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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.