Chapter 33

    

 

     By the time Johnny had showered, dressed, shaved, brushed his teeth, and combed his hair, the crowd of boys who had followed him into the big locker room had lost interest in the paramedic, save for Shen Bo.  The seven year old patiently waited on a bench, his reed-thin legs swinging back and forth in idle rhythm. 

 

     Johnny caught the child's eyes in the mirror as he finished combing his hair.

 

     "Where'd the other boys go?"

 

     "Play da' baseball."

 

     "How come you're not playing baseball with them?"

 

     "I wait you, Misser Honey.  I show you where food house is."

 

     "You don't have to stay.  I can find the mess hall by myself."

 

     The boy shrugged.  "Shen Bo no care.  Shen Bo 'elp Misser Tinkle 'cause he no walk so good.  You walk no so good, too, just like Misser Tinkle.  Shen Bo now  'elp you."

 

     Johnny didn’t make a response as he gathered the toiletries that had been donated for his use and put them in an empty locker Shen Bo pointed out.  John then bundled up his dirty clothes, as well as the towel and washcloth he'd used.  He dumped everything in a large laundry hamper that was on wheels and resided in one corner of the room.  

 

     "You name on ‘em, Misser Honey?"

 

     Johnny turned from the hamper.  "What?"

 

     "You name?  It say so on clothes?"

 

     Now Johnny understood what the boy was asking.  It was a time honored camp tradition for the tags on the inside of clothing to be marked with the owner's name.  The paramedic smiled as he limped past the boy.

 

     "I think the ladies who do the laundry will know they belong to me."

 

     The boy nodded his agreement.  He jumped off the bench, scurrying to Johnny's side and taking his hand.  "How you hurt leg?"

 

     "I. . .I had an accident."

 

     "You step on mine?"

     "Huh?"

 

     "Mine. In ground.  Go boom!  You step on?"

     Johnny pushed the heavy metal door open and walked outside.  The refreshing wilderness smells he’d noticed earlier washed over him once again.   "No, I didn't step on a mine."

 

     "Soldiers come?  Shoot leg?"

 

     "No.  No one shot me."

 

     "Then how?"

 

     "Just. . .it was just an accident."

 

     "It get okay?"

 

     "What?"

 

     "Fixed? Leg be fixed?"

 

     "If you mean will it get better, I don't know."  Johnny ignored the inner voice that reminded him his leg would indeed get better, if only he did what his doctors and physical therapist had prescribed.  "Maybe."

 

     "Mother - soldiers come.  Shoot.  She no get better."  Shen Bo bowed his head and bit his lower lip to keep it from trembling.  "Die."

 

     Johnny looked down at the boy.  "Your mom?"

 

     The boy nodded.

 

     "I'm sorry."

 

     Shen Bo was silent a few moments longer as he walked with Johnny to the mess hall.  Finally he lifted his head and squared his shoulders. 

 

     "Tess say Mother in Heaven.  Tess say Mother happy all time now.  You think, Misser Honey?"

 

     "First of all, you don't have to call me mister.  Just call me Johnny."

 

     Shen Bo smiled. "Misser Honey."

 

     "Johnny."

 

     "Misser Honey."

 

     Slowly, and with precise enunciation, the paramedic said his name, breaking it into two parts for the boy.

 

     "John-John-John-John-ny. Johnny."

    

     "Misser Hon-Hon-Hon-Honey." 

 

     "No, not Honey.  Johnny.”

 

     “Misser Honey.”

 

     “No, it’s--” John tried, but he couldn’t stay exasperated at the upturned face that rarely went without a big smile.  “Never mind.  Mister Honey is fine I suppose.” 

 

     Knowing he was going to locate a phone right after he ate and call someone to come get him, and knowing that person was not going to be Roy, caused Johnny to add,  “But if a short guy with a bushy mustache shows up here, just don’t call me anything, okay?”

 

     Though Shen Bo had no idea what the paramedic meant, he grinned and promised,  “Okay.”

    

     Now that the issue of Johnny's name was resolved, Shen Bo repeated his original question.  "Misser Honey, you think Mother happy in Heaven?"

 

     Eyes filled with complete trust gazed up at John.  Because of that the paramedic couldn't say anything but, "Yes, Shen Bo.  I'm sure she is."

 

     "That good.  Shen Bo want Mother be happy.  War make Mother much sad.  Now she be happy all time 'cause Heaven nice place.  Like here.  Here nice place, too.  You think?"

 

     Before Johnny had the opportunity to decide how he felt about his current predicament and give the boy an answer, they entered the Heavenly Helpings Mess Hall.  Three rows of cafeteria tables six deep filled the room with beige metal chairs surrounding them.  A long silver counter was at the far end of the hall, the open kitchen behind it.  Steam escaped from the closed lids of the square stainless steel containers women were dropping into heated slots.  Johnny's stomach gave another rumble as the smell of baked chicken, roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, corn, carrots, and dinner rolls, filled the mess hall. 

 

     Shen Bo cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted, "I ring bell, Tess?"

 

     The black woman turned from where she stood at an industrial size stove four times as wide as she was.  "Sure, baby.  You go out and ring the dinner bell for ole’ Tess."

 

     Shen Bo dropped Johnny's hand.  "I be back, Misser Honey!"  He raced for the door.

     Johnny heard the clang of an ancient fire bell as the boy repeatedly tugged the rope. He glanced out the window and saw the child being lifted off his feet each time the rope rose up. 

 

     Tess motioned to the paramedic with a wave of her hand.

 

     "John, you come up here and fill your plate before the children arrive."  

 

     "I can wait until they're done."

 

     Tess chuckled.  "Baby, if you wait until we get all those young 'uns fed it'll be another thirty minutes 'for food gets in your stomach."  The woman eyed the man from head to toe.  "And I don't need me no medical degree to know you have to eat. The sooner the better.  Now come on with you.  Come on."

 

     Johnny reluctantly walked to the front of the building.  If the eight women assisting Tess wondered where he'd come from, or why he wasn't in prime physical condition for a man his age, they'd didn't voice their thoughts.  None of them were under sixty years old, and all had a matronly air about them with their grey hair tucked beneath hair nets, shapeless flowered dresses, support stockings, and thick-soled orthopedic shoes.

 

     Tess handed Johnny a red plastic tray with divided sections.  She waved him down the line.

 

     "Move along. Let the girls fill your tray.  And I expect you to eat everything they give you, then come back for seconds when you're done." 

 

     Johnny looked around the hall as he slowly limped down the line.  Food was piled on his tray as he walked, none of the women the least bit concerned about asking him whether or not he preferred chicken to beef, or carrots to corn, or stuffing to rolls, but instead giving him helpings of everything.

 

     "Is there a phone in here?"

     Tess turned from the stove where she was stirring a pot of gravy.

 

     "Pardon?"

 

     "A phone?  Do you have one?"

 

     " 'Course we have a phone.  This is Heaven, not Hootersville. Can't have this many children gathered in one place without the ability to call for a doctor if we need to."

     "Can I use it?"

 

     "No."

 

     "What?"

 

     "You heard me."

     "But--"

 

     The screen door banged open.  Campers burst into the mess hall, making it come alive with chatter, giggles, and shouts. 

 

     "Now go and take a seat before these kids run you over."

 

     "But I just want to--"

 

     "I know what you wanna do.  You wanna call Mr. Chet Kelly to come pick you up.  You won't call your best friend because you're too stubborn, and too ashamed, to admit to Roy you did something foolish by lightin' out in that truck-car gizmo you drive when you were angry, exhausted, and hungover.  You're too ashamed to admit to Roy that you fell asleep at the wheel and could have gotten yourself killed, not to mention what could have happened to the children, or that cantankerous Leeland Hinkle, if the Lord hadn't been watching over them.  No, baby, you don't need to use the phone.  You need to stay here in Heaven, right where God wants you to be."

 

     "But--"

 

     "The only 'but' I wanna see is your skinny butt gettin' outta my line and taken a seat at a table.  Now move it!"

 

      Tess's tone carried more authority than Hank Stanley's ever had.  Johnny squelched his argument about the phone and did as she ordered. 

 

     It's not like I'm under arrest. I can find a phone after supper and call Chet.  Shen Bo seems to know everything about this camp.  He'll be able to tell me where the phone is.

 

     Johnny chose to get as far away from Tess as possible.  He headed for a deserted table at the back of the mess hall and sat in a corner chair.   The woman's uncanny ability to read his mind, or so it seemed anyway, unnerved him.  In truth the paramedic knew she must have come by some of her knowledge - like her awareness of Chet's name, from hanging around the halls of Rampart.  But how she knew what he was feeling inside was beyond Johnny's ability to guess, other than to say she was the most perceptive person he'd ever met.

 

     Johnny had just swallowed his first mouthful of deliciously moist chicken when a slender shadow fell over him. 

 

     “Is this seat taken?”

     The paramedic’s eyes traveled to the empty chairs surrounding him. 

 

     “That’s not exactly the most original pick up line considering.”

 

     “I didn’t intend for it to be a pick up line.”  The woman’s Irish brogue came through strongly as she set her tray on the table and pulled out the chair on Johnny’s left.  “I thought perhaps you were saving it for Shen Bo.  He’s taken quite a liking to you, Mr. Gage.”

     “First of all, I’m a little too old to be saving someone a seat.  And second of all, Shen Bo would probably take a liking to a tree if someone told him it needed his help.”

