Chapter 13

Dan 1.0’s turn:

There’s always something going on around this place. This particular week was road week for me, visiting a couple of major clients in the surrounding states, a task best handled by driving, this time.

Phone call. The little ditty on the ring tone was Cindy’s. I picked up.

“I told you never to call me here,” I started, a common opening.

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Had to, so ease your latest bimbo down. The last customer paid in drachmas or something. I need you to shoot him.”

“Shoot ‘im yourself. You know I don’t wanna get my hands messy.” I laughed. “What’s up?”

“Just got an interesting call from Mister Charlie. He said we’re getting a call from Child Protective Services.”

I couldn’t resist the opening. “NOW they’re calling? You’re twenty-five. It’s too late to protect you.”

“Stoppitttttt! I’m trying to carry on a serious conversation here.”

“Okay, I’ll be good.”

“For certain values of ‘good’,” she muttered. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“So if I made a serious decision, you’d back me, right?”

“Always, baby.”

“Good! I sense a great disturbance in the force.”

“I get first shot at the Death Star.”

“It’s Judge Charlie. There may be Ewoks involved.”

I drove along now, music in the background, a thousand thoughts in my head. I absolutely HAVE trusted Cindy since she was a barely teen girl injecting herself into my life. She doesn’t fail. Not me. Not herself. Not her family. Not her co-workers. I’m safe.

Might get surprised, but I’m safe.

Another twenty miles down the road, starting to consider a combination of fill up the truck and drain the driver, and I hear that tune again.

“Whatcha got, hotshot?”

“Remember that conversation we had a week or so ago when we had a couple of The New Batch?”

“About having kids. I thought we’re settled on borrowing them.”

I was replaying the conversation in my head:

Cindy: “Dan, we need to talk.”

Me: “Umm. This can’t be good.”

Cindy: “We need a child. You can’t get it done, and even if you could, you’re too damned old.”

Me: “Bite your tongue, redhead!”

Cindy: “Think about it, Dan. You’re fifty-five years old. If you could magically get your plumbing fixed today, and if I could get pregnant today, you’d be 70 years old before she could be 14. It ain’t gonna work.”

Me: “What the hell? Are you just trying to make me feel inadequate? You’re succeeding, dammit.”

“You’d just said something about me making you feel inadequate. As if!!! You’ve launched me to the stars. But do you remember?”

“Yes, I remember. We sort of left the question unresolved. Something about hungry redheads and the men who love them.”

“Okay, so now you’re up to speed, right?”

Caution tempered my “yes.”

“Good. Think about it. If we can make it work, I brought us a daughter. Check your phone.”

I pulled to the shoulder for the coming surprise. Looked at the photo, “This isn’t good. She’s a redhead. We don’t need more.”

“Bite YOUR tongue! We need all of ‘em we can get.”

“How old? Looks like nine or ten.”

“Almost ten. ALMOST! Like pTerri...”

“She’s not off the scale like pTerri, is she?”

“We’ll see. Official story is her mom’s in jail, gang involvement, there’s no close kin, they wanted to get ‘er out of the area. Judge Charlie’s son Jerry had the mom’s case, CPS got involved, raised a question and I’m getting ready to fire up our 180 to go down to Beanpole and get ‘er. Mandy’s going with me.”

“Just like that? Baby ... Bad home life ... you don’t know what you’re getting into...”

“Like me. And Dana. And Tina. And Nikki...”

“You know what I mean...”

“So we meet her. Bring her home. TRY. If we can[‘t make it work, CPS is there. But you know ... I pray about stuff like this. She paused. I could hear the gears in her head spinning up. “You’re trying not to laugh now, so you know we’re gonna at least try.”

“I never doubt you. Use your best judgment, baby,” I said.

“I will. I’m meeting Judge Charlie, Aunt Helen, Mizz Ruth Bentley from CPS at Mister John’s hangar. If they have the kid shackled, I won’t take ‘er.”

“You know what I mean, redhead.”

“I always have.”

She hung up leaving me with a lot to digest. I started running down the list of changes coming into my, no, OUR lives. Fun thing is, I already know Cindy’s run her own list, worked out pros and cons. Prayer, indeed.

I told Siri to text Cindy, “Hope this doesn’t mean trouble. Redheads ARE trouble -- don’t ask how I know.”

“We got this.”

Cindy’s turn:

Just that short hop from Beanpole to what Dana insists on calling “3Sigma Intercontinental”.

