Heaven Sent Rain (21 page)

“Can we rent a movie and have popcorn at your house?”

“I guess, if you like.”

“Mutt can’t go to a theater.”

“Right.” Where could she rent a movie? She’d never signed up for Netflix, nor ordered online. “Do you know what you would like to see?”

He nodded. “If you go that way you can rent movies.”

She did and found the place, then motioned him to come with her. “You have to choose.”

They ended up with two movies. Dinah did all right with the first, a horse story, but the second was so boring she had to fight to keep her eyes open. She so rarely sat still this long without a stack of work in front of her. When they finished, Jonah brought his drawing pad out to the coffee table. She put some music on, trying to decide what to do. Email. Not in her office, because she no longer had an office, but here in the living room with a small boy and a snoring dog. How would that go?

She’d just gotten all set up when she heard, “I don’t want to go to school tomorrow.”

“What did you say?” She tore her eyes away from the screen.

“I don’t want to go to school tomorrow.” Jonah kept on drawing.

“Why not?”

Shrug.

“Are you sick?”

“No. I just don’t want to go.”

Now what do I do?
She stared at the top of his head.
If I keep asking why, he might erupt. I hate to make it worse for him. Is it better to just let his comments lie or—

“And I don’t like lunch there.”

“Fine, I’ll make you a lunch.”
What has come over him? How do I help him? I am an absolute disaster as a mother.
“But you have to go to school. It’s the law.”

He picked up his drawing things, stuffed them in his backpack, and headed down the hall. Mutt looked up at her, over her shoulder to see where her boy was, then got up, shook, and jumped down to follow him.

If dogs could talk, Mutt had just said a mouthful. What had Dinah done to her boy this time?

When she went in to say prayers with him, he was sound asleep, an arm over Mutt, who thumped her tail. Dinah backed out without waking him. Maybe things would be better in the morning. What a not-perfect end to an already difficult day. At least parts of it.

Surprisingly, she went to sleep right away and woke to the alarm at six thirty.
Just get going
, she told herself. Trepidation tried to strangle her heart.

Jonah wore the ugly-kid look in the morning and kept it on. He put the lunch she made in his backpack.

“You want me to cut up that apple?”

“No.”

Dinah went to her bedroom and finished dressing. Right on time, they headed out the door to Extraburger. While the weather looked good, the thundercloud over the child beside her made her shiver.

Why didn’t he want to go to school? She could ask him again and get another shrug. He obviously wasn’t in a mood to be cooperative. Was moodiness a part of grieving? Probably. And why was she so tongue-tied? In the end she could not think of anything at all to talk about, so they ate in silence.

“Jonah? You go to Trudy’s this afternoon, remember.”

He grunted and left without a word. She almost followed him to make sure he went to school, but her phone chimed, so she took the call while on the way to her office.

Bringing April up to date, Dinah left a lot of information out. “So, I don’t know what to do.”
I can’t talk about my own feelings, let alone getting Jonah to talk about his. Since when did I become a don’t-rock-the-boat woman?

“Probably not much you can do. I suspect Gramma Trudy will be really good for him.”

And then the work week kicked in. Typical Monday-morning problems lay in wait, but Dinah felt like they were wading through rather well. The staff meeting got started and out on time and accomplished the things on the agenda. That alone was cause for rejoicing. Dinah had been back at her desk for a short time when April announced a call on One.

“I think it is the principal at Jonah’s school.”

Dinah picked up. “This is Dinah Taylor. How may I help you?”

“Ms. Taylor, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we have a situation here with Jonah. How soon can you get here?”

“Situation. What do you mean?”

“Please come as quickly as you can.”

“I’m leaving right now.” What could be happening?

Was Jonah hurt?

M
onday morning and Garret could still feel the grieving little boy in his arms.

And Garret’s mother, grieving along a different path, but grieving all the same. Grief was hard on those nearby, as well. On Garret.

He walked into the office at his usual time. If he hadn’t had to be here for the interviews, he could have gone in later, since he would be running urgent care that night. Faulty planning on his part.