 

     The woman smiled.  “That’s our Shen Bo.  He has quite the loving heart.  Don’t you think?”

     “I suppose.”

 

     “I’m Monica, by the way.”

 

     “I remember you.”

 

     “You do?”

 

     “Yeah.  You were at Rampart a couple months back.  Student chaplain, right?”

     “Correct.  I visited you several times when you were in Intensive Care.  Do you remember?”

     “Vaguely.”

 

     “I wanted to visit you again, after you were moved to a regular room, but Tess said you didn’t want to see me.”

 

     Johnny wouldn’t make eye contact with the woman as he gave a casual shrug of his left shoulder.  “Wasn’t in the mood to see much of anyone.”

 

     “I know.”

 

     The paramedic had no desire to talk about the time he’d spent at Rampart, or the accident that had landed him there, so changed the subject while cutting his roast beef.

 

     “So, what brings you here?”

     “Same thing that brought you.”

 

     “What would that be?”

     “I volunteered.”

 

     “Well, I didn’t.”

 

     “Sure you did.”

    

     “I did not.  I--”

 

     “But your name is on Tess’s list.”

 

     “Not because I put it there.”

 

     “I see. Well now, it doesn’t make much difference anyway, does it?”

     Johnny didn’t answer the woman as his eyes tracked the children as they began to take seats around the room.  There seemed to be a fairly even mix of boys to girls.  The youngest amongst them appeared to be about four, the oldest fourteen.  Some were missing limbs and making use of prosthetic devices, while others relied on crutches or simply got by with only one arm.   Other children had just one eye, several sported hearing aids, and a number of the kids had burn scars on various parts of their bodies.

 

     “Mr. Gage?”  Monica’s voice beckoned.

 

     “Huh?”

 

     “I said it doesn’t make much difference anyway, does it?”

     “What doesn’t make much difference?”

 

     “That you’re here with us.  As a volunteer.  It doesn’t make much difference as to how that came about.”

 

     “What makes you think that?”

     “Oh, but the fresh air and sunshine, mixed with the laughter of children, is so much nicer than moping around a stuffy apartment with all the drapes closed, wouldn’t you agree?”

     Johnny stared at the woman.  “How did you. . .never mind.”

 

     Johnny could have sworn he saw a twinkle in Monica’s eyes when she asked,  “Never mind what?”

 

     “Forget it. Doesn’t matter.”  Johnny looked around the room while taking a swig of milk from the carton sitting on his tray.  He ate some beef and took a bite of a dinner roll, then asked,  “What’s with all these kids?”

     “What’s with them?”

     “Yeah.  How’d they get here?”

 

     “The congregation of the First Church Of Heaven sponsored them.”

 

     “Sponsored them?”

 

     “Brought them over from Vietnam.  This camp is owned jointly by a number of churches in the county.  They’re graciously allowing us to use it until the children are placed.”

 

     “Placed where?”

 

     “In homes, of course.  Many of them have American fathers, like Shen Bo.  Most of those men don’t even know their child exists.”

 

     “So you’re just going to spring that on them?  Just drop a kid on his dad’s doorstep and say, ‘Here you go.  You left a little something behind in Vietnam.’ ”

 

     “No, we’re not just going to ‘spring’ that news on anyone.  If we can, and with the Lord’s help, we’ll reunite as many children as possible with their American fathers.  But, for those who are truly orphans, or for those whose fathers can’t be found or won’t accept them, we hope to find suitable homes into which they can be adopted.”

 

     “Pretty lofty goals.  Especially considering the physical problems some of these kids have.  Not to mention that some of them must suffer mental trauma from all they’ve been through.”

 

     “Some do.  But no more or less than any of us suffer after we’ve experienced a heartbreaking situation.  They will survive, Mr. Gage.  Survive and thrive, as Tess says, just as you can survive and thrive if you put your mind to it.”

 

 

     Johnny met the woman’s eyes.  He saw nothing there but good intentions, even if her words did tick him off.  The paramedic decided another change of subject was in order.

 

     “Listen, when we’re finished eating can you take me to a phone?”

 

     “No.”

 

     “No?”

     “No unauthorized use of the phone.  Those are Tess’s rules.”

    

     “This isn’t a prison.  You can’t keep me here.”

     “That’s true.  We want you to stay only if that’s what your heart tells you to do.  But the trouble, Mr. Gage, is that you haven’t given your heart time to make a decision.”

 

     “And if I do, and that decision is that I still want to leave?”

 

     “Then Tess will allow you to call your friend Chet.  Or maybe your stubbornness will kick in and you’ll just walk out our front gates and hitchhike back to Los Angeles.”

 

     “Don’t think I haven’t already considered it.”

    

     “I assume you have.  After all, you are a man of action.  That’s what I like about you, Mr. Gage.”

 

     If the woman wasn’t a chaplain, Johnny would be certain he was being hit on.   

    

     “You can call me John.”

 

     “I thought your friends called you Johnny.”

 

     “They do.”

 

     “So may I call you that, too?”

     “If you want.  Makes no difference to me.  And. . .uh. . .maybe you shouldn’t say things like that to guys.”

 

     “Things like what?”

 

     “Like that. . .like that I’m a man of action.  It

sounds. . .”

    

     “It sounds how?”

 

     “Um. . .”  Johnny eyed the woman.  She was dressed casually enough in blue jeans and a short sleeved denim shirt, but the clerical collar she wore around her neck today clearly spoke of what she represented.  “Well. . .it sounds. . .it just

sounds. . .”

 

     “Like I’m trying to get a date?”

     “Uh. . .yeah.  Something like that.”

 

     “And you think I don’t date?”

     “I. . .I don’t know.  You. . .”  Johnny gave a vague wave toward Monica’s neck with his fork.  “You’re a. . .a. . .”

 

     “I’m a chaplain, Johnny, not a priest.  There’s a difference, you know.”

 

     “Yeah, I know.  It’s just that you. . .I. . .uh. . .

well. . .”

 

     “I make you uncomfortable?”

     “Only when you say things that make it sound like we’re a couple of lonely hearts in a dive on a Saturday night.”

 

     “A dive?”

 

     “A dump.”

 

     “A dump?  Why would we be at a place where garbage is left? That doesn’t sound very appealing.  Not to mention the smell.”

 

     “What I mean is a run down bar.”

 

     “Why would we be in a run down bar?  I, for one, am not the type of woman who sits in bars.  And I have a strong inclination that tells me you’re not the kind of man who seeks company in such places.”

 

     “Forget I mentioned it.”

 

     “Okay.  But see, you just admitted it.  Your heart is lonely, so A Little Bit Of Heaven is just the place for you.”

 

     “I didn’t admit anything!  Look, lady, if no one’s ever told you this before, you and Tess are two of the nosiest women I’ve ever--” Before Johnny could finished his sentence Shen Bo spotted him and headed straight for his table.  He grinned as he sat next to the paramedic.

 

     “I eat wif you, Misser Honey.”

 

     Great.  A chaplain on my left and Little Mr. Sunshine on my right.  I’m already sick of Heaven and I just woke up here two hours ago.

 

     “You happy I eat wif you, Misser Honey?”

     “Sure, Bo.  Sure.”

 

     “Bo?”

 

     “Sorry.  Shen Bo.”

 

     “I like ‘dat.  Bo.  I Bo now.”

 

     Monica smiled and said quietly, “I think Shen Bo has a bad case of hero worship for you, Johnny.”

     Johnny shrugged again. “He just needs someone to look up to.  If it’s not me it’ll be the next guy who comes along.”

 

     “All these children need someone to look up to.”  Monica’s eyes traveled the room, seeming to take in every young face, before returning to the paramedic.  “And there’s always a danger in that person simply being ‘the next guy who comes along.’ ”

 

     “Whatta ya’ mean by that?”

     “I mean that a child needs to look up to a man who conducts himself in admirable fashion.  A man who sets high standards for himself in terms of his behavior and how he treats others.  A man the child can emulate and learn from.”

 

     “Well, in case you haven’t heard, I’m not that guy.”

 

     “To coin your phrase, whatta ya’ mean by that?”

 

     “No kid should want to emulate me.   I let ten people die.  And don’t look so shocked.  Tess said there’s no secrets in Heaven, so I imagine you already knew that.  If you didn’t, all you have to do is read the L.A. Times.”

 

     With that Johnny picked up his empty tray.  He limped away from Monica as fast as his leg would allow, put his tray and silverware on a cart set out for the purpose of collecting dirty dishes, and pushed open a side door. 

 

     Though he hadn’t finished his supper, Shen Bo hopped off his chair and raced after the man.  When Tess caught Monica’s eyes from across the room the young woman simply shrugged.  She couldn’t predict what John Gage would do next.  And though she was an angel, she wasn’t allowed to interfere with his choice, regardless of how wrong. . .or devastating it might prove to be.

 

___________________________

 

     “Misser Honey!  Misser Honey!”

 

     Johnny ignored the boy calling his name and kept walking.

 

     “Misser Honey, wait me!”

 

     Johnny didn’t slow his pace, but with his leg the way it was the child had no difficulty catching up with him.

 

     “Where you go?”

     “Nowhere.”

 

     “You no eat da’ pies.  Tess make good pies.  All kids who clean plates, get pie.  You clean you plate, so you get da’ pie, too.”

    

     “I don’t want pie.”

 

     Shen Bo’s eyes widen.  “You don’t?”

     “No.”

 

     “What you want?  Tess make cookies, too.  You like cookies?”

 

     “What I want is to use a phone.”

