Whispering Rock
“I might come by for a beer,” Tommy said. “Let me think about it. I don’t know this Brendan guy.”
“He’s cool,” Jordan said. “He graduated a couple of years ago, and when his mom goes out of town, which she does a lot, the house is his. And if we get lucky, we can get lucky all night long, if you get my drift.”
“Oh, I get your drift,” he said. And he was thinking, you idiots. You don’t go banging the local girls who advertise they’re on the pill. He wasn’t stupid—that’s how you got stuff. Bad stuff. An image of telling his dad he had the drip sent shivers up his spine.
But he went. He popped the top on two beers, total, without finishing either one; he knew better than to drink anything out of a keg or punch bowl. There was a little pot floating around, though not everyone indulged. Tommy didn’t get near that shit. Too risky for a kid planning on West Point; too risky for a boy with a father like Walt, who would dismember him before killing him.
The girlfriend who was earmarked for Tom if he was interested was way too aggressive and ready for anything, and he just couldn’t see it. Plus, Jordan and Brendan were busy getting everyone as shit-faced as possible, as quickly as possible, and there was nothing quite as funny to watch—but inevitably boring. He finally slipped away about nine without anyone really noticing he was gone.
The next Monday morning at school Jordan excitedly asked, “Where’d you go, man?”
He shrugged. “I had to get home. My dad is pretty strict.”
“Yeah, but we had beer and girls!”
“I had a couple of beers,” he said. “And the girls. Well, I didn’t meet one I really liked.”
That made Jordan laugh almost hysterically. “Well, so what? You’re not …? You don’t still have your cherry, do you, man?”
In fact, he did. “‘Course not,” he said, because what do you say to something like that? Tom hadn’t made it with a girl, but not because he couldn’t. Because he was very careful and he and the last girlfriend back in D.C. had barely graduated to some petting before he moved away. He was in a desperate hurry to find a great girl, but she’d have to be a great girl, not just someone who’d put out. In fact, a girl who put out was kind of a put-off. And if he found a great girl, he was going to be a great guy to her, not someone out for himself.
“Come over after school,” Jordan said. “Maybe we can hook you up.”
“Listen, Jord, I know you’re just trying to be a good friend and get me laid, but how about you worry about you and I’ll take care of myself. Huh?”
“Aw, man, you don’t know what you’re missing!”
But Tom had seen the girls, the beer and pot, and he thought—actually, I think I do know what I’m missing. He hadn’t met anyone through Jordan who interested him. So far. “You take care of you—I’ll take care of me.”
Still, Jordan was one of the few friends he’d made. And Jordan loved coming out to the ranch and hanging around the horses sometimes. The general didn’t like him, but didn’t have a really good reason. Tom found himself a little torn—grateful to have a friend at all, but hopeful that someone a little more substantive would show up before too long.
A young man came into the bar and claimed a stool right in front of Jack. He was clearly under thirty. Jack eyed the polo shirt, khaki pants and loafers—not the mountain attire most commonly seen around here. This guy was not hunting, fishing or splitting logs. He gave the counter a wipe and said, “What can I get you?”
“How about a beer?”
“That’s our specialty,” Jack said, serving him up a cold draft. “Passing through?”
“No, as a matter of fact. At least I hope that’s a no—I just started teaching at Valley High School. I thought I’d get to know some of the folks around here.” He took a pull on his beer. “You have any high schoolers?”
“Brace yourself,” Jack said, lifting his coffee cup. “I have a new baby. By the time he gets to high school, I’ll have a walker.”
The young man laughed. He put out a hand. “Zach Hadley.”
“Jack Sheridan. Welcome aboard. How do you like it so far?”
“A little out of my experience, to tell you the truth. I’m used to a bigger school, city kids. But I wanted to give a rural community a try.” He grinned. “The kids find me real interesting—they laugh at my clothes.”
Jack grinned. “Lotta ranchers, farmers, vintners and that sort of thing around here. That, and hunting and fishing.” He nodded at the young man. “Not a lot of golf.”
“Is that what I look like? A golfer?” He chuckled. “Figures.”
Mel came into the bar, the baby on her hip. She passed the baby right across the bar to Jack. Jack hefted the baby and said, “Mr. Hadley, meet David, your future student.” David laughed, put a finger in his mouth and farted, bringing a big laugh out of Jack.
