Seasons Under Heaven (8 page)

It was all Brenda could do to wait until after eight o’clock the next morning to call in for Joseph’s appointment. When she was told that the next available appointment was a week away, she took it gratefully, then hung up and wondered if she should have fought for an earlier one.

Joseph was sitting at the breakfast table with the rest of the children, eating cornflakes. She’d felt guilty for waking him this morning when he looked so tired and pale. But today was a school day, and she didn’t like letting the children sleep late just because they didn’t have a tardy bell. He had his face propped on his hand and was picking at his cereal. He seemed slightly out of breath, but she wondered if that was just her imagination.

David came into the kitchen and caught her watching Joseph. “Did you call?” he whispered.

“Yes.” She busied herself cutting up wedges of cantaloupe and putting the pieces into bowls. “It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“Just that they couldn’t get him in for a week.”

David’s jaw dropped. “Did you tell them it was a referral? Did you tell them about his X-ray?”

“I did,” Brenda said. “But I guess all of their patients are like that.”

David turned back to Joseph and stared at him for a moment. Finally, he sat down at the table. Daniel, Rachel, and Leah were just finishing up, waiting for the fruit their mom was working on, but Joseph had hardly touched his cereal.

“You feeling okay this morning, buddy?” David asked Joseph.

“Yes, sir.”

David raked his hand through the child’s red hair, fingercombing it into place. “You sure? You don’t look like you feel that well.”

Joseph met his father’s eyes. “Is something the matter with my heart?”

Brenda stopped what she was doing and turned back from the counter. The other three children looked up.

“Why would you ask that?” Brenda asked.

“Because…Daniel said a cardac surgeon—”

“Card-
i
-ac,” Daniel corrected.

“—is a guy who works on hearts, like Dr. Harry.”

David looked up at her, and Brenda abandoned the cantaloupe and sat down in her own place. “Daniel’s right,” David said. “Your heart might need a little tune-up, like we did to that old truck of mine.”

“A tune-up?” Joseph asked. “How do they do that?”

Brenda didn’t trust David’s analogies to help the matter, so she touched her husband’s hand, silencing him. “Joseph, there may not be anything wrong at all. You probably just have some kind of virus. We just want to check to make sure.”

He kept dipping his spoon in his cereal, scooping up cornflakes and letting them fall back into the milk. “I dreamed I died.”

Brenda caught her breath and covered her mouth, and tears came to her eyes. “Oh, honey…”

“That’s it,” David said, getting up. He picked up the telephone book and began flipping through.

She touched the tears at the corners of her eyes, as if she could hold them back. “Who are you calling?”

“I’m calling Harry. He’s a heart surgeon.”

“But he’s not a
children’s
cardiac surgeon. That’s what Dr. Gunn said we needed.”

“I know, but Harry knows what to look for. If he thinks Joseph needs to be seen right away, he’ll find a way to get us an earlier appointment. Doctors listen to doctors.”

“But Dr. Gunn said he would call, and it didn’t help. Besides, isn’t that rude, to ask a neighbor to make a house call like that?” Brenda felt like Leah now, worried that she’d make some kind of social faux pas.

“Hey, if he wants me to, I’ll take Joseph over to his house. He’s not like that, Brenda. He won’t mind.”

“Well, you may not catch him. Doesn’t he do surgery early in the mornings?”

He got the number, dialed, and waited. “Sylvia? This is David Dodd. Has Harry left yet?” He paused. “No, that’s okay. I was just hoping…Well, it’s just that…Brenda called to get Joseph’s appointment and they can’t get him in for a week. Yeah. That’s what I thought. Sylvia, we hate to take advantage of a neighbor…If you’re sure…All right. We’d really appreciate it.”

He hung up the phone and turned back to the table. All four children were frozen in silence.

“What did she say?” Brenda asked.

“She said that she would call Harry right now and see if he could come check on Joseph on his lunch break.”

“Thank goodness.” She leaned across the table and patted Joseph’s hand. “Dr. Harry will fix you up.” She looked at the other kids. “You can all have some of this cantaloupe if you want it. Rachel, will you give some to Joseph? Then all three of you clean up. Joseph, you don’t have to help. You just try to eat.”

He nodded as his sister gave him a bowl of cantaloupe.

