Authors: Irene Radford

Thistle Down (18 page)

BOOK: Thistle Down

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“Wait a minute.” Dick needed to think—and think fast. “We’ve got a lot of old folks living on the ridge in those ancient houses with outdated plumbing and no air-conditioning. Many of them live alone. In this heat they need someone to check on them, make sure they drink enough water, turn on the fans instead of the heat, let the pets out. What if a bunch of people chipped in and paid Thistle to do that?”

“Loaves and Fishes does a lot of that,” Ms. Boland said. A note of caution drew the words out.

“But not all of them sign up for Meals on Wheels. Like Mrs. Spencer. She was a proud old lady, wouldn’t take charity. Said she didn’t need it,” Chase mused. “And those volunteers only come once a day, and not always on weekends. They are volunteers, after all, and there are only so many of them.”

“I bet they don’t stick around to make sure the folks eat or drink,” Dick expanded on the topic. “Or let the dogs out.”

“I’ve got a patrol officer checking the neighborhood now,” Chase said. His fingers tapped a rhythmic pattern on his utility belt, a sure sign that he was thinking as fast and furiously as Dick. “But I haven’t the budget to do it all day every day. Especially with Festival in full swing and someone selling illegal firecrackers to teens. You might have a good idea, Dick. At least until the heat breaks. Come winter, we’ll have a similar problem. Making sure furnaces work and don’t spill carbon monoxide.”

Thistle looked around sniffing the air. “Ten degrees cooler tomorrow and the next day. But no rain in sight. And the third day the temperatures go back up into the nineties again, with higher humidity.”

“We wouldn’t be able to pay her much. And someone would have to take her around, introduce her to everyone, including the neighbors,” Dick thought out loud. His gaze met Chase’s again.

“Dusty could do that. She takes library books to the old folks; she could introduce and
vouch for
your friend,” Ms. Boland suggested.

“I suppose. Funny how Dusty will sit and talk to those old folks but hides from people her own age.”

“Maybe the elders are so grateful for company, they make her feel welcome and don’t judge her if she has a smudge of dirt on her nose, or she says something awkward,” Thistle said. “Maybe she collects stories about olden times from them. They don’t get bored talking about the past.”

“I’ll make up a list of candidates,” Ms. Boland said. “And I’ll chip in ten bucks a week.”

“Wh . . . what about Dusty telling me to move out?” Thistle asked on a sniff.

“I’ll talk to my little sister. As far as I’m concerned, you should stay with us. We’re right in the middle of the district you need to patrol.”

“Thank you. I know how to be a friend. I can do this. You can trust me to be a friend to these people.” Thistle placed her hand on his chest and looked up at him with deep purple eyes full of gratitude and . . . and something Dick couldn’t quite define.

His heart melted, and logic flew out the window. He knew those eyes. He’d seen that expression before . . . The day he wiped her wings free of the dog drool Chase had used to glue them together.

Chase turned away from Dick in embarrassment. Thistle was looking at him in awe, as if he was a superhero.

That was his friend, Dick. Defender of the innocent, protector of the vulnerable. Who was it had first given him that nickname?

Chase thought it was his youngest sister Ginny who’d first used the phrase. How many years ago?

Their sophomore year in high school. Spring term . . .

Chase threw his book bag onto the bench seat of the booth in the far back corner of Norton’s Family Diner, the booth Mom reserved for Chase and his friends after school. He and his sisters had to come here and do homework right after school. That was the rule. This wasn’t football or wrestling season, so he’d jogged down from school as soon as the final bell rang at the end of eighth period. He had to jog everywhere to keep in shape.

“Mom, can I have a Coke?” he called into the back.

“Help yourself, dear. And fix glasses for your sisters,” his mother leaned out the order window from the kitchen.

The smell of hot grease for fries and grilled burgers made his stomach growl. “The girls aren’t here yet. Ginny has play practice and Lynette wants to watch cheerleading practice so that she can learn some moves and try out in the fall,” he said, explaining their absence. “Can I have a burger?” he asked hopefully as he pulled the lever on the soft drink machine and watched the brown liquid foam on top.

“Your dad’s cleaning the grill. It will take a while to bring it up to temperature again. How about a piece of pie. I think there’s still some fresh apple.” His mother ducked back into the kitchen.

Chase studied the pies in the rack. The apple was almost gone. Maybe he should save that for Dick; it was his favorite, and he hadn’t been too happy lately, what with Dusty in the hospital and all. “I’ll have the lemon meringue,” he said to his mother.

He’d barely settled at the table with his math book when Dick slumped through the door. He dragged his book bag on the floor and practically fell across the bench seat.

Mom saw him coming and placed the last piece of apple pie in front of him along with a tall glass of milk. His mother’s rule.

“How was school today?” she asked them both.

“Biology’s a bunch of crap,” Chase spat. His text sat in the bottom of his bag, practically accusing him of neglect.