“Yeah, he’s just warming up. He’s going to be one of the fun ones, I can tell.”
Jack reached underneath the bar for the backpack. He very deftly slipped David into it and then the straps over his shoulders. “Mel,” he said, while getting David comfortable. “Meet Zach Hadley, new high school teacher in town.”
They shook hands and Zach explained he was renting a small place outside Clear River and was just getting around, meeting neighbors and parents of his kids. “Well, you’re here at the right time,” Mel said. “The locals will start turning out for a beer or cup of coffee.”
“Excellent,” he said. “Do you run this place with your husband?”
“No. I’m a nurse practitioner and midwife. I work across the street with Doc Mullins in his clinic.”
“Is that a fact?” he asked, intrigued.
“It’s a fact no one around here gives birth in daylight,” Jack said, serving his wife a short beer.
“My very able helper,” Mel said. “When I have a delivery at Doc’s, Jack usually sits up through the night in case I need him for anything.”
Mike came into the bar, took his place beside Mel. Jack introduced him as a former LAPD police officer who’d served with him in the Marine Corps. Next was Doc.
“You know, there’s a lot of interesting experience in this little bar. I bet it would be good for some of the kids to hear about your career choices. How about it?”
Mike said, “I’ve done that, actually.”
“You have? How’d it go?” Zach asked.
“Hmm,” he said, shaking his head. “They wanted to know two things—have I ever shot anyone and have I ever been shot. My answers were yes, and not yet. Shortly after that I was shot. I don’t think that’ll get the department any recruits.”
“I’d be happy to talk to the kids about birth control, sexually transmitted disease and sexual assault,” Mel said. “I’ve been looking for a way into the school—this is pretty conservative country.”
“Mel,” Jack said, “Zach was just saying he’s new and hopes he’s not just passing through.” Preacher came into the bar with a rack of clean glasses. “Preacher, meet Zach, new high school teacher in town. He’s looking for some volunteers to talk to his students about their career choices.”
“Hey, man,” Preacher said, shoving his rack under the bar, wiping a big meaty hand on his apron and sticking it out. “Nice to meet you.”
“You could talk about being a chef,” Jack said.
Preacher looked at Zach, smiled and said, “No way in hell. I barely talk to my own wife. Welcome to town.” Then he went straight back to the kitchen.
Zach leaned over the bar and looked past Mike and Mel to Doc. “Dr. Mullins?” he questioned hopefully.
Doc lifted his one whiskey of the day along with a bushy white eyebrow. He sipped, put the whiskey down and said, “In your dreams, young man.”
Zach picked up his beer and said, very good-naturedly, “That went well.”
“You know what you got yourself here, young man,” Jack said. “You got yourself an excellent place to have a beer.”
“How about you, Jack? You’d do it, right?”
“Sure, Zach. I’ll go tell the kids all the advantages of owning your very own bar. Right after that, Mel can teach them sexual responsibility. Kind of a little family business.”
“That’s it,” Zach said. “An excellent place to have a beer.”
Three
Sue and Doug Carpenter and Carrie and Fish Bristol—best couple friends—had been having an after-work beer at Jack’s a couple of times a week since he opened, so Mel knew them well. And Sue had called Mel to make an appointment for her sixteen-year-old daughter. On the phone she had said, “The girl is pregnant and we have to do something.” Well, this was Mel’s job—to give medical attention to pregnant women, whatever their age or marital status. And Sue was a bit put out that Mel insisted on seeing her patient alone first.
“What have we got, Brenda?” Mel asked, looking at the chart.
“I guess I’m pregnant,” she said. “Figures.”
Mel looked up from the chart. Brenda was a high school junior. From gossip between the Carpenters and Bristols at the bar, Mel had gathered that this girl was an honor student, cheerleader, student council officer—a leader. College bound; scholarship material. Nature certainly doesn’t discriminate, Mel thought. “Do you know how many periods you’ve missed?”
“Three. Can you get rid of it?”
Mel tilted her head, surprised by the caustic edge to the girl’s question. Brenda had always been soft-spoken, on the sweet side. The tragedy was usually that these young girls were ready to throw away their lives, their promising futures, based on some immature romance with a young boy. Didn’t sound as if Brenda was suffering from that syndrome. “You have lots of options, but first things first—how about I examine you to be sure that’s what’s going on.”
