Robyn Carr - Whispering Rock

Mike had a quiet dinner with Sam, Jack and Mel.

“You should probably head for L.A.,” Jack said to Mike when the table was cleared.

“Whatever.” He shrugged. “I can stay a day or so, see if anything develops.”

“I don’t want to hold you up,” Jack said. Then he walked out onto the patio and Mike followed. “I can call you if anything happens.”

Sam came outside holding a tray with three glasses. There was a short shot of amber liquid in each and he put the tray on the patio table. Without conversation, the men each took one, sipping in silence. The June air was sultry in the Sacramento valley, humid and almost oppressive. After a few minutes Sam got up and said good-night. Then Jack finished his drink and went into the house. One by one, the lights inside began to go out, leaving only the kitchen light for Mike. Exhausted as he was, he didn’t feel like sleep. He helped himself to another short shot and went back to the patio, lighting the candle on the table.

The whole family is in shock, he thought. They move around silently; they grieve Brie’s lost innocence. Everyone under this roof is in terrible pain; they feel each physical blow for which she bears the marks.

“You should probably go now.”

He lifted his head and saw Brie standing in the open patio doors, wearing the same clothes she had worn home from the hospital. “Brie,” he said, rising.

“I’ve talked to the detectives several times. Jerome Powell, the rapist, was tracked as far as New Mexico, then the trail was lost,” she said, very businesslike. “I can tell you from experience, the odds are at least ninety-five percent he’s gone—pulled a territorial. I’m going to start counseling and group therapy right away—and I’ve decided not to go back to work for a while. Jack and Mel insist on staying the rest of the week, but you should go. Visit your family.”

“Would you like to come and sit with me?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I’ll talk to the D.A. every day, see if he turns up anything new. Of course I’m staying here. If I need any assistance in the police department, I have an ex-husband who’s feeling very guilty. And very helpful.” She took a breath. “I wanted to say goodbye. And to thank you for trying to help.”

“Brie,” he said, taking a step toward her, his arms open.

She held up a hand, and the look that came into her eyes stopped him where he was. She shook her head, kept her hand raised against him. “You understand,” she said, warning him not to get too close, not to touch her.

“Of course,” he said.

“Drive carefully,” she said, disappearing into the house.

One week later Mel and Jack returned to Virgin River to resume their routine. Mel went into Doc’s every morning, the baby with her for the day. If something urgent came up, she could always take the baby over to Jack at the bar, or if Jack wasn’t there, Paige or Preacher or Mike were more than willing to babysit. For the most part, David could be counted on to remain content for the half hour or so Mel needed to see a patient as long as she had the bouncy seat with her and he was neither hungry nor dirty. He still took two long naps a day—one in the morning and one in the afternoon.

Mel had been back from Sacramento less than two weeks when a teenage girl from Virgin River came to Doc’s and asked to see her. Carra Jean Winslow was fifteen and Mel had never seen her before. In fact, even though Mel had lived and worked in Virgin River for just over a year, she didn’t know the girl’s parents. Taking note of her age and obvious anxiety, Mel took her to an examining room before asking her what she needed. When a fifteen-year-old girl who didn’t cough or wheeze or bring her parents came in to see the nurse midwife, the possibilities seemed pretty limited and obvious.

“I heard there was a pill that could keep you from getting pregnant if, you know, you had sex,” she said. She said it very quietly, looking at her feet.

“Emergency birth control. But it’s only effective if the intercourse has been very recent.”

“Two nights ago,” she said weakly.

“That’s recent enough,” Mel said, trying to put her at ease with a smile. “Any problems? Pain? Bleeding? Anything?”

“Bleeding. There was some bleeding.”

“First time?” Mel asked, smiling kindly. The girl nodded. “Have you ever had an internal exam before?”

She shook her head and looked down again.

“I’d like to check you, make sure everything is okay. It’s not as terrible as you think,” Mel said, touching her arm gently. “How much bleeding?”

“Not too much. A little. Getting better.”

“How do you feel? There?”

She shrugged and said, “Still a little sore. Not bad.”

“That’s good. I assume, if you’re interested in emergency contraception, you didn’t use a condom….”

“No,” Carra answered.

“Okay, we can handle this. Can I get you to undress and put on a gown for me?”

“My mom. No one knows I’m here.”

“That’s all right, Carra. This is between you and me. I’m only interested in your health. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Everything off, just the gown.”

Poor thing, Mel thought. She ached for young girls who had just stumbled into this sort of thing without planning, without being sure. And that described almost all young girls. But at least she was here, avoiding yet another disaster. She gave Carra plenty of time to get undressed, but didn’t leave her waiting long enough to tangle up her nerves, then returned to the exam room.

“Let’s get a blood pressure and listen to your heart first,” she said briskly.

“I have to pay you myself,” Carra said. “I don’t want my parents to know about this.”

“Carra, confidentiality is important in this office—you can trust that,” she said. “This is all going to work out.” She applied the blood pressure cuff, noting there were a few small bruises on the girl’s upper arm. “You have a couple of bruises here,” she said.

“It’s nothing. It was … volleyball. It can get a little rough sometimes.”

“Looks like someone grabbed you,” Mel suggested.

The girl shrugged. “It happens.”

Mel got the blood pressure, which was normal. She listened to Carra’s heart, looked in her eyes, checked her pupils. Except for the nervous pounding of her heart, she seemed to be in good shape. She showed her the speculum, explained the procedure and eased her carefully into position for the pelvic. “Nice and slow, feet right here, slide down for me. That’s it. Try to relax, your knees apart, honey. Thank you. This isn’t going to be bad at all, so take some deep breaths and try to relax.”

“Okay,” she said, and began to softly cry.

“No crying now,” Mel said gently. “Everything is going to be all right, because you came to see me right away.” She gently parted the girl’s knees and was frozen. Her labia were bruised and swollen; there were bruises on the insides of her thighs that bore a striking resemblance to the bruises on the girl’s upper arm. An unmistakable thumbprint and fingers. Oh, God damn. Mel stood from her stool and looked over the drape at Carra’s face. “Carra, I can see that you’re very sore. Bruised and swollen and a little torn. I’d like to proceed, take a closer look to be sure everything is all right. But only if you’re up to it. Are you okay?”

She pinched her eyes closed, but nodded.

“I’ll be as gentle as I can,” Mel said. She put on her gloves but set the speculum aside. “I’m just going to check your vagina and uterus, Carra—I’m not going to use the speculum because you’re sore. I’d like you to take a deep breath for me, then let it out slowly. That’s it,” she said. “It’ll just take a minute. Don’t clench. Relax your muscles, Carra. There you go, very good. Tell me, does this pressure hurt?”