“No, it’s not. It’s the best class I’ve got,” Dick responded, perking up a bit. He took a big bite of pie. “It’s World History that’s too boring for words, and Dusty’s too sick to help me with it.” His fork sank back to his plate, and he looked like his pie tasted bad, but he was too polite to spit it out.

“Any news about your sister?” Mom sat down next to Chase and leaned across the table toward Dick. She patted his hand.

Chase suddenly felt all warm and fuzzy, sort of like when he made a touchdown in the first quarter of his first junior varsity football game. His mom was the best, letting the kids hang out here after school, making sure they got snacks—often without paying for them—and just being a good mom to all of them.

Especially now that Dick’s folks spent so much time at the hospital with Dusty.

Ginny and Lynette burst through the front door in a clatter of laughter and banging books. Five other kids, mostly juniors, followed them and took a seat across the way. At thirteen, his sister Lynette was just beginning to show signs of growing up. Chase worried about her and the rough boys in her class. He knew what guys thought of girls. She wasn’t safe. He’d have to have a word with some of them, prove to them they didn’t want to mess with her, or they’d have to mess with him. Ginny was eleven and still very much a little girl. She spent a lot of time with Dusty, despite the two-year difference in their ages. At least she had until Dusty went to the hospital nearly a month ago.

The girls went about fixing their own snacks. They wanted the chocolate cake instead of pie. Too sweet by half for Chase, especially with the Coke.

“How’s Dusty?” Ginny asked right off, like she did every day.

Dick kept his face down and didn’t answer. If Chase didn’t know better, he’d think Dick was crying.

He wiped his face and looked out the window at another troop of kids aiming for the front door. These were seniors, and the entire crowd orbited them, hoping for a crumb of wisdom or a brief glance of notice.

“What is it, dear? Maybe we can help,” Mom said to Dick while keeping an eye on the newcomers.

“No one can help. Dusty’s got leukemia. It’s a kind of cancer.” Dick gulped his milk, his Adam’s apple bobbing suspiciously fast as he drank.

“Leukemia. That can be bad.” Mom sat back a bit. “Depends on the kind of leukemia. There’s one that I’ve heard has a really good recovery rate, if they catch it early.”

“Th . . . that’s what the doctors told my folks. They caught it early. They can treat it with chemo. But they want to wait until they have a bone marrow donor lined up for afterward. If they can’t get a perfect match, they don’t know if she’ll get better or not, even with chemo.’Cause the chemo destroys her marrow and her immune system. She can’t live long . . .”

“I’ll donate,” Chase said. Why had he volunteered so fast? Dusty was okay, for a girl. Really smart about some things, but just so little, five years younger than him. Last time he’d seen her, she’d looked pale as a ghost and had no energy or sense of humor or anything.

“Doesn’t work like that, I’m afraid, Chase,” Mom said. She hugged him tight. “But it was really good of you to offer.”

“The doctors said I was the best chance of a match,” Dick said quietly. “But it’s still only a chance.”

“When will you know?” Chase asked. He could see how much Dick was hurting. Chase felt a tightness in his chest, too. He wanted to help. He really did. He just didn’t know how.

“I’m having a blood test tomorrow,” Dick said. “Since I’m fifteen now, they don’t see a problem in taking my marrow if it matches. Little kids sometimes have a problem donating ’cause their bones aren’t big enough.”

“Why?” Chase asked.

“Do your biology homework and you might find out!” Dick grinned at him. “I’ll help you with it. I’m doing an extra credit report on the DNA of siblings because of Dusty and me being a donor and all.”

“You sound like you want to be a doctor,” Lynette said. She made goo-goo eyes at Dick. She’d had a crush on him for a couple of weeks now. Chase wasn’t sure he liked that. If she and Dick started to really like each other, he might have to hit Dick if he got too fresh with his sister.

“I made up my mind this morning,” Dick said, lifting his head proudly. “I’m going to be a doctor. And I’ll find a cure for leukemia so that no other little kid has to be as sick as my sister.”

“Protecting little kids, that’s . . . that’s like a superhero,” Ginny said. She stared at Dick with the same awestruck look as Lynette.

Oh, crap. Now Chase had two sisters falling all over themselves to get Dick’s attention.

But the description of Dick as a superhero had stuck, for a while at least. And Chase had a hard time living up to it. That was why he’d majored in criminal justice and joined the local police force. To compete as best he could with Dick’s image as a superhero.

Good thing neither of Chase’s sisters had followed through with their crush on Dick. Lynette had gone off to college in Spokane and married a classmate—a computer nerd who’d developed a specialized database for farmers and ranchers and made a lot of money. They had two kids now and lived on a small farm near Spokane. Ginny had a degree in restaurant management and still worked at the diner, planning on taking it over when the folks retired. She was dating the son of their landlord. He hoped she genuinely liked him and wasn’t doing it “for the business.”

Chase knew that if he ever got up the nerve to ask Dusty out on a real date, he’d be thinking of more important things than business.

Maybe he should stop by the museum later and make sure she got home okay. She’d be tired after a long day and the parade and all. She’d forget to eat.

Sounded like a good excuse to get takeout and surprise her.

Fourteen