by Nan Rossiter
“I’m Dr. Franklin.”
“I’m Callie Wyeth,” she replied, taking his hand.
The doctor looked puzzled. “Were you in the parking lot this afternoon with your little boy?”
Callie felt her cheeks flush. “Yes, I can explain ...”
“There’s no need,” he said kindly. “Let’s go sit down. Your dad is resting, and I could use a cup of coffee. Would you like one?”
“Oh ... okay... .” Callie stammered.
The doctor led Callie to a quiet corner off the hall that was furnished with chairs and a sofa. “How do you take your coffee?” he asked. Moments later, he returned with two steaming cups of black coffee.
“Thank you,” Callie said, cradling the cup in her hands.
Dr. Franklin nodded, his blue eyes sparkling behind his glasses. He was tall and lanky, and his kind face was framed with snowy-white sideburns that crept up into a shock of reddish-blond hair. He explained that he was the heart specialist and he’d been in the ER when they’d brought Ben in. “I had a chance to spend some time with your dad yesterday, and I’ve already heard several old navy stories.” He smiled wistfully. “He reminds me of my dad, who was also a gifted storyteller and retired navy.”
Callie smiled. She knew how much her father loved to tell stories and jokes. She’d heard some of them more times than she could count.
Dr. Franklin leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “Your dad is far from out of the woods, Callie,” he said gently. “He is stable, and we are treating him with medication, but when he’s stronger he’ll need surgery.” Callie nodded, and the doctor explained how stents would help open up her father’s blocked arteries.
Finally, he leaned back and took a sip of his coffee. He looked intently in Callie’s eyes, paused for a moment, and then said gently, “I have a son with autism.”
Callie stared. “You do?”
He nodded. “Several years ago, my wife and I moved up here from New Haven because we thought life in the country would be easier for him, and it has been.” He paused. “What’s your son’s name?”
“Henry,” Callie replied with a half smile.
The doctor smiled too. “That’s a good name.” He paused. “So, how’re you doing? You seemed to be having a tough moment in the parking lot.”
Callie nodded. “It’s not easy. When he’s upset, I don’t know if he’s feeling overwhelmed or if he’s just being difficult, and I really wish I knew if he will always be this way.”
Dr. Franklin nodded thoughtfully. “Every child is different, but you’ll learn how to tell what’s triggering his behavior—if he’s overtired or overstimulated—and you’ll learn how to help him by controlling his environment. It’s impossible to know if he’ll always be the way he is now, but there are definitely things you can do to make it easier for both of you. Children with autism like order and they like to know what’s coming next, so you should try to stick to a routine that he can count on, play games that involve taking turns, be firm and consistent with discipline, but most importantly, be patient. Eventually, he will learn what is expected of him.” He stood up, and Callie stood too. “Our son was diagnosed eighteen years ago and, at the time, even less was known about autism. My wife and I learned by trial and error.” He paused and smiled. “Sometimes, Callie, you’ll feel like you’re the only one in the world who’s struggling with this but, believe me, you’re not.”
“Thank you, Dr. Franklin.” Callie said, reaching out to shake his hand. “Thank you for taking the time.”
The doctor smiled and took her hand, and then put his arm around her shoulder. “Now, go see your dad.”
Just then, another doctor came down the hall. “Henry!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Are you ready to go to dinner?” Dr. Franklin looked at Callie and smiled again. “Call me if you have any questions ... day or night. And, when your dad is stronger, we’ll talk more about surgery.”
21
Kat and Springer were delighted by the arrival of their new guest. When Linden put Henry down, they discovered he was the perfect height, and they did their very best to make him feel welcome. Henry crinkled his brow as they wiggled around him, sniffing every inch of his small frame, licking his cheeks, and snorting in his ears. Finally, Henry reached out timidly and placed his hands on their heads. The dogs responded by wiggling even more, and Linden couldn’t help but laugh.
