Far Country (24 page)

           
Beth grinned and rolled her eyes. “Fine.  You be a good little boy, then,
because ‘mom’ has to go to work in an hour.”  She stooped and kissed him
on the forehead. “Call if you need anything,” she told him, ruffling his hair.
“Bye!”

           
Steve watched as she let herself out and shook his head again. Deborah must be
crazy, he mused. At most this was all just a weird coincidence. He yawned
hugely, feeling the medications beginning to relax his tense muscles. 
Beth was really a wonderful woman….

           
Steve limped into the lobby of Doctor Tate’s office and looked around for an
empty seat.  The office waiting room was divided into two sections. 
Today the area to the left of the check-in window, where the adults normally
sat, was packed.
Strange
, he thought, then glanced at the TV in the
corner, and saw that someone had turned it on to a soap opera.  A smiling
blonde bride was poised at the edge of a rose garden.  She leaned on the
arm of a distinguished gray-haired man. 
No doubt
, Steve surmised,
her
father
.  The groom was tall, dark and handsome, of course.
No
surprise there
, Steve observed. He waited for his intended under a white
lattice work archway.

           
Steve surveyed the room. Mostly women, but some men as well, were glued to the
set.  Even the receptionist, he noticed, was peeking from behind her glass
cage. Steve grinned at the sight, and wondered if this particular group made
their appointments to coincide with this show!

           
As he stood by the door, one lady sighed and muttered to no one in particular,
“I can’t believe that Lindsey dumped Sergei for Ethan.” She sniffled
disapprovingly of the whole affair.

           
Her neighbor responded in a tone of authority. “It won’t last a year,” she
declared. “Once Sergei clears his name, he’ll come back for her, and Ethan will
be history.”

           
Her husband shook his head in confusion. “I don’t see why she’s even getting
married, anyway. She should give Sergei a chance at least.”

           
His wife rolled her eyes and explained as if speaking to a slow child. “Because
she’s pregnant, of course! That grandmother of hers would cut her out of the
will if she had a baby out of wedlock.” The man nodded in sudden comprehension
and then refocused on the screen as Lindsey stepped out to the opening chords
of ‘
Here Comes the Bride’.

           
Steve grimaced and decided to try his luck at a seat on what was generally the
children’s side of the waiting room. Fortunately, it was nearly empty. He sat
across from a plump brown-haired mother feeding her newborn, while watching a
toddler in a leg brace stack multi-colored cardboard bricks into a castle. A
black haired girl of about five or six with her arm in a bright blue cast knelt
on the chair next to the fish tank. She was making fish lips at a huge
goldfish, which seemed to be watching her intently.

           
Steve wondered if she was here with the brown haired mother across from him, or
with someone else. He thought it was strange that no one appeared to be
watching her, but then he concluded that her mother was probably one of the
‘wedding guests’ on the other side of the lobby.

           
Steve pulled out a book of word searches that he’d picked up in the grocery
store line on his way to the appointment.  He’d become resigned to the sad
fact that doctor appointments seldom occurred at the designated time. 
These ‘circle the word’ searches were a little too easy, but they helped to
pass the time.  He finished the first search and turned to the next
page.  As he did, he fumbled his pen.  It bounced off the chair and
landed about two feet beyond his reach.  Steve sighed and reached for his
cane.

           
“I’ll get it!” The little black haired girl said, and scrambled off of her
chair. Steve smiled his appreciation.  “Thanks, kid,” he said with a nod.

           
The girl handed him the pen with her good arm, but eyed him reproachfully.

           
“I’m not a kid,” she said clearly.  “A kid is a baby goat.”

           
“Oh,” Steve replied, nonplussed. “Right,” he agreed and bent back to his
puzzle.

           
 “My name,” she announced, “is Gracie.”

           
Steve sighed. Solemnly he inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Thank you,
Gracie.”

           
Gracie grinned in response. “You’re welcome!” She said airily. She looked at
his leg, cocking her head to one side like a curious puppy.  He was
wearing shorts and his knee brace was an impressive black heavy duty thing.
“How’d you hurt your leg?”

           
Steve looked up again from his word search and thought for a moment. 
Would a child this young even know what rappelling was? He doubted it.

           
“I fell off the side of a mountain,” he finally answered her.

           
Gracie frowned at him reprovingly. “You should have used a rope,” she told him
seriously.

           
“I did,” Steve responded, surprised at her knowledge. “but the rope broke.”

           
“Oh,” Gracie nodded in understanding. “Me too.”

           
Steve’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “You were rock climbing with ropes?” He
questioned her.

           
Gracie shook her head vigorously. “Huh-uh. My tire swing.  I was twirling
and the rope broke.” She held up the blue cast for his inspection. “I fell on
my arm.”

           
“I see,” Steve said, nodding. They were silent for a minute. “Well, it was nice
to meet you, Gracie,” Steve said into the silence. “Thank you for picking up my
pen for me.”

He looked down at his word
search, trying to regain his concentration on a ‘Thanksgiving’ word search.

           
Gracie, however, did not return to the fish tank. Instead, she climbed onto the
chair beside Steve, leaning lightly against his shoulder as she peered at his
word search.

           
“What are you doing, Gracie,” Steve asked carefully, somewhat uncomfortable
with the child’s proximity. Apparently the girl did not know she shouldn’t talk
with strangers.

           
“I’m good at word searches.” She claimed. “I want to help you.”

           
Again, Steve stared at the child in disbelief.  “You can read?” he asked
dubiously.

           
Gracie nodded vigorously.  “For a long time. Except for really big words,”
she amended honestly.

           
“Really,” Steve said, impressed. “How old are you?”  Gracie held up her
hand and spread the fingers wide.  “Five, but I will be six in
Febwrery
,” she answered muffing the
bru
in February.”

