He rose above her and grinned into her eyes. "Want me to get a sock for your mouth?"

Bree Sterling delivered her son at the end of September—a robust eight-pounder. She went to Valley Hospital, had a stunning delivery and was home in Grace Valley in forty-eight hours. It was in Merce's mind to give her some time alone with her baby, but both Jeff and Quinn called and urged her to come the next Sunday afternoon, even though the baby was not yet a week old.

Sam would not be left behind. He brought the drinks and cigars.

Bree was very fit for a woman who had just delivered, but still she stayed on the couch, bassinet nearby, and let her friends fuss over her. In typical country fashion, women brought food so that the new parents wouldn't have to be bothered with cooking. Merce was surprised to see such an air of celebration and atmosphere of an open house so soon after bringing a baby home.

There was another couple present, a very pregnant lady named Sunshine there with her husband Nick. Jeff dropped an arm around Sunshine's shoulders and said to Merce, "This one is legendary—she could never seem to wait for the doctor. Quinn and I finally got to attend one of her births—it was the last baby, and it was sheer luck. She delivers with about fifteen minutes notice. This is number six. We're going to admit her tomorrow and induce her."

"Don't let the baby hear you say that," Sunshine said. "You know what always happens."

"Maybe we should go over there right now?"

"Maybe you should strap yourself to me and keep one hand on my stomach."

The women gathered in the living room around Bree with cups of coffee and cake. Jeff plucked the baby out of his bassinet to show him off. As Artie already had baby AJ in his arms, Jeff offered the baby to Sam. And he willingly, happily took him into his arms. He cooed at the little bundle.

Merce's eyes warmed as she watched him.

"You're pretty good at that for a bachelor," Jeff said appreciatively.

"Nieces," he said.

"Eight of them," Merce added.

Sam jiggled and the baby sent up a loud wail. "I guess you're not as good as I thought," Jeff said.

"Sam did fine. He's just hungry," Bree said, reaching for the baby.

"Okay—there's going to be breast-feeding," Jeff announced. "We should find something to do."

Sam pulled cigars out of his breast pocket and immediately a very grateful hum of approval sounded. Artie handed AJ off to Quinn and left the women and babies in the house to go outside and indulge.

"They're going to stink," Sunshine said.

"To high heaven," Quinn agreed.

"At least they're out of our hair." Bree settled the newborn onto her breast and Merce watched with longing. "Merce," she said. "How'd it go in Sacramento? With Sam's family?"

"Oh, they're fantastic," she said, coming back to herself again. "Four sisters who tell every secret he'd ever dream of keeping, and eight nieces, all beautiful, all in love with their uncle Sam. It was delightful. So, Bree—how was your labor? Back labor, like you predicted?"

"Epidural," she said with a grin. "Piece of cake."

"I've never had time for one of those," Sunshine said somewhat wistfully, smoothing a hand over her round tummy.

"You and Sunshine are awful close to the same due date," Merce observed.

They all laughed. "I might've neglected to mention—the big fight Jeff and I had before this little conception? It happened after a night of cards with Sunshine and Nick."

"We were both so furious with our husbands—they had both been banished. Apparently we let them both into bed at about the same time." More laughter. Sunshine rubbed her swollen tummy. "I meant to stop doing this…"

"What in the world happened?" Merce wanted to know.

"Long story short—they had a couple of beers and started in on working women of all things. Neither of their mothers worked outside the home. I wanted to work alongside Jeff and Quinn in the clinic, but Jeff wanted me to stay home, mind my own business and be a housewife. And make sure he had one of those solid country meals in front of him when he got home. Now, I come from the part of the world where a salad with some chicken strips is the best I am at preparing. I don't cook."

"Nick, on the other hand, thought it was wonderful that I didn't work. With five kids and a farmhouse to run," Sunshine said. "Not realizing that a working mother is the hardest job there is especially with so many kids to manage."

"Oh, brother," Merce said.

"They were made to suffer very appropriately," Quinn put in. "No conversation, no sex. Perfect discipline for the idiots."

"How'd it turn out?" Merce asked.

"Well, when I'm not nine months pregnant or postpartum and nursing, I run the clinic."

"And very well, at that."

"But a side effect was… Well, as you can plainly see—we had been knocked up. You might not want to drink the water around here," Bree advised.

"No kidding," said Quinn, propping AJ on her shoulder.

I already drank the water, Merce almost said.

Nursing done, Bree passed the baby to Merce. She smiled gratefully and took the little guy. His rosy round face was content in sleep; little baby noises escaped him.

The women talked about their labors, about their men, and they brought Merce into the conversation very well with questions about her midwifery experiences. Quinn went to the kitchen for the coffee pot and refilled them all while Merce happily cuddled with the newborn. Her breasts actually ached as she held him. Hormones are amazing, she found herself thinking.

On the way back to Lima River, Sam said, "Your friends threw a nice little party."

"Didn't they?" she replied, reaching across the truck's front seat to hold his hand.

"All these babies," Sam said. "Everywhere you look."

"Everywhere."

He pulled up in front of her cabin. "I'll shower off the cigars," he said.

"Thanks," she answered. "It actually makes me a little nauseous."

"I'm sorry, honey. I didn't realize."

"No big deal. But I'll be glad to loan you the shower. And meet you in the bed. I'm suddenly very exhausted."