Wheels (Tabor Heights Year Two)

by Michelle Levigne

  "Another fact-less villager trying to hunt down the monster?"

  "No," Claire said, slowly unscrewing her tea bottle. "They're trying to drive Dr. Frankenstein mad before the monster gets here."

  "That bad?" Grace made herself a little more comfortable. Natalie nudged the tape recorder closer, to catch the conversation. Just in case.

  "What is wrong with people? Either they think a physical handicap means a mental one, or it comes from a disease they can catch."

  "Or it's a punishment, and none of our people have any right to a decent life."

  "That lunatic just now wanted to know if we had all our health permits in order, because if people started getting sick, he would make sure the Mission got burned down around our ears."

  "Oh, please… tell me you're kidding?"

  "I wish."

  "Same whiny voice?" She sighed when Claire nodded. "Any chance he gave us his name this time?"

  "Nope. They may be crazy reactionaries, but they aren't stupid."

  "Somebody ought to put him in a wheelchair or on the other end of a white cane and let him know what it's really like. Then he'd stop complaining about his tax dollars being used without his permission--"

  "This isn't a city project, or even a government project. Right?" Natalie added.

  "Right. But some people have this tendency to forget, no matter how many times you remind them," Claire said. "When we first set up the Mission, there was a city councilman who just would not let go of his belief that this building still belonged to the city and we couldn't do anything without his permission, as councilman for this ward. He actually got upset when he brought his grandchildren over here to use the playground and we had uprooted all the equipment to replace the surface. He wrote a letter to the editor, complaining about how we were making changes to public property without any consideration for the people who had the most right to use it."

  "Did he get re-elected the next time he ran for office?" Natalie asked. "Or did people forget he was publicly stupid?"

  "The letter to the editor never got published. They showed it to the mayor and he brought it up at the next council meeting and even put it in writing, just in case there were others who couldn't accept the fact that the school building no longer belonged to the city."

  "Um, wait a minute," Natalie said. "If this was a school building, then it never belonged to the city to begin with, right? The city doesn't control the school board."

  "Exactly. But you can't tell some people that. Some politicians think they have authority over the school board, too. It used to lead to quite… entertaining shouting matches, from what I heard. Fortunately, most of the blockheads in that administration left in disgrace when the former mayor got indicted for criminal activity," Grace said.

  "Whoa." Natalie grinned. "Maybe I'm following the wrong story."

  "It's too much of a soap opera at times," Claire said.

  "So, what's this about health certificates? It sounds like it's the same loony calling you each time."

  "From what we can tell, yes." She gestured at Grace. "You've been helping with the phones a lot. Want to take over sharing war stories?"

  The phone lit up, all the buttons flashing and the tone sounding louder than ever. Grimacing at the chuckles from the other two, Claire picked up the phone and turned her back on them, to answer it.

  She paused. It took a moment for Natalie to realize the phone had stopped ringing. All the lights on the phone were dead, including the red light for the hold button. Natalie immediately looked up at the ceiling, which she realized half a second later was ridiculous, because the lights were still on.

  "Sorry, folks, I think I need to get back to the phone room," Grace muttered, and hurried out of the office.

  "Phone room?" Natalie asked.

  "Some of our co-sponsors decided to pay for temporary, outgoing phone lines, so we could blanket the entire town and any media or community groups we can think of, letting them know about the awareness walk." Claire sighed, and for a moment a few lines of weariness appeared around her eyes, with an extra-deep crease between her eyebrows. "You wouldn't believe the hoops we had to go through, to just find out if we could do that. Some of our opponents were adamant that we didn't have any right to solicit anyone, especially people who had never had any contact with the Mission. It took quite a few hours from our lawyer to check out the legalities. What it comes down to is, we're not asking for money, we're not even asking for any information, other than checking to make sure people know about the awareness walk and the handicapped accessibility renovations to the building, and that we're collecting equipment for people who might not be able to get their own. We're a whole lot less irritating than all those political phone calls, and statistics show people would rather get a message from a live human being than a computer-generated message."