The interviews went as most do—nervous people smiling a lot—with the added twist of Skyping the candidate in California. Garret decided he really did not like Skype, but it certainly was handy; much better than a phone interview.

The ordeal finally ended, and he and Sue took their coffees back into his office.

“So what do you think?” Garret studied Sue. When she didn’t leap right in, he prompted her. “Who was your number-one choice, or would it be easier to weed out the noes?”

She shook her head, studying her notes. “I wish we could hire both of the couple, but since that is out and they didn’t seem willing to have only one hired, I’d say our California girl—er, woman.”

He nodded. “Julie Crick is my first choice. What if…” His voice trailed off. As his brain went off down a bunny trail.

“You’re thinking; that’s dangerous, you know.” Sue leaned back in her chair.

“What if we offered the couple temp work? The urgent care shift, two, three nights a week. Paid hourly or so much a night.”

Sue sat forward, animated. “I like that. And, to carry this one step farther, what if West Side Small Animal Clinic and Stassen Animal Hospital did the same thing? There would be enough hours between the three for both to work full time.”

Someone to cover urgent care? A lovely prospect! “I wonder if other clinics have done anything like this. There are companies, agencies, that broker temps for nurses and doctors and office help and engineers—all kinds of positions. Why not vet hospitals, too?” He punched the intercom. “Amber, you got a minute?”

Sue had her laptop up and running. “I’ll search. Faster.”

Their office manager tapped on the door and entered. “What do you need?”

“Sue’s looking up vet temp services.”

“There are a couple, but they’re located in big cities where there are lots of places needing help, like Los Angeles, New York, Dallas. I didn’t find any possibles around here.”

Sue and Garret stared at her.

She leaned against the doorjamb. “I just thought about it earlier today. Something Dr. Whanigan said triggered the idea.”

Grinning, Garret reached for his phone and stopped. “Do we agree that we bring Julie here for a visit with the prospect of hiring her and get going on the temp idea immediately?”

“Why do I feel we’re standing in the middle of the freeway and a full bank of lights are barreling toward us?” Sue sighed.

Amber stood erect. “Because your business partner is hyperactive. Why don’t I call that Los Angeles agency—the New York one will be closed now—and see what I can find out? And don’t forget you’re on duty tonight, Dr. G. Jason will be on with you.”

Garret should go home, feed the horde, and grab a nap, but he was too keyed up for a nap. Too much going on. They made the calls and he walked out to his SUV.

Why did life always come in bunches? Things had been cruising along pretty even—busy, but even. The cartoon strip, his artwork, his profession, his church. Suddenly his mom was ill, he was handling the financing of his church’s steamroller building project, a sweet lady was about to lose her beloved service dog, and the clinic was poised to hire one and possibly three new people. Hiring on a new person always forced a period of adjustment for the newbie and hirers both. He wanted peace and quiet and work, and hiring new vets would seriously shake up his world. And on top of it all, a dog and two people with haunting eyes were seizing his interest and taking up way too much time at the easel and in his thoughts.

Like now. Again. Jonah, small, hurting, confused, frightened. Dinah Taylor, the enigmatic CEO hotshot. What had he and she both told each other at that strange breakfast in the Extraburger? “You act like you don’t like me.” Only they both had said it.

And why shouldn’t he be cool toward her? She was frosty toward him. It turned him off, big time. Didn’t she realize that? CEOs think they know everything and they’re a whiz at human relations. Garret knew all about that; once upon a time, long, long ago, he had married one.

But then there was Jonah. Dinah and he would have to put that tortured child ahead of themselves.

Call her!
The voice almost shouted in his mind. Was this the Holy Spirit urging him on, or some weird figment of his imagination? He had to have a reason to call. See how Jonah was doing. That would serve. She’d be at work now. What was the name of her company? He’d left that news article with his mom. Food something? Dinah Taylor.

He tapped into his phone’s search engine. Food for Life. There it was. Her office. He told his phone to call the number.

A woman answered, a woman with a soft, pleasant voice.

