Heaven Sent Rain (23 page)

Jonah plopped onto the sofa with a box. Instantly, Dr. Miller settled beside him. She wanted to tell him,
Jonah, the doctor has to get to his clinic.
But she said nothing. Mutt struggled up onto the sofa and laid her head on Jonah’s lap, looking at the pictures as if she recognized herself and approved.

“Do you draw anything besides Mutt?”

“Sometimes.”

“Have you ever painted?”

“No. I don’t like paints much. Or crayons.”

The doctor studied him a moment. “I see. You prefer black and white.”

Jonah nodded.

Jonah’s whole world was black and white; why had Dinah not seen that? Yes or no. This or that. You either do it right or you’re wrong. No shades of gray.

Jonah waved a hand toward the boxes still stacked against the wall. “There’s more in the boxes. Mommy kept them all.”

“Good. Glad she appreciated fine art.” He gestured toward the wall. “Jonah’s things?”

Dinah grimaced. “I’ve been meaning to get them moved into his room.”

“Let me.”

“What? Well, uh…”

“Ms. Taylor. May I call you Dinah?”

“Yes. Garret?”

“Please.” He stood up. “You do not have to do everything yourself, Dinah. Please, let me.”

She stuttered and shifted her feet and heaved a sigh like a balloon losing all its air. “I don’t…of course. If you can take those two larger ones, I’ll take the smaller ones.” He picked up a large carton and she hurried ahead of him down the hall into what used to be her office and pushed open the louvered doors to the closet. She yanked out the vacuum cleaner and mop and stepped back.

He tucked the box into a back corner. “Jonah. Hey, Jonah? Can you put your clothes on the bed until we get these moved?”

Jonah hopped right to the task.

The whole project took less than five minutes, including putting Jonah’s clothes back in. So simple. So easy. A task she’d not gotten around to for days had been completed so swiftly. Not only that, but Dr. Miller—Garret—popped the clothes pole up out of its brackets and rested it across two of the cartons, holding it in place under the weight of boxes above it; Jonah could now hang up his clothes at his level.

The doctor took his leave then, and she locked the door behind him.

She disliked disorder. Those stacked boxes had been disorderly; her living room was back to its neat, orderly, normal state, except, of course, for the stain.

And a hideous, ugly, evil thought struck her: Jonah needed so much more than she could possibly ever give him. He needed a real mom, not a bumbling, inept one who wasn’t even certain how to love him, and he needed a dad. A man. Was she keeping him from what he needed most?

She must give serious consideration to the possibility of turning him over to fosterage so that he could have a real home.

T
he scream came again. “No! No!” And garbled.

Dinah sat up. Was it her? Had she been screaming? The dream—was it a dream?

“No, no, I—mean to. No.”

She was half way to his door before she realized she was out of bed. Jonah. It was Jonah. She opened his door to see him sitting straight up in bed, Mutt licking his face. Even in the dim light she could see that his eyes weren’t focused. She crossed to the bed and sat down gently.

Mutt whimpered.

“Mo-m-m-y.” The cry trailed off.

Dinah leaned over and gathered him into her arms, having no idea if this was best or not. “I’m here Jonah, I’m here. You’re going to be okay, sweetheart.” Her words drifted into mother murmurs as she stroked his back. With his arms clamped around her, he shuddered and whimpered. She laid her cheek on his head and kept on.

She’d done this before. Many years before. With another little boy who often had nightmares with no one else to comfort him. But she knew the difference. This was Jonah. That had been her little brother. But the comfort worked the same.

When Jonah relaxed against her, his breathing changed. It became even, with a hiccup once in a while, as he slept in her arms. Mutt lay stretched beside her thigh, her chin on Dinah’s leg, her tail swishing every once in a while.

Her back cramping, Dinah laid him back on his pillow, stroked the hair back off his forehead, kissed him, and patted the dog, who licked her hand. Mothers comforted with whatever came to hand.

Return to her room or stay here? Would she be needed again? Would Jonah remember this in the morning? As far as she knew, he never really woke up. Could this be like sleepwalking?

When she began to shiver, she made her way back to her own bed and crawled under the covers. Getting warm enough to sleep took some time, or maybe her mind did not want to switch off. Which, she didn’t know, and she didn’t have the energy to puzzle it through.

“Dinah? If I can’t go to school today, what am I going to do?”

She sat bolt upright in bed. It was morning.

He was standing there, like usual. “Do you want a peanut butter and banana toast?”

She was going to tell him yes, but she stopped herself. “I don’t think so.”

“Mommy really liked peanut butter and banana toast.”

I am not your mother and never can be. We’re going to have to sit down and straighten that out soon.
“Jonah, let me get dressed and get going and we’ll talk about it.”

He shrugged and walked out toward the kitchen.

Her phone sang while she was brushing her teeth. She hit the speaker. “Yeff.”

“Dinah?”

“Yeff. Tooffpashte. Minute.” She spit and rinsed her mouth. “Sorry. April? You’re not in the office already, are you?”

