A Virgin River Novel

He plucked a denim jacket off the peg and shrugged into it. He picked up the plate and said, “Come on,” and walked into the bar. He put the plate down in front of a man who sat at the bar, quickly refilled the man’s coffee and said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Here’s the pot. Jack’s out back if you need anything.”

Paige stole a look out the back door window where she saw a man in jeans and a plaid flannel shirt hefting an ax over his head and bringing it down to split a log. That had been what woke her. She took note of the muscular shoulders and broad back—not as pronounced as John’s, but still impressive.

Wes was not nearly as big as either of these men; he was about six feet and in good shape, but as for muscles, nothing by comparison, even with his chemical assistance. If John raised a fist to a woman the way Wes had done, she wouldn’t live to tell about it. She shuddered involuntarily.

“Look, Mommy,” Chris said, pointing to the mounted stag’s head over the door.

“I see. Wow.” The place did look like a hunting lodge.

John stuck his head out the back door and yelled, “Jack! I’m walking over to Doc’s. Be right back.”

Then he turned toward her and gave a nod. He opened the door for her to follow him outside. “How’s he feeling this morning?” he asked.

“He ate breakfast. That’s good.”

“That’s good,” John agreed. “The fever?” he whispered.

“I don’t have a thermometer with me, so I’m not sure. He feels a little warm.”

“Good to let Mel check, then,” he said, walking alongside her but careful not to get too close. She held her son’s hand, but Preacher put his in his pockets. He glanced at the boy; the boy glanced around his mother at him. They eyed each other warily. “It’ll be okay,” he said to her. “Mel’s the best. You’ll see.”

Paige looked up at him, smiled sweetly, and it made him feel all soupy inside. Her eyes were so sad, so scared. She couldn’t help it, he understood that. If it weren’t for the fear, he might actually take her hand to give her courage—but she wasn’t just afraid of whoever did that to her. She was afraid of everything, including him. “Don’t be nervous,” he said to her. “Mel’s very kind.”

“I’m not nervous,” she said.

“After I introduce you, I’ll go back over there. Unless you want me to stay? In case you need me for anything?”

“I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

Melinda sat on Doc’s front steps with her morning coffee, listening to the loud crack of Jack’s ax as he split logs. He had called her when he got to the bar and said, “Put a wiggle in it, babe. Preacher’s got a patient for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” she asked.

“Some woman stumbled into the bar last night during the storm and he put her up for the night. Says she’s got a kid who might be feverish. And he also said he thinks she might be in trouble…”

“Oh? What kind of trouble?” Mel asked.

“No idea,” he said. “I haven’t even seen her yet. He gave her his old room, upstairs.”

“Okay, I’ll be along shortly.” Out of instinct, she put her digital camera in her bag. Now, watching the front of the bar, she saw something she had never expected to see. Preacher held the door for a woman and a child and walked them across the street. He seemed to be talking to her in soft tones, leaning close, a concerned look on his face. Amazing. Preacher was a man of so few words. Mel thought she remembered being in town for a month before he said ten words in a row to her. For him to take in a stranger like this was both very like him, yet so unprecedented.

As they neared, Mel stood up. The woman appeared to be in her twenties with a dark stain on her cheek that she’d tried to cover with makeup. She couldn’t cover the split lip, however. There’s the trouble Preacher had seen. It made Mel wince. But she smiled and said, “Hi. Mel Sheridan.”

She faltered. “Paige,” she finally said, then looked over her shoulder nervously.

“It’s okay, Paige,” Preacher said. “You’re safe with Mel. Everything with her is top secret. She’s ridiculous about it.”

Mel laughed as if amused. “No, I’m not ridiculous. This is a doctor’s office, a medical clinic. We’re confidential, that’s all. It’s very simple. Standard.” She reached out to shake Paige’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Paige.”

Paige took the offered hand and looked over her shoulder at Preacher. “Thank you, John.”

“John?” Mel asked. She laughed lightly. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone call you John.” She tilted her head a bit. “Kind of nice. John.” Then she said, “Come with me, Paige.” And she led the way.

Inside the house they passed by Doc, who sat at the reception desk behind a computer. He looked up briefly, gave a nod, then went back to his work. “That’s Doc Mullins,” Mel said. “This way.” She opened an exam room door and let Paige precede her into the room. She closed the door and said, “I’m a nurse practitioner and midwife, Paige. I can have a look at your son if you’d like. Now, I understand you suspect a fever?”

