Heaven Sent Rain (6 page)

T
he stains would not come off the sofa. At all.

Dinah had tried every product in the house, gone out for more, and still only managed to turn the mud and blood into a series of large blotches that glared at her from the pristine white.
Give it a rest. It is only a stain, after all. It will come out with
something.
The mud prints from the carpet had faded; surely when dry they would be gone completely or easily brushed away.

Even while giving herself good advice, she scrubbed on. She had promised to pick Jonah up at five to go help Mutt eat. Talk about a stubborn dog. At least they could bring her home tomorrow. But could Corinne take care of the dog while Jonah went to school? How did they usually manage? Of course all depended on what kind of care Mutt needed.

Stepping back, Dinah studied the stains. Any better, or was she only making things worse? Maybe the answer was to hire a professional cleaner.

Her intercom bleeped and she answered. Horace, the condo manager. “Miz Dinah, you better not be leaving. There’s one of those news vans out on the curb and some blonde lady with a microphone. The hyenas are gathering for the kill.”

“She’s no lady. I have to take Jonah to the vet soon.”

“Mr. Hal, he said stay put.”

“But!” Rage reddened her vision. A prisoner in her own home? “Thank you.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“No, not that I know of, other than sic those people on someone else.”

“I wish. They’re trampling all over the plants, and people who live here get a mic shoved in their face. Not good.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

And she got an idea. “Streets and sidewalks are public, but your flowers sure aren’t. How about calling the police and accusing the whole lot of trespassing? You even have proof.”

The manager cackled. “I’ll do that.” He hung up.

Hitting speed dial, she bypassed polite greetings and burst out, “I’ve got to pick up Jonah to go see Mutt.”

Hal’s patient voice: “Dinah…”

“She won’t eat if he’s not there and that will make him frantic and that will make his mother frantic and—”

“Dinah! Enough!” Hal never raised his voice.

“Sorry.” She swallowed hard. “Hal, I’m frustrated. The vultures are out there interviewing people who know nothing whatever, they’re so desperate. If it’s big news, why didn’t they come to the launch?”

Hal snorted. “That’s right; I told you not to watch television. Maybe you should have. The press has distorted the picture dangerously. You and all your promotions and ads say it’s a dietary supplement that can help people feel better. They’re claiming you said it can cure diabetes. They don’t even specify type. They’re making, or manipulating, their news, Dinah. Sensationalism.”

“What happens if the FDA thinks I said that?”

“Right.” Hal paused. “Shame I have never met Jonah, or I could pick him up.”

She sighed. True. “I’d call, but I don’t have his phone number.”

“Look on your phone.”

“It’s blocked.”

“Oh. Tell you what. I’ll go meet him and tell him who I am, and if he—”

“His dog’s real name is Downmutt. Tell him that you are taking him to feed Downmutt and he will go with you. And will you buy something for him to take to his mother for supper, please?” Although they probably still had most of that chicken.

“Yes ma’am. At your service.”

“Thank you, Hal.” Her throat clogged and all she could do was sniff. “And incidentally, why aren’t they bugging you, like we asked? You’re the one who always knows the right thing to say.”

“I’m not photogenic. Or intriguing. Or the boss of the company that’s going to cure the world of diabetes.”

She sighed. “How could such a thing get so twisted?”

“Don’t worry, Dinah. It will blow over. The press has a very short memory. I’ll take care of the dog thing. How you’ll get to work tomorrow is another story.”

“We’re supposed to pick up the dog in the morning.”

A sigh from that end. “I see.” She thought she heard him mutter “Please, God, get us through this” as she hung up.

Pacing the living room, she called herself all kinds of names (unjustly; it wasn’t she who’d stretched the truth beyond breaking), peered out from a crack in the blinds to watch the mob below. The police had backed them off the property, but they still crowded the sidewalk. Was this what a shark feeding frenzy looked like? Maybe she should just go down there, talk to them, answer what questions she wanted to. Or maybe Hal could set up a time in the morning for a press conference. After all, what could they do but harass her? She had nothing to hide.

And a worse thought struck. If they were so cavalier about the truth, would they listen to what she said? Almost surely not. They would twist her words into whatever they thought would shock and intrigue. She had released a product that could be beneficial. She could see that the unvarnished truth would not be glitzy, sensational, or even newsworthy.

