Heaven Sent Rain (17 page)

He locked his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. While his dad was sixty, his mother hadn’t hit that milestone yet. Besides, everyone always said his parents seemed younger than their years.

He rolled over, aware of two sets of front paws on the edge of the bed as the dogs checked to see if he was all right. “Sorry, kids.” He stroked the dogs’ heads and sent them back to bed. Lying sleepless was not like him.
Lord God, clearly I need Your wisdom here. I can get up and go look things up or I can go to sleep like I need to.

The animals were not pleased with his decision to go back down to the computer.

An hour later, and much wiser about the disease as it presents in humans, he sent the links to his father and barely made it back up the stairs before his eyes started to close. Now if only he could do something for Jonah.

His eyes popped open. What? What had just gone through his mind? The child was basically a stranger who was someone else’s responsibility.

A child who was going through hell right now. A child without a mom who desperately needed nurturing. Garret was not a nurturer, not a father. But…

But then he drifted off to sleep.

J
onah, are you all right?”

He looked up from picking at his Extraburger pancake. Jonah was normally not a dawdler with food or anything else. His shrug gave her absolutely no information. Other than that he was not acting normally.

“Do you feel sick? Sore throat, tummy ache?”

He shook his head, heaved a sigh, and drank his hot chocolate.

Dinah pasted a smile on her mouth—at least she hoped it was a smile—and changed the subject. “I’m working on the grocery list. What did you like to eat when—” She caught herself. “Well, at your house.”

“Mommy made spaghetti.”

“Okay, tonight we’ll make spaghetti.”
I can handle that. Buy a jar of sauce, add hamburger, and cook the spaghetti. Surely I can’t mess that up.
Why had she never bothered to learn to cook?

Jonah grabbed his backpack. “Should I come to your office after school again?”

“Yes, please.”

“Why can’t I go to your house and take care of Mutt? She doesn’t like to be alone all the time.”

Why couldn’t he? Right off the top of her head, she couldn’t think of a reason. “I didn’t get you a key yet.”

“Can you do that today?”

“Tell you what, you come to the office and we’ll decide what to do then, okay?”

He nodded, slung his pack over one shoulder, and left. She watched him trudge past the window with no smile and no wave. Something was indeed wrong, but what?
Other than that his whole world had just collapsed. And his mother had died a week or so ago.
The voice sounded more than a little sarcastic.

Dinah gathered up their trash and carried it to the box. Another thing Jonah had or hadn’t done. Half his breakfast was still on the plate; only his hot chocolate was empty. Back at their table, she picked up her things and headed upstairs.

“Uh-oh, what happened?” April changed immediately from cheery to concerned.

“Something is wrong with Jonah.” Dinah propped her briefcase on April’s desk, her bag weighing heavily on her shoulder. The whole morning had gone from normal, whatever that was, to a load far too weighty to be carried.

“He’s not sick?”

“He said not.” She reiterated all the things she had noticed. “When he walked by the window, he looked like he carried half of Eastbrook on his shoulders.”

“Anything unusual that might have triggered a change?”

Dinah shook her head slowly, searching the evening, the morning, the night, whatever. “If something happened, I am not aware of it.”

“The best thing is to get him talking. Have you set him up with a grief counselor?”

Dinah frowned. “When I went in to his school Monday—April, that seems so long ago!—they asked for the name of his counselor or psychologist. I said he didn’t have any, and they told me to set him up with one, but they weren’t allowed to make recommendations. One of the many, many things I haven’t done yet. I know. I’ll call the lawyer, Jensen. And if he doesn’t know any, maybe I could ask around down in the university’s psychology department.”

Grief counselor. Where was that kind of help when Dinah had needed it so desperately all those years ago? Could grief counseling have made a change in her life? Maybe. Probably not. When God lets you down, you’ve been let down. Period.

She stood up. “He asked why he can’t go be with Mutt after school. I stalled; I said because he doesn’t have a key. He’s too young to be alone, right?”

April nodded, then grimaced. “I hate to be the bearer of more bad tidings, but have you seen the headlines?”

“Like where?”

“The
Eastbrook Sentinel
for a start.” She laid open the front page.

“‘FDA Takes a Stand.’” Dinah looked up. “Against us?”

“Or rather against Scoparia.”