Brenda took David’s hand and headed back to the bedroom. She burst into tears before she reached the room. She turned around, and David pulled her into his arms. “Don’t be scared,” he said. “It’s probably something very minor. Nothing at all.”

“He dreamed he died.” She let the tears out all at once, as if to relieve some of the pressure on her glands, then quickly dried up. “You’re right. Harry will probably just tell us it’s okay to wait a week, that there’s nothing wrong…”

They clung together for a long time, neither wanting to let go. Finally, David loosened his hold on her. “I’ll be out back working,” he said. “Call me when Harry comes, or if you need me.”

Brenda let him go and went back into the kitchen. Already, the table was cleared, and Daniel and Rachel were rinsing the bowls and loading them into the dishwasher. Leah had found a book to put on her head and was prancing around with perfect posture as she wiped the table. Joseph was laughing at her as he carried his bowl to the sink.

Brenda found herself studying his little chest, wondering what was going on inside it. Silently, she prayed that they had caught it in time, whatever it was, or that it was all a mistake and they’d find out today that the anxiety and worry had all been for nothing. She could live with that—even without anger toward those who’d made the mistaken diagnosis. She tried to believe it—that nothing was wrong with Joseph, that he would bounce back within days and be racing around the house with his sisters and brother, playing David and Goliath. But she could not shake the fear that it wasn’t going to turn out that way.

Brenda saw the concern on Harry Bryan’s face as he finished his examination of Joseph. Harry’s face had many lines—lines of joy that webbed out from his eyes and his mouth, lines of concern that pleated his forehead. But the lines she saw now looked like fear. Would she, too, have those kinds of lines before this
was over? She glanced up at David, and saw Harry’s fear reflected there.

“I’m going to call Dr. Robinson,” he said softly, “and I’ll make sure he sees Joseph today.”

Brenda didn’t know whether to be relieved or startled. “What’s wrong with him, Harry?”

“I can’t say, Brenda. All I know is his heartbeat is slow and weak, and in my opinion, he needs to see a specialist pretty quick.”

Joseph looked up at her, his big eyes searching her face for her response, so he would know how he should feel. She wouldn’t let herself show the fear she felt. She smiled. “Well, then, we can get this over with today, can’t we, Joseph?”

He nodded solemnly.

“I’m going home to call,” he said. “I’ll call you before I go back to the office and let you know what time your appointment is.”

He didn’t want them to hear the conversation, she realized. What would he tell Dr. Robinson that he didn’t want them to hear? “Thank you, Harry,” she said, and gave him a hug.

When he’d gone, Brenda looked up at David. He looked even more shaken now, and she wanted to take him into the other room and ask him to try to smile so that he wouldn’t worry Joseph.

“Good grief, Joseph,” she said brightly. “You’ll do anything to get out of schoolwork.”

He smiled. “I think I’d rather do math than go to another doctor.”

“That’s what you think,” she said. “We were about to work on fractions today.”

He wasn’t amused.

Brenda finished feeding lunch to her kids, then assigned them to separate stations around the house where they worked on different levels of schoolwork. Her heart wasn’t in it today. There were ways to stimulate her kids, to challenge them to go farther than they had to go to pass the state tests. Normally, she would find life lessons in everything she taught them. They
would go places and experience things. The tests were just a formality. Her kids had always scored very high.

Today, however, she was tempted to tell them that school was letting out early, that they could play and watch videos and find something to occupy themselves so she could worry. She might have to do that anyway, if the appointment came early enough.

True to his word, Harry called back within twenty minutes and told her that Dr. Robinson would see Joseph at one-thirty. She would just barely have time to get him to St. Francis Medical Center. She gave the kids their assignments and put Daniel in charge. Then, acting as if they were heading out on a field trip, she plastered a joyful smile on her face, nudged David into doing the same, and they loaded Joseph into the car.

Cathy had decided not to wear her usual jeans and tennis shoes today, or the blue lab coat that she wore over her clothes at the clinic. Instead, she had dressed in a blazer and khakis that made her look like any other middle-class mom showing up at the high school to talk about her kids.

She waited nervously outside the principal’s office, pacing back and forth, back and forth, her speech playing over and over in her mind, as if one misplaced word would send her whole case tumbling down.

A side door opened and the principal stuck his head out. “Mrs. Flaherty?”