    

     “Phone?”

 

     Johnny stopped walking.  Being mindful of his leg, he crouched down so he was eye level with the boy.  “A telephone.  You know what that is?”

     “Yes.  You talk people on it.”

 

     “That’s right.  Do you know where I can find one?”

     “Yes.”

 

     “Where?”

 

     Shen Bo pointed to the clapboard building. “There.”

 

     The man stood.  With Shen Bo at his side, he set out for the white structure.  Johnny pulled the screen door open, but hesitated a moment before stepping inside.  He looked around the room.  Like he had suspected earlier, this appeared to be the camp’s office.  Black file cabinet’s lined two walls, and a gunmetal grey desk resided on the wall opposite the door.  A typewriter sat on a wing that jutted from the desk, while a phone rested on top of it with a stapler and Scotch Tape dispenser next to it.  To his left, Johnny could see another office.  He entered the building with Shen Bo at his heels, making sure the door closed silently behind them.  He crossed to the doorway of the inner office.  It was set up similar to the outer office, only minus the filing cabinets.  When the paramedic had determined the building was empty he headed for the phone.

 

     “Who you call?”  Shen Bo asked.

 

     “A friend.”

 

     “Why?”

 

     “Just because I need to.  Now be quiet.”

 

     Shen Bo stood by Johnny as he dialed.  But when the paramedic failed to reach Chet Kelly, and then had no luck reaching Marco Lopez, Charlie Dwyer, or Mike Stoker, the boy grew bored.  He watched as Johnny dialed another number from memory.

 

     “Who you call know?” 

 

     “A friend of mine from Station 8.”

 

     What that meant Shen Bo didn’t know, but as far as he could tell none of Mr. Honey’s friends had been home so far.  He wondered how many more friends Mr. Honey might have, and how much longer he might be holed up in this office.  The boy wandered over to the window.  He spotted the gleaming twin John Deere lawn mowers parked in front of the maintenance building.  He looked back at Johnny.  The man was dialing yet another phone number.

 

     Shen Bo quietly opened the door and slipped outside.  He knew he wasn’t supposed to be near the lawn mowers because Andrew had chased him away from them more than once.  But Andrew was nowhere in sight, and everyone else was still in the mess hall eating. 

 

     The boy ran the last one hundred feet to the tractors.  He looked around while casually circling the mowers.  When Andrew still didn’t appear, he climbed on the one closest to him.

 

     Shen Bo had no fear of the lawn mowers.  After all, an American soldier had once let him drive an Army Jeep.  Granted, he was sitting in the man’s lap at the time, and the man was actually the one working the gas pedal and steering, but still, it felt to Shen Bo like he was driving.  Besides, a lawn mower was a lot smaller than a Jeep.  It was just the right size for a seven-year old boy who possessed too much curiosity for his own good. Or so Tess always said.

 

     At first Shen Bo was satisfied to bounce in the seat while pretending to drive.  He made motor noises by blowing air out of his lips and turned the steering wheel to the right, and then to the left, and the back to the right again.  Trouble was, you didn’t really go anywhere this way.  It would be a lot more fun to take a real ride. 

 

     The key residing in the ignition was too much temptation for Shen Bo to resist.  He turned it to the right, not even flinching when the motor came to life.  The boy grinned.  He waited a moment, and when the mower didn’t move his grin turned to a frown.  He looked down.  There was a lever between his legs, as well as a pedal on the left and one on the right.  He was pretty sure the one on the left was the brake, which meant the one on the right made the mower move.  Or at least that the way the pedals worked in the Jeep.  He leaned as far forward as he could without falling off the seat.  His right foot barely reached the gas pedal, but when it touched it the engine revved and exhaust billowed up behind him. 

 

     Shen Bo was happy with his accomplishments thus far, but not happy enough.  He still wanted to take a ride.  He remembered the gearshift that was in the Army Jeep, and how when the soldier moved it they’d go backwards or forwards.  Shen Bo reached down and moved the lever up two notches.  The mower remained stationary until he pressed on the gas pedal again.  The boy’s body whipped forward and backward in the seat as the mower shot ahead. 

 

     The child panicked when he realized he couldn’t control the machine.  He leaned forward to get a better grip on the steering wheel, not realizing as he did so that his foot was pressing the gas pedal to the floor board.  The mower took off, bouncing Shen Bo over uneven ground.  The boy’s left thigh was thrown against another lever that engaged the blades.  Shen Bo didn’t know what the roaring was coming from beneath the mower, but now he was scared.

 

     “Misser Honey!  Misser Honey!  ‘Elp!  ‘Elp!  Misser Honey, ‘elp Shen Bo!”

 

     The mower raced in a wild circle as the boy frantically turned the wheel. 

    

     “Misser Honey!  Misser Honey!  ‘Elp!  ‘Elp Shen Bo!  ‘Elp!”

 

     The mower tilted on two wheels a brief second, then fell back to the ground.  Over the sound of the engine and blames, Shen Bo screamed for Johnny one more time.

    

___________________________

 

    

     John slammed down the phone.  He’d tried calling seven different guys, and not one of them was home.  Of course, it was Saturday evening, which probably explained a lot, but at this rate he wasn’t going to get out of Heaven tonight.  He thought of Roy, reached for the phone, then put it back down.  No way was he calling his partner.  He wasn’t calling Roy, or the person who would have normally been his next choice - Dixie.  He wasn’t calling either of them.  He’d do just what Monica said and hitchhike back to L.A. before asking Roy or Dixie to come get him.

 

     Johnny thought of a another guy he knew, a friend who worked at Station 24, and had just reached for the phone again when a child’s screams drifted in through the screen door.

 

     “Misser Honey!  ‘Elp!  Elp Shen Bo!   Misser Honey!  Misser Honey!”

 

     Johnny had been around Roy’s children enough to recognize the difference between a kid goofing around, and kid frightened out of his wits.  This scream was definitely the latter.

 

     The paramedic flew out the door, forcing his injured leg to work to his advantage.  The limp was present as Johnny ran, but he didn’t allow it to slow him down.

 

     Johnny raced for the mower as chunks of earth ricocheted from its tires.  He could hear the blades churning, and by the speed of the mower knew how easily it could tip.  He’d been on enough calls involving children and lawnmowers to know the disastrous results.  He was picturing a severed limb or sliced artery as eyes wide with terror looked to him for help.

 

     “Misser Honey!  Misser Honey!”

 

     Johnny ran behind the mower, following its course to pick up its rhythm.  When he was confident he had the timing right he leaped onto the back and scrambled into the seat.  John grabbed Shen Bo around the waist with one hand while using the other to grab the steering wheel.  He nudged the boy’s foot off the accelerator, then pressed on the brake.  With a startled jerk the mower came to a halt. 

 

     Shen Bo slumped forward, his small body shaking.  Sweat ran down Johnny’s face and he gulped for air while clinging tightly to the boy.  The paramedic glanced to his left when the mess hall door he had exited twenty minutes earlier flew open.  Tess was wiping her hands on a dish towel as she ran.  A blond man dress in navy blue cotton trousers and a short sleeve navy shirt with a name patch sewn over the pocket followed.

 

     “Shen Bo!  Shen Bo!”  Tess cupped the boy’s face in her hands. “Shen Bo, are you all right?”

 

     Tears ran down Shen Bo’s cheeks.  “Shen. . .Shen Bo okay, Tess.  I. . .I sorry, Tess.  I bad boy.  I know I bad boy.”

 

     “What were doing on this lawnmower, young man?  I looked out the window and saw you spinning in circles and almost had me a heart attack.”

 

     “Like. . .like Mr. Tinkle?”

    

     “Yes, just like Mr. Hinkle.  Now what did you think you were doing?  Andrew’s told you more than once to stay away from the equipment.”

 

     “I drive, Tess.  Shen Bo drive mower like American Army Jeep.  Only mower go too fast.”

 

     “I could see that.”

 

     “It’s my fault, Tess,”  Andrew apologized.  “I shouldn’t have left the keys in the ignition.”

 

     “No, you shouldn’t have.  But it wasn’t your fault alone, Andrew.  Shen Bo must take his responsibility in all this, and Mr. Gage must take his, as well.”

 

     “Me?”  Johnny questioned.  “What did I do?”

 

     “Misser Honey save Shen Bo’s life, Tess.  Misser Honey not bad boy.”

 

     “Well now, I could debate that.”  Tess fixed her gaze on Johnny.  “And just where were  you when this youngster took a notion to climb on this lawnmower like it was some kinda carnival ride put here for his amusement?”

     “I. . .I. . .look, I ate my supper like you wanted me to, then I left the mess hall.  I didn’t ask Shen Bo to come with me.  He followed me, but I guess he got bored.”

 

     “Got bored watching you make phone calls?”

     Johnny’s jaw set as he averted his eyes.  He wasn’t about to allow this woman to chastise him for the foolish actions of a seven year old child.

 

     Tess waited a few seconds, but when the paramedic refused to answer her let out a frustrated sigh.  “All right, get on off there now.  Let Andrew put these mowers where they belong.  And this time, Andrew, take the keys out of them please.”

    

     “Yes, Ma’am.”

 

     Johnny climbed off the mower, then lifted Shen Bo to the ground. 

 

     Tess pointed a stern finger at the paramedic and the child.  “And you two, try not to get into anymore trouble before lights out.  The children like to play dodge ball after supper, Mr. Gage.  If you’re not familiar with the game I’m sure Shen Bo can explain it to you.”