  Natalie decided the phone room would be a good angle for her story, so Claire gave her directions how to get there. It wasn't hard, since essentially the Mission was one long hallway with rooms on either side, and a few extensions for the lunchroom/cafeteria and the gym, with the office complex in the center of the building. The phone room was set up in a large storage room off the gym, with carts of chairs and bins of sports equipment sitting outside the door at the end of the short hallway. Natalie guessed the carts and bins were usually stored in the room. Claire told herthey chose to use the storage room rather than the gym because they needed to keep the gym open for other activities. There was access to the phone trunks in that room, since all sorts of lines and pipes passed through it. Two cafeteria tables made for tight quarters, with four phones and volunteers on each table. The phones hadn't come on by the time Natalie got to the room. Grace and three other workers were all on their cell phones, trying to get through to someone.

  The other five phone volunteers had nothing else to do, and were delighted to talk with Natalie about the campaign. Each one had either been touched by some sort of handicap need in their family, or they had good friends who had disabilities and had to overcome daily annoyances such as curbs that were too high for their wheelchairs, public buildings without Braille signs, or lacking handicapped parking or ramps or grab bars in bathrooms. All of them, she discovered after the third person joined the conversation -- out in the hall, to keep from disturbing the ones trying to get the phones back -- had been made more aware by Tommy of what was available, what needed to be done, and the foot-dragging among the community's officials and the owners of buildings. As if Natalie didn't already know he was a rabble-rouser and campaigner. She liked seeing the faces light up as the volunteers talked about Tommy, hearing the laughter or wry amusement in their voices, and getting them to offer stories about his latest escapades or smart remarks. It didn't surprise her at all to learn that he was a favorite among the children at the Mission.

  Two hours of waiting and asking questions and going up and down the hierarchy at the phone company finally got someone to come out to look things over. To reduce charges, a member of Tabor Christian who worked for the phone company was asked to come in. As long as the phone company did work outside the building, it was considered their responsibility. If they had to come inside, they charged the Mission. It was better to get someone who knew what they were doing to check on the inside and rule out those problems.

  "Sometimes, it's hard not to believe everything is a scam," Grace confided in Natalie as they headed back to the office to report on what had been learned so far about the problem. "I know a couple people who took pictures of damage to the wires outside their homes, proving it was exterior damage, meaning the phone company had to handle it. But those service workers insisted on coming inside the house and looking for problems on the inside before they would take care of the outside. Of course there was nothing, but they charged for it."

  "Quotas?" Natalie suggested.

  "Probably."

  Over lunch with Pastor Wally, Pastor Doug, Claire, Jennifer Deverall and Nikki Pierson, Natalie got a good overall picture of wh
at the Mission had started out with, what they had added on in the last few years, and the giant strides they were making now that the Arc Foundation had come alongside them. Natalie had heard about the big dogs that were "standard equipment" for the representatives of the Arc Foundation, but she hadn't really thought about the implications until Jennifer's Puck and Nikki's Gray came into the room and both had to be introduced to her. She thought about what Jenny Doran had told her -- warned her, actually.

  "Sometimes, you'd swear there's something besides a dog looking out at you. Don't ever assume they're just well-trained mutts. After all, if God could speak through Balaam's donkey…" Jenny hadn't finished the thought, and Natalie was too embarrassed to admit she didn't understand the reference. She had a lot to think about when she looked it up in the Bible and read about how God had given a donkey the ability to talk, to finally get through to a stubborn prophet who wanted to do things his way instead of as God commanded.

  After lunch, she had a tour of the facilities, guided by Jennifer and Puck. Natalie felt some reassurance when the big Dalmatian got cries of greeting and hugs and strokes from the children in every room they entered. While Puck didn't look ecstatic to get all the touching and attention, he put up with it.

  "Like I told you," Jennifer said, when they left the fourth classroom, "she's not here. She's in school full-time."