“
Ms.
Flaherty,” she corrected. “I’m divorced.” She didn’t know why that bit of information was relevant, except as part of her argument that, as a single mom raising her kids on her own, she needed the school to be her ally, not her enemy.

“Come into my office, Ms. Flaherty,” he said. She followed him in and took the seat across from his desk.

“Aren’t you the vet?”

“That’s right,” she said.

“My wife brings our dog to you. Gussy. Big German shepherd?”

“Of course,” she lied. She treated hundreds of German shepherds each year and had no recollection of one named Gussy. There were pictures of older teenagers on his desk—his own children, apparently. She wondered if anyone in school had handed
his
son a condom when he was in high school.

He sat back in his chair and pressed his fingertips together, making a steeple. She crossed her legs, trying to look relaxed, but her right foot began to vibrate, as it often did when she was nervous or upset. She willed it to stop.

“Mr. Miller, I came here to talk to you about the sex education class that my son was involved in last week. I believe you called it ‘Condom Awareness Day’?”

“Yes,” he said. “It’s actually about human reproduction, but naming it like that kind of gives it a sense of importance. I know that some parents have a problem with it, Ms. Flaherty, but the truth is that the teen pregnancy rate in this state is sky-high. Our children are getting pregnant left and right, and the incidence of AIDS and other sexually transmitted diseases are at an all-time high. It’s very important that we teach them about safe sex.”

Her eyes locked into his. “I prefer that my children have no sex. Not until they’re married.”

He smiled and leaned back hard. “Don’t we all? That’s the ideal, of course. But these kids
are
having sex.”

“Then wouldn’t it be better for you to teach them not to, instead of instructing them on how to do it right?”

He didn’t seem to like the way she put that. She hadn’t meant to antagonize him, not when he was the one she needed on her side. She picked up the framed portrait of his son on his desk. “Mr. Miller, is this your son?”

“Yes.” His face softened into a smile. “He’s going to the University of Tennessee right now, playing on the baseball team. He’s a junior.”

“And your daughter?” She pointed to the portrait of the young woman.

“My daughter is still here,” he said. “She’s a senior.”

“She’s pretty,” Cathy said, forcing a smile. “I’ll bet she doesn’t sit home much on Saturday nights.”

He laughed, flattered. “No, she sure doesn’t.”

“And it doesn’t bother you that she dates boys carrying condoms?”

Again, his face changed and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, bracing his elbows on his desk. “I don’t think that’s the case. Just because they know how to use one doesn’t mean they’re going to.”

“Why not?” she asked. “When you were a teenager, if some authority figure had handed you something like that, saving you the shame and embarrassment of having to go into a drugstore and buy it, wouldn’t you have thought it was okay to use it?”

He leaned forward now and laced his fingers together, more of an igloo now than a steeple. “Actually, no.”

“Well, that’s where we disagree.” She shifted in her seat. “Mr. Miller, if I want my son to be instructed in condom use, that’s my prerogative, but I don’t think you have the right to decide that for me.” She sat straighter in her chair and leveled her eyes on his. “I was wondering if I could watch the video you showed them. I realize it’s after the fact—the truth is, you should have given parents the right to do that before you ever showed it to the kids. But I’d still like to see it.”

“We don’t have it,” he said. “It floats between the district high schools and middle schools, and the superintendent’s office holds it until we need it.” He slid his chair back and crossed an ankle over his knee. “Look, Ms. Flaherty, I didn’t write this policy. The school board thought it was a good idea. If you don’t agree, and if you’re set on seeing the video, I suggest you take it up with them.”

She pulled a pad and pen out of her purse and poised to write. “So who do I talk to?”

“Well, you could start with Mary, the superintendent’s secretary. She could let you view the video, I suppose. And if you want
to challenge the policy, you could try to get this put on the agenda of the next school board meeting. Or you could go straight to Dr. Jacobs, the superintendent, and take it up with him.”

“And would he listen?”

“Probably not,” he admitted. “You see, you’re coming from the perspective of a parent with…how many children?”

“Three.”

“And Dr. Jacobs is coming at this from the perspective of someone who oversees thousands. He’s intimately acquainted with the statistics. The problem is so big that they’re considering opening a day-care center here for our kids who have kids. Personally, I’m dreading it. As if I didn’t have enough to take care of. A few years ago, that wouldn’t have been a problem.”