“Fine,” she said shortly. “Whatever.”
“Okay, let’s get you in this gown. Everything off. And I’ll be back. How’s that?”
Rather than answer, Brenda snatched the gown and didn’t even wait for Mel to leave before she began undressing.
Mel went to the kitchen, had a sip of her diet cola and ran this over in her mind. Maybe Brenda was just mad at her mother for finding out. Maybe the boy had taken off. Maybe a lot of things, she thought. She reminded herself to stick to the facts for now.
She gave Brenda a few minutes, knowing better than to stretch this out for too long. Brenda didn’t need to settle her nerves; she needed to get this over with.
“Have you had a pelvic before?” Mel asked her.
“No,” she said shortly. “Just do it.”
“Sure thing,” Mel said. “But let me get your blood pressure and listen to your heart first, if you don’t mind.”
“Whatever.”
“Brenda, excuse me, but are you angry with me?”
“I am angry in general,” she said.
Mel sat on her stool and looked up at the girl. “Because …?”
“Because this sucks.”
“Well, people make mistakes. You’re human …”
“Yeah? I could live with that if I knew I was making a mistake!”
“Okay, let’s back up a little. Want to tell me about it?”
“Why bother? Do it, okay? You’ll just think I’m as stupid as I already think I am.”
“Try me,” Mel said, crossing her legs, resting her arms on her knee.
“I went to a party. A kegger. I got drunk. I woke up sick. Puking sick. The guy I was with said he passed out and nothing happened. But obviously someone is lying if I’m pregnant.”
Mel couldn’t help herself—her mouth dropped open. “Brenda, you told your mother about this?”
“Not until two periods didn’t come, because how was I going to know? I did one of those home test things. I never thought it would be … positive …”
“Were you sore? In your vagina?”
“I was sore everywhere! Like I’d fallen down a flight of stairs! And so sick I wanted to die. My vagina was about the last thing on my mind!”
“When you woke up—you were dressed? Any evidence of rape?”
“Completely dressed. Right down to the vomit on my shirt. And in my hair,” she added with a shudder.
“And you were with friends? Anyone see anything?”
“I was with a couple of girlfriends and one useless guy. They were all as drunk as me. We’d never … It was like the first time for something like that. I’ve had maybe one or two beers, but I’ve never been to a kegger before. I’m obviously not much of a drinker.”
“Do you remember drinking a lot?” Mel asked.
“I don’t remember much of anything. A couple of the guys said I was totally shitty. Drunk out of my mind. And one of my girlfriends swears my date really did pass out right away.”
“Ever think there could have been a drug involved? Slipped into your beer?”
“What kind of drug?” she asked.
“What do you think happened?” Mel asked her.
“I think I got hammered and let some guy—Obviously I wasn’t in a position to make a good decision. Plus, these are my friends. Well, the girls I went with are my friends—they wouldn’t lie to me. I don’t hang out with the other ones who were there.”
“All of them were your friends?”
“Someone’s not—unless there was a guy there who also doesn’t remember.”
Mel leaned forward. It was in her mind to ask Brenda if she’d ever heard the term, whiskey dick. “An unfortunate reality for most males is that too much alcohol inhibits erection or ejaculation. Whoever did this remembers.”
“And is lying …”
“Well, somebody’s lying—and if you’re pregnant and can’t remember getting that way, it probably isn’t you. Brenda, you could have been raped.”
“Or—I could have been so stupid drunk I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“Same thing, in my mind,” Mel said with a shrug. “Have you talked to the police?”
“Yeah.” She laughed bitterly. “Right.”
Mel reached out a hand to touch her knee and Brenda flinched. Mel’s mind immediately flashed on Carra and she cringed inwardly. “You have DNA in you, Brenda. The person responsible can be revealed.”
“Uh-huh. That should be interesting.” She laughed again. “Real interesting.”
“Listen, Brenda …”
“I don’t want to know. Whoever it is will just say I wanted it. Why wouldn’t he? And I would never be able to say otherwise, since I don’t fricking know. Meanwhile not only the whole school, but the whole town would know Brenda is a whore. Brenda’s knocked up, Brenda would like everyone to believe she was drugged.” She laughed at Mel. “Who are we kidding? Huh?”
