A Trusting Heart

by Judith Mccoy Miller

  “Let’s go,” he answered, pulling the seat belt around his waist.

  They rode in silence until they reached the interstate.

  “How’d your case end up?” he asked. “Did the white hats win?”

  “We won this one, and I think we were the white hats,” she replied.

  “Does that mean there are rare occasions when you admit to representing the black hats?” he asked, simulating disbelief.

  “Very rare,” she confessed. “We don’t handle much criminal defense, so it’s easier to say we’re the good guys. Primarily, we handle civil litigation, and one of the attorneys does quite a bit of estate work,” she told him.

  “No messy divorces and no criminals—that must make it easier to work for attorneys. Personally, I’ve never been very fond of lawyers.”

  “Really? Have you had a bad experience?”

  “Nope. Just always had a bad taste for them. Seems like they make their living off of other people’s problems.”

  “To some extent, I suppose that’s true, but they help resolve problems and somebody’s got to do it. I work for two lawyers I consider to be genuinely good men. But there are bad lawyers, just like there are bad soldiers. It’s a shame people always lump them together,” she continued.

  “I suppose you’re right,” he agreed as she turned off the interstate and braked the car to a stop. “We almost there?” he asked as she pulled away from the stop sign.

  “Almost. Getting nervous?”

  “A little,” he admitted.

  “You get ten points for honesty, Jake Lindsey,” she replied in a warm voice as she pulled the car into the driveway of Michelle’s home.

  FOUR

  “You seem to be on weekend duty every time I get over here,” Claire said, patting Sandra on the back as she and Jake walked by her at the front door.

  “Doesn’t bother me a bit,” Sandra replied. “Got no one at home waiting on me, so I might just as well be here. Who’s our new visitor?” she asked, obviously giving Jake a quick appraisal.

  “Jake—Jake Lindsey,” he replied, reaching across Claire to shake Sandra’s extended hand.

  “Well now, Shelly girl, what do you think about this? Your Mama finally brought someone along to visit,” Sandra said in a childish tone of voice that caused Michelle to giggle.

  “Sandra, please don’t call her Shelly,” Claire chastised the stout, middle-aged woman.

  “Oh, Claire, she likes to be called Shelly. Don’t ya, Shelly, Shelly, Shelly,” she said, the inflection of her voice once again causing the child to laugh.

  “It’s not being called Shelly, it’s the way you say it that makes her laugh, and you know it,” Claire replied while giving the woman an exasperated smile. This was one battle Claire knew she wouldn’t win.

  “So, Jake—you the kind of guy that deserves the pleasure of this nice lady’s company?” Sandra asked, ignoring Claire’s glare.

  “I’d like to hope so,” he replied, appearing uncomfortable with Sandra’s direct line of questioning.

  “No hoping about it—either you are or you aren’t. I’ve known this lady for about five years, and she doesn’t need anymore heartache. So my advice. . .”

  “Sandra, if Michelle’s ready, I think we’re going to go ahead and leave now,” Claire interrupted before Sandra could go any further with her lecture.

  “She’s ready, and I’ve got her things in the backpack on her wheelchair. You’re going to lunch pretty soon, right?” she asked.

  “Yes, before we go to the zoo,” Claire replied.

  “Good, because she hasn’t had anything since breakfast. I wanted her to be sure and eat well,” Sandra stated, seemingly pleased with herself.

  Maneuvering the wheelchair out to the car proved a simple task because everything in and around the house had been made to accommodate the bulky apparatus. However, Jake didn’t realize the muscle it would take to break down the large wheelchair after lifting Michelle into the car and arranging her in the seat.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a wheelchair quite like that one,” he stated, obviously out of breath after the ordeal.

  “It was made especially for her. Unfortunately, she’s beginning to develop curvature of the spine, and I’m hoping we can avoid surgery by using the chair and a brace part of the time,” Claire explained, backing out of the driveway.

  “How about lunch at the Village Inn?” Claire asked.