She picked up the paper and read the opening paragraph.

Dinah slammed the paper closed. “I guess we knew this was coming. That doesn’t really say anything new.”

April wagged her head. “I’d think the feds would tell us their decisions first before releasing them to the press.”

“April, it’s non-news. There’s no such decision. Scoparia doesn’t meet the criteria for a drug. Some reporter built a story out of nothing.” She settled into the other chair by April’s desk and read the rest of the story, moving to page ten, back of section one. At least all their facts were straight. So why the innuendo of wrongful conduct? This was really blowing smoke.

Dinah tossed the paper aside. “So, as Hal says, we’ll call this free publicity and keep on with what we are doing.”

April breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, I’m so glad you feel that way. Marcella took this as a personal attack.”

“I trust she’ll change her mind when she thinks it through.” Dinah left the paper lying on the desk and went on to her office. She put her things away, checked her coffee. It was lukewarm, so she emptied the cup in the sink. She’d never cared much for lukewarm anything.

By noon she felt like a firefighter, having put out brush fires all morning. As someone so well said, it was the tyranny of the urgent. Her to-do list still waited. She punched April’s button. “Order me up some lunch, please—whatever soup they have and half a turkey on rye, toasted.”

“I take it you are working over lunch?”

“Yes. I am.” How often did April nag her about not taking breaks often enough, and lunch was considered a break? So she added, “On family stuff.”

“Oh, good.”

Dinah dictated two letters into the machine and returned two more phone calls. Marcella must have calmed down, since she’d not appeared at the door, or called, or texted. Maybe everyone else was on Friday mode, too: get as much done as possible just in case you could leave early on Friday afternoon.

April knocked and entered unbidden, carrying two to-go bags from Braumeister’s and a two-liter bottle of ginger ale. She paused, smiling. “I’m an old hand at being mother and you’re a newbie. May I help?”

Why burden April with her problems? That thought fled half-formed. “I would be so grateful! Yes.”

They settled at the table by the windows, April said grace, and Dinah acted polite. She lifted a lid. “Clam chowder!”

“It’s Friday, remember?”

“I know, the fact kind of goes in and out.” Dinah took a bite of her sandwich before a spoonful of the creamy chowder. Mrs. Braumeister made the best soups. “Okay, the problem is this: Jonah is seven years old and he cannot stay alone at the condo until I get home from work. From there on I’m in a muddle.”

April nodded. “We need the white board, where you draw those goofy diagrams so we can make wise decisions. I suggest that getting Jonah and Mutt back together quickly each day would help a lot. He seems to draw strength from his dog. What about this Gramma Trudy? She might be glad to have Jonah come there.”

“Good point. I’ll call and talk to her.”

“Take Jonah to see her. It might help him right now. A familiar face.”

“I know. I told the lawyer I would. But it’s right next to his house. Won’t that make it worse?”

“Hm. I don’t know.” April mulled as she chewed. “Does Lincoln Elementary have an after-school program you could sign him up for? Many schools have that now.”

“I could call and ask. What do your kids do?”

“You have to remember they are older now, and Joe’s mother lives two blocks over. They used to go to her house. Now she takes them to practices or after-school events, if there is something special going on. They are really spoiled, because she always bakes cookies just for them.”

Not for the first time, Dinah got another brush of feeling for the value of having family around. That would never happen with her parents, and while Grandma Grace promised to watch out for her from heaven, perhaps that had been wishful thinking, too. She needed a live body now that she had a small boy to take care of.

“Right. My parents aren’t into child care.”
Not even when we were growing up.
But she didn’t say that aloud. “And they live too far from the school.” Like three states. She had no white board, so she set up one in her head. In the middle, Jonah plus Mutt. Gramma Trudy in one corner, the school in another; two possible solutions.

“I could hire a nanny to be waiting for him when he returns to my place.” Mentally, she wrote
Nanny
in the lower right corner of the board. “If worst comes to worst, do you think it would work for him to go home, get Mutt, and come back here?” She imagined Food for Life in the lower left corner.

“He could. You mentioned once about wanting to keep work and personal separate. That would scotch that.”

“True.” She jotted herself a real note to order groceries. Why it popped into her head she had no idea, but she was quickly learning that you write these things down instantly. “Would he be a distraction here? Is it fair to him?”

