“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—”
“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.
“I probably should have put it aside until tomorrow instead of calling you this late, but I was hoping you and Hal could come up with something and we could hit the ground running in the morning.”
Dinah felt physically sick to her stomach, and it was not something one of her products could relieve. This was only the first salvo of a dirty war. And all she wanted to do was help people. She nodded. “Good call. April, you spent all this time on this?”
April shrugged. “This and some, uh, other things.” She looked almost guilty. Which was ridiculous; Dinah’s mind was playing tricks.
“Well, thank you.” Shock, anger, and, yes, sadness. Every delay meant fewer people helped.
“What next?” April asked. She sat back; her chair creaked. Time to get April a new office chair.
Dinah grimaced. “The lawyer today said something about my corporate lawyer. I didn’t tell him we don’t have one. We hardly ever have a legal matter, especially not enough business to retain someone. Well, now we need one.”
“Joe and I don’t have a regular lawyer, either. I can’t help there.”
Dinah tried to think of definite next steps and had to settle for possible ones. “The lawyer handling Jonah’s guardianship might know someone in this subject area, and he said call whenever. And the judge today, Judge Henny. He told Jonah to call if he had questions; I might ask his advice, a reference or something. We have to somehow get this requirement rescinded.” She looked at April. “Thank you for not waiting until Monday. I have to take Mutt out and—How long is a movie? An hour and a half?”
“Most. About.”
“And it just started. April? Can you give me a ride home?”
Chapter Thirty
She likes us!” Sue and Garret high-fived. “And we like her.” From the window they watched Julie Crick slide into her rental car and leave the back parking lot.
As they turned away, Amber tapped on the door and entered. “How’d it go?”
Sue was beaming. “We have another vet! We offered and she accepted. Says our starting salary is a little higher than California’s and she really likes the lower cost of living here. She has student loans to pay off, so this is good for her financially.”
Garret gathered up coffee mugs. “You didn’t have much chance to interact with her, but what’s your take?”
“She seems personable. Open. Cheery. She wished me goodbye by name when she left. So far, I think she’ll be a good fit. When is she coming on?”
“Two weeks. She’s gone out looking for an apartment, flies back to California in three days.” Garret left the mugs in the sink. “What’s out there?”
Amber counted off, “Post-spay check, that aging feline belonging to Mrs. Abercrombie, and four basset pups for their shots.”
“And they are all entertaining the others in the waiting room?”
“They are.”
He chuckled. Any basset puppy looks terminally cute just standing still, but these four had a particular gift for romping about looking absolutely hilarious. “Bring ’em on.”
Amber sobered. “And Tessa.”
Garret felt his good mood evaporate. “Put her in the back exam room. I’ll take her first.”
Sue nodded. “Good. I don’t really want to deal with that. I’ll take the pups.”
Tessa smiled and greeted him as he entered. He smiled and greeted her.
He wrapped his arms around Valiant and hoisted him onto the exam table. The dog had lost weight during his recovery. He was starting to get it back.
Tessa rolled in closer. “He seems to be getting back to his old self.”
“Any seizures? Does he ever stop what he’s doing and just stare off into space?” Garret poked and prodded; Valiant showed no signs of discomfort.
“No. And his appetite is normal. More than normal.”
Heart and lung action sounded normal, too. Garret peeled Valiant’s lips back. “Gums are a healthy pink. Looks like your circulation is back up to snuff, Old Man.” He lowered the dog back to the floor. “Take him across the room and back, please.”
Tessa did so. The dog’s legs worked very stiffly. She parked beside Garret. “He’s never going to have full use of his legs, is he.” It was a statement, not a question.
“No, I don’t think so. In fact, if arthritis sets in—and it often does—it will get worse. Take him to the room beside the cage room, then, the pink place, and I will put a new cast on his leg today; lighter, less bulky. That will help him get around a little better.” Garret pulled the wheeled stool over and parked beside her, eye to eye. “When are they coming for him?”
Her eyes filled
but did not overflow. “Tomorrow. The director for the service dog agency visited me in person yesterday, Dr. G. He sat down with me and explained it all.”
“You already knew they were going to take him back from you.”
“Yes. He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know already. Except that he said you called him and begged him to let me keep him. That you sent him all of Valiant’s medical records so he could consider it. Thank you so much, Dr. G.”
“I didn’t think it would work, but it was worth a shot. Their policies are pretty rigid. But when your life depends on your service dog, they have to be.”
Beside her, Valiant flopped out on his tummy.
“I know. He says the agency has a black Lab lined up for me. But Valiant…” Her voice trailed off. “And I keep reminding myself that giving up Valiant is best for both of us. He’ll have a good home—the director says there’s a waiting list of people who want retired service dogs—and I need a dog that’s dependable. But…”
“But.” Garret gathered her hands into his. “So many buts in life. Bring your new dog by, please. I want to meet him.”
She smiled sadly. “I certainly will. Thank you. The pink place. Come, Valiant.”
The dog lurched to his feet and fell in beside her. Garret followed them out, watching Valiant move. No, the dog would never walk well again. And the petty thief who’d caused all this would probably get six months or less, if he was even convicted. There was no justice.
They turned aside into the pink place, to apply the new cast. Maybe he should get this room repainted.
By the time lunch came, Garret still felt mopey. He had invested too much emotionally in Tessa and Valiant; it was affecting him more than he would have guessed. Or was it his mom and the changes in her driving him to gloom? And, so far, funding for the church was not happening quickly enough; Danny would be paying people out of his own pocket. Garret didn’t want that to happen again; Danny already contributed heavily. Besides, Garret wanted that mess over with. The mess and disorder were depressing. And he still had not completed those three studies of Dinah and her new family.
Heaven Sent Rain Page 26