    

     “I’m familiar with it, but--”

 

     “Don’t start buttin’ me again because I’m not in the mood.  As evidenced by the stunt Shen Bo just pulled these children are like innocent little lambs in bad need of a shepherd. It appears to me as though you’ve got two choices here, John.  Either be their shepherd, or spend your time holed up in that there office making phone calls to people who aren’t home.  I can’t make the choice for you, but I can surely tell you which one will be the more productive, and rewarding, use of your time.”

 

     With that Tess turned on the heel of one pumpkin orange tennis shoe and stomped toward the mess hall.  The men watched until she entered the structure and the door slammed behind her. 

 

     Andrew stifled a smile.  “Whew. Was she mad.”  He held out his hand to Johnny. “Hi.   We haven’t met yet.  I’m Andrew.”

 

     Johnny shook the man’s hand.   “John.  John Gage.”

 

     “Yeah, I know. We were waiting for you to arrive.”

 

     “So I’ve been told.”

 

     Andrew gestured toward the lawnmowers. “Guess I’d better get these put away before Tess comes back out here.”

 

     “Guess so.”

 

     The Angel Of Death patted Shen Bo on his dark head.  “That was a close call, buddy.  I don’t want to see you near these mowers again.  Understand?”

 

     “Shen Bo underhand.”

 

     “Considering you told me that last week, and the week before, I’ll believe it when I see it,”  Andrew said as he climbed on the mower Shen Bo had been riding.

 

     “I ‘member now, Andrew.  And if Shen Bo forget - Misser Honey, he my friend.  He ‘mind me.” 

 

     “I’ll remind you all right,”  Johnny said sternly.  “With a swat to your rear end.”

 

     As Andrew started the mower and began steering it toward the building the boy hung his head. 

 

     “Shen Bo sorry, Misser Honey.   You mad now.  You no be Shen Bo’s friend no more?  Misser Tinkle say Shen Bo bad yellow So An’ So.  You say same thing now?”

 

     Boy kid, you do a better job at tugging on my heartstrings than Chris and Jennifer DeSoto, and I thought they had the market cornered where I’m concerned.

 

     The paramedic dropped to his right knee while carefully keeping his left leg straight.  He had a difficult time balancing himself in this position, but managed to stay upright as he cupped a hand beneath the boy’s chin.

 

     “Shen Bo.  Bo, look at me.”

 

     The boy slowly raised his head.

 

     “Bo, I am angry with you. . .mad at you, for what you did.  Evidently Andrew has told you before to stay away from these lawnmowers.  There’s a reason he told you that, and the reason is they can be very dangerous when handled by a little boy.  You could have gotten hurt, or killed even, and that would have made me sad.”

 

     “Really?  You be sad if Shen Bo die?”

 

     “I certainly would be.” 

 

     “Then you still Shen Bo’s friend?”

 

     “I am.  And another thing.”

 

     “What?”

     “You’re not a yellow So And So.  Mr. Hinkle shouldn’t have called you that.  He shouldn’t have called anyone that.”

 

     “That okay.  I never mind.  Mr. Tinkle. . .he no feel good lots of days.  He crappy.”

 

     “I understand that, but it still doesn’t give him an excuse to say things like that to you.”

 

     “You no say those things Shen Bo even when you be very mad?”

     “No.  I would never say those things to you even if I was very mad.”  Johnny reached out his right hand. “How about if you help me to my feet?”

 

     “Sure, Misser Honey.  I ‘elp you even lots more now than ‘fore ‘cause you save Shen Bo’s life.”

 

     The paramedic got to a standing position with Shen Bo’s help, then tousled the boy’s hair.  “How about if we help one another for no other reason than we’re friends?”

     Shen Bo’s grin out did the evening sun.  “Shen Bo like that.  Shen Bo and Misser Honey friends.  Shen Bo and Misser Honey help each an other.”

 

     “Sounds good to me.  After all, that’s what friends are for.”

 

     The boy clung to Johnny’s hand as he dragged him toward an open field where the other campers were gathering. 

 

     “Come on, Misser Honey!  Let’s go play da’ dodge ball!”

 

     Despite himself, and his resolve to flee Heaven before the night was over, Johnny couldn’t help but smile as he allowed Shen Bo to lead him to the playing field.

 

 

 

Chapter 34

 

    

     Clayton Hastings grabbed the handle of the hinged school bus hood. Though the hood was heavy, a man Clay's size had to exert little force to slam it closed.  He wiped his greasy hands on his shirt-front, then leaned against the bus's massive wheel well.

 

     Clay squinted into the setting sun, watching the kids play on a distant field.  Despite the no smoking ordinance that bossy black woman had imposed, Hastings fumbled in his shirt pocket for his pack of Marlboros and Bic lighter.  He tapped the pack against his left wrist and plucked the first cigarette that appeared.  He stuck one end in his mouth, cupped a hand around the other, and flicked the lighter.  A small yellow flame danced forth.  It nipped the end of the cigarette, causing a thin stream of smoke to pollute the night air.  Clay shoved the Marlboros and lighter back in his pocket.  His uniform was identical to the one Andrew was wearing, though his appearance far more rumpled.  Clay didn't care whether his trousers were creased, and half the time didn't bother to tuck his shirttails in, nor notice if a shirt was missing a button or two.  When he climbed into his small loft apartment above the maintenance building each night, he stripped off his clothes and left them where they fell.  More often than not he put the same wrinkled, dirty uniform on the next morning, even though it didn't cost him anything to have his clothes washed with the rest of the camp laundry on a daily basis.

 

     Clay took a long drag from his cigarette.  At six foot three inches tall and one hundred and eighty pounds he was lean, but well muscled. His chest and shoulders were broad, and his biceps bulged from hours of heavy labor.  You name it, he'd done it.  Construction work.  Landscaping.  Excavating. House painter. Brick layer. Assemblyman in a Ford factory.  He'd been down on his luck for a while now, which is what brought him to A Little Bit Of Heaven.  Dumb name for a camp if you asked him. But he was hungry, had just two dollars to his name, and an eighth of a tank of gas in his rusty '64 Chevy pickup when he pulled into this place looking for work.  The black woman - Tess, told Clay the Lord must have been with him that day because the camp hired very few employees.  Most of the people present were volunteers. But, Tess did have need of an additional maintenance man, and had enough money left in her budget to give him a small salary.  Small was right, but the free room, along with three free meals a day, caused Clay to take the position without asking any questions. Maybe if he had asked a few questions first he would have gotten back in the Chevy and headed on down the road.  He didn't need any reminders of 'Nam, and these kids did nothing but remind him of that godforsaken hell hole where he’d pulled two tours of duty, for a total of twenty-six months in-country. 

 

 

     Gone was the military crew cut Clay had worn as a G.I. Now he sported a greasy ponytail that fell to the middle of his back.  His mother would have a fit if she could see her son now.  The golden blond hair was no longer kept clean, and the eyes that had once been bright blue were now dull and clouded from depression, nightmares, and hard living.  The latter including booze, drugs, and one-night stands.

 

     Things would be so different if only Sue could have forgiven him.  They'd been high school sweethearts and married two weeks after graduation in May of 1966.  By mid-July of that year Sue was expecting twins.  Clay was drafted when his wife was five months pregnant.  His boys, Jason and Jeremy, were eight now.  He hadn't seen them in two years.  Not since Clay had gotten that letter from the orphanage in Vietnam telling him he'd fathered a child with a woman named Lang Tran.   The look on Clay's face had told his wife the truth.  Yes, there had been a woman in Vietnam, and yes her name had been Lang Tran; and yes, she'd been pregnant when he'd broken off the relationship.   It wasn't that hard for Clay to do - break off what he had with Lang.  His unit was ordered out of the area, and besides, it was likely that she'd been with a lot of men besides him.  Odds were low the kid was even his. 

 

 

 

     The minister who signed the letter said otherwise, but the man had no proof, and that's exactly what Clay told Sue.  She wouldn't cut him any slack though.  Maybe if it hadn't been for the drinking, and the drugs, and the erratic mood swings, and his inability to hold a job, Sue would have forgiven him the affair with a woman who meant nothing to him.  Or at least in the sense that he didn't love her like he loved Sue. With Lang it was nothing but an expression of loneliness and physical needs.  With Sue, it was life.  She was the woman he'd planned to grow old with. She was the woman he planned to celebrate his fiftieth wedding anniversary with and beyond.  But no more.  Today the divorce papers had been delivered by some squat little man who fled the maintenance building when Clay growled, "Damn her!" swiped the tool bench clean with one fist, and then punched the wall with the other.  How Sue had found him here; in Heaven, California, Clay had no idea.  She hadn't contacted him since the day she'd kicked him out of the house.  He supposed she'd hired a private detective to track him down.  Sue's older sister was married to a rich, fancy pants lawyer.  Money wouldn't be a problem when it came to dissolving their marriage.  Clay's brother-in-law, Allan, was probably doing the legal work for free, and more than happy to at that.