“A few years ago they weren’t handing out condoms in schools.” She slapped her forehead dramatically. “Could there be a connection, ya think?”

“Talk to the superintendent,” he said, obviously annoyed at her sarcastic tone. He got up, dismissing her. “Thanks for coming by. It’s good to finally meet you, especially since I’ve never seen you at a PTA meeting.”

The observation stung, and she realized that he was accusing her of not being involved in her children’s education. Even if it was true, did that mean she didn’t have the right to question their policies? “Mr. Miller, I am a single mother with a full-time job trying to raise three kids alone. It’s not easy to find the time to make all of the meetings.”

“I understand,” he said smugly. She knew he really didn’t. His home was probably perfectly intact; she doubted that he knew what it was like to have a spouse rip the heart out of the family by deciding they’d rather start fresh with someone younger and more exciting.

“Thanks for your time,” she said, and left his office as hurt as if he’d insulted her outright.

Next, she went to the superintendent’s office. Mary, the superintendent’s secretary, claimed they had misplaced the video, but that she was sure it was at one of the schools and
would “turn up” before the next school year. “Perhaps you’d like to meet with Dr. Jacobs,” the secretary said.

“Of course,” Cathy said.

Dr. Jacobs rose to greet her when she entered his office. But the bald, overweight superintendent shifted in his chair impatiently as she explained her position.

“You could submit a written request to be put on the agenda at the next school board meeting,” he suggested. His tone implied that he didn’t think she’d bother.

“When is that?” Cathy asked.

“Well, the last meeting of the school year was just last week, and there won’t be another one until September.”

She decided that wasn’t too bad. She would have time to gather resources and allies before she actually went before the school board. And there was still time to get some policies changed before they handed out condoms again next year.

“Can I get a list of all the parents in the district?” she asked.

“What for?”

“So I can communicate with them. See if I can get any support from other concerned parents.”

Dr. Jacobs stared at her as if she’d just asked him if she could use all the fifth graders to clean up toxic waste. “I’m sorry, Ms. Flaherty, but we’re not authorized to give out the addresses of our students. I’m sure you understand.”

“Then how am I supposed to contact the other parents?”

“Maybe you’re not supposed to,” he said. “If and when the policy is changed, it will show up in the new policy booklet.”

“But isn’t the new policy booklet given out at registration? Won’t it be printed
before
school starts next year?”

“Yes.”

“Then wouldn’t it stand to reason that we should take care of this before that comes out?”

“There’s nothing in the policy booklet regarding human reproduction classes.”

“Which is exactly the problem. Parents would appreciate knowing what the administration intends to do with their
children. They need to know their sons are carrying school-distributed condoms around in their pockets.”

“Ms. Flaherty, if you’re so disenchanted with the public school system, perhaps you should send your children to private school.”

She couldn’t believe the anger that mushroomed inside her. “I happen to believe in the
ideal
of public school,” she said. “I pay a huge tax bill every year for these schools. They’re
my
schools, as much as anyone’s. I’m not going to pull my kids out just because things aren’t going my way. Instead, I’m going to fight things and make sure that my tax money isn’t going to waste. I want to make sure that what goes on there is not detrimental and not morally corrupting. A wholesome, solid education should not only be available to kids whose parents can afford private schools.”

“It isn’t morally corrupting to explain sexual safety to our children. People are dying because they’re not having safe sex.”

“For kids, the
only
safe sex is abstinence. Passing condoms out to children doesn’t come close.”

“Frankly, Ms. Flaherty, we’re not sure what works, so we hedge our bets.”

“Sounds like nothing’s working, which is why you’re considering day-care centers in the high schools.” She could see the fatigue lines on the man’s hard face, and she realized he had the weight of the whole school district on his shoulders. She didn’t imagine that was an enviable job. “Look,” she said, trying to sound less confrontational. “I think we’re both out for the best interests of these children. I just happen to disagree with you on what is best.”

“That’s allowed.”

“I’m going to fight you.”

“I expect you will.”

“And somehow I’ll get a list, and I
will
contact all the parents.”

He smiled. “Somehow, I believe that you’ll manage to do just that, but I’m not going to help you.”

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll see you in September.”

His smile was weary but without hostility. And as she left the office, a seed of hope began to take root in her heart.