I didn’t get radical. Kelly avows this is her first time in an airplane.

“This is a good one for that,” I told her. “Ten years ago I was in that same position. You won’t learn in this one, but if you stay with us, you will learn if that’s your wish.”

“Why would I go anywhere else?” she asked. “You’re rescuing me. I figured that out. The others were just doing their jobs. You came and got me. In an airplane.”

“I know Judge Charlie and Mizz Helen. They’re two of the finest people on the planet. We’re lucky you came across them.”

“I suppose,” she sighed. “Uh, Mandy?”

“You do this flyin’ stuff?” Kelly queried.

“You bet. It’s fun.”

“Why’s your last name different than Cindy’s. She said you’re her sister.”

“Sometimes it’s complicated, Kelly. Cindy’s mom is my step-mom. My dad is Cindy’s stepdad. And besides all that, I’m married. See? Ring.” Mandy stuck her hand between the front seats.

“Really? But you’re YOUNG!”

“Sixteen now.”

“Wow! Did you have a baby or something?”

I’m listening to the conversation over the plane’s intercom and keeping my mouth shut. Kelly’s just dipping her toe into the pool of stories we have in our community.

“Oh, certainly not! This guy came into my life. I love him. He loves me. Married. Our own apartment and everything.”

“But school...”

“‘Nuther story. I have a college degree.”

“wow again.” She looked out the side window. “How high are we?”

My reply: “Fifty-five hundred feet.”

“That’s like a mile.”

My ear perked up. Wasn’t sure that the average waif would know how many feet in a mile.

“Well, that’s above sea level. Ground’s about seven fifty above sea level, so we have to subtract that.”

“Oh. I learned something.”

I learned something, too. Kelly’s “did you have a baby” question told me that she has observed and questioned much more of the world around her than most ten-year-olds.

She and I and Mandy continued talking until the airfield touched our wheels.

Remember elementary school? Did you ever see anyone bring a puppy to “show- and-tell”? It’s probably easier to understand, if you remember that.

Quick flight from Beanpole back to 3Sigma Field, where we landed and taxied over to the pumps for the refuel, then put the bird away. And answered probably a bit less than a hundred (or so) questions, mostly during the flight, and more during a short tour of the hangars. This kid is FULL of questions.

Got her over to the house and up to one of the Jack-and-Jill bedrooms. Showed her around the house, then a quick shopping trip for more underwear, socks, sneakers, khaki shorts, and an iPhone. Got it activated, and I’ll show her how to use it tonight. Oh, and some bananas and raisins for breakfast tomorrow. I’ll explain later.

Got back to the house, stowed her new stuff, and Dan got home! I introduced Kelly briefly, handed him a Shiner and pointed him down the hall to the bathroom -- he NEEDS a shower.

I sent a text -- big dinner at the Pavilion tonight, and Kim’s going to bring over a few of Vicki’s old (small) 3Sigma polos. We’ll get new ones ordered, and I’ll pick up some Auburn T-shirts tomorrow.

And we bring the puppy to “show-and-tell.” Hit of the day at the Pavilion -- Kelly is the puppy, and all the kids and adults wanted to meet her and talk to her.

Introductions all around, and a wonderful chicken casserole. We sat with Mandy, Jack, pTerri and Jerry. Kelly thinks the “pTerri” name is funny. We explained, but she needs to read the book.

We got back to the house, finally. More questions: “Mister Dan, where were you today?” (Florida, of course.) “How did you get there?” (The 185.) “Is it far? How did you know where you were going?” “How long does it take?”

Short lesson in flight planning, a smattering of algebra, and Kelly’s eyes are starting to droop. Dan’s grinning at me, when she’s not looking. I chased her off to bed, demanding that she brush her teeth first.

Okay, I know. Everybody’s thinking she’s a foster kid and there’s a day when I’ll let her go to another life. Me? I prayed.

Next morning: Showers, show Kelly how to make up her bed, dress her in khaki shorts and a 3Sigma polo, then -- oatmeal! Let’s see -- banana chunks, raisins, butter, cinnamon, brown sugar. She gobbled it, along with a big glass of OJ. And smiles.

I told her, “Kelly, the other kids are going on a field trip this morning, and you’re not registered with them, yet. By tomorrow you will be, but not today. Worse, this morning I have to teach, and so does Mandy, so we’ll put you with pTerri this morning -- I think you’ll enjoy it. This afternoon we’ll put you back with the kids and Mizz Lee.”