Surely Hal had thought of all this. He of all people understood. They’d discussed it. But his dire predictions dealt primarily with pharmaceutical companies who might feel threatened by her product if it reduced the need for their lucrative drug regimens. The other side of her mind asked gently,
Is Hal known for overstatement or understatement?
Had he ever made a bad judgment call?

Of course he had; no one could live in this world without making mistakes. She just had no immediate recollection of any in the time they’d worked together. Or she’d just never heard about them. There were lots of plausible answers.

She peeked out the window again. Had the crowd thinned a little? Another news van pulled up, this one with a satellite dish on the roof. The side was emblazoned with an ad for the local technical college.

Waiting was worse than anything. Pacing, checking email, pacing, checking the window, pacing. What was the matter with her? This was insanity.

“Ah, darlin’, you need to be prayin’.” Her gramma’s voice slid around her, warm and comforting like the shawl she sometimes used to snug Dinah to her side. She’d not heard that voice for twenty years, ever since the day Gramma went into a diabetic coma and left. Dinah had sat weeping at her bed. She had quit praying that day. Praying to a God who claimed to be real and wasn’t was not only a waste of time but a fantasy that she no longer bought.

The only one to depend upon was herself. Immediately names and faces bombarded her. True, she depended on her whole team. More family than business colleagues, together they had accomplished the miraculous on so many levels. She knew there was no way to repay them but to keep on creating products so that all their jobs were secure.

Snatching up her ringing cell, she saw Hal’s number and hit the answer button. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am okay, and here is a young man who wants to talk with you.”

“Dinah?”

Her day brightened instantly. “Hi, Jonah. How is she? Did she eat?”

His grin swam through the ether to her. “We can pick her up after ten in the morning and Mommy said to tell you thank you and she, not Mommy but Mutt, can stand up now and she licked my face and…” He stopped to catch a breath. “And Mr. Hal is really nice. We’re getting pizza for supper.”

Dinah restrained the groan. She knew Hal did not like pizza; but then he did not have to eat it, just buy it. “You tell him thank you for me, too, please.”

“I will, but how will you get past those people? Dr. G has a TV on in the waiting room and we saw on the TV out in front of your building.”

“You let Mr. Hal and me worry about that. I will get you to the vet tomorrow.”

“Thank you, and D-Mutt thanks you, too. Oh, and Mrs. Miller said to tell you— er, I mean the other Dr. Miller. Dr. G wasn’t there but she says he will be in in the morning to sign the papers so we can bring Mutt home.”

Dinah felt tired just listening to his enthusiasm. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Here is Mr. Hal.”

“He is some boy,” Hal said.

“I told you.”

“By the way, I have a plan for the morning.”

“I thought the crowd had all but left, but then recruits pulled up.”

“They’ll find something else to do eventually. I’ll pick you up at the back entrance about nine forty-five. Jonah’s mother said she’ll call the school to let them know he’ll be out for the day, so never fear.”

“And Food for Life?”

“They will all go to work and you won’t, at least not until later. The boss can surely be tardy once.”

Surely. The prisoner in her own home sighed and hung up.

The next morning all went as Hal had planned. He was not driving his Beemer today. He had a big Ford Something this morning, and Jonah already sat belted into the back seat, grinning widely. She and Jonah walked into the clinic and immediately a dog in back started barking.

“That’s Mutt. She knows I’m here.”

“You sure?”

He nodded and broke into a smile. “Dr. G, you’re here.” He ran to the man and threw his arms around him.

“Good morning.” He hugged Jonah and did not smile at Dinah; it was a grimace disguised as a smile. She knew the difference. “Miz Taylor.”

“Dr. Miller.” Why the sudden coolness? “Good morning. Thank you for taking care of Mutt.” Manners covered a multitude of misgivings.

“My pleasure.” He left off freezing and smiled at Jonah, warm as sunshine.

How’d he do that? She watched as Dr. G pulled a cardboard tube from behind the reception desk and opened it.

“I have your picture done, Jonah. I hope you like it.” He unrolled the paper and held it up.

