“Mrs. Fox, will you do something for me?”
She just looked up and waited.
“Will you pray for me and Vanessa?”
“And the baby?” she asked.
“And her. Especially her.”
She patted my forearm and smiled. “I will, as I have prayed for you before. And I will pray that the evil man who did this will be punished.”
“I’ll see to it that the authorities know. But first we’ve got a baby to save.”
Mrs. Fox bowed her head and began to softly chant. Just then I heard footsteps in the hallway and turned to see an imposing figure walking briskly toward me in camouflage fatigues and carrying a large rifle. I stood to shake his hand.
“Welcome, Oliver. Thanks for coming.”
“No problem, Doc. When Millie called me and told me to come, I reckoned there must have been a bear treed up here on Hospital Hill. When they told me you needed me inside, I got a bit confused. Made me wonder if you had a varmint in here!”
The sudden screams and snarls from behind the door of the birthing room erupted again.
“What in the dickens!” Oliver exclaimed.
I explained the situation, and in hushed tones we conferred for a moment. When we had agreed on the plan, he took off his backpack and began to search for the projectile he needed. I quickly gathered Miss Wiggins and the EMTs.
“Once she’s down,” I began, “you’re going to have to work quickly. Don and Billy, you get her on your stretcher, stat. Have an oxygen tank connected to a bag and mask. Marlene, I’ll need you to be at her head. Give her the O2, and if you need to, bag and mask her. I’ll check for the heartbeat of the baby. We’ve gotta do all this in just seconds.”
“Then what?” asked Don.
“Then we run to the OR as fast as we can. We’ll have very little time to get the little one out.”
They nodded their understanding just as Oliver said, “Doc, I’m ready.”
I turned to face him. He was standing with his feet perpendicular to the door, his rifle sling in place. I could hear the patient screaming again as I walked over to the door. Oliver slowly pulled the rifle to his shoulder, pointed it toward the door, and then looked at me and nodded that he was ready.
“What’s he going to do?” I heard Mrs. Fox exclaim.
“He’s gonna shoot her!” Chief Arvey answered.
The ancient woman’s hand covered her mouth, stifling a silent scream, as I quickly threw the door open and at the same instant, as we had planned, dropped to a squat position.
Vanessa was standing on the bed, looking totally crazed. At least she has nothing in her hands, I thought, as I heard the loud retort of the rifle. The dart whizzed over my head and across the room, imbedding itself deep into the girl’s right thigh. She screamed when it hit her and then looked down. She snarled, reached down, and jerked the dart out of her leg muscle, holding it in front of her as she stared at it with wild eyes.
I immediately stood and approached her. As she saw me coming, she raised the dart like a knife above her head. For a moment I wasn’t sure if she was going to plunge it into her own heart, or lunge across the room to try to stab me with it. But before I could retreat, her eyes rolled back in her head, and she fell to her knees. I ran to her side and slowly laid her down.
In an instant Billy and Don helped me put her on the gurney that had been rushed into the room. I put my stethoscope on her abdomen. “The baby’s heart rate is about 140!” I cried out, relieved — it was a totally normal reading.
“Mom’s not breathing!” Marlene called out.
“Bag her!” I exclaimed. “Let’s transport!”
We ran out of the room and toward the OR as fast as we could go.
chapter twenty-three
THE QUILTS
Vanessa’s little girl was healthy. The Cesarean section went as smoothly as it could have, and the little girl was beautiful. Mrs. Fox was able to hold and rock her in the nursery.
Post-op, we transferred Vanessa to ICU for evaluation and monitoring. I was tempted to begin strong doses of antipsychotics, but when she woke up from her anesthesia, she seemed coherent and calm. She slept peacefully thorough the night — with Mrs. Fox at her side.
The next morning, I entered the hospital much earlier than usual to see one of my most unusual patients. To my pleasant surprise, she was up and alert when I walked in the room. I introduced myself and pulled up a chair.