“Is that likely? Let me tell you something—girls who aren’t sexually active don’t usually have one occasion of getting drunk and waking up pregnant because they wanted it.” Brenda looked away. “Have you been sexually active? Not that it matters in this case.”
Her eyes came back and the anger had seeped away. “I had a boyfriend last year who. I really liked him a lot. But we didn’t go all the way.” She looked down. “I wouldn’t give it up. I wanted to be sure, wanted it to be special. You know?” Now there were tears in her eyes, but they vanished as quickly as they had come.
Mel touched her hand. “It’ll still be special, honey,” Mel said, standing up. “When you’re ready, it’ll be special. Let’s do an exam, test you for sexually transmitted disease, get a blood workup for HIV.”
“H-I-Vee?” she asked, stricken. “Oh, fuck!”
“One thing at a time, Brenda. Are you up-to-date on the hepatitis B vaccine for school immunizations?”
“Hepatitis B?” she asked. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“It’s also an STD,” Mel said.
“Oh, God,” Brenda said weakly.
“Take it easy, sweetheart. Feet here, in the stirrups, slide down for me, that’s it.” She put on her gloves. “Take a deep breath, let it out slowly and relax your muscles as much as possible. There you go.” Mel took a look and noted some inflammation, tenderness. She did her pap slide, then inserted a swab in the cervical area to test for chlamydia and gonorrhea. “I’m going to let that swab sit for a moment. Listen, do you remember the people who were at that party? And where it was?”
Brenda put the back of her hand on her forehead and her chin quivered. “All I want to do is get it out of me and get on with my life. School already started and everything….”
“I understand that, but I’m worried. This isn’t a situation we should ignore. What if some other young woman is attacked like this, made pregnant without even consenting to sex?”
“Or remembering that she consented?”
“Do you remember any bruising? On your arms, pelvis, hips? Buttocks?”
“My chest was really sore, and so was my throat. I thought it was from throwing up.”
“Where?” Mel asked. Brenda put her palm against her upper chest, on her sternum, right above her breasts. “On the outside? Like you’d been hit in the chest by a … by a basketball or something?”
“Yeah,” she said, apparently surprised by how well the analogy fit.
Mel finished her exam and helped Brenda sit up. “Would you be willing to talk to someone about this? Like maybe one of the nurses at the family planning clinic? Give whatever details you can remember?”
“What for?”
“For the future protection of some girl who doesn’t know what dangers lurk at a kegger?” Mel said.
Brenda looked down miserably. “I don’t know.”
“No one’s going to expose you. No one’s going to confront anyone without charges being filed. But for right now—you deserve better than to have no idea what happened to you.”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I’ll have to think about it.”
“Okay. Get dressed. But first—will you tell me one thing? The party. Was it here? In Virgin River?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Right here.”
Mel had a long chat with a nurse in the family planning clinic in Eureka. She agreed that it was very important to interview this patient, but before that could even happen, Brenda miscarried. Less than a week later the test results came back positive for chlamydia.
Mel immediately got in touch with Carra Winslow. She was a little past caring if a parent answered the phone, but fortunately for Carra, it was she who picked up. Mel was straightforward—she told her there was a venereal disease making the rounds and it was imperative that Carra return to the clinic for testing.
She also tested positive for chlamydia. Mel fixed her up with antibiotics and made her promise to return to the clinic in a couple of months to follow up. Carra still refused birth control; she was no longer seeing the two-week boyfriend. And even though he had given her an infection, she still wouldn’t blame him or name him.
But this weighed on Mel’s mind mightily. She was afraid they might have a serious problem in her town.
September and October brought a time of year that Mel disliked, though it was good for the bar. Bear- and deerhunting season. Since there was no hunting inside the Virgin River town limits, the hunters they saw were those who passed through town en route to and from the lodges and camps in Shasta and the Trinity Alps where some of the best hunting was found. As a rule, these were a decent lot of men and even a few women, many of whom had been seen at Jack’s in previous years and made it a point to stop by to enjoy Preacher’s cooking. And Preacher went to a little extra trouble, knowing they’d bring their money and high expectations. They didn’t change the pricing of their food and drinks for the hunters—it was all sold on the cheap, catering first to the town. But Jack did lay in some of the finer liquors, like Johnnie Walker Blue, because this was a monied crowd who liked their drinks. And they always left a lot more money on the bar and tables than they were charged.
