Heaven Sent Rain (3 page)

Her great fear in life—snakes, vipers, to be exact. The others she tolerated. How could a day that had started out so perfectly degenerate into chaos? Her stomach clenched and she forced herself to suck in and slowly exhale deep breaths. She’d learned the skill on the volleyball courts before the player smashed that first ball across the net. Breathe. Count. Breathe again. Relax!

Never
was the only time allotted for a panic attack.

She jumped when the phone rang, but breathed again when she saw the caller. Thank the gods for Hal Adler. Sanity to the rescue. “How did you know I needed a friendly call right now?”

“I am prescient? I take it this has not been the perfect day you planned.”

“Perhaps that is the problem. I didn’t plan anything for today. I was ordered to rest, relax, and no replays.”

“And you managed to do that?” Awe softened his voice.

“Mostly. I pretended I was someone else in a far land.”

“And then?”

As she recounted her day, he made the appropriate noises until she got to the infuriating session at the school. “You made this up!”

“Hal, you know I don’t tell stories. Besides I couldn’t have dreamed this up. So now I’m a suspected pervert. They’ve all but dropped the noose around my neck.”

“You want my law team to check into it?”

“What good would that do?”

A brief silence. Then, “And?”

“How did you know there was an
and
?”

“Prescient, I told you.”

“An unusual call on my answering machine. I just had a strange reaction to a wrong number—at least that’s what I think it is.”

“What did they say?”

“Nothing. Some sort of a hissing, a pause, a cough, perhaps something in the background, and a click. The caller ID was blocked.”

“Of course.”

“Come on, Hal. It was just a wrong number.”

“I’ll check that one out, just in case. I have sources.”

“I should never have told you.” Guilt for worrying him made her shake her head.
Tempest in a teapot
, as her gramma used to say. If only her gramma were still alive, she might have some kind of family. A shutter clicked on the memories.

“Did you eat?” asked Father Hen.

“I did and I will and I refuse to worry and so should you.” Barely dusk and here she was yawning—a jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m going to fix some supper, read in the tub, and go to bed early.”

“What about the weekend?”

“I have no idea.”

That night the ringing phone woke her, sort of. Twelve fifteen. “Hello?”

“Can you help me, please? I’m sorry to call.” It took a moment for her to realize this wasn’t a dream.

“Jonah. What is it, Jonah? Of course I’ll help.” She leaped out of bed, the phone clamped between shoulder and ear. “What is it?”

“D-down-d…is bleeding and Mommy can’t say anything.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“I’ll wait on the corner.” A sob. “I’m sorry. I need you.”

R
unning the stairs was far quicker than waiting for the elevator.

Her mind raced faster than her feet. Why didn’t he wait at home? Why the corner? Did she know for sure which corner he meant? What was wrong with his mother? Why couldn’t she speak? Dinah ran to her car, clicking the door opener as she reached her parking spot. She fumbled with the key in the ignition and, teeth clamped on her lower lip, finally forced the engine to roar to life. Drive carefully! She knew that, but the urge to play hot-rodder in the parking garage almost took over. Jonah! Jonah! Be safe. Even the exit arm took an hour to raise.

The streets were empty at this time of the morning, or middle of the night, take your pick. Knowing that the police had a way of lurking unseen, she kept sucking in deep breaths so she wouldn’t be their latest victim. She passed the Extraburger, all her concentration focused on a small boy standing under a street lamp, his dog in his arms.

She swung in front of him and leaned over to throw open the door. “Do you need help?”

He shook his head and climbed in beside her, clutching his dog close. The dog must have been through a war. She was bloody, dirt-caked, dripping.

“What happened?”

“Don’t know. She went out and didn’t come back and I went looking for her and I asked Mommy and she didn’t answer and I found her and I think she got in a fight and…” He crashed into sobs, clutching his dog to his chest.

“Is your mother all right?”

Jonah nodded. “But she needs to rest, and…” He broke down again.

A vet, we have to find a vet.
She reached for her bag to dig out her phone. No bag, no phone. Turning, she scanned the car, sure she must have tossed it in the back seat. No bag.
Go home!
She gunned the motor, careening down High Street.
No cops, no cops. Why can’t there be a cop when you need one?
Did a bleeding dog constitute an emergency in police jargon? If one stopped her now, the ticket would be astronomical.
How could I forget my purse? Where did my head go? I never do things like this!
She who was always calm in emergencies had just destroyed her self image. Calling herself all sorts of uncomplimentary names did nothing to slow her speeding heart.

Back in the parking garage, she clicked open the doors and, in the light from the overhead, assessed the damage. Mud and blood covered the front and the arms of Jonah’s jacket and now smeared the white leather seat. “Do you think she’s in pain?”

“She keeps crying and trying to lick some of the worst spots but a couple of them keep bleeding and she can hardly walk. I don’t know what to do.” The light caught on his tear-streaked face. “Can you…”

“I can. We’ll go up to my place and locate a veterinarian, an animal urgent care. If there even is such a thing.”
How can I be thirty-four years old and not know things like this?
“Do you need help carrying her?”

