Robyn Carr - Shelter Mountain

“Children’s Tylenol, last night.”

“Ah, then he’s in pretty good shape. His throat looks a little red. Keep up the Tylenol, lots of fluids. I don’t think you have to worry. If he gets worse, of course…”

“Then it’s safe to just keep driving…?”

Mel shrugged. “I don’t know, Paige. Want to talk about you? I’m here to help, if I can.”

Her gaze instantly dropped and that was really all it took. Mel knew where this was going. She’d spent years in a big-city emergency room, and had seen more than her share of battery victims. The bruise on the young woman’s face, the split lip, the fact that she wanted to keep driving… away…

Paige lifted her gaze. “I’m a little pregnant. And spotting.”

“And a couple of bruises?” Mel asked.

Paige averted her gaze and nodded.

“Okay. Would you like me to have a look?”

Paige looked down. “Please,” she said softly. “But what about Chris?”

“Oh, not to worry. I’ve got that covered.” She bent at the waist and smiled into Christopher’s handsome brown eyes. “You like to color, buddy? Because I have a ton of coloring books and crayons.” He nodded shyly. “Good. Come with me.” She helped the little guy down off the exam table and with the other hand, pulled a gown out of the cabinet and handed it to Paige. “Why don’t you put on this gown. I’ll give you a few minutes. And try not to be afraid. I’ll go slow, be gentle.”

“Um… Are you leaving him alone?” Paige asked.

“More or less.” Mel laughed. “I’m leaving him with Doc.”

“He seems a little… shy… around men.”

“It’ll be fine. Doc’s good with kids, especially the shy ones. He’ll just make sure this guy doesn’t do surgery or run away. Beyond that, it’s just coloring. At the kitchen table.”

“If you’re sure…”

“We do it all the time, Paige. It’ll be okay. Try not to worry.”

Mel took Christopher to the kitchen, and after setting him up with coloring books and crayons, she refilled her coffee. Decaf. She wasn’t enjoying coffee nearly as much these days. Then she went to the office and got out a new patient form. Given the situation she believed she faced, she would examine the patient first before frightening her with paperwork. Clipboard in hand, she asked Doc to keep an eye on the child in the kitchen while she performed a pelvic.

Being a few months pregnant herself, Mel had a sick feeling at the thought of anyone hitting a pregnant woman. It never ceased to amaze her that a man could live with himself after doing something like that. Forms on her clipboard, her small digital camera in her shirt pocket, stethoscope around her neck, coffee in hand, she tapped on the door and heard Paige softly say, “Come in.”

She put the clipboard and her coffee on the counter and said, “Okay, then… Let’s get your blood pressure first.” She picked up the blood pressure cuff and went to apply it to Paige’s arm and was frozen. There was a huge hematoma that covered much of her upper arm.

Mel put the cuff aside and gently pulled the gown away from Paige’s back; she had to concentrate not to gasp. She pulled the gown over Paige’s shoulder, down her arm, exposing the bruises on her back, arm, chest. She carefully lifted the gown at the bottom, exposing her thighs. More bruises. She looked at the girl’s face. Tears glistened on her cheeks. “Paige,” Mel said in a whisper. “My God…”

Paige put her hands over her face. Shame at having let it happen.

“Have you been raped?” Mel asked gently.

She shook her head, tears flowing. “No.”

“Who did this to you?” she asked. Paige just closed her eyes and shook her head. “It’s okay. You’re safe right now.”

“My husband,” she answered in a whisper.

“And you’re running away from him?”

She nodded.

“Here, let me help you lie down, slowly. Carefully… Are you all right?” Paige nodded, not making eye contact, and reclined on the exam table. Mel gently moved the gown around. Her chest, breasts, arms, legs—all covered in bruises. Mel palpated her abdomen and Paige winced. “Does it hurt here? Here?” When Paige nodded or shook her head, Mel moved on. “Here? Here?” Mel gently rolled her from one side to the other—her buttocks were bruised, as were her lower back and upper thighs. “Any blood in your urine?” she asked, and Paige shrugged. She didn’t know. “The only way I can get a clean urine specimen if you’re spotting is with a catheter, Paige. Would you like me to do that? Just to be sure?”

“Oh, God. Do you have to?”

“It’s okay. Let’s check what we can, first. Any chance you’ve had an ultrasound with this pregnancy?”

“I haven’t even been to the doctor yet,” she said.

Another symptom, Mel thought. Battered women didn’t take care of themselves, or their pregnancies, out of fear.

Paige sucked on her sore bottom lip, staring at the ceiling through glassy eyes while Mel examined her. “Okay, let me help you sit up. Easy does it.” Mel listened to Paige’s heart, looked in her ears, checked her head for lumps and lacerations. “Well, Paige, you don’t appear to have broken bones. At least none that I can detect. I wouldn’t mind getting an X ray of your ribs, just to be sure, since you have some tenderness there, but with you being pregnant and all. Frankly, if it were up to me, I’d admit you to the hospital.”

“No. No hospitals. I can’t have any records of any kind…”

“I understand, but realize, this looks very scary. How heavy is the bleeding?”

“Not too bad. Less than, say, a period.”

“Okay, lie back and slide down. I’ll be as gentle as possible.”

When she was in the position, Mel pulled on her gloves and took her stool. She touched the inside of Paige’s thigh before touching her external genitalia. “I’m not going to use a speculum for this exam, Paige. Just a pelvic to estimate the size of the uterus. If you have any discomfort at all, please tell me.” She inserted two fingers, gently pressing down on her lower abdomen with the other hand. “Do you know how far along you are?”

“Just over eight weeks.”

“Okay. When we’re done here I’ll have you take a pregnancy test. If the fetus was still viable—alive—as of a day or so ago, it should come out positive, but it won’t tell us much about the past twenty-four hours, I’m afraid. I don’t have an ultrasound, but there’s one a couple of towns over that we use when necessary. But. One thing at a time. Uterus is normal for an eight-week pregnancy.” Mel made a derisive sound. “Paige, you’ve been through such a lot.” She removed her gloves and offered her hand. “Can you sit up for me, please?”

Paige sat up and Mel took her stool, looking up into her eyes. “You’re how old?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“I understand how hard it is in situations like yours to get help, but I’m wondering if you tried to call the police.”

“I’ve done that,” she said very softly. “I’ve done everything. Police, restraining orders, shelters, moving out, counseling.” Then she laughed. “Counseling,” she said. “He had the counselor in love with him in five minutes.” She took a breath. “It didn’t go too well after that.”

“I understand completely.”

“He’s going to kill me one of these days. One of these days soon.”

“Has he threatened to kill you?”

“Oh, yes.” She looked down. “Oh, yes,” she said again, softly.

“How’d you find Virgin River?” Mel asked.

“I think… I got lost. I got off the highway looking for a place to stay, to eat. And I got lost. I was going to turn around when I saw the town, the bar.”

Mel took a breath. Time for a reality check. Not only was it hard for the battery victim to make charges stick if the police weren’t called to the scene right away, half the time the victim bailed the abuser out of jail in fear for her life. And it wasn’t an idle threat—abusers did kill their victims. All the time. “Paige, I worked in emergency medicine in Los Angeles before coming up here and, unfortunately, I have some experience with situations like yours. We have to get you some help.”