“Vanessa, was Mrs. Fox here with you for most of the night?”
The teenager nodded. “Yes. She left to go home and get cleaned up. She said she’d be back by breakfast time.”
“She told me what happened — about how you had been violated.”
Vanessa’s head dropped and her lip began to quiver.
“I’ll have to report the rape, Vanessa.”
Her head jerked up to face me and her eyes widened. “No!” she exclaimed. “He’ll kill me!”
I reached out to place my hand on her arm. “Vanessa, the law gives me absolutely no choice. But I can assure you of this — where he’s going, he won’t be able to touch you for a long, long time.”
“But, Doctor,” Vanessa complained, “he says it’s my word against his. He’s a young man on leave from the military. He’s twenty-one-years-old, but he says that the family will all swear I’m the evil one and that I’m lying.”
“You won’t have to worry about that, Vanessa. We’ll have the lab tests that can prove your claims beyond the shadow of a doubt. No problem.”
“That still doesn’t help me, Doctor.”
“Why not?”
“Because once he’s been charged, he or his family will come after me. I can guarantee it.”
Her fear was palpable. I could only imagine how horrible this boy was. I squeezed her forearm. “Vanessa, there are several safe houses in the region. We can get you discharged from here to one of those homes. You’ll be completely safe and protected until he’s in custody. And if you need to stay there until after the trial, we can arrange for that too.”
“Doctor, you don’t understand.”
“Understand what, Vanessa?”
She dropped her head to her chest and was quiet for a moment. Then she lifted her face and looked deeply into my eyes. “Doctor, the boy is evil. He’s a medicine man who uses magic and can conjure up the spirits. He sent the spirits to attack me, and I think they took me over last night. He runs with a group that calls itself Satan. He told me members must have sex with virgins or children. And he told me that if anyone found out, Satan himself would destroy me.”
I felt my blood chill as she said the name. I thought to myself, So these guys not only sacrifice animals and dabble in the occult and moonshine; they also accost and abuse innocent women and children! My initial shock quickly turned to anger. I knew this evil could be fought not only legally but also spiritually.
“Vanessa, where are you in your spiritual journey?” I asked.
She looked at me in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Is a personal relationship with God something that’s important to you — or not?”
She thought for a moment. “When I was a little girl, my mother took me to Vacation Bible School every summer.”
I wasn’t completely surprised. The Native Americans in the region were diverse in their spirituality. Some Cherokees were followers of Jesus; others were animists, pantheists, deists, and polytheists. Obviously, some were even Satanists.
“At VBS they told me about God and about Jesus. I decided one summer to give my life to God, to trust him and serve him. I thought he might call me to be a missionary to my people. But as time went on, I wandered away from him.”
“Do you know a pastor in Cherokee you trust?”
“I do.” she responded. “From the church where I went to Vacation Bible School.” She gave me his name.
“Vanessa, I’m no pastor, but I can tell you what I believe. The Bible teaches that if you begin a personal relationship with God, you
become his child forever. Not only will he never leave you; he will not allow the evil one to take you from him. Vanessa, he loves you very much.”
“But, Doctor, I’ve done so many wrong things.”
“That gives you and me something in common. And it makes you normal. But admitting what we’ve done wrong — where we’ve gone wrong — is the first step toward reconciliation with him and toward peace in our own heart. Not long ago my pastor preached a sermon about healing. He told us that if we confess — just admit — our sins, God is faithful to forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”
I thought I detected a small smile of relief.
“How ’bout I give this pastor a call and have him come and visit you? He can help us fight this evil spiritually. Sound OK?”
She bowed her head but nodded her consent.
“And I’ll call my friend Tim down at Social Services. He can help us fight this wrong legally and emotionally. Agreed?”
Again she nodded her consent. I gave her arm a squeeze. I knew that her journey away from this evil and toward recovery had just begun.