“D-d-Mutt and me.” He stared up at the man. “It looks just ’zactly like us.” He turned and held the drawing at arm’s length. “Look, Dinah!”

“A very good likeness, Jonah.” Dinah closed her eyes, but only briefly. There it was again. What had happened to the oxygen in the room?

She’d never been a fan of cartoons or caricature, but the picture of Jonah and Mutt—why was it different? The eyes, that’s what it was. How did he draw with such power that she felt she was looking into the child’s soul? All with Magic Markers? Well, maybe they were a better brand than that, but still…

Dr. Miller rolled the drawing and slipped it back into the tube. “Let’s go get Mutt.”

Elated, the little boy bounded off through the double doors.

“I’ll wait for you out here.” She crossed to the reception desk. “You have the bill ready?”

“I do.” The receptionist reached low beside her desk as a printer down there stopped zipping, and laid out the itemized bill. “We had to do a lot to—”

“I understand. The poor dog was near death. Jonah’s mother, Jonah, and I all appreciate the care your staff has lavished on Mutt and Jonah both. I understand that you are not usually open on Sundays, and yet you allowed—”

“There is someone here every day, of course, to check the animals and care for them.” The receptionist smiled. “And we do whatever is best for our patients. We had one woman whose basset was so hooked up to machines that we couldn’t move him, so we let her bring a cot and her sleeping bag. That’s probably the only reason her dog made it.”

“This includes meds and all she needs?”

“We have written all the instructions here on this page. They are easy, really, and if you’d like, you could set up the appointment for us to take the stitches out. Of course if you have any questions, please call. Here are all our contact numbers.” She passed the paper across. “And congratulations on all your accomplishments. Our community is a far better place with your business here.”

Dinah felt her cheeks flush as she handed off a credit card. “Actually, our new product does not do nearly what the press is claiming it does. Just a helpful supplement, certainly not a cure. Nowhere close to a cure.”

“Oh, I wasn’t referring to that. My son plays on a T-ball team and my daughter plays softball. Both are on teams that your company sponsors. The science department at my daughter’s middle school is partially financed by a grant from Food for Life. She wants to be a biochemist like you.” She chuckled and shook her head. “I don’t even know what a biochemist does. But the day you spoke to her class…well let’s just say that was a highlight for her.”

Dinah relaxed a little. “I’m glad to give back. And I failed to mention to the children: If you are a biochemist, remain a biochemist and work at your bench. Do not, I repeat, do not, become CEO of a company.”

Dinah could feel heat creeping up her neck. So much for keeping a low profile. She knew Food for Life supported plenty of activities in the Eastbrook area; after all she approved each one; but this was different. Personal. She changed her tack. “Tell your daughter to keep in touch with us. As soon as she can work legally, we will find something for her to do.”

The woman’s mouth opened. “Thank you. In case you want to run for governor, you have all our votes.”

Dinah chuckled as she was meant to. “I’d like to meet your daughter one day.” She took her card back, signed the merchant’s copy, and slid her billfold back in her hobo bag. Glancing up at the pictures on the wall, she asked, “Does he really give each child with a pet a picture he drew?”

“Children, yes, and sometimes a mother or grandparent. He draws the line at teenagers.”

“Understandably so.” Dinah heard Jonah saying thank you, so she nodded to the woman and looked over to see Jonah leading Mutt out into the waiting room. The dog walked slowly and with a pronounced limp, but she was moving on her own. And she wore a cone. Dinah knew they put those on dogs to keep them from chewing on sores or stitches. Never had she seen a dog wear one without looking downcast and self-conscious. The Cone of Shame. Mutt spotted Dinah and her tail speed increased from casual wave to wag.

She recognizes me.
Why did that jolt her so? Dinah threw a thank-you in the direction of the frosty, brooding doctor and guided Jonah and Mutt out to the waiting car.

As soon as she stepped out of the clinic, she felt the heavy air lift. She’d known people who were uncomfortable socializing, but that didn’t seem to be Dr. Miller’s issue. She’d also known people who relate well to children but not adults—or vice versa. But with him, it seemed personal. A specific issue with her. If she never went back there it would be too soon, but she knew she would in ten days to get the stitches removed, if not before.