“I came in early. Dinah, be prepared for headlines with photos.”

Dinah slipped her brush into the holder. “Maybe I should start subscribing to the paper.”

“I have them here. When will you be in?”

“Them? As in plural?” Dinah stared at the mirror, her stomach already tightening. “Give me an hour.”

“A short hour, please.”

April was usually so efficient and in control; this morning she sounded angry or fearful. Dinah clicked off and headed for the kitchen, zipping up her pullover fleece robe as she went. The condo was chilly. Had she not set the thermostat last night? She checked on her way down the hall. What other normal thing had she neglected in all the turmoil? When she realized she’d flipped the Off switch last night, she turned it on again, set it for day, and entered the kitchen. It was not just her competence as a mother that was eroding rapidly.

Mutt was munching kibble, Jonah was sitting at the table, drawing pad out and pencil in hand.

“What do you want to eat?”

He shrugged. “Banana and peanut butter toast and cereal?”

“Fine with me. You want to get stuff out of the fridge?” She reached into the cupboard for cereal boxes and bowls, set them on the counter, and turned her attention to the coffee maker. Should she bring up what had happened yesterday or not? What about the nightmare? Ask if he remembered? How do you treat a child in a situation like this?

What would her parents have done? Whoa, do not go there. Whatever had brought that idea into her mind? What would Gramma Grace have done? That was no help, either. She had no point of reference to base anything on. Ask April? April was a wise and experienced mom whose kids never got in trouble.

She set her coffee on the table and sat down so Jonah could say grace. This time he kept to the script. She answered the call of the toaster and brought the two pieces back to the table, where Jonah had set the peanut butter. While she spread her toast with butter, she watched him carefully, meticulously cut his banana onto his cereal.

“You want another banana on your toast?”

“I can have two?” His look of amazement jabbed her heart. Bananas were something that could always be purchased, and she could have as many as she wanted. Over and over she was realizing what
poor
meant.

“If you like. Or jam, or plain PB.”

“Honey is good, too.”

“Sorry, we don’t have honey.”

“I know, but it is good. Maybe we could buy some honey sometime?” At her nod, he sort of smiled and said, “Jam, then, but I can put it on.”

“Yes, you sure can.” She set the jar in front of him.

The miserable phone sang again. She didn’t recognize the number. “Yes?”

“Dinah, this is Garret. Just checking to see if the two of you are all right. You seemed a little shaky last night.”

“We’re fine.”
Liar.
“Look, can I call you later? April wants me to get to the office ASAP.”

“Good. Talk later.”

She stared at the phone. He hung up just like that. As if he was glad he didn’t have to talk to her. Or was that her wild imagination?

She made it to the office in less than an hour. As per her instructions, Jonah headed back to stay in the break room or watch TV in the conference room. He did not look the happiest, but the ugly face did not appear. He even smiled at April on his way past her desk.

April smiled back at him and turned dead serious again. “The newspapers are on your desk; this sheaf of slips”— she jammed them into Dinah’s hand—“is calls for quotes and opinions, of which you have none. Hal says call him on his cell, and there is a message from Mr. Jensen regarding a court appointment for the adoption proceedings. I’ll fix coffee and bring it in as soon as I can find a minute. And I want to know about Jonah.”

“As to the last, so do I. One more thing to add to that miserable list: What to do about Jonah? I tell you, April, I’m about ready to just pull him out of that school.” She waved her sheaf of call slips. “I’ll call Mr. Jensen first.”

“Good idea.”

Her home had been invaded by aliens with two feet and with four. But here in her office, Dinah reigned in her fortress, her place of strength, the place where she could hide out if necessary. She laid her calendar out on her desk. While she had one on the computer along with the rest of the twenty-first-century world, this old-fashioned hands-on calendar helped her plan better. April would transfer her penciled info to the electronic calendar later.

First call.

Mr. Jensen himself answered, not his secretary. “Good morning to you, too, Dinah. I have some welcome news. The judge to whom your case was assigned is going on vacation to the Virgin Islands.”

“That’s welcome?”

“They’ve moved all his cases up to this week. Can you meet me at the courthouse at two o’clock today? Meet with the judge and me and get those papers signed.”

“But…” Actually, two o’clock was doable.

“The paperwork is all in place. The process should go smoothly. And quickly, if he’s going to get through everything this week.”

“What should I bring?”

“Just Jonah. The judge would like to meet him. Standard procedure.”

“Okay. He is not in school today, so that won’t be a problem.” Was she bitter? Are footballs pointy?

There was a sort of grunt at the other end. “I read the papers this morning. I rather wish you had called as the situation was developing.”

“Mr. Jensen, I was so confused and dumbstruck, I didn’t even think of you until too late. I’m sorry. I’m just not used to this role.”
And I am not a fit parent. I must talk to you about that.

“Let’s meet at one forty-five in the coffee kiosk under the stairs.”

“I know the place. One forty-five.”