Later that day, I was seeing patients in the office when the call came from the district attorney. Marcellus “Buck” Buchanan was known as a tough but fair DA. After I explained the situation, he assured me that he’d send a female investigator to the hospital that afternoon to begin the investigation.
“Dr. Larimore,” he reassured me, “if what’s she’s telling you is true, and I have no doubt about it, then we’ll bury this insect. He’s committed a Class B1 felony according to North Carolina statute 14 – 27.70A.”
“Which says?”
“It’s when a defendant has engaged in vaginal intercourse or a sexual act with another person who is thirteen, fourteen, or fifteen years old and the defendant is at least six years older than the person — and they aren’t lawfully married. Chances are she was actually fourteen when he raped her. I’ll tell ya what, son, he’ll live to regret the day he did this to her.”
Buck reassured me that Vanessa and her family would be safe. “Just let me know when she’s ready for discharge, and we’ll take it from there.”
“One other thing, Mr. Buchanan.”
“Name it, son.”
“You ever heard of a group of guys who claim to be witches operating out of the Cherokee area?”
Buck laughed. “Guess this occult world is new to you, isn’t it?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, as I’ve come to understand it, at least as it’s practiced around here, women are the witches, and men are the warlocks. This group of thugs is well known to us — and a disgusting bunch they are. They’re involved in animal sacrifice, drugs, sex, moonshine, and pornography — especially child pornography. Seems like every time we put one of ’em away, three more pop up.”
“Buck, any of them name himself Satan?”
There was silence on the phone for a moment, followed by a deep breath. “Walt, we don’t know who he is, but we think he’s the worst of the bunch. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve just heard some rumors.”
“Well, be careful, Walt. This ain’t a group to get messed up with. If you hear anything, you let me know. Hear?”
“Yes sir.”
“By the way, Walt, I hear you’ve been dressing up as a woman. Any truth to that?”
I felt my cheeks begin to burn. “Buck, I did that last year for the fire department and this year for the youth athletic league, and I’ll tell ya this, I’ll never be doing it again!”
Buck laughed. “Just wish I coulda seen Boyce Dietz in a dress. Boy, could I ever use a picture of that one! Anyway, me and some of the boys from our volunteer fire department over here are coming to Bryson next week for Fireman’s Day on July 4. We heard you all’s inaugural event last year was a real success. And our fire department is considering the same sort of event over here. Just wanted to know if I needed to keep an eye out for a gussied-up doctor.”
“Well, Buck, I’ll be in my civilian clothes and will look forward to seeing you.”
He laughed. “See you there, son.”
The morning of July 4 dawned bright and clear — and hot. I made early rounds that day so I could be home for breakfast with the kids. Rick was planning to come over, and we were all going to town for the festivities.
The only patients I had in the hospital were Vanessa and her baby. Both would be going home this morning — but to different houses. Vanessa’s baby was going home with a foster family, whose identity and address were being kept a secret. In fact, the baby would be picked up by Tim, the social worker, and then driven to a safe house in another county for transfer to the foster parents.
Tim had told me of stories they were hearing in the social services world of babies being secretly born at home in some occult communities and then being sacrificed on their “high holy days” of Halloween, Christmas, and Easter. When I asked Tim why they would choose two of the three most sacred days in Christendom, he told me that was the way darkness worked — doing all it could to imitate light. He also told me that, with the rumors swirling about the Satan gang, he didn’t feel the Social Services staff could be too careful.
When I walked into Vanessa’s room that morning, she practically beamed.
“You look happy,” I commented.
“I am!”
“What’s up?” I asked
“Folks from my old church were here all day yesterday, Dr. Larimore. They loved on me, and they counseled me. My pastor showed me some things in the Bible I never knew existed. About how God loves me and wants me to know him and love him and serve him. They showed me about the fallen angels and Satan and how they attack everything that’s right and good. But most of all the pastor showed me how God wants to forgive me and love me — just like you told me.”
