Heaven Sent Rain (16 page)

“Ah, sure, why not.” She handed him her cup. “Two creams. Thank you, Eric. I appreciate your service.”

Outside the window, Jonah smiled and waved to them both, jacked his backpack higher, and disappeared down the street.

“He’s a remarkable little boy.” Garret slid back into the booth.

“Yes, he is. He smiles every time he looks at your drawing.”

Silence. Really heavy silence.
Man up, Garret. You want to say something? Say it.
“Why don’t you like me?”

Her mouth dropped open. Her back sagged. She stared dumbfounded a moment. “What makes you…I don’t…why…” Extraordinarily heavy silence.

He shrugged. “I don’t care, actually, whether you like me or not. I was just curious. You’re very open and friendly with others and freeze up when I enter the picture. I was just wondering about the reason. It must be a doozy.”

She studied him a long moment, and the starch returned to her spine and jaw. “This is amazing. The reason I don’t like you, Dr. G, is that when you look at me,
you
turn icy. Angry, even. I have been surrounded by enough hostile people lately—I don’t need that. You don’t like me, so it irritates me. Hostility always irritates me. And since you mention it, I really don’t care a bit whether you like me or not.”

It was his mouth’s turn to drop open.

She scooted out and stood. “I have to get to work. Good day, Dr. G.” And she was gone before he could be enough of a gentleman to worm out of the booth and stand up.

He settled back down to finish his coffee. He gazed off down the street where Jonah had disappeared. He gazed at the glass doors leading into the lobby of this office complex, where Dinah had just disappeared.

Where in the world would she get the idea that…How could she?

John said Jesus was the answer to confusion and fear and worry? Well, he was confused—terminally confused—and just now, Jesus wasn’t helping.

S
he strode into the office, spine straight, shoulders back, teeth gritted. What was it about that man that irritated her so much? Other than his mood that she interpreted as constant hostility toward her. That was a question for another time. Maybe in the next decade or so. If ever.

“What’s wrong?” April asked as she came through the door.

“Nothing. Why?” Dinah glanced up, carefully keeping her face washed of expression.

“Dinah, don’t try to snow me. Something’s bugging you. More reporters?”

“Jonah and I were getting our normal breakfast, when who should appear in line behind us but Dr. Miller, or Dr. G, as Jonah and a lot of his fans call him. The veterinarian.”

April’s mouth opened. “
That
Dr. Miller?”

“Yeah, why? What do you know about him?”

“He’s a celebrity, cartoonist, animal rights activist, artist. He’s always on television when they need an animal specialist. His clinic is the one you took Mutt to?”

“MapQuest said it was the closest urgent care open at that time of night. So that’s where we went.” She wrinkled her face. “So he’s full of himself; I guess that’s what irritates me, then.”

“Where did you get that idea? He’s wearing a sign that says
I am famous
?” April snorted.

“The way he acted. He was so kind to Jonah, but I really got the brunt of his whatever. He doesn’t like me any more than I like him. So as soon as those stitches are out, we’ll find another veterinarian. Although perhaps his wife would be a good one.”

“His wife?” April gave her a strange look, clearly confused.

“You know, Miller and Miller Veterinary Clinic.”

“Sue Miller is not his wife. She’s his partner.”

“So they didn’t get married. I don’t care.” Dinah started to leave, but stopped when April sputtered into laughter. “Now what?”

“She is happily married to a very nice man—his brother. I think he introduced them, actually. They all attend the same church I go to. I really like them a lot.”

More churchgoers. Was she being surrounded for a reason? No! This was simply a coincidence. Dinah deliberately shrugged. “Whatever. Jonah invited him to sit with us and then told him his life story.”

“And you can’t handle that very well, can you?” April’s voice softened.

Dinah sucked in a deep breath and fought back the sadness that bombarded her every time she thought of Corinne. So much sadness, so many lives screwed up, hers included. “I better go call Mr. Jensen. I didn’t get his call returned yesterday. I’m sure there is more to do in this crazy mixed-up new life of mine. I am really not used to having a small boy and a dog around all the time.”

