Chapter 14 David #2
I picked up Maria at her sister's apartment at 2:30. She was dressed carefully: clean jeans, a modest sweater, her hair pulled back. She'd printed out the photos like I'd asked, had her old hospital records in a folder.
"Are you ready?" I asked.
She nodded, but I could see her hands shaking. "I'm nervous."
"That's normal. But Emma—Ms. Peterson—she's really good at what she does. She's going to make this as easy as possible for you."
We drove to the clinic in silence. Maria stared out the window, her hands clasped in her lap. I kept my eyes on the road and tried not to think about the fact that I'd be seeing Emma in twenty minutes.
The clinic was in a renovated brick building on Walnut Street. Clean, professional, welcoming. The kind of place that felt safe. I held the door for Maria and followed her inside.
The waiting room was small but comfortable. Soft lighting, plants in the corners, chairs that looked actually comfortable instead of the usual plastic torture devices. A sign at the front desk said "All are welcome here" in English and Spanish.
I walked up to the receptionist. "Maria Rodriguez. Three PM appointment with Emma Peterson."
The receptionist smiled at Maria. "Hi, Maria. I'm going to need you to fill out some paperwork. Do you prefer English or Spanish?"
"Spanish, please," Maria said quietly.
"No problem." The receptionist handed her a clipboard. "Have a seat and fill this out. Someone will be with you shortly."
Maria and I sat in the corner. She bent over the forms, concentrating hard, her pen moving slowly across the page. I sat next to her, hands in my lap, trying not to look at the door that led back to the exam rooms.
Trying not to imagine Emma on the other side.
At 3:05, the door opened.
And there she was.
Emma, in navy blue scrubs, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, a tablet in her hand. She looked professional, competent, calm. She looked like someone who knew exactly what she was doing and wouldn't tolerate any nonsense from anyone.
And… she looked beautiful. Maybe I shouldn’t be thinking of that, I knew, but she did. She looked so beautiful it hurt.
Her eyes scanned the waiting room, landed on us, but her expression didn't change—no surprise, no discomfort, just professional acknowledgment.
"Maria Rodriguez?" she called.
Maria stood up, clutching her folder. I stood too, instinctively, then caught myself.
Emma's eyes flicked to me. "You can wait here, Mr. Harrison. This will take about forty-five minutes."
"Of course." I sat back down. "Thank you."
Emma's gaze held mine for just a second. Then she turned to Maria, and her entire demeanor softened.
"Hi, Maria. I'm Emma Peterson. You can call me Emma. Come on back."
Maria glanced at me. I nodded. "Go ahead. I'll be right here."
Emma held the door open, and Maria walked through. Just before the door closed, I caught Emma's eye one more time.
She gave me the briefest nod, one of mere acknowledgment, and then she was gone.
I sat in the waiting room and waited.
Forty-three minutes later, the door opened again.
Emma and Maria came out together. Maria looked calmer than when she'd gone in, less frightened. Emma was saying something to her in Spanish—when had she learned Spanish?—and Maria was nodding, smiling slightly.
They walked to the reception desk. Emma handed Maria some papers and said something else I couldn't quite hear. Maria nodded again, then turned back to where I was sitting.
I stood up. "All set?"
"Yes." Maria clutched the papers to her chest. "She was very kind."
"Good." I looked at Emma. She was already turning to go back through the door. "Emma—Ms. Peterson—"
She stopped. Turned back. Her expression was that neutral, professional mask I was getting used to. "Yes?"
"Thank you. For making time for this."
"You're welcome." She looked at Maria. "I'll have the full report ready by Monday. You can pick it up here, or I can have it sent directly to Mr. Harrison's office. Whichever you prefer."
"Sent to my office is fine," I said. "If that works for you."
"I'll email it Monday morning." She paused. "Maria, if you need anything before then, or if you have questions, call the clinic. They'll get me."
"Thank you," Maria said. "Thank you so much."
Emma nodded, then looked at me one more time. Something flickered in her expression… I couldn't read it. Then it was gone.
"Take care," she said.
And then she disappeared back through the door.
I walked Maria to the car. She was quiet until we were on the road.
"She's very good," Maria said. "Very gentle. She made me feel safe."
"I'm glad."
"She asked me many questions. About my husband, about the violence, about the children.
She did the exam. She took pictures of the bruises.
She wrote everything down." Maria looked at the papers in her lap.
"She said this will help with the restraining order.
That the judge will see this and understand. "
"That's exactly what we needed." I glanced at her. "How are you feeling?"
"Scared," she admitted. "But also... hopeful. Like maybe things will be okay."
"They will be. We're going to make sure of it."
I dropped Maria off at her sister's apartment and drove back to my office. Sat at my desk and stared at my computer screen without really seeing it.
Emma had been kind to Maria. Gentle. Professional. Everything a good healthcare provider should be. She'd done exactly what she'd promised to do: helped someone who needed it, documented everything for the court, gave Maria hope.
And she'd kept every boundary she'd set with me. Stayed professional. Didn't engage beyond what was necessary. Made it clear that this was about Maria, not about us.
Exactly what I'd asked for… and exactly what I deserved.
So why did it hurt so much?
My phone buzzed. An email notification.
From: Emma Peterson, NP-C To: David Harrison Subject: Maria Rodriguez - Medical Documentation
Mr. Harrison,
As promised, please find attached the medical documentation for your client, Maria Rodriguez. The report includes findings from today's examination, photographic evidence of injuries, assessment for trauma, and my professional opinion regarding the pattern of abuse.
If you need any clarification or have questions regarding the medical findings, please don't hesitate to contact the clinic.
I'm available to provide testimony if the court requires it. Please let me know the hearing date and time at your earliest convenience.
Best regards,
Emma Peterson,
NP-C
Riverview Women's Health
Professional. Clinical. Exactly what I'd expect from any healthcare provider working on a legal case.
Exactly what Emma would do.
I opened the attachment. The report was thorough, detailed, devastating.
Emma had documented everything… the bruises, the old scars, the pattern of escalating violence.
She'd included medical photographs, a trauma assessment, and a clear statement that in her professional opinion, Maria was at significant risk.
It was perfect. Exactly what we needed to win this case. To keep Maria and her kids safe.
I saved the file and started drafting the motion for the restraining order, all while trying not to think about the fact that Emma had been twenty feet away from me today and had felt a thousand miles distant.
I tried not to think about how she'd looked at Maria with such kindness and at me with nothing at all. I tried to remember that this was what growth looked like: respecting boundaries, accepting consequences. Letting her move on.
Even if moving on meant I'd never be more to her than a name she’d use to start an e-mail with. Mr. Harrison. Not David. Not even the cold distance of her ex-husband.
Just… just Mr. Harrison. A professional contact. Someone she'd help because helping people was what she did.
And nothing more.