Authors: Lauraine Snelling
Suddenly animated, the judge broke into a wide grin and leaped up. He came hustling around the end of his desk and seized both Dinah’s hands in his. “Dr. Taylor, now that the formalities are over I can tell you how glad I am to meet you. My wife and I have been fans of your products for years. We find your pineapple-based digestive aid very useful, especially when we end up at one of those interminable banquets. And your sleep aid, the melatonin extract, works like a charm. And we both admire the way you have built and run your company.” He shook her hand, clasping his other over the top of hers. “My wife said to tell you ‘God bless you.’”
“Thank you.” His sudden transformation from stern to warm floored her. She didn’t even need her polite smile. This man was actually genuine.
“And Jonah”— the judge grasped Jonah’s small hands also— “I am glad you could come here today. I’m proud to be the one who made your arrangement legal. It is important that you understand what is happening, so ask me when you have a question. You have a great future ahead of you.”
Jonah nodded.
The auburn-haired woman came back in with a camera.
“Ah. Over here by the bookcase, I suggest.” The judge piloted Jonah to the corner of the room. The woman arranged them as she obviously had arranged new families many times before. “Smile,” she suggested, and she snapped pictures of the judge, Jonah, and Dinah, all smiling together with arms on shoulders.
With goodbyes and handshakes all around, Jonah included, they took their leave. They passed a man and woman with a baby as they walked out.
When they emerged from the elevator, Dinah felt like she’d left a heavy load behind and had picked up another, just as heavy.
“Not your ordinary judge, I know. I was so grateful when I was notified who we would see.” Mr. Jensen stopped in the marble-floored foyer. “I’ll say goodbye here, as I have some other things to do in this building. Dinah, please call me if there is anything I can do to help you.” He shook her hand. “I mean it. I’m sure you have corporate lawyers, but I know a lot of people and possibly sometime I can be of service.”
“Thank you. I will keep you in mind.”
“And Jonah, you are part of my family, too; I’ve known you since you were tiny. You call me if you need someone to talk to or whatever. Okay?”
Jonah nodded. “Do you want a picture of Mutt?”
“I would love one.”
“I will make you a special one.”
“Good.”
Back in the car, Dinah felt her shoulders drop and sucked in a deep breath. Breathing deep was a possibility again; the tight bands around her diaphragm were gone. Mostly.
“Are you hungry, Jonah?”
“Can we go let Mutt out first and then eat?”
“We can and we will.” She started the car and paid the parking attendant as they drove out. She pulled out into traffic. “I think we need to celebrate.”
“Can Dr. G come, too?”
Dinah blinked and swallowed, not once but twice. “Why…I…um…I guess so. Sure.”
Blindsided again. Was this going to become a daily event?
W
hy thank you, Jonah. I’d love to join you for supper.” Pause. “Okay. Dinah’s about six.” When Garret clicked off, he shook his head. Would wonders never cease? This had to be a God thing. He set the bell on his phone to remind him at five so he’d have time to feed his housemates. They wouldn’t mind eating a bit early.
Three easels stood in front of him, and he wasn’t making progress on any of them. Each one definitely had a different feel to it. Dinah’s in particular was giving him trouble. How did one paint “haunted”? Especially when he only saw it when her guard was down, which didn’t happen often. Perhaps guarded was a good word to use. He shifted his concentration to Jonah and Mutt. Still more texture needed. Maybe he should have put some of the shaved areas and the stitches in. In his mind he still saw her like that. He glanced to the third one. This one seemed the most joyful. He returned to painting two and Mutt’s fluffiness. Or lack thereof. She was not a pretty dog. Wire-haired terrier plus mysterious other breeds lurked in her gene pool; they did not mix well.
When his phone rang again, he thought to ignore it but checked the caller. Danny. He clicked on Speaker. “What’s up?”
“We hit a snag. I knew we’d have to move wiring, but whoever wired this thing in the beginning made some errors. With the concrete slab…”
“Can it be fixed?”
“I had to call in an electrician. This is going to cost more than I figured.”
“So what’s new—that’s the way of remodel projects. We all know that. Just pay it and we’ll find the money somewhere. I have a couple of others who have said they’d contribute but I’ve not gotten back to them.”
“I figured that was what we’d do but just wanted to run it by someone else. I’m going to cap it off with a couple six-space outlets and some floor outlets. That way people can use laptops anywhere in that room. It’s doubtful that I can make the Easter completion date.”
“Would be nice, but not the end of the world.”
“See you.”
Garret switched to his reminders app and typed in “Check for more funding.” Get one thing crossed off and two more jumped on. Good thing he had given up on stewing over things like that a few years ago. Type A people want all their ducks in a row with uniform buttons polished. He still had tendencies toward those behaviors, but, thanks to God’s healing, they were growing more seldom. Until he saw someone being abused or picked on.
Jonah came to mind, not that people were picking on him, but life surely was.
He cleaned his brushes and covered his palette.
He arrived at Dinah’s building at five till six and hit her unit number on the pad by the door. Safeguards like that were good for women, especially living alone in the downtown area. Shame Eastbrook had come to that. The times had changed.