  “Sounds fine to me, and I’m ready to eat anytime,” Jake responded. “How about you, Michelle?”

  “She doesn’t talk at all, Jake,” Claire explained.

  “Oh—sorry. I didn’t mean to. . .”

  “It’s okay, Jake. There are a lot of things you don’t know about Michelle. I don’t expect you to. You’re allowed to ask questions,” she stated with a grin. “If you ask anything I don’t want to answer, I’ll let you know.”

  Apparently Jake believed her. “Why don’t you just tell me about Michelle?” he candidly suggested.

  “That probably would be easiest,” she remarked and then began the story she had told many times. “When Michelle was born, Glenn and I thought everything was fine. We had wanted a little girl very much. Although I’d had some problems with my pregnancy and we had concerns because the doctor didn’t arrive at the hospital quickly enough and the baby was held back, we believed everything had turned out perfectly. When I took her for those first few check-ups, the doctor said she was fine. However, I remember questioning him because Michelle seemed to have difficulty taking her bottle. She ate very little, and I’d have to wake her for feedings, or she’d sleep as long as ten hours. Conversely, she’d also go through periods that I explained as ‘crying spells’ when she would cry until she literally lost her voice. Nothing would appease her, and it would go on day and night until I thought I’d go out of my mind. Still the doctor didn’t act alarmed at anything I said. He explained the crying as colic and said she’d awaken if she were hungry.”

  Jake appeared engrossed by Claire’s narrative, occasionally nodding his head.

  “When Michelle was about three months old, Glenn and I decided it might be wise to have her checked by a pediatrician. I made the appointment, but Glenn was backlogged at work. We agreed it would be fine for me to go alone. The pediatrician performed a lengthy examination and when he’d finished, he asked if my husband had come along. When I told him that I was alone, he asked me to come back the next morning and to bring Glenn. I knew what he was going to tell us would be unwelcome news and, in retrospect, I marvel that I didn’t force him to immediately tell me. Instead, I merely made an appointment for the next morning, left the office, and went home.

  “That night, Glenn and I attempted to hide our fear from each other, and early the next morning as we sat in Dr. McNeal’s office, he told us that although our daughter was very young to diagnose, it appeared that she had cerebral palsy. Needless to say, I felt like my world was crashing in around me. Glenn and I stared at the doctor in utter disbelief. When he asked if we had any questions, we were both so stunned that we said no. He told us that when we’d had time to reflect upon the news we should come back and talk to him. I remember that we never said a word to each other the whole way home. Both of us cried, but no one said a word. Here we are,” she said, pulling into the restaurant parking lot.

  Surprised they had already arrived, Jake wished he could hear more of the unfolding circumstances before stopping for lunch.

  “I’ll get the wheelchair,” he offered, reaching out to take the keys.

  “Thanks,” she replied.

  It was nice to have someone else to do some of the heavy-duty lifting that always left her worn out after excursions with her daughter. Watching as Jake removed and reassembled the wheelchair, Claire removed Michelle from the car and lifted her into the chair.

  “Here we go,” she said to the child, giving her a kiss. “You ready for lunch?” she asked, knowing there would be no answer.

  The Village Inn was
one of the few restaurants where Claire was always assured that she could get a serving of mashed potatoes and gravy. Decisions about where to eat were always based upon what foods were served that Michelle could swallow. Born with an extremely high gag reflex and unable to chew her food, the choices were limited.

  Jake opened the door to the restaurant. After scanning the dining room for several minutes, the waitress found them a table. Claire had learned long ago that sitting in a booth and placing the wheelchair at the end just didn’t work. Although being at a table in the center of the dining area wasn’t appealing to Claire, she knew it was the easiest seating arrangement when Michelle was going to eat. Unfortunately, the restaurant was quite crowded, and they found themselves in the midst of an obviously hungry lunch crowd.

  “She doesn’t particularly like being in large group settings such as this,” Claire explained when Michelle began to cry. “I didn’t realize it would be so jammed,” she apologetically stated as Michelle began to cry louder, attracting the attention of the surrounding patrons.