“Dinah, nothing in life is fair for him right now. We do what we must.” April stuffed her napkin and containers into a bag.

Dinah scrunched up her napkin and tossed it in. She held April’s eye. “Thank you so much. I’ll call Gramma Trudy right now.”

April bobbed her head. “And I’ll call the kids’ school. I know their assistant supe well, and she knows what all the area schools offer. Maybe we can even have something in place to tell him when he gets here this afternoon.” She tossed the bag in the can on her way out and Dinah returned to her office feeling somewhat buoyed. At least she was doing something.

Gramma Trudy’s number. It took Dinah a few minutes to dig it out of her notes. One ringy-dingy. Two. Three. Trudy’s daughter Claire’s voice explained to Dinah that Trudy was unable to come to the phone right now, but if you would leave a message…Sometimes answering machines could drive one to drink, or swearing, or both.
Oh, relax, Dinah! Trudy will call back as soon as she returns.
She could call Hal, an out she took way too often, but he was still out of town. And he had his own problems.

She kicked off her heels and stood, stretching, bending, turning, stretching, breathing deep, reminding herself that she was no longer a frisky young volleyball player. Maybe it was time she tried yoga. Hands straight-armed against the wall, she stretched her hamstrings. She was not getting enough exercise, that was for sure. She was tighter than a kettle drum. Stretching some more, especially her head side to side, she slid her shoes back on and stood in front of the window. Today would have been a great day for a walk, and she’d not left the building.

Moments after she sat down at her work station, April knocked and entered. “Okay. Here’s the info.” She plopped a page of notes on Dinah’s desk. “Lincoln has an after-school program. You have to sign him up yourself, personally. It lasts until six and he has to be picked up by an approved caregiver; he can’t just walk home. They do homework, some crafts, games, music. The program changes with teachers and volunteers who specialize in something. Oh, and art. The way he draws, maybe they can get him to teach it. Some gym time. And adequate supervision.”

“Snacks?” The first place Jonah went was the refrigerator or the cupboard. She remembered coming home from school starved, too. She shut that memory down. It did not remain shut. She thought of her mother’s stringent food rules; eat to live, not live to eat. Once she’d started going to Gramma Grace’s after school, life had been so different. Gramma Grace was not into fasting or austerity, and she used lots of sugar and butter.

“Oops. I forgot to ask that.”

“No problem; I can send something with him. Can he go sporadically or does he have to be there every day?”

“Every day. Once you sign up, you are committed without a special permission form.”

“Of course. It’s pretty rigid, but…it’s a backup plan. Thank you, April.”

But April was already hurrying out to answer a buzzing phone.

Oh, and a key. She called Mr. Watson and got another answering machine. She told the infernal device that she would need a key for Jonah.

She stretched her neck—again. Checking her list, she called her order in to the grocery store and got put on hold. When Mrs. Braumeister apologized a short time later, what could she say? She gave her order, and said she’d be by to pick it up on her way home. She hoped that would be as soon after three as possible.

If only she could work at home, like she used to. She got a lot done, and could also work out lab problems there. How could she reconfigure her condo, her lovely little perfect-for-one-busy-person-size condo, to maintain privacy for two very different people— and a dog!— and still have a useable workspace?

She pulled up the financial reports she needed to go over, and the next thing she realized was that her clock said four thirty. Why hadn’t April called her? She should have set a reminder on her calendar. She slapped her hands on her desk and stood. Her door was closed, no lights flashed on her phone, and she felt like she’d been running on a summer day, she was so thirsty. Grabbing a bottle of water from the small refrigerator in her half-bathroom, she chugged most of it and headed out to see what the others were doing. Surely April would have notified her if Jonah hadn’t arrived.

She checked the break room. Empty. April’s desk. Vacant. But she heard voices from the conference room. Was that a dog barking? Pushing open the door, she expected to see the television on, but, instead, Mutt came bounding over to greet her.

“You can’t do that!” Randy slapped his cards down on the table.

“Can too!” Jonah scooped up the deck.

“Randy, you just haven’t played for so long, you forgot the rules.” April grinned at Dinah over her shoulder. “You gotta keep these young pups in line.”

Jonah was grinning, too. He glanced up at Dinah. “I won!”

Dinah laughed. “So I surmise.”