“This is Dr. Garret Miller, the veterinarian caring for Jonah Morgan’s Mutt.”

“Dr. Miller! Of course. How can I help you?”

“I’d like to speak to Ms. Taylor, please.”

“I’m sorry, she’s not available right now. Can I take a message?”

You weren’t expecting her to be out. Think fast, brain!
“I, uh, we took Mutt’s stitches out yesterday and I’m just checking. Checking on Jonah, also. He was uncharacteristically upset.”

Hesitation. She took a breath he could hear. “Dinah told me about Jonah’s meltdown Saturday.” Another deep breath. “This is totally against protocol, but I’m worried. Jonah’s school called a couple minutes ago and asked Dinah to come immediately. They wouldn’t tell her what the problem was. I’m afraid it could be another meltdown.”

“Which school?”

“Lincoln Elementary.”

“I know that one. Thank you. I’ll call you if I learn something.”

“Oh, but I didn’t mean you should—But…thank you, Doctor.”

Garret pulled into traffic and took the next right turn. Four of his patients’ owners went to Lincoln. Five, with Jonah. He had been the featured speaker at their weekly assemblies a couple times. He crossed Main and took Hawthorn over, the back way to Lincoln, and quicker.

Three city police cars were parked outside the school. Two fifty-five. School should have let out by now, but there were the buses, empty and waiting, lined up along the curb. Crossing guards were in place; no children crossing.

A uniformed guard at the entrance to the parking lot stopped him. “Are you here to pick up a student?”

“No. I’m Dr. Garret Miller, a local veterinarian. I’m here to talk to the principal, Ms. Bickle.”

The officer brightened. “I know you; you talked to the kids last spring about rabies. And you do that comic strip.”

“That’s true.”
And please let that make a difference right now.
Sometimes celebrity could be a help.

“Well, I’m sorry, Doctor.” And the fellow did in fact look sorry. “The school is in lockdown. No one enters or leaves.”

“Lockdown…”

An officer in a flak vest came around the far corner. Another stepped out the main doors, radio in hand, talking. Two more got out of a police car at the curb near the front entrance and opened the vehicle’s doors.

Garret stared. “What in the world is happening?”

“A student smuggled a weapon into the school.”

“Weapon…Who would…”. He sighed. “I remember a day when the worst thing you could do in class was chew gum.”

“Ain’t it the truth.”

Four of his clients, kids with their pictures on his wall, huddled in there somewhere, locked in their classrooms. What a rotten thing for a kid to have to go through. And somewhere in there, poor little Jonah was cowering under some desk.
Please, God, if You sent me here, open the doors.

At that moment, the front doors to the school swung open. Two officers came walking smartly out. A woman and child. More officers. Was the whole squad here? All the officers wore those bulky protective vests and riot helmets. The officer nearest the prowl car reached out, grabbed the woman’s head, and pushed it down, ducking her physically into the back seat. The child was stuffed in next to her. They had their perps, as they say.

It was Dinah and Jonah.

Furious didn’t begin to cover what Dinah was feeling. All this over a small paring knife Jonah had slipped into his backpack to cut up his apple.

“I’m sorry.” Jonah stared at his hands.

“I know.”
Me, too.
So now Jonah was suspended indefinitely. And arrested. No, not arrested, at least not formally. Detained. By uniformed officers. If that wasn’t a good definition of
arrested
…

At least they hadn’t handcuffed him.

A seven-year-old boy who until last week had absolutely nothing on his record to show anything but an exemplary student. Well, except last Friday, when he’d gotten into a brief push-and-shove fight. Apparently the class bully snatched a drawing and Jonah grabbed it back.

To quote the principal, and Dinah could almost repeat it verbatim, “I was planning to call you Friday, but I waited to see if problems continued. I know his mother died. We were expecting some kind of normal acting out; it’s a way children deal with grief and stress. But the school has a zero-tolerance policy regarding any kind of weapon or anything that even looks like a weapon. I’m sorry, Ms. Taylor.
Zero
tolerance.”