“No, thank you. She doesn’t like strangers much.” He slid out the door and Mutt put one front paw on either side of his neck and started licking the fresh blood off her leg.

“You think she was in a fight?” She joined him as he came around the rear of her car, clicking the remote lock as they headed for the elevator. She could barely stand to look at the miserable dog. Never pretty anyway, right now she looked like a bit player in a Grade-C zombie movie. “Does your mother know you called me?” She should have asked that when she picked them up.

“I told her.” Something niggled at the back of her mind. Why couldn’t his mother help? She unlocked her door and, sure enough, there on the table waiting for her lay her leather hobo bag. She snagged the bag and dug out her phone as they crossed to the sofa so he could set his burden down. Good thing Mutt wasn’t a bigger dog.

“We’ll tell your mom as soon as we know where we’re going.” She flipped through possible clinics. Only one urgent care seemed anywhere near, so she tapped the screen to get the map. “Maybe you should stay here in case your mother calls.”

He stared at her, eyes huge. “I have to stay with D— Mutt. She needs me.”

Dinah glanced at the line of muddy footprints from the door to the sofa and the filth that stained the white seat. Ever since she had left that—that place, she had never allowed dirt to gather on anything around her. Now dirt and blood combined to even smell bad. She smothered the horror with an iron hand. This was Jonah. He couldn’t help the fix he was in, but she could help him. “I’ll get some towels, keep her warm, and…” Without finishing she returned with two white towels and helped him wrap his dog in one. She carried the other out the door and back to the elevator as Jonah followed.

Pretty certain now that the dog was not dying on them, she drove more carefully, following the instructions from the irritating female voice on the GPS. Strange. As long as she’d lived here, she’d never driven out into the ’burbs much. But then she didn’t really do much but go to work, go home, crash, and return to the fray. She slowed, not quite trusting the voice that said, “Turn left in five hundred feet.” Strip mall. No street in that amount of distance. She missed it. “Recalculating.”

“I’ll just go around the block,” she grumbled at the supercilious tone. A yip from the passenger side robbed her attention and she missed another turn.
Listen to the voice
, she reminded herself.
That’s what you pay her for.
The next street was one-way. No wonder she’d not been ordered to turn.

“Is she worse?” She bit her lip.

“Think so. She’s shaking so bad. She almost slid off my lap.”

Carefully now, she made sure she did exactly as the voice said and in a couple of minutes breathed a sigh of relief. A red neon sign informed them that Miller and Miller Veterinary Clinic waited in the middle of that strip mall, about the last place she would have expected it. She angle-parked in front and ran around the car to help Jonah get out, still clutching Mutt to his chest.

She pushed open the door and warm air gushed out into the night. A smiling young woman greeted them from behind the desk and leaped to her feet when she saw Jonah and Mutt. “I’ll get help!” She hit a swinging door near to running.

Instantly a young man in scrubs strode in through another door. “Here we go, little guy. Let me take your dog.”

Jonah shook his head. “I can carry her; she doesn’t like strangers much.”

“Okay. She looks pretty heavy.”

“I got her.”

The man in scrubs shrugged, nodded to Dinah, and held the door for Jonah.

The girl returned to her desk. “Can I get some information now, or do you need to be with your son?”

Your son! The words stopped her like a glass wall. “Ah, ah…” Go or stay? “I need to be with him— er, he needs me, ah, maybe…”

“Fine, follow me.” Clipboard in hand, she hopped to her feet. Her name tag read
Amber
. “This way. What happened to the dog?” She held open those swinging doors.

“I— Ah, we don’t know. Found her like this.” Dinah followed her into a broad hallway.

Amber ushered Dinah into an examination room dominated by a stainless-steel table attached to a wall and a big man in green scrubs who didn’t bother to look up but kept his focus on Mutt and Jonah. Dinah found it odd that he didn’t acknowledge her, let alone introduce himself. But she didn’t mind. Not yet, at least.

A scrawny young man in scrubs came in pushing a portable X-ray machine.“So, Jonah, what happened to Downmutt?” The vet was so intent upon the dog that the assistant might as well have been in China.

Dinah took the bench seat at the wall and reminded herself to breathe. Clutching her bag in her lap, she watched his big ham hands tenderly unwrap the towel and begin probing, so gently that Mutt did not object.

Jonah fought tears and the tears won, but he answered clearly. “I let her out like always but she didn’t come right back. She always runs out and right back. So I went to look for her and I couldn’t find her and…” His voice picked up speed. “And I called and I called and I looked for her but she didn’t come. She never runs away. I found her hiding behind the Dumpster. She cried and so I found her and…” Jonah paused and hiccupped.

Dinah found herself fighting tears, too. And she reflected bitterly that had she only obeyed the police and cut all contact with this little boy who was none of her responsibility, her life would be so much simpler, more stable. Let the know-it-all police take his call in the middle of the night. Let them handle the mess.