“It’s a big change, all right. How’s your all-white holding up?”

“That’s not the problem. It’s the space. I really miss my office. I can’t close the door and work like I did before. I’m getting behind.”

“And you are not used to taking care of anyone but you.”

“Right. And in my mind, a boy and a dog need a yard and friends and—” Her purse burst into song. She dug out the cell phone and continued down the hall to her office. “Hello?”

“Ace Delivery Service.”

Jonah’s things. A fresh wave of grief rushed across her. And how would poor Jonah respond? His most familiar things, evoking memories; it would almost be better if all that simply disappeared. She gave the man her building manager’s number, then called Mr. Watson and gave him the message.

She hung up her coat, setting her briefcase on the desk. The rose still looked as fresh as yesterday. Who had sent her this rose? Perhaps she could call Minda and ask if she’d sent a rose up here and then keep pushing her until she gave a hint.

Dinah tapped the intercom for April. “I’m calling Mr. Jensen, so please hold calls.”

“Will do. You know you have a meeting with Ms. Hunsaker at ten thirty?”

“Yes, thanks.” She pushed in the numbers for Mr. Jensen, all the while searching for her list of the questions she’d been compiling. His assistant put her right through.

His voice sounded jovial. “So, good morning, Dinah. Thanks for taking time to get back to me. I watched the TV interview and have been keeping up on the print, so I imagine how your time is running away from you. The real question is, how are you and Jonah doing?”

“Better than I expected, I guess. Or maybe not. Still no clear signs of grief. And I didn’t realize how self-possessed and independent he is. I keep thinking he is far older than seven.”

“That I understand. How is he dealing with his mother’s death?”

“Very matter-of-factly. Corinne told him where she was going and what would happen, and it is business as usual. New home, just as Corinne told him, and new all kinds of things. But he reminds Jesus every night to say hi to his mommy for him and says that he misses her. I keep waiting for some kind of grief reaction, but none so far.”

“I guess I am as surprised as you are. I see they are delivering his things today. Perhaps opening some of those boxes will trigger a response.”

“Are there a lot of boxes?”

“Seven or eight, I think. Gramma Trudy took Corinne’s personal clothes and possessions—to give to a thrift shop, as I understand it. So I had the furniture go there also, and the kitchen things. Since you bought him a bed and chest of drawers, those went with the other things.”

“Thank you.” She caught herself doodling. “May I ask you some rather personal questions?”

“I’ll answer what I can.”

“Have they always been this poor?”

“No, her husband used to send money for them. He bought the condo.”

“That confuses me. Jonah refers to it as an apartment. And it seems quite shabby to be a condo.”

“It started as an apartment house. The units went condo about four years ago. Three or four, just after he was deported. He retained me to oversee his family’s provision and I got an immigration lawyer on it—friend of mine—but before he could do much, the man died. Corinne got sick about that same time. Went downhill in a hurry. I tried several different ways to contact his extended family, even a private investigator, but never received a response. It was as if he never existed. The money dwindled to the returns on an investment I made for them. These last months used up the principal. When the condo sells, I plan to invest the money for Jonah. Corinne fought fiercely to stay off welfare and keep her son out of the Social Services system.”

“I’m confused. Is your interest professional or personal?”

“Both.” The voice softened. “Professional when Andre retained me as family counsel, standard lawyer-client relationship. It became personal when Immigration and Customs Enforcement broke into their home in the middle of the night and quite literally dragged Andre out of his bed. A wife and small son? That was unconscionable. And then her illness, which was subsequently diagnosed as terminal. Indignity and ill fortune heaped too high to climb. And the boy…Yes, Ms. Taylor, it’s now personal.”

There was so much she wanted to know, but her mind was skipping all over.