City girl that she was, Mel abhorred the sight of a beautiful buck tied to the roof of an SUV or tossed in the back of a truck. Having already been through one hunting season and being married to a man who happened to enjoy the hunt, she’d learned to say very little.
Jack and Preacher had always catered to the hunters and fishermen—it was one of the reasons Jack had built the place. During the season, the bar stayed open a little later if there were people around, and still opened at the crack of dawn. Jack usually stayed to help out until at least nine, sending Mel home to get David settled for the night.
At a time of day when Mel might already have been and gone from her dinner hour, she had a call to make with Doc, and brought the baby to Jack. Being over five months now, husky and strong, David was most often seen riding happily in Jack’s backpack as opposed to the front sling he had occupied in earlier months. As Mel slipped the straps over Jack’s shoulders, she said, “He’s fed and changed and I shouldn’t be too long.”
Mike was having his dinner at the bar when six hunters came in. Since Jack didn’t greet them as men he’d seen before, Mike assumed this might be their first time through town. These were young men, all in their twenties, and obviously having a good time. All six went up to the bar, made a few jokes about the bartender being part-time babysitter, which Jack took in good-natured stride. They eschewed dinner, opting for some drinks. Once Jack had set them up with beer and shots, they retired to a table, where they enjoyed rehashing every aspect of their hunt.
“Who do you think is the designated driver in that crowd?” Mike asked Jack.
Jack was watching, but said nothing. And Mike was watching Jack, because the latter had a good sense for things. Getting a little loud and rowdy was not frowned upon here, so long as you could keep your head. These boys were hanging in there, though they were ordering up more beer and shots; they wanted a pitcher and a bottle and were getting a little louder by the shot.
It wasn’t long before Paige came out of the kitchen. “Have you asked them about dinner?” she asked Jack.
“Last time I offered, they weren’t interested,” he said.
“Okay, let me just check before we close the kitchen.” She went to their table to ask them if they wanted anything to eat. “My husband has a great lasagna and garlic bread, but also some broiled, stuffed sturgeon fresh off the river and steamed vegetables, if you’re interested.”
“Husband?” one of them chortled. “Damn, my hunting sucks no matter where I go.”
She instinctively retreated a step and the man reached for her hand, pulling her back. “You can get rid of the husband, can’t you, sweetheart?” His buddies laughed at his brazenness and Mike thought, shit. This is not a good thing; you don’t want to mess with Preacher’s woman. He looked across the bar at Jack’s narrowed eyes. Oh, boy.
Paige simply pulled her hand back, smiled politely and didn’t grapple with them any longer over food. As she would have gone back to the kitchen, Jack stopped her and asked her to take David. He slid the backpack off his shoulders and into her hands and one of the hunters yelled over to Jack, “That the wife, buddy?” And Jack’s mouth curved in a slow smile as he shook his head—no, you don’t really want to meet her husband.
Now, what none of these idiots knew was that Jack hadn’t had a nice summer. His sister’s trauma was not that long past and he’d been in a real mood. There was a side of Jack that was all soft, crushed concern and a side that wanted to kill someone. This was not a great time to screw with him. Since Jack had shed the baby, a telling move, Mike thought it might be worth it to try to head this off. He stood up from his meal at the end of the bar and walked over to their table. He flipped around a chair from a neighboring table and, straddling the back, he said, “Hey, boys. You have a good hunt?”
They eyed him suspiciously. One of them said, “One buck—young. Not much to brag about. Who are you?”
“Name’s Mike—how you doing? Listen, I just thought I’d mention—you don’t want to overdo it. Especially if you’re driving out tonight.”
They started to laugh, meeting eyes with each other as though sharing some kind of private joke. “That a fact?” one asked. “And who put you in charge?”
“I’m not in charge of anything,” he said. “But gee—I’d hate to see anyone get hurt. These roads,” he said, shaking his head. “Sometimes pretty tight around the curves going down. And real, real dark. No lights. No guard rails.”