Her voice came over the intercom. “Sorry for the delay. I buzzed you.”
“Thanks.”
When he reached her door, Jonah answered the ding-dong. He swung the door open. “Dinah said to have a seat. She’ll be ready in a minute.”
“Thanks. So how did your visit with the judge go?”
“He was nice. He gave us lots of papers to sign. I want to make a picture for him. A special one. If judges wore a hat I would put that on his dog.”
“If you draw Mutt, how will you make her different?”
“He has round glasses with wire frames. I will draw them on her.”
“What if you could paint one of your drawings?”
Jonah studied him. “I don’t know how and I don’t have paints and brushes. I like pencils good enough.”
“I have all kinds of paint and brushes. Would you like to come paint with me? You could meet my dogs, too, and maybe you can draw one of them.” Garret flopped onto the sofa, and Jonah and Mutt settled next to him. That gray dirt spot on the middle cushion marred the sofa’s crisp, clean look.
“What are their names?”
“Soandso is the female and Sam is her brother. They are yellow Labs, big dogs, and besides the dogs, I have a tiger cat, named TC. He thinks he is king. I used to have a toroiseshell named Wowser. She died an old lady.”
“What’s a tortoiseshell?” He was now sitting closer to Garret, with one arm around Mutt’s neck.
“A type of calico coloring. Did you know that all calico cats are female?”
“I don’t know much about cats.”
He sensed rather than heard Dinah enter the room. He glanced over his shoulder to see her watching Jonah. Mutt saw her and wagged her tail.
“Would you mind if Jonah came to my house maybe on Saturday and painted with me?”
“If he wants to.”
Jonah nodded. “I think I would like that. Can Mutt come, too?”
“Maybe eventually, but how about just you for now?”
“Umm.” He stood and turned. “Can Mutt stay here without me?”
Dinah looked surprised. “Of course. She lives here.”
“What if she has to go out?”
Dinah kept a straight face; Garret probably could not have. “Then I’ll take her out. I can handle that.”
Jonah turned back to Garret. “Then I would like to come.”
“Good, I’m glad that’s settled. Now where shall we eat?”
“Dinah said we’re having a celebration.”
“So we need to go somewhere nice to celebrate. How about the Homestyle? I heard you like fried chicken and they make great fried chicken.”
Dinah joined the conversation. “Where is that?”
“Out by the clinic, about fifteen minutes from here. But they don’t take reservations. We’ll go somewhere else if the wait is too long.” He paused. “You do like fried chicken, don’t you? I mean, we can go somewhere else.”
“No, that’s fine. I’m sure they serve something besides fried chicken.” Dinah took her coat out of the closet, but before she could start to put it on, he took it from her and held it. Why did she look so surprised? His mother taught him certain manners; had she not been raised in such a family? His opinion of power women aside, she was tolerable so far. And, he reminded himself, he was doing this for Jonah.
Jonah, however, seemed to be making up for the sullen silence of the last few days. While he sat in the back seat of the SUV, he spoke up. “Dr. G, do you have any kids? Oh. Why do you draw the cartoons of pets? I like it, too. Mine is on my wall. Do you do that for all your patients? Okay. Three? We think Mutt is two or three. Why do you like to paint? What made you start making the colored drawings? I like pencil.”
“Is he always like this?” He glanced at Dinah, who was shaking her head.
“Not that I knew. He’s making me tired and I’m not the one answering.”
“It’s okay. Better this than sullen.”
She turned, head barely shaking. “You sure?”
Garret kept from laughing by answering another question. If he tried to describe this evening, no one would believe him. He wasn’t sure he did himself.
“When will we get there?”
“A few more blocks.”
“Do we have to have fried chicken?”
“Not if you don’t want to.” Garret wondered if they sold adhesive tape or a large cork. What if this is the way painting went? How would he stand it? What had he gotten himself into? They’d do it this Saturday afternoon for two hours and see how it went.
The restaurant tables had white paper coverings and a basket of crayons in the middle. In the basket stood three sharpened pencils. Jonah hadn’t even sat down before he reached for the basket.
“Did you know this?” Dinah nodded to the table.
“Clever idea.” He nodded and helped Dinah off with her coat, then hung it on the coat hook in the back of the booth seat. Coats hung all down the row. “They cater to families.” He motioned her to take the other side, and he slid into the booth by Jonah, who ordered chicken after all, hardly looking up from his drawing.
The orders taken, Garret picked up a red crayon and stroked a few lines.
Dinah sat with her chin on her fists and watched.
He wished he could see into her mind. A brown crayon joined the red lines and circles and a cat began to emerge. The fluffy tail stood straight up, the mouth hissing, back arched. Staring at the dog Jonah was drawing.
Jonah looked at it and giggled. A true little-boy giggle.
Garret handed the boy a blue crayon, pantomiming drawing.
Jonah hesitated, took the crayon, and started making clouds. Then he dropped down on the page and, between the cat and the dog, drew an oval, added a long tail and a circle for a head, whiskers, and tiny ears.