  Pulling a small wad of yarn from her purse, Claire held it in front of Michelle’s face until the child’s eyes focused on the object. Quickly her hands reached toward the object, and the crying ceased.

  “I take it there’s something about yarn that she likes,” Jake commented.

  “Yes, although I haven’t figured out just what it is,” Claire replied, smiling as her daughter played with the object. “Does it bother you?” she asked.

  “Playing with the yarn? Why should that bother me?” Jake asked, bringing his eyes back to Claire.

  “When people stare. Does it bother you? It appears to me you’ve been watching for other people’s reactions since we entered the restaurant,” she observed.

  “I’m not sure ‘bother’ is the right word. It’s more that I’m surprised that we seem to be the center of attention. I didn’t expect that kind of reaction,” he honestly responded.

  “I think a lot of it is because most people haven’t had much exposure to kids like Michelle. Generally speaking, people seem to be enthralled by the unique and different. Michelle is a rare sight to most folks. Perhaps if enough parents are willing to subject themselves and their children to public scrutiny, the curiosity will decrease,” she remarked quietly. “Of course, sometimes that’s easier said than done,” she quickly added, recalling arguments with Glenn about taking Michelle to public places.

  “You’re a pretty insightful lady,” he complimented as the strains of elevator music drifted throughout the restaurant.

  “Believe me, it hasn’t come easily. God has really had to perform a work in me. My immediate reaction when Michelle was diagnosed was one of disbelief, then anger, and then a giant pity party. But God has blessed me for honestly coming before Him with all of those emotions. As time has passed, He’s shown me that He has different plans for each of us. Michelle’s ‘plan’ isn’t what I had wanted for my daughter, but He has taught me acceptance, and sometimes I truly marvel at the lives she has touched,” Claire explained.

  Jake nodded but said nothing. Looking toward the waitress who was now standing by their table, he asked, “Have you decided what you’d like?”

  “Put ours on a separate bill,” Claire told the waitress, nodding her head toward Michelle.

  Jake didn’t object, although Claire could feel his eyes on her.

  “I’ll have the fruit plate special and a side order of mashed potatoes, heavy on the gravy, a small glass of milk, and a cup of coffee.”

  The waitress finished writing, flipped the page in her order book, and turned toward Jake. “What’ll it be for you?” she asked without looking up.

  “I’ll have the chicken-fried steak dinner with French fries, Thousand Island dressing on the salad, and an extra roll. Oh yeah, a large glass of milk with my meal and coffee now,” he stated.

  Without a word she disappeared, and another waitress appeared with a thermal coffeepot and placed it on the table.

  “I planned on paying for dinner, Claire. I won’t make scenes in public places if I can avoid them, but I’d like you to allow me to pay for dinner and the zoo,” he said as soon as the waitress was out of earshot.

  Claire hesitated for a moment before answering. “I really prefer paying my own way. That way there’s no feeling of obligation.”

  She watched Jake stiffen as she made the statement.

  “I’m not offering in order to make you feel obligated. I invited you, and I’d like to pay, pure and simple.”

  “Tell you what—the tickets to the zoo can be your treat, okay?” she asked, still unwilling to allow him to pay for dinner.

  “You’re in charge,” he said, giving her a mock salute along with the hint of a smile.

  “That was fast,” Claire remarked as the waitress began placing their food on the table. “I thought it would take them forever with this crowd.” She pulled a large bib from the backpack and placed it around the child’s neck. “She can get a little messy,” she explained.

  “Anything I can do?” Jake asked.

  “You want to pray silently or out loud?” Claire inquired.

  “Silent is fine,” Jake replied, following her lead and bowing his head.