How should she, a mommy in disguise, deal with this?

The cruiser drove into the police garage. The door dropped shut behind them. Dinah and Jonah were escorted from the car and led into a room with a long counter on the far end, where they were shown to sit on chairs along a wall.

A brass name tag identified the officer who sat down beside her as Lewiston. “I’m sorry, Ms. Taylor. With all the school incidents happening around the country, everyone is edgy. Zero tolerance.”

“Zero tolerance. I keep hearing that. I see.” But she did not see. None of this made any kind of sense. Maybe if Jonah was older and the rules had been drilled into his head…

At a counter across the room, another officer was methodically removing everything from Jonah’s backpack, apparently inventorying its contents. The invasion of privacy rattled Dinah. Should she speak up, say something about search warrants? She sat mute.

“You understand how alert schools are now.” Officer Lewiston was not so much as glancing at Jonah; it was as if the boy were not there. “We take every precaution to prevent serious accidents or violence from happening, of course, and sometimes we have to err on the side of caution.”

“Thank you. That part I do understand. What will happen now?”

“You will be given forms to fill out. You will meet with another officer, you will be given an appointment with the judge, and then you can take Jonah home. If he were older he might be facing time in juvie.”

Dinah gritted her teeth and forced a polite smile to stay in place. Feeling a small hand sneaking into hers, she looked down. Jonah sat as close to her as he could get, shrunken in on himself, his bottom lip quivering.

She heard the
whoosh
of the door opening and looked up. Dr. Miller strode in like he owned the place. Her heart leaped into her throat. What was he doing here? His smile telegraphed reassurance. A quick flash of his holding Jonah swooped through her mind.

He crossed to her. “I arrived at the school a few minutes ago and—”

Officer Lewiston stood up. “Are you her attorney?”

“No, I—”

“Then I’ll have to ask you to wait over there.”

“Involved party.” Dr. Miller sounded so firm and official that even Dinah believed him.

“Jonah Morgan?” A female uniformed officer called from the counter across the room.

Dinah and Jonah stood up. So did Officer Lewiston. Did he think they would run away or something?
He’s just doing his job
, she reminded her clenched jaw. They stepped up to the counter and the clerk asked for her ID. The process had begun.

The woman in uniform slid a clipboard with several sheets of forms across to her. “While you fill these out, I’ll see when Sergeant Peters can see you. Things are kind of quiet right now, so it shouldn’t be too long.”

“Thank you.” They returned to their seats.

A woman beckoned Officer Lewiston, so he excused himself and left as they sat back down. Dr. G settled down on the other side of Jonah. Dinah ran down the form. Relationship to the accused. How did she explain that: The judge had not made anything official yet. Complainant. She didn’t know. Time of infraction. Surely someone knew; she did not. She filled out what she could and left a lot of blanks.

A woman in a plain gray suit appeared at a hall door. “Ms. Taylor? Jonah Morgan? Sergeant Peters will see you now.” The woman raised a hand as Garret approached. “Are you her lawyer?”

“No, ma’am, involved party.”

“Then I’ll have to request that you remain out here. They shouldn’t be long.”

Should I have called a lawyer?
Of course! She should have called Mr. Jensen immediately. Dinah wished Hal were in town. Since she had just gotten thrown into the parenting pool without any preparation, both Hal’s presence and his counsel would have helped stem the threatening flood of tears.

The interview lasted all of fifteen minutes and seemed quite rote and technical. They returned to their chairs in that dingy room. And waited.

A different woman, this one in a pale blue suit, appeared at a different door. “Judge Kittles can see you now.”

Again Garret was told to remain behind.

Jonah clung to her hand as if terrified they would jerk him away.

She hoped she smiled down at him. “It’s going to be okay, Jonah.” But she was afraid neither of them believed her words.

They were ushered into a severe room with no curtains at the windows and directed to two chairs in front of a zip-code-size mahogany desk. Behind it sat Judge Kittles. Jonah tugged his chair slam into Dinah’s and sat pressed against her.