Henry trundled toward the porch with his two new escorts and sat on the top step. The dogs followed and lay down on either side of him, still sniffing. Henry seemed content to run his hands over their soft fur, and Linden thought, after all of Callie’s cautionary words, looking after Henry seemed pretty easy. He leaned back in one of the wicker chairs and continued to watch them.
Finally, he asked, “Henry, are you hungry?”
At the question, Henry stood, and Linden took that to mean yes. They went inside and Linden showed him where the bathroom was, just in case. To his surprise, Henry knew what to do, and while he did it, Linden fed the dogs. When Henry didn’t come right out, though, Linden went to check on him. He found him standing in front of the counter, lining up his shaving cream, toothbrush holder, soap dispenser, toothpaste, and anything that was within reach. “Hey,” he said, and Henry looked up. “I thought you were hungry.” Henry put down the stack of Dixie cups he was holding and followed Linden into the kitchen. Linden had cut up an apple and put it in a bowl with a dollop of peanut butter, and after Henry scooted onto a chair, Linden showed him how to dip the apple into the peanut butter. “This is one of my favorite snacks,” he said with his mouth full. “Fluff is good too.” Henry caught on right away, immediately dipping a slice of apple into the peanut butter and nibbling on it. Linden poured a small glass of milk, and Henry drank that down too. “Guess you are hungry,” he said. While Henry ate the apple, the dogs lay at his feet, watching him. “You’ll have to excuse Kat and Springer,” Linden explained. “They’re incorrigible beggars and they love apples.” Henry dipped a slice of apple into the peanut butter and held it out to Kat. She took it gently, and then Springer pushed his nose into Henry’s lap too. Linden watched as Henry dipped a second slice for Springer. It was obvious to Linden that Henry understood every word he said.
When he was finished eating, Linden put the cup and bowl in the sink and asked, “Want to help feed the other animals?” Henry crinkled his brow as he slid off the chair but stood ready to follow. Linden pushed open the door, and the dogs pulled themselves up from the slippery floor and trotted out. Henry followed and, as they crossed the yard, he slipped his small hand into Linden’s. Linden looked down in surprise and smiled.
As they neared the barn, Henry’s eyes grew wide when he saw Reba’s big head leaning over the fence, reaching for several tall sprigs of alfalfa that were waving in the breeze. Her long tongue finally curled around the sweet grass, and she pulled it back and munched contentedly. When a second big head leaned over the fence, though, Henry stopped in his tracks and gripped Linden’s hand more tightly. Linden reassured him, “It’s okay, Henry. They’re friendly.” As he said this, a big gray cat sauntered out of the barn and the orange tiger cat hopped up on the stone wall and sat down to wash her paws. “Everybody,” Linden announced, “this is Henry.” He looked down at Henry and said, “Henry, this is everybody.” He pointed to each animal and said its name. “That’s Reba, and that’s Rosie; the little mule over there is e.e. ore; and that’s Maude, and this is Harold,” he said as the gray cat brushed against his legs. “And, up in the rafters of the barn is Atticus. Let’s go see if he’s in there.” Henry followed Linden into the barn, and Linden pointed up to the uppermost beam. The old brown owl blinked down at them, and Henry nodded ever so slightly. Linden noticed him nod and wondered if he communicated in ways other than talking.
“Okay, the cats get a little kibble at suppertime,” he said, opening a small plastic bin, “even though”—he looked around and announced loudly—“they’re supposed to be feastin
g on mice.” He held out a cup to Henry. “Want to put this in their dishes?” Henry took the cup and carefully poured half into each dish and then handed the cup back to Linden. “Good job,” Linden said, nodding. They walked back outside, and Linden lifted the hose off its rack. He gave one end of the hose to Henry and pointed to the trough. When Henry had the hose over it, he turned it on, and Henry filled it. Next, Linden lifted the top off of an old metal can. “The cows and e.e. don’t get grain every night,” Linden explained, “but tonight’s a special occasion.” He handed Henry a big scoop and pointed to three grain pails. Henry poured a little into each one and then stumblingly backed away as they all trundled toward him. Linden smiled and added, “No storms are headed our way, so they can stay out tonight. But the chickens like to be inside, safe and cozy.” He motioned to the henhouse, and Henry walked over and peered into the shadows at all the sleepy, quietly clucking ladies. Linden gently closed and latched the door. “Thanks, Henry. You are a big help.”