  "Huh?" Natalie looked between the woman and her dog.

  "He's looking for Sammy." Jennifer snorted when the Dalmatian's ears pricked up and he looked around. "No. She's not here. Come on." She tipped her head, gesturing down the hallway. "There are a couple kids who are special, and favorites of our companions. Claire's daughter is one of them. She started first grade this fall and this big guy misses her. He still looks for her every time we go into a room that she might have been in over the weekend, or in the afternoons."

  "Oh. Catches her scent, thinks she was there recently."

  "Probably. And hoping for a little protection from the ones who want to connect his dots with tempera paints or markers."

  "Ouch." Natalie muffled a chuckle, but it was hard when Puck turned his head and gazed sorrowfully up at her. "I'm sorry, Puck. It's not funny. I promise, I'll try to protect you if someone tries something nasty, okay?"

  Her heart skipped a beat when the big dog nodded twice.

  "They really do understand, don't they?" she said, fighting not to let her voice drop to a whisper.

  "Sometimes, I swear they know more than we do." Jennifer raked her fingers through her short, stylish, dark hair. "If I had listened to Puck, really paid attention, I would have known the direction the danger was coming from. I might not have shattered my skull and been sidelined for a few months last year. Here we go -- I need a break, don't know about you," she said, leading the way through the cafeteria door.

  Natalie decided that was as clear a warning as anything that Jennifer didn't want to talk further about her accident. She followed her to the kitchen and they helped themselves to a wide selection of teas, fruit juices, and cartons of milk in a massive stainless steel refrigerator.

  Tommy rolled in while they were settling down with their bottles at one of the tables. Natalie was gratified when Puck approached him, putting both massive paws on his thighs and getting up into the perfect position for a good, long rubdown. When Tommy stopped after only a few strokes, Puck tried to lick his face.

  "Hey -- Jennifer -- get this slobber machine off me, will you?" He didn't make much of an effort to block the dog with his arms. "I gotta go get the munchkin. Yeah, her," he said, his grumbling turning to a grin when Puck let out a little bark. "Want to let him go with me?"

  "You just want him to pull you, instead of having to wheel down the street," Jennifer said, glancing to the ceiling as if begging for strength.

  "Well, duh. My mamma didn't raise no dummy. Want to come along, Nat?"

  "Come along where?" Natalie asked, enjoying the little jolt she got from how he said her name. Like they were old friends. Like he expected her to say yes. Like he really wanted her company.

  "To school to get my favorite niece. Paul and Claire are both busy with stuff. Gets me out for some fresh air. Not that you've had a lot of chances to sit down today, if I know how the big-wigs handle the orientation." He paused to stick his tongue out at Jennifer. "How about a guided tour of this part of Tabor?"

  "Sounds good."

  Natalie put away her notebook and her tape recorder. This was one of those times where she needed to employ all her senses and just concentrate on experiencing. She could gather up her impressions later. If there was any need to write them down at all. Just because she saw and heard something didn't mean it had to go in her story. Besides, walking the streets of Tabor would be very different during the awareness walk, compared to this quiet afternoon, strolling down sidewalks through the residential section of town.

  Or not so quiet. After the fourth intersection or turn down another sidewalk, she noticed adults walking far ahead of them, and guessed they were headed in the same direction. Did she hear, in the distance, the clamor of children talking and laughing and shouting?

  "Yeah, we're getting close," Tommy said. On the walk, he had asked her about the fuss with the phones and basically wanted to know what she had seen, who she had met and talked to so far today. "You know who we're here to see, Puck? Watch this," he added, when the big Dalmatian stopped, about five paces ahead of them, and looked over his shoulder at them. "Go find Sammy, Puck."

  "Wow," Natalie murmured, when the dog seemed to leap into fifth gear from a standstill. In moments he was a black and white blur.

  "We better hurry," he said, and pushed hard on his wheels. "You might just catch her riding him."

