Authors: Lauraine Snelling
R
andy pulled Dinah’s car past the now-familiar front of the Miller clinic and parked in a handicapped space beside their door. He hopped out and opened the back car door for Dinah.
She swung her legs out and stood up. Behind her, Jonah scooted across the seat and climbed out.
Randy dropped her car keys into her hand.
She stared at them, numb. “How will you…Who…? Uh, we’re in a handicapped slot.” Her mind was skipping about like a cricket on a caffeine jag.
Randy grinned. “No problem. I’ll just move the sign.”
“But…”
But he was off, jogging out toward the street.
She led Jonah inside by the hand.
Amber was all smiles. “Hey, Jonah! Good to see you! Dr. G is back in the break room. Why don’t you go say hello?”
“Okay.” Jonah seemed so despondent, so defeated. Dinah felt just as defeated.
Garret was sitting at the table. He looked up from his laptop as they walked in and grinned. “Hello, Sport! Come sit. Can I get you anything?”
Jonah shrugged.
“How about Orange Crush? I’m going to have one. Dinah? What would you like?”
“Uh…Orange Crush is fine.”
For pity sake, Dinah, pull yourself together!
He stuck his head in their fridge, digging out cans. “April called and explained. I’m glad you came by, both of you.” He stood erect. “We have doughnuts, Jonah. Want a maple bar?”
“Okay.”
How could he act so…normal?
But because he did, both she and Jonah began to relax.
He set out cans and a box of doughnuts. “Let’s just cut right to it. Jonah: you were trying to get to heaven, right?” He sat down and plunked paper napkins in front of Jonah and Dinah.
The boy plucked out a maple bar. “I want to see Mommy again.”
Garret nodded and chose himself a maple bar, too. “And she’s there and you’re here. Actually, when you think about it, that was a pretty good idea you had there.”
Dinah gasped, “
What?
”
Jonah was nodding. “The judge said a knife is a weapon, so I figured it would work. But Dinah yelled at me and wouldn’t let me do it.”
“Good thinking. However. There’s some stuff you don’t know about yet, and that could cause problems.”
“Like what?” Jonah bit into his doughnut.
“Let’s see. How can I explain this?” Garret leaned forward, both elbows on the table. “You know there’s all different kinds of churches. Catholics, Baptists, plain old community churches. And they all trust Jesus, but they believe different things about Him. Some churches say that only God can decide if you live or die, and if you make that decision yourself—that is, if you kill yourself before God wants you to be dead—they say you can’t get into heaven.”
“Then I wouldn’t see Mommy after all.”
Dinah felt her mouth fall open.
“Exactly.” Garret unpopped Jonah’s can and his own. “I have no idea whether they’re right or wrong, but if they’re right, you sure don’t want to take that chance. You don’t want to mess up so bad that you never ever get to see your mommy.”
Jonah sat there, obviously deep in thought.
Dinah watched them both but said nothing.
Jonah mused, “So maybe Dinah was right about not letting me do it.”
“I think so. She’s usually right about stuff. Besides, if Mutt is pregnant like we think, she’ll need you. You have to housebreak and train the puppies. They don’t do it by themselves, you know.”
Dinah sat flabbergasted.
“Okay. So I guess I can’t go and be with Mommy, huh?”
Garret wagged his head gravely. “Not yet. Not until God wants you to. He knows best. Hey, I just remembered; Amber has to feed the fish. Can you go help her, please?”
“Sure!” Jonah hopped up, his Orange Crush and doughnut forgotten, and hurried out.
Dinah sank forward and propped her elbows on the table, too. “Thank you, Garret. You knew what to do before, quieting that meltdown; you were the only one I could think of now—you know, on short notice.” She sort of chuckled; not a happy chuckle at all. “And in a million years I would never have thought of that. You defused the situation brilliantly.”
“He was telling me about when his mother was alive. He was the man of the house in every sense of the word. He may miss having all that responsibility; it was his life. Can you give him more responsibility? With Mutt, of course. But other things, too. Not just make-work, either. He’ll spot that in a heartbeat. Real responsibility.”