 

     Clay tossed his cigarette stub to the gravel and ground it out with the heel of his work boot. He reached for the wallet he carried in the back pocket of his trousers and slowly opened it.  He looked down into the smiling faces of his boys.  They were identical, both of them possessing their father's gold-blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. The photographer had posed them perched sideways - shoulder to shoulder -  on a bright red wooden block.  Sue had dressed them in white button down shirts and matching midnight blue cardigan sweaters.  They were four years old in this photo.  Just little boys.  Now they were eight and Clay, their father, had no idea what their interests were.  Did they play Little League baseball like he did at their age?  Did Jeremy still like Hot Wheels?  Was Jason's favorite food still baloney sandwiches with ketchup?  Were they still afraid of the dark?  Did they still have their dog Ruffles?  Did they remember that their father gave the Scottish terrier to them for their fifth birthday, despite their mother saying they were too young for the responsibility a puppy brought?  Did they remember him?  Did they know Clayton Thomas Hastings was their father, or did Sue refuse to speak his name in front of them? 

 

     The man snarled as he kicked up rocks and gravel with the toe of one boot.  The shrieking of those damn kids got on his nerves.  It was bad enough that he was constantly having to chase that little pain-in-the-ass, Shen Bo, away from the maintenance shed.  But what was worse was being a driver of one of the three camp buses when the kids went on an outing. Since Clay had arrived they'd been to the zoo, a farm, and a museum.  Clay could handle it okay when there was distance between himself and the brats, but when he was forced to deal with them directly it was almost more than he could take.  The memories the children brought forth of his own beloved boys caused a sharp pain to stab Clay's heart.  Or at least stab his heart until he looked at the features of these Asian bastards.  Then fury overrode the pain as he thought of Lang Tran and what she'd done to him.  She'd gotten pregnant. . .and maybe not even with his kid, but somehow she'd convinced a preacher intent on doing good works that Clayton Hastings was the boy's father.  Well, thanks a lot Lang and Mr. Preacher Man.  Thanks a million.  Because of a dead woman and a man Clay had never met, his marriage was over.

 

     Clay pried the hinged bus door open with his fingers.  He reached beneath the driver's seat for his bottle of Jack Daniels.  He knew Tess would outlaw this if she discovered it.  Not to mention what she'd say about his stash of pot and LSD.  But she didn't know Clay had any of those things in his possession, and he'd be damned if she'd ever find out.  After all, a man deserved comfort where he could find it. 

    

     Clay walked halfway down the aisle carrying his bottle, then slumped to a seat.  He stared out the window as twilight began to fall and thought about how much he hated his life.  If he had any guts at all he'd kill himself now and get it over with.  The only thing that kept him from putting a gun to his head was the hope that, once the divorce was final, he'd get his shit together, get a decent job back in Minnesota were Sue and the kids lived, and be able to see his boys again on a regular basis.  Be a father to them again.        

 

     The man hunkered farther into the green vinyl seat.  He rested one knee on the back of the seat in front of him while alternating between tipping the bottle to his lips and gazing out the window.  Fifteen minutes later Clay's blood shot eyes tracked a red Mustang as it slowed down in front of the camp's entrance, then turned onto the single paved lane that led to the courtyard where the mess hall and cabins sat.  The driver didn't follow the lane though, but instead turned again and entered the parking lot.  The Mustang was parked five spaces from the bus. Clay sat up a little straighter when the driver emerged.  Though she was a bit older than the man normally liked them, and a bit too conservatively dressed for his current tastes, she was one hell of a looker.

 

     Clay took another long swig of whiskey and ogled Dixie McCall's rear end as she trekked toward the courtyard.

 

     Well, well, well.  Things in Heaven just might have gotten a little brighter.  If nothing else, maybe Clay would get lucky with this woman and find some of that comfort he so richly deserved.

 

    

Chapter 35

 

 

     The drive out of Heaven had been just as beautiful as the drive in.  Rather than farm fields, though, this time Dixie saw open fields lush with long grass and flowering bushes, thick forests of pine, maple, oak, and walnut trees, and in the distance, a mountain range.  Dixie slowed when she came to a railroad crossing.  There were no electronic gates here, but rather just a stop sign with a railroad crossing sign below it.  Dixie eased on her brakes, then looked right and left.  She saw no train, nor did she hear a whistle so proceeded.  She couldn't help but think of Johnny as her sports car bounced over the tracks. 

    

     A thick wooden arch framed the entrance to the campground and proclaimed in deeply burnished letters: A LITTLE BIT OF HEAVEN.  Though the highway was devoid of other traffic, Dixie clicked on her right turn signal.  She made the turn onto the camp's private road.   The lane wound ahead through stately old trees.  In the distance Dixie could see a cleared courtyard.  She was vaguely able to discern the outline of buildings.  Rather than drive that far, she turned left into what she assumed served as the camp's parking lot.  Three school buses painted the same pale blue as Heaven's water tower were parked in the lot.  Gold letters on the side identified them as belonging to A LITTLE BIT OF HEAVEN CAMP.  The body of the buses, like the water tower, depicted angels floating amongst clouds.

 

     Dixie didn't see the man watching her from a bus window as she exited her car.  She locked the driver's side door and left her suitcase in the trunk.  She wasn't sure how far beyond Heaven she'd have to drive to get a motel room for the night, but she concluded someone in the camp's office would be able to give her directions to the nearest lodging for visitors.  Whether she'd be taking Johnny with her or not, Dixie wasn't certain.  That was her plan, provided he was healthy enough to travel, but that had yet to be seen.  The man at the garage - Gil, didn't seem to think Johnny's injuries were very serious, but who knew how much of that was true, and how much was simply small-town rumor and gossip.

 

     Dixie enjoyed her walk up the tree-lined lane.  The sun was beginning to set, and with it, the heat of the July day was rapidly dissipating.  The nurse had never been to summer camp as a child.  Nonetheless; Dixie knew she was in the main courtyard when she reached a paved open area surrounded by buildings.  In the center of the courtyard a flagpole rose forty feet in the air.  The American flag flew first, with the State Of California flag flying below it.  The flags fluttered softly in the gentle breeze, as though they were tired and getting ready to be put to bed for the night. 

    

     The woman paused a moment.  She looked around, but didn't see anyone.  She spotted the sign above the door of one building that read Heavenly Helpings, and the signs above the doors of twin cement block buildings that read, Cleanliness Is Next To Godliness.  Dixie smiled at that.  She assumed those buildings housed bathrooms/locker rooms because one was also marked Boys, while the other was marked Girls.  Through a grass-lined alley Dixie saw what she guessed was an office, and then several hundred yards from it, a large metal structure that most likely housed equipment.  On the woman's right was a long row of quaint little wooden buildings Dixie took to be cabins.  Flower boxes hung beneath each window, all of the boxes blooming with vivid greens, blues, purples, reds, yellows, and oranges.  Marigolds, petunias, geraniums, and impatients were just a few of the flowers Dixie was immediately able to identify.  She was impressed with the cleanliness of the camp, and the way the grounds were meticulously manicured.  Someone, or several someones, took pride in this place and all it stood for.

 

     Dixie heard shouts and shrieks that indicated children at play.  She didn't see anyone on the baseball field beyond the cabins, so started walking again.  She followed the sounds of the kids, turning left when she reached the end of the courtyard.

 

     A sea of dark heads ran back and forth across an open field.  Medium sized rusty-brown rubber balls flew through the air.  Dixie recognized the game from her own childhood.  Dodge ball.  A dozen older women sat in lawn chairs with their backs to Dixie, chattering away while half watching the action. Dixie surmised they might be camp volunteers who were finally getting their first chance to sit down for the day.  She had a feeling this was a ritual they partook in each evening when the dishes and laundry were done, and the children no longer needed their nurturing. 

 

     Other adults ran back and forth with the kids.  They'd scoop up wayward balls, only to throw them at a target while dodging a ball coming their way.  These people were young and energetic.   Few of them appeared to be over thirty.

 

     Must be the counselors.

 

     Dixie was about to approach the older women to inquire as to where she might find John Gage, when she noticed the distinct limp of one of the young men playing with the kids. 

 

     That's not a counselor, that's Johnny!

 

     Dixie paused. She watched as Johnny charged across the field to pick up a ball.  A little boy hung onto the waistband of the paramedic's jeans, giggling while mirroring each step the man took.

 

     The nurse had been far from certain as to what condition, mentally or physically, she'd find Johnny in, but it sure wasn't anything close to this.  He threw the ball with a sideways hook from a half bent position.  That awkward stance, combined with his weak leg and the boy clinging to his waist, toppled Johnny to the ground.  The boy fell on Johnny's chest.  The paramedic laughed while giving the child's ribs a thorough tickling.  The boy squealed and squirmed until Johnny let him go with a playful swat to his rear end.  The youngster jumped to his feet and immediately held out a hand as though he knew Johnny needed assistance getting off the ground.

 

     Johnny grinned and gently clasped Shen Bo’s palm.  With the boy’s help the paramedic stood.  It was when Johnny glanced straight ahead that he caught sight of Dixie.  His smile vanished and his eyes narrowed as a heavy scowl settled over his face.  He held Dixie’s gaze ten full seconds, then turned his back on her.  The woman started toward him.

 

     “Johnny. . .”

 

     Keeping his back to Dixie, Johnny headed toward the thick woods that bordered the field. 

 

     “Johnny!”

 

     When the paramedic picked up his pace, Dixie picked up hers. “Johnny!  Johnny, wait!”

 

     Shen Bo watched with open curiosity. 

 

     “Johnny!  Johnny, please wait!”

 

     “Misser Honey!” Shen Bo ran between the two adults until he reached Johnny’s side.  “Misser Honey!  Misser Honey, da’ lady want talk you.”

 

     Johnny’s jaw set hard with fury.   “Well, you can tell the lady I don’t wanna talk to her.”

 

     Shen Bo pivoted and raced to Dixie.  “Misser Honey no want talk you.”