Garret snorted and grinned. With the green crayon he drew a frog, fully extended, hopping just below the clouds, above the other animals.
The waitress arrived with their plates. “I hate to mess up your work here,” she said. “You are some artists.”
“Dr. G makes lots of drawings.” Jonah put his things back in the basket. “That was fun.” After grace, he dug into his platter of food, leaving Dinah and Garret to talk.
Now it was Garret’s turn to ask questions. Some she sidestepped, like
Where did you grow up?
Every time he got personal, she managed to change the subject. Obviously, she was very good at being the subject of an interview and releasing very limited information. She was also good at controlling the conversation, far more so than he was comfortable with. By inference, though, he deduced that she lived some distance from her parents and was estranged from them. He thought of his own parents, not far away at all, not estranged, and yet how seldom he got out there. A tiny wave of guilt washed across him.
Dinah finished her meal and laid her flatware across her plate. “As good as you are with kids—witness Jonah here—it’s a shame you never had any of your own. I remember he asked you this evening.”
Garret shrugged. He was going to blow off her comment with some kind of platitude, but then he would be as evasive as she. To prove himself superior in that regard, he answered, “She never wanted any.” And inside he froze. He had just spilled a mountain when he intended to tip out a teacup.
And dang it all if she didn’t pick up on it instantly. “Divorced?”
“Yes.” A tsunami of guilt washed across him. Again.
“I’m done.” Jonah pushed his plate back.
What timing! Garret wanted to scoop the kid up and kiss him. He could legitimately change the subject! “Dessert?”
Dinah declined dessert. So did Garret. A seven-year-old does not decline dessert. Smiling, they watched him pick at a one-scoop sundae, scraping spoonful by scant spoonful into his mouth, savoring each bite.
Her cell rang, an intrusion from the outside world.
She answered, staring at Garret without seeing him. “Why are you there so late?” Pause. “Oh.” Pause. “Wait! They passed on that. It’s checked off.” Pause. Pause. “I’m coming.” She muttered a sort of goodbye and stuffed her cell back in her purse. She looked at Garret and this time she saw him. “I’m very sorry. Some problems have turned up at the office, and—”
“It’s past seven o’clock. That was April? At your office?”
“Yes. And I must go do something. Can you please drop Jonah and me off there?”
Jonah dropped against the back of his chair and studied the ceiling.
Garret pressed his lips together. “No. Jonah and I will drop you off and go catch a movie.”
Instantly the tyke sat erect, grinning.
Garret continued, “Call when you’re ready to go home.”
“But I don’t know when—” She looked at Jonah. Really looked at him. “All right.”
Garret couldn’t believe it! A difference of opinion with a strong-willed woman.
And he’d won!
She took the stairs up because the elevator was too slow and burst into April’s office. “Now what?”
April was wagging her head. “Email from Bill Doolittle. The FDA wants a double-blind study on Scoparia’s effectiveness to decide whether it’s actually a drug or just an additive.”
“That’s crazy! Item one, we already did a double-blind, and item two, it’s
not
a drug. It’s an herb-based dietary supplement. We’ve said that all along. Absolutely no claims for healing or anything like that. It’s how we tested it, how we’re marketing it. As a supplement it passes all the tests—tests we didn’t even have to make but did any way—and more besides.” Dinah’s voice was rising with each word and she couldn’t control it.
April sighed. “I know that. Here. I printed out the email for you. It’s two pages in Helvetica ten.” She laid out two sheets of paper for Dinah to read.
Dinah scanned down the post cursorily.
Why now? At this late date?
“April, a study like they’re talking about here will take six months to set up and conduct. To repeat a study we’ve already done. Then submit the results, and they drag their feet another six months. That’s a year!” She took a deep breath. “What are our options?”
“You can take them to court.”
“Two years minimum before we get a hearing, longer if the offended parties ask for a delay. Who are the parties, anyway? I don’t see any hint here. Who put some bug in the FDA’s ear?”
“That’s why I’m here so late.” April sat back. “I thought, someone who’s in with the agency. So I did some digging around. Started at four this afternoon and it snowballed. Amazing what Google can provide sometimes. This is interesting. I stumbled onto an independent ad hoc committee being bankrolled by three major drug firms. Drug firms that just happen to supply diabetes drugs and appliances among other things. And the committee spokesman is a sales agent for those companies, so he’s in with big pharma and also has contacts with the FDA. Dollars to doughnuts, he’s the link.”
Dinah felt weak. And horrible. And horribly weak. She flopped into the chair across from April’s desk. “Hal said we could expect a hit from the companies that would lose business if Scoparia works. Here it is, bigger than life and twice as ugly. Could you get ahold of him?”
“Not yet. I have some calls in.”
Dinah pulled the second sheet off the desk and studied it in better detail. “They really do say we must test it all over again and evaluate its effectiveness as a drug. So if Scoparia is effective, they can call it a drug and refuse to okay it. And if this next study shows that it’s not effective, why bother with it at all? April, this is insane.”
And there is nothing I can do about it.