Dinah clicked off and picked up the top paper.
Weapon. Criminal. Prominent
CEO. Arrest. School threat.
And pictures! A photographer had been on the scene and he or she snapped pictures of that long, long walk from the front doors of the school to the squad car, as she was being stuffed into that back seat. Incriminating pictures. It wouldn’t even have to be a photographer. It could be any parent with a cell phone, waiting anxiously to gather up her little cherub.

All innuendo, no truth. Misleading. Could she sue the papers? Probably not. She and Jonah were hardly the first victims to be tried and convicted in the press. She ripped up the messages from the hopeful press without looking at them and punched in Hal’s number.

He didn’t even say
Hello, how are you
. “Not a good morning there, is it?”

“Not really. When are you coming home?”

“At the airport now. April said you’ll be appearing before a judge. About that school incident?”

“No, the adoption. Mr. Jensen and I will be meeting with a Judge Henny at two p.m. with Jonah.”

“Henny. Good. Good man, Henny. The bright spot is that there’s prominent mention of Scoparia, so we are getting publicity, anyway. Oh, and Dinah? There are rumors that the FDA is about to pounce, so be prepared for that, too.”

“Oh sure, and how does one prepare for such, such…” She shook her head. “I am running out of words.”

“Columbus, six thirty-nine. Sorry; talking to the check-in woman. You do realize all sorts of special-interest groups will be after you to sue the school district for harassment.”

“Why? Jonah clearly broke the rules.”

“Trust me. It will happen. Your problem, Dinah, is that you are a very good-looking woman. Photogenic. If you were a hag, the press wouldn’t be half as interested. And you and Jonah are great human interest. Poor little orphan boy. Heart tuggers. The press stocks up on human-interest stories to spring on slow news days.”

“Lovely.” All she wanted to do was work in her nice quiet lab.

“I am confident that this craziness will not affect our profits and may even enhance them. Gate twenty-seven; thank you. Just keep your head low. Gotta run.”

Dinah snapped off her cell phone as April walked in the door with two large mugs of coffee and set them on the desk. “Be right back.” She returned carrying a platter from Braumeister’s with a Swedish or Jewish tea ring; Dinah could not remember which.

“Where’s Jonah? He’d probably like a piece of this.”

April sat down. “Randy took him along on errands.”

As she feared, Jonah was getting in the way, big time. “Doesn’t Randy have work to do?”

“He’s doing it. Picking up glacial acetic acid and that industrial peroxide you wanted over at Chem-pure, and on the way back he’ll get the mail in our post office box.”

Dinah sipped her coffee. “Elixir. Thank you. I’m going to have to talk to Trudy today, set something up. Either with her or someone else. This is the problem. He has to stay home from school, but it can’t seem like a vacation, either. I mean, there are consequences for his actions. And I have no idea what to do. It seems to me that no matter where I turn in this, I am the one suffering the consequences, not him.”

“Welcome to the world of parenting.” April sliced herself a wedge. One bite and her eyelids closed in bliss. “However, Jonah loves school, and so not being able to go is punishment for him.”

“He didn’t want to go yesterday.”

“Because of the fight on Friday?”

“Pretty sure that’s it. He never said. See, April? I should have set him down and quizzed him. Why not go to school? What was going on? But I was afraid to upset him or something. I simply did not know what was the best thing to do, so I did nothing, and that was the wrong thing, too.”

“I’m sure he never thought of a kitchen knife as a weapon; when you think about it, it’s natural. Kids play superheroes and use Super Soakers. But they don’t think about weapons. Not when they’re seven. Forbid a seven-year-old to play with guns and he’ll point a stick at his enemy and go bang, bang. And the enemy goes bang, bang back.”

Dinah closed her eyes and savored the ring a few moments. Delicious, and a nice counterpoint to her confused and tasteless thoughts. Was this afternoon too late to decide not to take Jonah? No, not as long as she refused to sign the necessary papers. They might give her lots of dirty looks, but that was better than ruining Jonah’s life through incompetence.

Her eyes popped open. “Oh, nuts! I told Dr. G I would call him back and I forgot all about it.”

“He called you?” April stared at her.

“This morning, checking up on us. Make sure we were doing okay. I told him yes.”

April licked her lips. “I don’t know if apologies are in order. If they are, I offer them. When I told him you were going over to the school, I thought it was to handle another meltdown, and I let it slip. I didn’t think he’d go over there.”

“No apology needed. He followed us over to the police station.”

“Bet he was a sight for sore eyes.”

“Actually, he was a sight for any eyes. I can’t believe the relief I felt. I never would have guessed my reaction. And I wish you could have seen poor Jonah, how his face lit up when he saw Dr. G. Hero to the rescue.”

“I tell you, that man is…is…” April pressed her lips together.

“Spit it out.”

“A gift, that’s what.” April raised a hand, traffic cop–style. “I know you and he crossed swords from the beginning but he listens—”

Dinah interrupted. “To God? Sure, God talks directly to people, special people. But then you know my views on God, so I won’t discuss that part.”