Vanessa took a deep breath as she looked out the hospital window and across the lush lawn. “I just feel like I’m an old cellar that’s had the lights turned on and the trash cleaned out. And when you say I can, I’m gonna be baptized in the river and begin my life over again.”
I was taken aback by her vast, renewed energy and enthusiasm. “Is this the same woman who was wrestling with the evil spirits just a few days ago?” I asked her.
Her smile lit up the room. “It is, Doc! It is!”
“Well, I’m happy for you. I really am.”
She smiled. “I’m happy for me too! And I need to know when I can get baptized. When’s it safe?”
“How ’bout this — next week I’ll see you in the office, and we’ll get the staples out of your skin. You can tell the pastor he should be able to baptize you in a couple of weeks. That be OK?”
She smiled and nodded.
“Vanessa, how do you feel about the legal stuff?”
The smile left her face, and she became serious. “Well, first of all, I feel real good ’bout my little girl havin’ a mother and a father. The pastor and Mrs. Fox told me that whenever possible a child should have a mother and a father to raise them and love them. I think they’re right. Social Services would be glad to help me raise the child, but I’ve seen so many other girls try to be single moms. I won’t do that to my girl. I think it’s great she’s gonna have a mom and a dad to raise her. And she’ll be safe from the Satan gang.”
“How about the DA? What’s going to happen there?”
“I’ve agreed to press charges. They’re gonna run the tests. When they can prove he’s the father, they’re gonna charge him with statutory rape and a bunch of other things. I told ’em I kept the threatenin’ notes he wrote me, and I kept tapes from my answerin’ machine. They say that’s enough to put him away for a long time. I feel good about it.”
I was quiet for a moment. I could see tears forming in her eyes. “Doc, they tell me he’s done this to other girls — some a lot younger than I am. But I’m the one that can stop him. So I’m gonna.”
I nodded and reached out to take her hand in mine. “What you’re doing is
courageous, Vanessa. And it’s right. But I’ve gotta tell you something very, very important. If you want to heal from this horrible wrong, you’ll have to convert this wrong done to you to something right and good and noble.”
She looked deeply into my eyes. “What’s that, Dr. Larimore?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know the answer for you, Vanessa. But I do believe this: the Lord will not cause or allow anything to happen to one of his children that he will not turn to good. If you love him and trust him and serve him, he’s going to help you take this terrible wrong and make something terribly good. Your suffering will be redeemed.”
She gave my hand a squeeze and then let go. She reached over to her bedside table and picked up a quilt.
“That’s what Mrs. Fox and the pastor both told me. In fact, look at this!”
She unfolded a small handmade quilt — a magnificent work of art. I helped her spread it across her lap.
“It’s from Mrs. Fox. She was led to make it for someone. She didn’t know who when she started. But now she does, and she’s given it to me. See here — ” she pointed to the center of the blanket. “This is the Cherokee symbol for new life. Today I leave the old life behind, and I’ll begin my new life. A life with hope. A life with my church and a new life with God. Dr. Larimore, this quilt will remind me of today — forever.”
As I admired the quilt, I had a sudden realization that almost took my breath away. Vanessa was lying in the same bed that another patient of mine, Evan, had lain in when he died of what I later learned was HIV/AIDS. It was Christmas morning only two years earlier when Evan had chosen to begin a personal relationship with his Creator. From this bed he had stepped into a hopeful and joyful eternity. And on this same bed Vanessa was beginning her new life. In a way, our ICU had become a spiritual nursery.
At the nurses’ station, I finished my notes and orders and then dictated Vanessa’s discharge summary. It seemed terribly incomplete. Oh, it was medically accurate, all right — just terribly insufficient to tell the real story. On the discharge summary, it sounded like there had been only one birth during this hospitalization; in actuality, there had been two.
Bryson City Secrets: Even More Tales of a Small-Town Doctor in the Smoky Mountains Page 17