His firm voice. “Frankly, Ms. Taylor, I had serious reservations. I know we are asking a lot for you to take Jonah and rear him, but, more so, we don’t really know anything about you—about the real you, not just the search-engine information about you. But Corinne felt so strongly that God was sending you to take care of her son that I could only go along with her wishes.”

Why could she not keep her thoughts under control? “Would a judge grant a single woman guardianship or adoption or whatever we would need to do?”
And why
me?
But the last she kept to herself, along with the rest of her questions. This was enough to deal with right now.

“Yes, since all the paperwork is in order. There will be a formal court appearance. The judge will ask if you understand all the ramifications of adopting a little boy and if you are prepared to provide him with a home and care for him until he is grown. Grown in this case meaning the age of eighteen.”

“Mr. Jensen, I agreed to this, and as far as I know, I will not change my mind. But what if—I mean—she didn’t know me. How could…”

“I understand.” She could hear him shuffling papers. “As I said, Corinne believed implicitly that this is God’s way of providing for her so much loved son. That’s how she could do this.”

Again the
how
nearly whacked her. Did she really have any idea what she was getting into? Single parenting. No grandparents or relatives to help her.
Oh, Gramma Grace! Why did you leave me?
What did she know about good parenting based on the way she grew up? Not a lot. Could she learn? Apparently she was going to have to.

Confused? She saw with a jolt how much more she felt than just confusion. Terror. Doubt. Fear. But then there was that ragged little boy with huge, dark eyes and a best friend who was furry and even more ragged. Did he realize how totally his world had been destroyed?

“Here, I have it.” Mr. Jensen put his phone on speaker mode. You could tell by the slightly bottom-of-the-barrel echo. “The court calendar. We have a possibility of a hearing before a judge two weeks from tomorrow. That’s the Wednesday after next. Once I know for certain, I will let you know. Jonah will have to be there, too.”

Dinah flipped through her own calendar. “I’ll mark that Wednesday, then. I was going to ask you, what about Jonah’s doctor and dentist? Any specialists?”

“Sorry, I have none of that information. I have his school records here, shots, vaccinations, that kind of thing. I’ll send them over to you.”

“Did Corinne ever mention her family?”

“No. I asked her more than once, especially when that final diagnosis was made, and she said there was no one.”

“And Gramma Trudy and Claire are their only friends?”

“To my knowledge. You will have to ask them. I know they want to know how Jonah is. If you could take him to visit them…”

“As soon as I can find the time. I planned to.” Time. Dinah didn’t have any time.

His voice purred. “That would be very thoughtful of you. Is there anything else?”

“Not that I know of at the moment. Thank you. Oh, I do have a question for you. How are you being paid to handle all this?”

“Don’t you worry about that. It’s taken care of.”

They hung up.

She sat there staring and pondered his statement.
It’s taken care of.
And yet he’d said they had used up all their money. So this was pro bono. He meant what he’d said about personal involvement, then. And, thinking of Jonah, she understood completely.

W
hy did he get the feeling she had grabbed the first chance available and run?

Garret sipped his cold coffee. How had he happened on this Extraburger, anyway? Obviously it was not his usual stop, but clearly it was Dinah and Jonah’s. Rather than taking the bypass like usual, he’d driven through town. If he thought about it, there were no accidents; all was planned by God. His devotions the night before had said to watch for the treasures God had planted in his day. If this was a treasure, he certainly could not see the value of it.

Other than for Jonah. To lose his mother so recently. And his dog got beaten up. And he’d gone to live with someone else. How had he ever met the recluse Dinah Taylor? And why on earth was Garret painting all three of them in oils? So maybe he’d picked up some of their turmoil, things reflected in their eyes that they wouldn’t otherwise express. Not to him. It must have awakened the artist in him, that was all. Wasn’t it?

He slid out of the booth, dumped his trash, and headed for his car. Sometimes life was just hard to decipher. Was there anything he could do for Jonah?
Lord God, if there is, show me.
He’d see them Saturday. Maybe something would come to him before then.