“He’s kind of warm. Not too much energy…”

“Let’s have a look,” Mel said, briskly taking charge. She bent down and asked the little boy if he’d been to the doctor before. She hefted him up on the exam table, showed him the digital thermometer and asked him if he knew what to do with that. He pointed to his ear and Mel laughed happily. “You’re an expert at this,” she said. She picked up the stethoscope and asked, “Mind if I listen to your heart?” He shook his head. “I’ll try not to tickle, but it’s hard for me, because tickling is kind of fun—I just love hearing the giggles.” On cue, he laughed, though softly. Mel let him listen to his own heart, then hers. She palpated his lymph nodes while he listened to his chest, his leg, his hand. She looked in his ears and throat, and by the time she’d gotten that far he was already getting comfortable with her.

“I think he might have a little virus—doesn’t seem to be too serious. His temp is only a hundred. Have you given him anything?”

“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.”

“I was trying to get away,” she said with a sniff of emotion she was trying desperately to contain. “Then I got lost, Chris wasn’t feeling good, I’m so sore I could hardly drive another minute…”

“Where are you headed?” Mel asked.

Paige hung her head, shaking it, and said, “To a friend he doesn’t know about.”

“Stay here a few days. Let’s see how you’re doing before—”

Her eyes shot to Mel’s. “I can’t! I’m in a hurry now! I’m already behind schedule! I have to—” She stopped suddenly. She seemed to gather herself up and try to speak with composure. “I have to get where I’m going before he can report me missing. Before my car is being—”

“No, you’re okay,” Mel said calmly. “It’s okay, Paige. Leave your car behind the bar, out of sight. When it’s time to go, take a butter knife out of the kitchen, to loosen the screws on the license plate holders. Switch plates with someone. If you don’t speed, drive erratically or get in an accident, no reason for a highway patrolman to run your plates.” She shrugged. “No one around here will notice switched plates for weeks. Months. I’d never even look.”

While Mel spoke, Paige stared into her eyes and her mouth dropped open slightly in surprise. “Did you just suggest I steal someone’s…?”

Mel smiled. “Oh! Did I use my outside voice? I should watch that…”

“You act like you know…”

“Let’s not talk about what you’re doing,” Mel said. “I did a little community service in a shelter once. It killed me,” she said. “It tore me up. But I learned a couple of things. Just let me say this—it’s worse if you rush. If you hurry. You might drive too fast, drive too sore or tired. Take a few days, heal a little, let the boy’s fever go down. Then do it smart. Wherever you’re going—it’ll be there in a few days or a couple of weeks. You’re hurt.”

“What if he finds me here…?”

“Oh, my Lord, if he finds you here, I seriously don’t like his chances.”

“He has a gun, too. Though he’s always kept it locked up.”

“Handgun?” Mel asked, and Paige nodded. Mel actually heard herself let out a breath of relief. Mel, who had been so afraid of guns before coming to Virgin River. There weren’t many handguns here, but there were a lot of guns that could kill a bear with one shot. Or blow a man in half. “There is so much you don’t know about our men. Okay, with your permission, I’d like to take some pictures.”

“No!”

Mel touched her forearm. “Just as a record, Paige. I promise you, what happens to them will be entirely up to you, but we should have a record for your use, in case you decide you need it. I’m not going to ask your last name or where you came from, all right? I’ll make up a chart without a last name but I’ll date it. I’ll take some pictures with a digital camera. And if you can be convinced to stay put for a day or two, I’d like to take you to Grace Valley for an ultrasound—see how that baby’s doing. Just stay long enough to be sure your injuries aren’t any more serious than I can tell from this exam. By now you know—while you’re under Preacher’s care, no one can hurt you.”

“He said… John said I could stay a couple of days. But he’s…”

“He’s what?” Mel asked, frowning.

“He’s a little scary.”

Mel chuckled. “No, he’s a lot scary. Looking. First time I saw him, I was afraid to move. But he’s been my husband’s best friend for something like fifteen years now, his partner in that bar for more than two. He’s gentle as a lamb. He takes a little getting used to…. But he’s so good,” she added softly. “His heart. It’s so big. As big as he is.”

“I don’t know…”

“You could come out to our place,” Mel offered. “We could find another bed. Or stay here in the clinic. We have two hospital beds upstairs for patients. But Preacher can protect you better than Doc or I can, I guarantee that. Whatever you decide—just so you’re comfortable. Now, I’m going to slip the gown off your shoulder a little bit,” Mel said, pulling the camera out of her shirt pocket. “We’ll make this as painless as possible.” She pulled the gown off her shoulder slightly. “There we go,” she said softly, snapping. She put the gown back up. Then she went to the other shoulder, slowly, gently, quickly getting the picture. One body part at a time; her back, her thighs, her arms, her chest above her breasts. Last, her face, and in that picture, Paige’s eyes were closed.

After the pictures were taken, Mel asked for a complete medical history. “But with no last name. It’s only for medical purposes, so you can be treated if it becomes necessary. After we’re done, you should lie down. Where would you like to go?”

“What about Christopher?”