 

     “Mr. Honey?”

 

     The boy pointed to Johnny’s rigid back.  “He Misser Honey.  Misser Honey Shen Bo’s friend.”

 

     Dixie stopped walking.  She crouched down so she was eye level with the small boned child.  “And you’re Shen Bo?”

 

     “Yes.  I Shen Bo.  I Misser Honey’s friend.  He our new man now.”

 

     “New man?”

 

     “Take care kids.  Sleep in Shen Bo’s cabin.  Watch out for boys.  Misser Honey drive truck real fast like American Army Jeep.  It leave road, go whoosh!” Up shot Shen Bo’s arm again as he relayed this story for the second time today, with just as much enthusiasm as he’d told it earlier to Johnny.  “Then truck go bounce, bounce, bounce in field.  Damn near give. . .almost give Misser Tinkle heart ‘tack. Misser Tinkle scared.  He fall to ground.  He no want be boys’ man no more.  Now Misser Honey our man.  Shen Bo like Misser Honey.  He save Shen Bo’s life when Shen Bo naughty boy and ride grass machine.  Misser Honey and Shen Bo best friends forever now.”

 

     Dixie had to listen closely in order to understand every word of broken English the excited child chattered.  She couldn’t help but smile at him.  His enthusiasm was contagious.  And with his petite build, raven hair, deep brown eyes, bronze skin, endearing smile, and Asian/American features, he was a beautiful little boy.

 

     “It’s nice to meet you, Shen Bo.  I’m Dixie.”

 

     “Dickie?”

 

     “Dixie.”

    

     “Dickie.”

 

     “Dixie.”

 

     “Dickie.” 

 

     Slowly, the nurse pronounced her name again while emphasizing each syllable.  “Dix-ie.”           

 

     Shen Bo grinned.  “Dick-ie.”

 

     “No, it’s--”

 

     “You know Misser Honey, Dickie?”

 

     Like Johnny had done that afternoon, Dixie gave up attempting to get Shen Bo to correctly say her name.  She supposed there were worse things than Dickie one could be called, and provided this didn’t get around the halls of Rampart she could live with it.

 

     “Yes, I know Johnny.  I’m a friend of his.”

 

     “I tell him.”

 

     Before Dixie could stop him, Shen Bo raced for Johnny who was still walking away from the nurse.

 

     “Misser Honey!  Misser Honey!  Dickie you friend, too, just like Shen Bo!”

 

     At any other time Johnny would have laughed at the way Shen Bo mangled Dixie’s name, but right now he was too pissed off at her to find humor in the situation.

 

     “No, she’s not.”

 

     “She say she is.”

 

     “Well, like a lot of things Dixie says, she’s lying.”

 

     Shen Bo’s brows furrowed.  He studied Johnny a moment, then ran back to Dixie.

 

     “Misser Honey say you lie ‘bout being friend.  Why you lie Shen Bo?”

 

     “I didn’t lie to you, Shen Bo.  Right now Mr. Honey is angry with me.  If he’d calm down and let me talk to him, maybe we could get some things resolved.”

 

     “ ’Solved mean Misser Honey no be mad at you no more?”

 

     “Yes.  That’s what it means.”

 

     By now Johnny had stopped walking.  He turned to glare at Dixie, daring her to come any closer.  She remained where she was as the dodge ball game went on behind her, the players evidently unaware of what was transpiring between one of their counselors and this stranger to Heaven.  The ever faithful messenger that he was, Shen Bo ran to Johnny once again.  This time he was panting for breath when he arrived at the paramedic’s side.

 

     “Dickie say she no lie.  She say you angry.  You need calm down and talk her.”

 

     “I don’t wanna calm down and talk to her.”

 

     “You want Shen Bo tell her that?”

 

     “Yes.”

     “Okay. But Shen Bo’s legs tired.  Shen Bo hope you no stay mad at Dickie very long.”

 

     With that the boy turned for Dixie. This time his run slowed to a labored jog.

 

     “Misser Honey no want calm down and talk you.”

 

     “Tell Mr. Honey he’s being pig headed and stubborn.”

 

     Shen Bo sighed.  He took a deep breath in order to fill his aching lungs with air, then trotted to Johnny on heavy limbs. 

 

     “Misser Honey, Dickie say you pig.”

 

     “Well, you can tell Dixie that I said--”

 

     “What in the world are you two doing?” 

 

     Dixie and Johnny swiveled at the voice.  With a clipboard in hand, Tess marched across the field.  When she reached the pair she bridged the space between them. 

 

     “You should be ashamed of yourselves, arguing like this in front of the children.  Not to mention using little Shen Bo as your messenger.  If you two have a problem with one another then sit down and work it out like adults.”

 

     Johnny’s eyes dropped to the ground.  “We don’t have a problem with one another.”

 

     “Oh really?”  Tess cocked a disbelieving eyebrow.  “It sure sounds to me like you have a problem with one another.  As a matter of fact, I could hear your problem all the way in the office.”

 

     Dixie spoke in defense of herself.  “I didn’t come here to fight with Johnny.  I only came to--”

 

     “I know why you came, Mizz McCall.”

 

     “You do?”

 

     “Yes.  You’re on my list.  As a matter of fact, we’ve been wondering where you were.”

 

     “Pardon?”

 

     Despite his anger, Johnny choked back a laugh.  Dixie shot him a questioning look he refused to acknowledge.

 

     “My list.”  Tess held up her clipboard.  “You’re on my list of volunteers.”

     “Volunteers?”

 

     “Yes-siree-bob.  And you arrived just in the nick of time.”

 

     “I did?”

     “You surely did.  Cindy. . .one of our counselors, was called home today for a family emergency.”

 

     “I’m sorry to hear that, but--”

 

     “We were sorry to hear it, too. Wonderful young lady, and the children adore her.  Her daddy’s heart ain’t what it used to be, but praise God, he’ll have a few more years left on this earth.  More than anything he wants to see Cindy graduate from college.  He’s gonna be able to do that, and then some.”

 

     Dixie didn’t bother to ask Tess how she came by her knowledge.  While working with the woman at Rampart she had learned Tess was prone to claiming she had information there was no way she could be privy to. 

 

     “That’s nice, but--”

 

     “We’ve been waiting for you to arrive, Mizz McCall, so we could put you in charge of Cindy’s girls.”

 

     “Cindy’s girls?”

 

     “Just like Mr. Gage has twelve boys in his cabin, you’ll have twelve girls in yours.”

 

     “Look, I don’t know about Johnny, but I’m not staying.  I just stopped by because the man at the garage--”

 

     “Gil?”

     “Yes, that’s him.  Gil told me I’d find Johnny here.”

 

     “And so you did.  You’re on my list of volunteers, same as Mr. Gage was so--”

 

     “I didn’t sign up to be a volunteer.”

 

     “You didn’t?”  

 

     “No.”

    

     “Well, you must have ‘cause your name’s right here.”

 

     “Where?”

 

     Tess held up her clipboard and pointed a finger.  “Here.  You are Dixie Lee McCall, aren’t you?”

 

     “Yes, but I never signed up--”

 

      “Oh, diddly squat to that.  You and Mr. Gage must have short memories ‘cause he tried to use the same argument on me.  But, just like I have his name on my list of male volunteers, I have your name on my list of female volunteers.”  Tess reached out a hand and clutched Dixie’s arm.  “Now come on.  I bet you haven’t had supper, have you?”

 

     “No, but--”

 

     “Then I’ll take you to Heavenly Helpings and dish you up a plate of leftovers.  Did you bring a suitcase?”

 

     “Yes, but only because I planned on spending the night in a motel and--”

 

     “No need for no motel, Mizz McCall.  Our camp counselors stay right here with the children.”

 

     “But I’m not--”

 

     “The children will be gathering around the bonfire soon.   After they’re done eatin’ them sticky S’mores they like so much and singin’ a few songs they’ll be gettin’ ready for bed.  I’ll introduce you to your girls then, and have one of the older boys go down to your car and get your suitcase for you.”

 

     Dixie looked over her shoulder at Johnny as she was led away from him and Shen Bo.  By the twinkle in his eyes he was trying to hide, the nurse could tell Johnny didn’t plan on being of assistance to her cause.  She turned her attention back to Tess.

 

     “I at least need to use a phone.”

 

     “A phone?”

 

     “Yes.”

     Tess sighed.  “What is it with you and Mr. Gage wantin’ to use the phone all the time?  It’s an unhealthy addiction if you ask me. I told Alexander those jingle jangle instruments would keep people too occupied yackin’ rather than doin.’ ”

    

     “Alexander?”

 

     “Bell.  Alexander Graham Bell.  What Alexander did you think I was talking about?”

 

     “I was hoping any Alexander but him.”

 

     “And why would that be?”

     “Because he’s been dead about fifty years.”

 

     “Fifty three to be exact.  But never you mind that.  He had a long productive life, and if I know Alexander, he’s installed those jingle jangle things in Heaven by now.”

 

     Dixie wasn’t sure if Tess meant Heaven the town, or Heaven the place the Bible spoke of.   As she was led through the door of the mess hall Dixie decided she’d rather not know.

 

     This woman’s half nuts.