When he returned to the clinic, he checked on Valiant, who was now standing by himself. “Good for you, big boy.” He rubbed the dog’s ears. “Sure wish we had better news for Tessa.”

At her name, the dog perked up his ears and looked to the door.

“Not yet.” He checked the chart by the cage. Morning stats said low-grade temp, all else normal. “You tried walking yet?” He went to the intercom and called for Jason to come help him. He buckled the dog’s collar back on and snapped a lead into the ring. Turning at the sound of the door opening, he greeted Jason and told him they were going to walk Valiant.

“I’ll get a sheet.” They kept lengths of old bedsheets for such a purpose as this, since often a towel just wasn’t long enough to use comfortably on a really big dog. When Jason returned, he waited while Garret encouraged Valiant to try to walk out of the cage. The dog moved his front feet and the good back leg, but swayed on the casted one. He looked up at Garret as if asking, What happened?

“Reach in and get the sheet under him.” Together they got the dog out of the cage and standing. “Here we go. Give him only enough as a backup.” They maneuvered partway around the room and stopped for Valiant to catch his breath.

“He’s working hard at it.” Jason’s brow suggested he was working hard, too.

“I know. Would it be easier if he just let you carry his rear end?” Garret stroked Valiant’s head. “Let’s do that. Show him.” With Jason half carrying him, they went on around the room. “Set up the portable fence. We’ll put him in there.”

“You sending him home?”

“I’d like to. See how well her friend does.”

Amber stuck her head in the door. “Dr. G, you have a patient in One.”

“Okay, thanks. Dog, cat?”

“Nope, cockatiel. Pretty sick.”

“Benny isn’t eating, huddles in the bottom of his cage,” said his owner after their greeting.

Mr. and Mrs. Murphy, older folks; their cockatiel was older, too. Garret had seen the bird before when he’d ripped a toenail out and it wouldn’t quit bleeding. “When did this start?”

“He wasn’t right yesterday, but overnight…”

Garret picked up the gray bird with orange cheeks and examined him. Benny had tried biting him the other time, but not now. “Got to be an infection of some kind. Most likely digestive tract. I’ll give him the initial dose of antibiotics, and then show you how to treat him.” He held Benny in the palm of one hand, the little head trapped between his index and middle finger. “This way he can’t bite you. The syringes will be prefilled and you just insert the needle in one side of his breast or the other. Then use the eyedropper to give him this pink stuff down his throat.” He did both and looked at the older man and woman, who exchanged looks. “You can do it. Wrap him in a towel if it would be easier. I’ll warn you, if you don’t get the pink stuff down his throat and he shakes his head, you’ll both be covered in pink dots.”

“We’ll manage,” the missus said. Her husband paused before nodding.

“Benny should show signs of improvement by tomorrow. Keep his cage covered so he can sleep.” Garret patted the man’s shoulder. “You’ll do fine.”

He saw a sick Siamese cat next.

About half an hour later, he watched Tessa’s friend helping the dog out the door. Jason trailed them to assist getting Valiant up into the van. They assured him they had a ramp to put in place at home. He would see them again for X-rays in three weeks.

This was one of those no-win situations, but they all agreed on one thing. They would do what was best for Valiant. That was one of the things he admired most about people who depended on service dogs; they put the dog first, no matter how heartbreaking the separation was for the people.

By the end of the day, he realized with relief that he had not given Dinah another thought. Sue came back in at seven. Sometime during the day, Amber had set up job-applicant interview appointments for Monday afternoon. Perhaps they would have help soon. The one in California would be done via a video conference call. Garret and Sue would do the interviews together.

But on the drive home, Dinah invaded his mind. What was it about her that made him want to run the other way? And yet this morning he had agreed to join them for breakfast. He could have said no thanks, but he hadn’t.