“Maybe he’ll nap a little bit. Or we can keep an eye on him. Between us—my husband, me, Preacher, Doc—we can keep him occupied. Girl,” she said, “you have no idea what a piece of luck it was that you stumbled into Virgin River. This place doesn’t have so much by way of technology or shopping, but you won’t find a town with more heart.” She smiled. “Or better food.”

“I don’t want to burden my problems on this little town,” she said miserably.

“Well,” Mel said, gently touching her hand, “you would hardly be the first.”

Three

Jack was behind the bar having coffee while one of his breakfast regulars was eating when Paige and Christopher came in. Paige stopped inside the door, looking across the room tentatively. Jack gave a small smile and a nod. “Preacher’s in the kitchen,” he said.

She looked down as she walked past him into the kitchen. Jack gave her a few minutes, refilled Harv’s cup, then went to the kitchen. Preacher was alone; he’d just lifted a rack of glasses out of the dishwasher. “If you say it’s okay, she’s going to stay a couple of days. Till the kid feels better,” Preacher said.

“Is that all it is?” Jack asked. “She in some trouble?”

Preacher shrugged and put the rack on the counter.

“You don’t know her, Preacher. Don’t know who did that to her face.”

“I’m not worried about who,” he said. “Jesus. I’d love to see who.”

“If you want her to stay, she stays. I’m just saying…”

“This is your place,” Preacher said.

“Do I make you feel like that? That it’s my place? Because—”

“Nah,” Preacher said. “You’re good that way, even if it really is your place. I just don’t want you to make her… them… feel bad about it.”

“I won’t do that. Don’t screw with me. You know I consider us partners. This is your place, too. That’s your room.”

“Okay, then.” Preacher took the rack of glasses out to the bar.

Jack followed. “If you’re okay here, I’m going to step out.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll be right back,” Jack said.

Jack walked across the street to Doc’s. There were no patients, but Doc and Mel were inside the front door where, behind the reception counter, Doc was sitting at the desk, eyes focused on the computer.

Mel stood behind Doc, her hand on his shoulder. She looked up when Jack entered and inclined her head slightly, indicating he should come behind the counter. Her eyes were so troubled and angry, he went toward them. Mel glanced back at the computer screen.

Jack had never done anything like this before; Mel had never pulled him into her medical business, even though confidentiality was as safe with Jack as with either of them. She didn’t confide medical issues with her husband because that was an ethic she was firm about.

There on the screen were the pictures from the digital. Paige’s battered body was on display in many different angles. The bruises were astonishingly bad. If he saw bruises like that on Mel, it would be impossible for him to keep from killing someone.

“Good God,” he said in a breath. He wondered if Preacher knew there was a lot more to his houseguest than a little bruise on her cheek.

Mel looked up at her husband and saw the grim set of his jaw, the pulsing of a vein in his temple. His narrow eyes. “This goes no further,” she said.

“Of course not.”

“Do you understand why you’re standing here, looking at this with us?”

“I think so. She’s at the bar. Preacher wants her to stay.”

“Well, you should know, I told her she could stay with us if she wanted to. I think she feels okay at your bar, especially since I vouched for Preacher. We have to get her some help or this beast will kill her.”

“Of course. You think Preach knows how bad this is?”

“I have no idea. I’m not sharing this with him, but you need to know what’s going on if she’s under your roof.”

“Our roof,” he said. Mel and the baby—they were his life. He couldn’t imagine laying anything but a loving hand on her. “You know anything about her? Because I don’t want Preacher getting used. Or hurt.”

Mel shrugged. “I don’t even know where she came from. But I don’t think Preacher’s the one you have to worry about at the moment.”

“He’s already caught up in this. Taking it on.”

“Well, good for him. She needs someone to take this on. And Preacher can take care of himself.”

“Yeah, we just went over that.”

Mel leaned against Jack and he put his arm around her. “I’ve never seen anything like it, and I’ve seen a lot,” she said in a breath. “This is one dangerous son of a bitch.”

“I don’t want you in over your head, either,” he said.

“Save it. I have a job to do.”

“This is really bad, Mel,” he said.

“Even more reason why I’d better do my job.”

Preacher was surprised that Paige came back from Mel deciding to stay a couple of days. She seemed so hell-bent to take off. She took Christopher upstairs in the morning and there hadn’t been a sound from up there. They missed lunch altogether. But, he reasoned, if the kid didn’t feel good, maybe he’d sleep extra long, which would give his banged-up mother a needed rest.

During the quiet of the afternoon was when he usually got dinner ready, but today he got out one of his older cookbooks. He had great admiration for Martha Stewart, even though most of her recipes were too fussy for a bar. But he liked the real old-fashioned ones—old Betty Crocker, Julia Child—before everyone started eating light and watching their cholesterol.