 

     While Tess might very well have been half nuts, Dixie soon decided the woman could cook.  She was given a tray that contained a roast beef sandwich, a cold chicken breast, slices of watermelon and cantaloupe, two chocolate chip cookies, and then handed a glass of lemonade. Tess hummed When The Roll Is Called Up Yonder while she cleaned up the kitchen.  Dixie had to admit she was hungry.  The last time she’d eaten was noon, and now it was going on eight o’clock.  Twice the nurse glanced at the door to see Shen Bo looking in through the screen.  Both times he waved at her, then disappeared.  Whether he was checking on her whereabouts for Johnny, or whether he was simply satisfying his own curiosity as to if she was going to be around for a while, Dixie didn’t know.

 

     If Johnny cared to know what Dixie’s decision was regarding staying at A Little Bit Of Heaven, or leaving the camp for the comfort of a motel room, he did a good job of hiding that.  When Tess finally led Dixie out of the mess hall the paramedic was nowhere to be seen.  The bonfire was still burning south of the baseball diamond, and a dozen of the older children were still milling about along with a few adults, but the younger children and their counselors appeared to be in their cabins for the night.

 

      Dixie was surprised to discover she had no protests left in her as Tess showed the nurse to the cabin she’d be staying in. It was identical to the one Johnny was residing in with the exception of the bedspreads.  Rather than being caution sign yellow, these were neon green. 

 

     The women had just stepped into the cabin when a thirteen year old boy arrived with Dixie’s suitcase, and the car keys she’d given him so he could gain entrance to her trunk. Dixie thanked the boy while Tess indicated for him to place the suitcase next to the only bed in the room that wasn’t part of a bunk combination. 

 

     After the teenager left Tess introduced Dixie to the twelve girls who were already in their pajamas and sitting on their bunks.  Dixie guessed the youngest girl in her group to be six or seven years of age, while the oldest was no more than eleven.  Each one of them was beautiful in their own way, though half were maimed by war in some fashion, be it a lost arm, leg, or eye.  The girls were shy and did nothing more than give Dixie timid nods or reserved waves.  The nurse knew this would change as they began to feel more comfortable with her.  Not that she planned to stick around long enough for that to happen, but if nothing else Dixie supposed she could spend the night.  She was tired, and didn’t relish the thought of driving another ten or twenty miles in order to reach a motel. 

 

     “You relax now and get to know the girls,” Tess urged as she headed for the door.  “They can tell you where everything is and fill you in on the routine around here.  I’d advise you not to stay up gabbin’ too late though.  Tomorrow’s the Lord’s day, which means we hold a church service right after breakfast.  Andrew will raise the flags at sunrise, then ring the bell for breakfast at six.  Everyone’s expected to be in Heavenly Helpings at seven.  At eight we’ll hold our service there.”

 

     “That’s fine, but I don’t attend church.”

 

     Tess gave Dixie a pointed look.  “I realize that, and just possibly, given your current unrest with God, you should be rethinking that position.  But regardless, here at A Little Bit Of Heaven everyone attends church on Sunday.  It’s an all denominational service if that’s what you’re worried about.  Don’t matter if you’re Catholic, or Baptist, or Jewish, or Muslim, or Lutheran, or Buddhist, or if you fancy worshipping trees.”

 

     “I’m not worried about that.”

 

     “Well, good.  Glad to hear it.  So I’ll see you at breakfast.”

 

     “Is uh. . .is Johnny going to be there?”

     “I reckon so.  Doc Ferguson says John needs to eat, and John knows I expect to see him do just that.”

 

     “Good, but that’s not what I meant.”

    

     “Then what did you mean, Mizz McCall?”

     “Is Johnny going to be at the church service?”

 

     “I just done told you everyone in this camp attends church on Sunday.”

 

     “Does Johnny know that?”

     “I’m not rightly sure.  I guess I never mentioned it to him, but he’ll find out come tomorrow morning.”

 

     Dixie gave a nod while stifling her smile.  It would be worth it to stick around just to see Johnny’s reaction to Tess making him attend church. 

 

     Once again Tess seemed able to read Dixie’s mind.

 

     “Now don’t you worry none.  John ain’t gonna give ole’ Tess no hassles she can’t take care of.”

 

     “That’s nice to hear, because Johnny excels at that lately.”

 

     “What?”

 

     “Giving people hassles.”

 

     “Maybe if people would keep their promises to him, Mizz McCall, he wouldn’t be inclined to lose his temper, thereby saying and doing things he regrets.”

 

     “What things?”

     Tess shrugged.  “I’m sure John will tell you if and when he wants to.  I can’t give back to him, or to you, that special friendship the two of you once shared.  You’ll have to work together in order to find it again.”

 

     Tess didn’t say anymore.  She opened the screen door and walked out into the darkness.  Dixie watched Tess’s retreating back a few seconds, then finally closed the door so bugs wouldn’t fly in.  The nurse gave only half her attention to the girls she was now introducing herself to.  The remainder of Dixie’s thoughts were focused on Johnny, and just whether or not she would indeed, be able to gain back all she’d lost when he stormed out of her home on Thursday because she’d betrayed his trust.

 

 

Chapter 36

 

     The dream was so vivid Johnny knew he was living the train wreck all over again.  The conversation replayed in his mind as though it was occurring right this second.

 

 

     “Don’t worry about it, Shannon.  If anyone heard me and Chet around the supper table at the station they’d ask what kinda goofs were protecting their city from fires.”

 

     “Who’s Chet?”

 

     “I’d say a buddy of mine, but at any given moment that can change depending on what he’s done to me.”

 

     “What he’s done to you?”

     “He’s a bit of a practical joker.”

 

     “Oh, a wise ass, huh?”

     “You might say that.”

 

     “Well, Johnny my man, if you be wantin’ my advice,”  James stopped in mid-sentence.  “What the hell. . .”  He looked at the crumpled bus floor.  It was vibrating beneath his feet.  “What the hell is going on?”

 

     “It’s a train!” Rich screamed, his eyes wide as he stared out the shattered windows.  “A train is coming!”

 

     “Run!  Run!     Run, dammit!  Run!” 

 

     Johnny’s upper body catapulted from the mattress.  “Run!  Run!”  The paramedic shouted one more terror-filled and prolonged “Ruuuuun!” before screaming himself awake. 

 

     Johnny swallowed hard as he stared into the darkness.  His right hand shook as he raised it to wipe sweat from his brow.  His breath came in fast, shallow pants.  Everything was night-time quiet until it sounded again.  A train whistle.  It wailed three more times, then Johnny could hear the faint clatter of wheels against track. 

 

     John startled when he felt someone sit beside him.

 

     “You okay, Misser Honey?”

 

     It took Johnny a moment to find his voice.  Like Shen Bo, he spoke just above a whisper so as not to wake the other boys who had miraculously slept through the screaming.  But then perhaps, given their circumstances, they were used to bunkmates having bad dreams.

 

     “Yeah, I’m fine.”

 

     “You shake.”

     “I’ll be okay in a minute.  You go back to bed now.”

 

     Shen Bo ignored Johnny’s directive, to instead lie down on the bed and rest his head on Johnny’s pillow. 

 

     “Why you have bad dream?  You see war?”

 

     “No, I wasn’t in the war.”

 

     “Shen Bo have bad dreams some time.  See soldiers come again.  Kill mother.  Kill grandmother.  Kill grandfather.”

 

     Johnny twisted his upper body so he could look down at the child.  Like the other boys in the cabin, Shen Bo wore lightweight blue pajama shorts with a matching shortsleeved pajama shirt.  When it was bedtime the boy had found a pair of blue pajama pants for Johnny in the same dresser drawer where he’d located the socks and boxer shorts for the man.  He hadn’t been able to find a pajama top, which was fine with Johnny since he rarely wore one at home anyway.

 

     “I’m sorry, Bo.  I wish that hadn’t happened to you.”

 

     “I miss mother, Misser Honey.  And grandfather and grandmother.  For long time Shen Bo think he have no one, but then Pastor Don say Shen Bo have father in America.  Shen Bo come here to live with father. When Shen Bo go to father’s house, Misser Honey?”

 

     Johnny was too tired to have this conversation sitting up, and it was evident that his body language wasn’t giving Shen Bo the hint that the boy should return to his own bed. Therefore, John settled back to a reclining position, spread the rumpled sheet and light blanket over himself and Shen Bo, then rested his head on the portion of the pillow the child wasn’t using.

 

     “Misser Honey?  When?  When Shen Bo go to father’s house?”

 

     “I don’t know.  You’ll have to ask Tess that question.”

    

     “Soon.  Shen Bo go soon,” the boy said with a firm confidence that told Johnny he had his heart set on living with his father.  “You think Shen Bo go soon?”

 

     “I can’t answer that, Bo.  Like I said, you’ll have to ask Tess.”

 

     “You think father like Shen Bo?”

 

     “I’m sure he will.”

 

     “And Shen Bo be happy with father?”

 

     Johnny hated to make the child false promises, but at the same time didn’t want to dash his hopes.  “I. . .I think so.”

 

     “Shen Bo happy with you, Misser Honey.  Maybe Shen Bo live with you?”

     “No, Bo, you don’t wanna live with me.”

 

     “Why not?”

     “For one thing, I’m a bachelor.”

 

     “What that mean?  Backer?”

     “Bachelor.  It means I don’t have a wife.”

    

     “That okay.  Shen Bo no have wife either.”

 

     Johnny chuckled. “I should hope not considering you’re what?  All of six years old?”

 

     “I be seven now.”

 

     “Well, seven’s not old enough for a wife, either.  But regardless, a boy needs a home with both a father and a mother.  In my house there isn’t a woman to be a mother to you.  Besides, my job keeps me away from home a lot, and that wouldn’t be fair to you.  A boy needs a father who can spend time with him.”