His menagerie met him at the door, at least the four-footed ones. The full-throated macaw call of “You’re late” made him shake his head as he bent to greet those at his feet. At least it wasn’t “Shut up” this time. And, yes, the macaw did indeed know the meanings of the rather extensive vocabulary he had acquired. “Shut up” was for any time he disagreed with the macaw in the other cage. Again, he used his words correctly.

Since he had grabbed a sandwich on the way home, Garret fed the others and retreated to his studio. Dogs and cat followed and lined up by his chair.

“Sorry, kids, not tonight. I am going to make some progress on these.”

He erased his pencil drawing on the third canvas, drew the boy and his dog in front and a vague female form behind them. He didn’t need to know what Jonah’s mother looked like; he gave her raw umber hair with a touch of burnt sienna. Not to be confused with blonde. He was going for a feeling, not a likeness, at this point. How would he show love and concern? He drew Jonah kneeling and Mutt with her front feet on his chest. One little boy cared for by two angels. There would be no wings in the painting to denote angels, so what would convey that? He studied the concept. Painting the boy and the dog would be easy. A half-skewed Royals cap, a faded blue jacket. Worn but not ratty. Mutt’s ears, one at half mast, one erect, her tail whipping. He wished he had met Jonah’s mother. But would that have made a difference?

He left that painting and studied the head shot of Dinah. The eyes were still not right. The jawline, the hair, were easy. He’d not done her mouth yet, either. He’d painted her brilliant fuchsia, purple, and cerulean blue scarf with varying shades of each. The white sweater set it off. Why did she always wear white?

What did it matter to him? He ignored the ringing phone and let it go to the answering machine. “Pick up, Garret. I need to talk with you.”

His mother. You do not say “Not now, Mom.” He did as told, laying the brushes carefully aside and sinking down into his chair. Might as well get comfortable; most conversations with his mother were not short.

“So, what’s up? I’m coming Sunday. I said I would.”

“I know. But since you are the medical one in our family, I wanted to let you know what is going on.”

“Going on? Is this what you wanted to talk about Sunday?”

“Yes. Your father insisted I call you.” He could hear something different in her voice.
Please, God, don’t let her say cancer.

“Tell him thank you.”

“You tell him. He’s on the other phone.”

“Hi, Dad.”

“I told her this could wait until Sunday.”

Garret wisely kept his mouth shut. His attention wandered back to the paintings. If he…

“Garret?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what do you think?”

Had his attention gone away that long? “I’m sorry, I got distracted. Could you repeat that, please.”

Her voice flinted. “I said, the doctor told me that I am diabetic. That is why I’ve been so tired and out of sorts.”

Not cancer. A load he didn’t realize he’d been carrying flew out the window. “I was afraid you were going to say something much worse. At least this is treatable. Type II, I assume; adult onset, obviously.” He paused. “Does this run in our family?”

“That’s what the doctor asked me. Not in my immediate family, but on your dad’s side your uncle Walt had it.”

“Uncle Walt doesn’t count.
Your
relatives.”

“None.” She paused. “I guess it’s just the shock of it. I’ve always been so healthy.”

“So what do they say to do?”

“I have to talk with a specialist; I have an appointment for next week. In the meantime, I need to start keeping track of my blood sugar. You know how I hate getting stuck.”

“You do what you have to do.” Dad chimed in. “Making your finger bleed is no big deal.” Dad was into platitudes.

“Not to you, maybe,” she snapped back. “It’s not your finger.”

Garret smiled to himself. “So, have you gone online and looked up treatments, diets, life changes, things like that?” Garret’s phone blipped, letting him know another call had come in and switched to the answering machine. “Dad, you can go look it up, can’t you?”

“I will. Your mother just wanted to hear your take on it.”

“
Don’t panic
is first. This isn’t life threatening, at least not right now. And with all the new findings and things, I’m sure you’ll be able to control it with no problem. Mom, you’re made of tough stuff. You have more self-discipline than anyone I know. You’ll do fine.”