“That’s a splendid idea.” She stopped. “Unfortunately, there’s not a whole lot to do in a condo. It’s why I moved there. I’ve never wanted to take the time to mow the lawn and all the stuff that goes with a larger place. I’m happiest in the lab; that’s where I wanted to devote my time.”
“Creating new products, like Scoparia.”
“Like Scoparia.” She smiled a sad smile, not a happy one. “Now if only they would let me help people with it.”
“April told me. More tests. Apparently the FDA is considering classifying it as drug, and if they do…” He let it hang.
“It’s not the FDA yet. Certain companies who stand to lose revenue are pushing it. But we can’t wait until it happens. More tests. More data. Say, you don’t know anyone with Type II diabetes, do you?”
“I’ll sign my mother up.”
“Your mother has diabetes?” She studied his face a moment, pulled her phone out of her bag and thumbed the speed dial. “April? Send a supply of Scoparia over here to Garret’s office, please. Today. And make sure the full info pamphlet is with it, not just the one-pager.” She watched Garret’s face. “Yes, he did. You can’t imagine how smoothly he got Jonah past it. I think we’re safe for the moment. I’ll tell you about it later.” April and she goodbyed each other and she dropped her phone back in her bag.
“Thank you, Dinah. From what I hear, it might be a lifesaver. So far, she refuses to consider insulin.”
“And I can’t thank you enough. And, really, I am going to get him professional help, as soon as possible.” She had started to rise when a little bell went ding in her head. She sat down again. “Wait. April told you the FDA might cause problems? That’s proprietary information. Did she also mention that her husband is transferring?”
“She did. She said—”
Dinah found herself on her feet. Her brain was racing. “That’s not information she’s supposed to be blabbing all around! I can’t believe she’d—”
And now he was on his feet, too. “She needed prayer support. She still does. When she learned she’d be leaving, we sat in her office a long time talking about options and praying. Your world is falling apart—we both see that—and it’s tearing her up just as bad as it’s tearing you up.”
“But she doesn’t have a company to tear up! I do! When she leaves it’s going to go right down the toilet. And I can’t do this mom thing! And I don’t want puppies! Or prayer support! I am so sick of hearing about God and prayer and all that fiction!”
He stood there, watching her. How could he make his eyes appear so tender and caring? So he had learned that April was leaving even before Dinah did. Days before! How could they betray her like this? Supposedly they were friends and yet behind her back, they were…so…so…Christian love? Bah!
“Look, Garret, I’ve heard all the pretty platitudes. I know the lingo. From way younger than Jonah; we went to church every time the doors swung open—Wednesday and Sunday and any other time my mother and father decided we needed sanctifying. I accepted Jesus Christ as my savior when I was five, when I had absolutely no idea what I was saved from or saved for. I did it to please Gramma Grace and because it was expected of me. And don’t doubt that April and all those other so-called Christians in my company have been on my case for years.”
He watched her. Simply watched her.
She shuddered and covered her face as the universe crashed down upon her.
Now his big, burly arms had wrapped around her, and one big healing hand was pressing her head to his shoulder while the other rubbed her back the way Gramma Grace had when she was so little and so vulnerable.
She struggled for a fraction of a second and gave up. Gave up. No strength, no desire to live or breathe. She gave up.
Dinah Marie Taylor, you were not raised to give up.
She gave up. Melted against him.
His voice purred like one of the cats he treated. “I’ll have to show you the paintings of you and Jonah and Mutt that I started. And haven’t finished. It’s because of the eyes. Your eyes. You have this lovely face, beautiful hair, and your eyes are haunted. I cannot capture the pain, and, without it, the picture isn’t you.”
She shuddered again.
Haunted.
Yeah, that was a good word.
That hand on her back continued its gentle rub, just like Gramma Grace. “Dinah, it’s time you told me why your eyes are haunted. I want to know because I care about you.”
Because I care about you.
Dinah found herself yearning to believe that. “My little brother, Michael. He slept more than he ought, drank gallons of water. Then his breath began to smell like he was sneaking wine. He was five. Where would he get wine? But they prayed over him to get rid of the demon alcohol, then took him to a clinic for a tonic to spiff him up. The nurse there said he had an advanced form of Type I diabetes; it had been neglected way too long; and needed treatment right away. Daily insulin shots. They refused. Our minister declared that if their faith was strong enough, he would be healed. Jesus would heal him, like He raised the widow’s son. My mother and father believed him. Michael slipped into a coma and I watched him die. They told me it was because I hadn’t prayed hard enough.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Two years later, the only solid pillar in my world died, Gramma Grace. Dad’s mom. Type II diabetes.”