Except he hadn’t called them. He’d called her.

“And she was bleeding and crying and I grabbed her and ran home and…and please don’t let her die.” The last came out as a wail.

“Jonah! Jonah, listen to me.” The vet did not look up from his work. “Your dog is not going to die. She is badly hurt, but she is not going to die.”

Jonah scrubbed his sleeve across his face. “You sure?”

“Barring complications, I am sure. I might have to keep her here tonight, but she is not going to die.”

Mutt waved the tip of her tail and tried to raise her head. Jonah leaned his cheek close so she could kiss him.

Finally the vet noticed that Dinah existed. He stood erect. “Glad you got her here quickly. Thank you. Now I am going to ask one of my associates to help me, and the best way you can help Downmutt is to keep Jonah out in the other room while we take X-rays and start stitching. I will call you if I need to know something else, okay?”

Jonah turned to Dinah. “Okay?”

The vet’s brief gaze was disconcerting, though she couldn’t say why. She couldn’t manage a smile, not now, but she nodded. “Of course. Jonah?” She stood and Jonah slid his hand into hers as they left the room.

She paused. “Do you want to call your mother?”

He shook his head. “She’s sleeping. She needs to sleep—when she can.”

“I see.” Dinah did not see at all, but what could she say? Obviously his mother had trouble sleeping. She must be ill. Could it be drugs or—or…She shook her head. None of that was important right now.

“Dr. Miller will take good care of your dog. He’s the best.” Amber knelt in front of Jonah. “Can I get you something to eat or drink? I know you must be really tired.”

Dinah wanted to hug the young woman. How did she know how to help a little boy?

Jonah shook his head. “But thank you.”

“There are some comic books over there on the table, or you can turn on the television.”

“’Kay.” He looked up at Dinah.

“I’m going to need to fill out some paperwork here, so you make yourself comfortable.”

“Can I watch the fish?”

“Of course.” She and Amber spoke at the same time.

Dinah caught her breath; never had she seen such a glorious aquarium. A huge saltwater tank half filled a wall. Brilliant yellow damselfish, vivid blue tangs, and a black-and-white-striped fish Dinah did not recognize swam among corals and anemones. Real, live anemones, with charming little clownfish nestled in them. And look! Below the tank, a modest sign identified the fish by name. The striped one was a sergeant major.

Jonah walked over to stand at the glass while Amber handed Dinah a clipboard.

“Thank you.” Dinah took the board, crossed to a chair, and sat down. Glancing up, she realized that all the walls were covered in caricatures of all kinds of animals, some framed, some poster style, all in wild colors that made her smile in spite of all that was happening. What a waiting room! “Who’s the artist?” she asked without thinking.

“Dr. Miller. He likes to give children a drawing of their pet. Jonah will get one of…” She paused.

“Jonah’s dog was named Downmutt, but now we call her just Mutt.” The brilliant aquarium, the splendid art—this man loved bold color. And here sat Dinah, awash in white, the plainer the better. What contrast! She stared at the questions on the clipboard. She had no idea how to answer.

Who were his father and mother? What was his address, phone number, age of pet?

She filled in her own information. They thought he was her son: so be it. If she ever had a child, which she didn’t plan on, she would like one like Jonah. Where that thought came from, she had no idea. No children, no family, no commitments—no heartache. Yes, she definitely should have listened to those police officers.

She stopped at the line that listed possible care costs. She was supposed to check one? She shook her head and stared at the boy facing the floating magic world. What was going through his mind? Was he crying inside and out? Did he believe the vet when he said Mutt was not going to die? As if cost had anything to do with a small boy’s life line.

Signing the final pages and sure she had just completed an FBI investigative form, she rose and handed the clipboard back to Amber.

The round clock behind the desk indicated that half an hour had passed, though it felt like four. Maybe the clock was a caricature, too.

Itching to do something, anything, she stopped behind Jonah and laid her hands on his shoulders. “D-Downmutt is going to be fine.”

He looked at her over his shoulder. “I like Mutt better, too. She don’t mind. She comes when I call her no matter what I say.”

Dinah clamped her teeth together until her jaw screamed. “Thank you.”

He reached up and patted her hand.

Sometime later, the man in green came through the door and crossed to them. “Do you want to see her now?”

“Can I?” Jonah brightened.

“Yes. She is pretty sleepy, but I know she needs to see you, too.”

How could a man understand a small boy so perfectly? The thought swam by like one of the darting fish as she followed them through the doors. Mutt did indeed wag her tail as she lay on her side in a blanket-lined cage, Jonah height. The boy stroked her head and leaned in for the required kiss. He heaved a sigh and turned to the vet. “Thank you. She looks weird with all those shaved patches. She has stitches, huh?” He paused and studied his dog again. “But she will get better fast?”

“That she will. She might have to stay a couple of days, but only if I think it best. You can come visit her.” He glanced to Dinah, who nodded.

“Okay. Can we come back in the morning?”

“Of course.”