22
Callie slipped quietly into her dad’s room. A nurse was taking his blood pressure, but when she heard Callie come in, she looked up and smiled. Callie was surprised to see the curtains open and the evening sun filling the room with its warm, friendly light.
“Hey, Dad,” she said softly.
Ben opened his eyes. “Hey there, kiddo.”
“How’re you feelin’?”
“A little tired,” he replied honestly.
The nurse finished jotting down his numbers and said she’d be right back with his dinner. Ben nodded and turned to Callie. “I’m sorry to put you through all this.”
“Don’t be sorry, Dad, you’re not putting me through anything.”
“Yes, I am,” he said, reaching for her hand. “And you already have enough going on.”
“It’s okay, really. We’re managing.”
Ben tried to look around the room. “Hey, where’s my pal?”
“Little kids can’t come into intensive care.”
“Oh.” He paused. “That’s a dumb rule. Where is he then?”
Now it was Callie’s turn to pause. Finally, she said softly, “He’s with Linden.”
Ben’s brow furrowed, and Callie wondered if that was where Henry had inherited that trait.
“Linden?”
Callie nodded and recounted their unexpected encounter in the hardware store, and then again outside the hardware store.
Ben nodded solemnly. “He’s a good guy, Cal.”
“I know, Dad, but I don’t know how he can ever forgive what I did.”
“You might be surprised.”
Callie was quiet, lost in her own thoughts and still worried about leaving Henry. They talked for a bit, but when the nurse came back with his dinner she said, “I think I’m going to go. Can you manage?” He nodded, and she turned on the television for him. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’m just worried about him.”
“Of course. Go. And don’t feel like you have to come every day. I know you have your hands full.”
Callie nodded and then hesitated. “Dad, I hate to ask you this, but would it be possible to borrow some money?”
Concern swept across Ben’s face and, without hesitation, he said, “Of course. In the back of my closet. Take whatever you need—it’s all yours anyway.”
Callie frowned. “Not yet, it isn’t.”
Ben smiled. “I’m keeping you guys in my prayers.”
Callie hugged him. “I’m praying for you too,” she whispered.
Callie walked down the hall and silently said a prayer for her dad to get better. As she murmured amen, she wondered how many people actually remembered to say a prayer after saying they would. She shook her head. If they’re anything like me, they forget! She walked to her car, still thinking about it. And, if they’re anything like me, they start off praying but end up thinking about what they’re going to have for breakfast and then not even get to amen before they’re getting out a cereal bowl. Her dad had often said, “Prayer takes focus,” and Callie knew it was true. As she pulled out of the parking lot, she wondered if what her dad had said about Linden forgiving her might also be true.
She thought back to the first Thanksgiving after her mom had died, when the only thing in the world she’d wanted was her dad’s forgiveness. She’d stayed in Vermont that fall, even though she knew her dad was lonely. She ached to see him too, but she just couldn’t face him. She was afraid of his reaction, of his anger; but more than anything, she was afraid of seeing the sadness in his eyes. The first time she’d seen disappointment in her dad’s eyes, she was in second grade and had come home from school with a new pencil case. He’d asked her where she’d gotten it, and she’d stumbled over her answer, not knowing her teacher had called; not knowing he already knew the truth; not knowing that “I found it” was not the answer he was hoping for. But after she’d murmured those exact words, she’d watched in dismay as sadness and disappointment had filled his eyes, and she’d vowed she’d never see that look again.
When she pulled into the driveway on that Thanksgiving, though, she was seven months pregnant and she still hadn’t told him. Tears had filled her eyes when she saw him standing in the doorway waiting for her.
Oh, God, please let him forgive me.
Biting her lip, she’d eased from the car and stood, pulling her coat around her round form. And her father, who had started walking across the driveway to greet her, had stopped and slowly shook his head in disbelief, trying to understand, trying to grasp what she hadn’t shared with him.