  Natalie wondered just how small Sammy had to be, to ride Puck. She didn't ask any questions. Tommy's muscles bulged as he pushed hard, and fast, until she had to trot to keep up with him. Then actually broke into a jog.

  The sidewalk leading to the school was framed in chain link fence and went between two houses, then seemed to vanish into a cluster of trees. When they got to the entrance of the sidewalk, Natalie realized the sidewalk curved, turning into an asphalt path. The sound of children's voices grew louder, and handfuls of children walking by themselves emerged from the trees when she and Tommy were about twenty feet from the fenced path. Tommy slid to a stop, pulling off into the driveway of the house next to the path. Natalie didn't ask, but she assumed Sammy would come out here. Maybe adults weren't allowed onto school property from this entrance?

  They didn't have long to wait. At least, not long enough for her to catch her breath and then wonder at Tommy's silence. Puck appeared, with a wide gap before and behind him. The Dalmatian walked slowly, and Natalie realized a little, pale-haired girl held onto his collar, chattering away as she trudged up the sidewalk.

  "Gee, what's taking you so long?" Tommy called.

  "Uncle Tommy!" the child crowed. She let go of Puck's collar and raced down the path, nearly skidding on the asphalt as she tried to turn the corner. In moments she had scrambled up Tommy's legs and perched on her knees on his lap, facing him. "I got three gold stars today!"

  "What'd you do, steal them?" He slid the backpack off her shoulder with practiced ease and slung it over the handlebars on the back of his chair. Natalie marveled at how he did it without looking.

  Sammy laughed. "Nope. I got them because I'm smart! Teacher says so. I can write my whole alphabet and multiply my five times before I mess up. Hi." She turned to Natalie as she scooted around so she sat on Tommy's lap. "Are you Uncle Tommy's new girlfriend?"

  "Whoa!" Tommy wrapped one arm around her waist and pressed his other hand over her mouth, nearly hiding her from the eyes to the chin. "What did your mommy and daddy tell you about playing matchmaker? Huh? Speak up. I can't hear you." He shook Sammy a little, which just earned peals of muffled laughter from the child.

  "You have to take your hand off her mouth," Natalie offered, trying to sound disgusted, or at the very least
bored. Anything to muffle the startled thudding of her heart.

  What exactly had this elfin child seen in those few seconds to make her ask a question like that? Natalie hoped she wasn't blushing. The unexpected question startled her more than she would have thought.

  "Sammy." Tommy took his hand down from her mouth and shifted it to lightly wrap his fingers around her neck. The visible threat just earned more giggles. "What did your folks tell you about matchmaking?"

  "But you need a girlfriend," the child insisted. "You like Uncle Tommy, don't you?"

  "Uh -- yeah. I guess." Natalie felt heat in her cheeks. Definitely blushing. Why now? "We just met." She fought the urge to cross her fingers behind her back.

  "Oh." Sammy frowned, lips pursed in a perfect rosebud, while Tommy grinned over her head at Natalie and crossed his eyes.

  She wanted to slap him. Maybe hug him. Definitely pick up Sammy and cuddle her close and swear her to secrecy. She wanted to confide in the child that she had known her Uncle Tommy a long time ago and planned to marry him, but then her family left the church and then left the town. Now, Tommy didn't recognize her, so what exactly should she do about it?

  "Do you want to be his girlfriend?" the little girl finally asked.

  "Time out!" Tommy called. "Natalie is a magazine reporter. She's here to cover the wheelchair races--"

  "They're not races!" She shook her head hard enough Natalie's neck hurt a little in sympathy. "He's a goofball. Don't listen to him."

  "Hey! Whose side are you on, short stuff?"

  "Enough!" Natalie gestured down the sidewalk. "Can we head back to the Mission? I'm guessing someone's mother is looking for her."

  "Yeah, well, somebody has to take the dirty jobs," Tommy said with a sigh.

  "What dirty job?" Sammy asked, settling down so she sat facing forward, tucked up secure against his chest.

  "Being the grownup."