           
“Five?” Steve repeated, unconvinced.  He had no memory of actually reading
at the age of five.  She probably had just memorized her favorite story
books and simply called it reading, he reasoned.  Steve pointed to a word
in the list.  “What’s this say, then?” he asked.

           
“PIE,” she replied instantly. “That’s really easy.”

           
“How about this one?” Steve challenged her, pointing to another word on the
page.

           
Gracie took a moment, sounding out the letters carefully before responding. “
T,tur
, TURKEY,” she announced with satisfaction.

           
“You can read!” Steve told her, impressed despite himself.

           
Gracie merely rolled her huge gray eyes. “I
told
you I could read,” she
scolded him.

           
“I’m sorry I doubted it,” he answered sincerely.

           
Gracie grinned at him now, apparently forgiving him for doubting her. “
S’okay
,” she said. “My grandma says I’m smart for my age.”

           
Steve nodded in agreement at this statement.  “Yes, I think you are,” he
agreed.

           
She cocked her head again. ”What’s your name?”

           
“Steve,” he told her, amused by her abrupt changes in mood and topics.

           
“Would you sign my cast, Steve?” She asked him eagerly.

           
Steve blinked in surprise at her request, but demurred. He couldn’t get over
the feeling that any minute now Gracie’s mother was going to come around the
corner and get hysterical because some pervert was sitting with her daughter!
“Umm, I don’t have a marker, Gracie.”

           
“I do!” she replied happily.  She scooted off of the chair and ran back to
the fish tank, where a small pink plastic purse lay beside the chair she had
been kneeling on earlier.  She had Steve hold the little purse while she
fished around with her good hand. “My grandma got me silver, a black and a red
marker, just
for
cast signing,” she confided as she
dug through coloring pages, pencils, pens, and some hard candies wrapped in
tattered cellophane that looked as if they had been buried and dug up again.
“Here’s a black one!” she said at last holding it up for Steve’s inspection.

           
“Okay,” Steve said looking up and down the little blue cast for a clear spot to
sign his name. Names and “get well quick” wishes covered the entire top half.
There were even some illegible scrawls that Steve suspected were the pretend
signatures of her little friends.

           
“How about on the bottom, Gracie? This side’s pretty full already.” 
Gracie lifted her arm obligingly, and Steve found an open area where he
carefully printed his name. “There,” he said.  “all signed.”  Steve
went to hand her back the black marker, but Gracie did not take it. She looked
at him a little sadly.  “Aren’t you going to ask me to sign your cast?”
She asked him in a plaintive little voice. She pointed at his knee brace. “You
must not have many friends. Nobody’s signed yours yet.”

           
Steve was touched by her request. “Well, it’s not really a cast, Gracie,” he
explained.  It’s called a knee brace and it’s not hard like a cast. It’s
made out of cloth. I don’t think your marker will show up on it.”

           
Gracie heaved another dramatic sigh. “I told you my grandma got me a silver one
too,” she reminded him.  “Silver would be pretty.”

           
Steve sighed in resignation and stuck out his leg. “Sign away, then.” He told
her. "I'd be honored."

           
Gracie knelt beside his leg and popped off the cap. With a frown of
concentration, and her black hair falling like a curtain around her work, she
slowly printed out her name. “There,” she said at last, sitting back and eyeing
her handiwork with satisfaction.

           
Steve looked up and saw the young mother, her baby asleep now in her arms,
smiling indulgently at the two of them.  He smiled at her and
the
looked down at Gracie. “Thank you for being the first
person to ask to sign my brace,” he told her truthfully.

           
“You’re welcome,” she replied grandly.

           
Steve smiled at his little friend.  “I’m glad I got to meet you, Gracie.”

           
A door opened in the far wall and a nurse stood in the doorway. She spotted
Gracie and smiled.  “Sarah Grace Bolton, you’re next,” she informed the
child.

           
Gracie scrambled to her feet and stuffed the markers back into her pink purse.
Steve stared open mouthed, confusion and surprise warring inside his
head.  His mouth was suddenly very dry. “Your name is
Sarah
Grace
Bolton
?”
He managed weakly. Gracie nodded.

“That’s my whole name, but
nobody calls me that unless grandma gets mad at me and I’m in trouble,” Gracie
confided to him. “I like it best when I’m just Gracie.”

           
She slid the purse strap over her arm and skipped across the room to join an
older woman who was walking away from the soap opera wedding reception toward
the nurse.  The lady held out her hand and Gracie took it. “Who were you
talking to?” The older woman asked with a kind smile.

           
Gracie pointed at Steve. “I made a friend!” She announced. “His name is Steve
and he signed my cast and I signed his!” Gracie’s grandmother sought the person
who had kept her granddaughter occupied in the waiting room.

           
 Steve realized that he was nearly hidden by the partial wall that held
the fish tank, which gave him a moment longer to observe the woman holding
Sarah Grace Bolton’s hand. She was a little older, but Steve knew her well.
And, when Mrs. Bolton’s eyes found his, she knew him, too. Sarah’s mother, HIS
Sarah, stared in shock as she recognized the young man who had been the driver
of the car the night she had lost her daughter forever. Her eyes reflected
hurt, and then, inexplicably, fear.  Without a word she pulled Gracie
closer to her and hurried her through the door that led back to the examination
rooms.

           
Steve stared at the closed door in stunned silence. Gracie called Mrs. Bolton
grandmother! 
Deborah had never mentioned that David had a child
,
he thought in confusion. And Gracie was five years old, so she would have
known, surely….An impossible thought occurred to Steve. Impossible! Yet, not
entirely impossible, he amended in his head.