Oh, Gramma Grace! Michael!
She took a deep breath. “So you tell me: if those were God’s will, why would I want to love and serve a God like that?”
He said nothing, but his arms continued their fortifying wrap around her.
“No platitudes, Garret? This seems like the perfect time for a platitude.”
“They didn’t seek help for your grandmother, either, I take it. Was this their idea or their pastor’s?”
“What are you getting at?”
“John Hanson. Our study leader. You’re going to really like John. He tells this story: This fellow got caught in a flood. It rose almost to the roof of his house. So here he sat on his ridgepole. A rowboat came by. ‘I’m here to rescue you,’ the boatman said.
“‘No problem,’ said the fellow. ‘I am praying to God and He will rescue me.’ Awhile later, a motorboat came by. Same thing. Then a helicopter. ‘No, no, God will rescue me.’ The flood topped his roof and he drowned. When he got to the gates of heaven he was furious. ‘You promised to rescue me and you didn’t! What use is faith?’ And Saint Peter, he says, ‘Hey, man. It’s your fault. We sent you two boats and a helicopter.’”
In her deep despair, she almost smiled.
“Not to put too fine a point on it, but to refuse appropriate medicine is like refusing the rescue that God sent. I’m sorry you blame Jesus instead. It wasn’t His idea.”
“But…” What could she say?
“Jonah tried to go to heaven and God didn’t allow it. It wasn’t his time to go.”
“Then why was it Michael’s?” She insisted. “And Gramma Grace’s?”
“I have no idea. I’m not God.”
Whatever had given her the idea that this man could care for her? This man who had been so hostile toward her in the beginning? Or that she could reciprocate? But why, then, was it that his hug felt so good? And why, when she didn’t know what to do, had she come to him? As if things shuffled around into some kind of order. No longer chaos, but order.
She coveted order.
“Dinah? I realize this sounds stupid, but you’re not Gloria.”
“Gloria?” She tipped her head back to look at him. “Your ex-wife?”
He nodded. “When I first met you—encountered you is probably a better way to put it—you were the perfect picture of a take-charge woman. It took me a long time to get past the past; to realize that you’re not the woman I imagined. Please believe me when I say I’ve come to care for both you and Jonah. You’re stuck with me.”
Caring. Was that a lesser form of love? Or perhaps an even greater thing than love.
What if caring leads to love?
The voice came whisper soft, tiptoeing down the corridors of her churning mind.
She stiffened and he loosened his hug a little. “I don’t know what…” All she could do was wag her head. She understood what hydration did to carboxyl ions, but she could not understand her own mind. She did understand, though, that he had helped Jonah when she could not. And she stood a good chance of helping his mother when he could not. And there was April, caring so much about all of them. And. So many
and
s.
So. Life was not the quiet, simple, controlled environment of the laboratory. It was the big, wide messy world, and if Dinah would hide from life and refuse to engage it, apparently life was going to leap out and engage her whether she wanted it or not.
Do something!
The only way to handle all this. Her mother used to clean closets when life got hard. They had had the cleanest, neatest closets in the universe. Where had that thought come from? Another blindside?
His voice rumbled along. “You probably don’t agree with me, but with your company, you have been doing God’s will all along—helping people live better lives. And saving lives if you can. It’s the same job I do.”
“I don’t—”
“Hey, I read your mission statement. I didn’t see anything there about making money. And I remember that interview on TV. They tried to stick a profit motive on you and you shook it off. You do what you do to help others. That’s Jesus.”
“That interview.” So long ago! Ages ago!
“To a bunch of smelly shepherds, God spoke with a whole skyful of angels. To eastern sages, all he had to do was shove a star out of place. He speaks to each person in a way that is unique to each person. Jesus has been by your shoulder the whole time, and He is more than happy to meet you on your terms. I hope you can find each other.”
“You said you got past the past. I’m not sure I can.”