At that sad moment, Callie had suddenly realized that not telling him had been a greater betrayal. She’d bowed her head in grief and shame as tears had spilled down her cheeks.
The rest of that day and the next had been quiet and tense. It was the first anniversary of her mom’s accident and, just when her dad needed her most, he could hardly bring himself to look at her. Callie was devastated. “Please forgive me, Dad,” she’d said quietly. Without looking up, he’d nodded. Despite his nod and the hug he gave her when she left, Callie had felt lost and alone when she returned to the old Vermont Victorian in which she rented an upstairs apartment.
One week later, though, she’d heard a sound outside her window and looked out to see him pulling up in front of the house. Tied down in the back of his pickup were her old baby crib, a new bassinet, a changing table, and a case of newborn-size diapers. She’d knocked on the window, and he’d looked up and smiled. Moments later, he’d come up the stairs lugging a box full of toys and clothes, and on top of the box was her old baby quilt, freshly laundered. He’d put the box down, given her a quick hug, taken a minute to catch his breath, and headed back down the stairs.
In spite of Callie’s protests, he’d single-handedly carried all the furnishings up the stairs and insisted that Callie stay put and not lift a thing. While he set up the crib and changing table in her bedroom, she unpacked some of the clothes and toys. In the bottom of one of the boxes she found her old favorite bear and, with a smile, she’d gently propped him up in the corner of the crib.
Later on, as the melancholy sun peeked between the campus buildings, they’d ordered a pizza and sat together in her tiny kitchen to eat. Before he left, he’d wrapped her in a bear hug and told he’d always love her. No matter what.
And, one month later, on a snowy January night, he traveled through the darkness to be there when his new grandson was born. Callie had smiled as she watched him lift the tiny bundle into his arms and whisper, “Henry Benjamin Wyeth! You are beautiful! Oh, how I wish your grandmother were here to meet you!”
23
Linden and Henry were sitting on the stone wall, each with a single long piece of grass between his teeth, watching the cows graze when Callie pulled up. She breathed a sigh of relief to see Henry still there and seemingly content! She got out of the car, and Kat and Springer, who had been lazing in the late-day sun, pulled themselves up and trotted over to greet her. She knelt down, and they wiggled around her happily. Callie
smiled. “This is, by far, the warmest welcome I’ve ever had!”
Linden nodded. “Well, they are the self-appointed welcoming committee.”
“They’re beautiful. What are their names?”
Linden smiled. “That big moose is Springer, and the smaller one is Kat.”
“Cat?” Callie looked puzzled.
Linden nodded. “With a K, short for Katahdin.”
“Like the mountain?”
“Yup, Springer is a mountain too.” He paused. “They mark the beginning and end of the Appalachian Trail.”
She looked over at Henry and smiled. “So? How’d it go?”
“Piece of cake,” Linden said with a grin.
“No!” Callie said in surprised disbelief.
Linden nodded. “Yup, he was no problem, and he seemed to enjoy helping me with the animals.” He paused. “By the way, I know you said he doesn’t talk, but does he nod when he understands something?”
Callie looked puzzled and shook her head slowly. “Not that I’ve noticed,” she answered skeptically. “Of course, I’m usually pretty good at upsetting him, so all I get are tantrums and revolutions.”
Linden shrugged. “Well, I’m pretty sure he nodded, and he definitely understands everything I say.” He paused thoughtfully. “How’s your dad?”
Callie sat down next to Henry. “He seemed good, tired though. He was having supper when I left.” She looked at Henry. “Speaking of which, I didn’t even warn you that Henry might be hungry or that he might need the bathroom.”
“We had a snack and I showed him where the bathroom is,” Linden said with a smile. “I’m smarter than I look,” he teased. “And I was a little guy once too.”
Callie tried to picture Linden as “a little guy,” and smiled. Unfortunately, their history didn’t go back that far.
Linden interrupted her thoughts. “How ’bout you? Have you had supper?”