“The doctor said that all of you should have this checked out. They call it the silent killer.”

“I thought that was high blood pressure.”

“They’re both silent, Garret.”

Another call blipped in.

“Mom, I need to check these calls in case there is an emergency. Let’s talk about this when I see you Sunday.”

“Okay. If we learn anything, I’ll call you.”

He clicked Off and stared at the ceiling, tapping his phone against his chin. He’d heard something lately about a new product. A picture of Dinah Taylor played on the screen of his mind. Wasn’t that what her company had come up with, something that could help diabetics? He’d have to look into that. He checked his messages, returned the call to Danny.

Danny sounded enthusiastic. “The board okayed it as long as no finances are needed from the budget. I am ready to submit this to the city planners. Have you done any more on the money end?”

“We have another two thousand dollars, and there are several who said they will pitch in more if we need it.”

“Just so I can pay my crew.”

“Thanks, Danny. We’ll have it covered.” He hung up and thought down the list of others he could ask. After all, that room was used for a lot more than their one class. He listened to the other message. That could wait.

But when he went back to his painting, he had trouble concentrating. Nine o’clock. He could paint for another hour. He stood squinting at the third easel. He could fill in background or—he backed up. Sometimes seeing work from a distance helped. He did the same with the other two.

This time of night was not a good time to get involved in a difficult part, like her eyes, or her whole face. The middle easel held the painting of Jonah holding Mutt and she licking his chin. Time to do the dog. He closed his eyes. Where, what, were her markings? More splotchy than delineated. He switched brushes to get more texture. Wiry hair. A smooth coat would be far easier. He’d have to look at her more closely when he took the stitches out. How much brown was there? Her eyes. More problems with eyes.

He painted hair going every which way, knowing he’d put the white and light grays in later.

Soandso and Sam, the sibling yellow Labs, got up stretching and went to stand at the sliding glass door. Clearly they were announcing it was time for an out and then bed. Not that they’d done anything more taxing than sleep, but then dogs were good at that. The cat sat in front of the glassed wall. Unless there was a bird out there or a squirrel, he had no desire to escape. Garret leaned down to pick up TC, who now decided that twining about his legs was more fun than staring out into the dark. As soon as Garret rubbed the cat’s neck and chin, his motor started and vibrated the whole relaxed body. Had he been sitting reading, the cat would have been in his lap. Were he on the computer, TC would be sound asleep right beside the keyboard.

TC, Tiger Cat or simply The Cat, depending on how much trouble he was causing, looked up, slightly disdainful. He would take his rightful, God-given spot on the bed. He knew when to ask for cuddling and when to claim it.

The dogs reappeared from the dark, tongues lolling from their run around the perimeter. At least they’d not found something to bark at tonight. The neighbors were not excited when his dogs discovered a strange critter in their yard and tried to let the whole world know.

When he gave in and put his tools away, the dogs raced ahead of him while the cat padded, straight-tailed, alongside. By the time he’d climbed the stairs, he realized he was indeed tired. After reading his devotional for the day and the accompanying Bible verses, he jotted a couple of notes in the notebook he kept beside the bed, checked that all three pets were in their assigned places, and turned out the lights.

Passing through that perfect place for creative thinking, he jerked awake. His mother was diabetic. There could be serious consequences: blindness, kidney failure—what if she were unable to maintain healthy blood sugar levels? And, yes, in this day and age there were a lot of good products to assist, but…it was
his
mother. Mothers weren’t supposed to get sick. Well, not dads, either. And he had pretty much blown her off.
God, what is the matter here?
Mighty selfish, huh? He couldn’t call now, but he figured he’d better be taking flowers along on Sunday. Why had she called him and not Carolyne? While he was the eldest, his oldest sister was usually the confidante, or Becky, who was his younger sister by two years. But, as Dad said, he was the one with the medical background; even though his training was in the animal field, he had always been interested in all medical issues.