Shelter Mountain. Robyn Carr

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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

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