  Claire pulled a jar of puréed beef baby food along with a jar of peas from the bag, opened them, and spooned half of each jar into the mashed potatoes and gravy. With the care of a chef preparing a soufflé, she carefully folded the mixture until it met her exacting specifications. While she lifted a spoonful to Michelle’s mouth, Jake watched as the child opened her mouth and accepted the conglomeration as if it were some exotic delicacy. Back and forth it went: a bite of potatoes for Michelle, a bite of fruit for Claire; a drink of milk for Michelle, a drink of coffee for Claire; a bite of strained apricots for Michelle, and a bite of banana-nut bread for Claire.

  “Whoops, think she’s done,” Claire advised when Michelle gagged slightly and shook her head. “How’s your dinner?” she asked, noting that Jake had just about completed his meal.

  “Pretty good. I was sure. . .”

  Before he could finish his sentence, Michelle gave a loud burp, gagged, and proceeded to vomit her entire meal. Claire jumped from her chair and grabbed a small towel from the backpack, Jake searched for additional napkins, and the surrounding customers appeared stupefied by the event.

  “You want to get us some towels from the kitchen?” Jake asked, grabbing the arm of a passing waitress who hadn’t witnessed the event. Viewing the predicament, she scurried off and returned with a pile of white towels, deposited them on the table, and left as quickly as she’d appeared.

  Calmly moving to the other side of the wheelchair, Jake began to wipe Michelle’s shoes while handing Claire a few additional towels. Without comment, he worked alongside her until Michelle, the wheelchair, and surrounding area were passably clean.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Claire whispered to Jake as she surveyed the room of astonished customers.

  “If that’s what you want to do. But don’t leave on my account. I’m not embarrassed or uncomfortable, Claire. Won’t Michelle need to eat again?” he asked.

  “No, she won’t be hungry after that, and I really would prefer to leave,” she told him, gathering things together.

  Jake flagged the waitress, grabbed the checks, and quickly paid the waitress as Claire pushed the wheelchair toward the exit. Just as she reached the door, he jumped in front of her and pulled it open.

  “You’re rushing around like there’s a fire somewhere,” he said as they reached the car.

  “I know, but scenes like that are unnerving when I’m surrounded by strangers,” she brusquely answered.

  “I’m not a stranger, Claire. I understand she had no control over what occurred in there, and if those other people don’t understand, well, I guess that’s their problem. At least that’s the way I see it,” he said.

  Turning around, she leaned back against her mahogany brown Ford and looked deep into the earnest blue eyes star
ing back at her. “That’s another ten points for you, Jake Lindsey!”

  FIVE

  Weaving among the cages in the zoo, Jake seemed to be enjoying Michelle’s reactions as much as Claire. “Let’s go back to the bird exhibits. She seems to like those sounds the best, don’t you think?” Jake asked. Just then, one of the lions broadcast a chain of guttural sounds that culminated in one giant roar. Michelle giggled until tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “I don’t know, the lion seems to be getting his share of votes right now,” Claire replied, laughing at Michelle’s response.

  After one last return to the bird cages, they left the zoo, stopped at the Dairy Queen for a strawberry sundae and, after returning Michelle home, began their trip back toward Junction City. Threading her way through traffic and back toward the interstate, Claire felt content with the day’s events.

  “So what happened after you and Glenn got home—you know, after visiting the pediatrician with Michelle?” Jake asked.

  “Apparently you’ve got an excellent memory. You remember more about where I left off than I do,” Claire answered, giving him a surprised look. “You sure you want more of that story?”

  “I wouldn’t have asked unless I wanted to hear it,” he replied encouragingly.

  “Like I told you, initially we were in shock. But after a period of time we had absorbed the news, and our disbelief was replaced by an undeniable ‘why us’ attitude. Unfortu-nately, as that phase wore off, we developed diametrically opposed strategies for Michelle’s future. As I told you earlier, Glenn thought it would be best for all of us to institutionalize Michelle immediately. I fought him, and he relented. How-ever, his agreement came with the caveat that Michelle would be my responsibility, that I couldn’t depend on him for the numerous doctor and hospital visits that had been forecast by the medical professionals. After that, his interaction with Michelle was minimal.”