 

     “What you do?”

     “I’m a firefighter and a paramedic.”

 

     “Fireman?  Wow!  You put out fires, Misser Honey?”

 

     “Sometimes.”

 

     “And ride on big fire truck bigger than American Army Jeep?”

     “Yes, I’ve ridden on a fire truck more than a few times in my career.”

     “What para. . .para. . .para. . .”

 

     “Paramedic?”

     “Yes.  What mean?”

     “It means I help people when they’re sick or injured.”

 

     “That good.  That mean you good man, Misser Honey.  Helping people is good thing do.  Mother say so to Shen Bo.”

 

     “Your mother sounds like she was a very special lady.”

 

     “She special. Shen Bo love her lots.”

 

     “I’m sure you did, son.”

 

     Silence enveloped the pair then.  The only sound invading their cabin was the chirp of crickets and the faint croaking of bullfrogs coming from the lake.  Thank God the train had passed.  Johnny hoped another one wasn’t due to come through for the remainder of the night. 

 

     Just when John thought Shen Bo had dropped off to sleep, the boy spoke again.

 

     “Is Dickie you friend?”

 

     Johnny sighed.  When he finally answered the seven year old he admitted, “Yes.  Dixie is my friend.”

 

     “Then why you be mad at her?”

     “It’s. . .it’s a long story, Shen Bo.”

 

     “Shen Bo like stories.”

 

     “Well, you’re not going to hear this one.  It’s between me and Dixie.”

 

     “Okay.  But you not be mad at Dickie forever, right?”

 

     “I don’t know.  Why?”

     “You no stay mad at Shen Bo when I ride grass machine.  You mad at first.  You even say you may swat Shen Bo’s rear end.  But then you forgive and we friends again.  You say we always be friends.  Why you not forgive Dickie?”

     “Maybe. . .maybe because I’m not ready to.”

 

     The boy hitched himself up on his left elbow and looked directly into Johnny’s eyes.

 

     “Misser Honey, forgive Dickie.  One time Shen Bo get mad at mother.  Next day mother dead.  It hurt Shen Bo’s heart because Shen Bo never tell mother he sorry for bad things he say when he so angry at mother.  Say you sorry to Dickie, Misser Honey, then be her friend again.  It very easy, and it better than wishing you can say sorry after she dead.”

 

     With that Shen Bo dropped to his side, snuggled into Johnny’s chest, and fell asleep.  The paramedic laid awake another hour, staring at the ceiling while contemplating the enormous wisdom of a seven year old boy.

 

Chapter 37

 

     Johnny was awake before Andrew rang the bell that morning.  As his cabin slowly came to life he supervised the boys getting dressed and making their beds.  The paramedic was surprised to find several sets of clothes in the closet that were, once again, exactly his size.  He grabbed another pair of blue jeans off a hanger and this time reached for a tan oxford shirt.  He put on clean socks and boxer shorts, then bundled up his dirty clothes.  He instructed the boys to gather their dirty things, then herded them toward the locker room where he supervised them brushing their teeth, combing their hair, washing their faces, and depositing all the dirty laundry in one of the large hampers. 

 

     None of Johnny’s boys were older than eleven.  His youngest was Shen Bo.  As Johnny watched children come out of cabins with their counselors he realized the kids had been separated by age when it came to their sleeping arrangements.  The youngest; the four, five, and six year olds, were together.  Then the next groups, children from seven to eleven, were together.  And finally, the remainder of the kids who ranged in age from twelve to fourteen.  Johnny briefly wondered why he didn’t see older teenagers, but then assumed most of them had gotten lost in the shuffle in Vietnam.  More than likely they weren’t considered prime candidates for adoption because of their age, or even worse, were considered old enough to fend for themselves.

 

     By the time Johnny got his boys to Heavenly Helpings a good deal of the camp had already been through the breakfast line.  He caught a glimpse of Dixie sitting with some young girls at the back of the room, but he refused to make eye contact with her.  Until now, Johnny hadn’t even been certain she’d stuck around.  He figured it was a fifty-fifty shot that she’d gotten in her car and headed back to L.A.  Not that he would have blamed Dix had she done so.  After all, he hadn’t exactly welcomed her with open arms, and then Tess had immediately drafted her into service.  Both those things would have been enough to send Johnny packing.  As a matter of fact, he’d still like to head out of Heaven if only a means of escape came his way. 

 

     Breakfast was as tasty and bountiful as supper had been.  Johnny’s tray was piled high with scrambled eggs, pancakes, bacon, toast, and fresh strawberries.  While most of his boys chose orange juice to accompany their meal, Johnny chose two cartons of white milk.  Shen Bo watched the paramedic, then put the juice back he’d selected and exchanged it for milk. 

 

     Johnny led his boys to a table at the front of the building.  There was plenty of room at Dixie’s table for John and his troop, but he deliberately avoided heading in that direction.  Like the evening before, Shen Bo sat at Johnny’s right elbow. 

 

      The laughter and chatter of children filled the dining hall as the meal proceeded in leisurely fashion.  That is until the hands on the big clock hanging on the west wall indicated it was seven forty-five.  Without being given directions by any adults, the kids suddenly stood and began gathering trays.  They disposed of garbage, set the trays on the cart, then came from the kitchen with damp cloths and wiped the tables down.  Johnny had no idea what was about to happen, but by the children’s sudden burst of energy he assumed the arrival of eight a.m. must bring a trip to the lake or the start of a baseball game.  He was surprised; therefore, when the kids hurried back to their seats and sat up straight with their hands neatly folded on the tabletops.  As the volume of noise in the room dropped to an almost funeral-like hush, Johnny leaned over and whispered in Shen Bo’s ear.

 

     “What’s going on?”

 

     “Church.”

 

     “Church?”

 

     “Tess - she sing fun songs.  We sing with her.  Then Monica talk.  She tell good stories.”

 

     “Okay.  Well, see you later.”

    

     “Where you go?”

 

     “I’ll be around.”

 

     Actually, Johnny was thinking this would be a good time to call Chet.  If he had the A-shift schedule straight in his head the guys would be off today.  At eight o’clock on a Sunday morning Chet would be no other place but home in bed.

Johnny had no qualms about waking him and asking for a ride back to L.A.  He knew Chet would give him a big hassle, but in the end the Irishman would show up.  Of that last fact, Johnny had no doubt.

 

     “You no leave, Misser Honey.  It church.”

 

     Johnny stood.  “Not everyone goes to church, Shen Bo.  It’s a choice each person has the right to make, not something anyone can order a guy to do.”

 

     “Well, Mr. Gage, around here church attendance is not a choice.”

 

     The paramedic turned to face Tess.  He’d just about had his gut full of this bossy woman.

 

     “Look--”

 

     “No, you look.  We talked yesterday about your role as a shepherd to these little lambs.  Well, you’re not bein’ much of a shepherd to them at the moment.  You go back there and take that empty seat next to Mizz McCall.”

 

     Tess shifted her attention to another man Johnny hadn’t seen before who, had also stood to leave the building. 

 

     “And you, Mr. Hastings, come have a seat here next to Shen Bo.  You aren’t leaving anymore than Mr. Gage is.”

 

     “But--”

 

     “Sit, Mr. Hastings.  Now.”  Tess pointed to the back of the room.  “And you, Mr. Gage, get your skinny behind in gear and do like I told you.  We start praisin’ the Lord ‘round here promptly at eight each Sunday morning.  Ain’t no men making the wrong choices for themselves gonna delay that.” 

 

     Johnny was angry, but even more so, he was embarrassed at having been singled out by the woman.  He hadn’t felt this humiliated since he was fifteen and got caught passing a note to Kim in geometry class.  He could tell the guy Tess called Hastings felt the same way.  His cheeks were twinged red and his hands balled into fists as he stomped to the seat Johnny had just vacated.  Why Tess wanted Johnny seated next to Dixie the paramedic didn’t know.  Maybe she thought Hastings wouldn’t be comfortable sitting next to someone he hadn’t met.  Or maybe she was on a power trip and assigning seats at will. 

 

     All eyes were now on the paramedic as the congregation waited for Johnny to sit down. 

 

     “Go, Misser Honey.  You sit by Dickie.  Shen Bo see you after service.”

 

     If it hadn’t been for Shen Bo’s urging Johnny would have stormed out of the mess hall.  But, though he’d known the boy less than twenty-four hours, he could hardly refuse any request the earnest child made of him.

 

     The paramedic kept his eyes on the floor as he limped to where Dixie was sitting.  He yanked out the empty metal chair and sat down.  He kept his back ramrod straight and half turned to the nurse.  His body language alone broadcast how much he didn’t want to be in this room, nor seated next to the companion on his left.

 

     Tess bestowed a loving smile on Johnny.  “There.  That’s better.  It won’t be so bad, John.  You’ll see.  You might even enjoy yourself.”

 

     Don’t bet on it.

 

     “Don’t worry.  I won’t.  Bet on it that is.  After all, Jesus threw the gamblers out of the temple. Wouldn’t be fitting for me to consider wagering on anything when I’m in the house of the Lord.”

 

     Johnny hid his astonishment at the way the woman apparently read his mind once again.  Tess’s smile rested upon him a moment longer, then she took in the rest of the congregation.

 

     “Now, are we ready to sing?”

 

     The children yelled, “Yes!” in large voice.  Tess took a mouth organ out of the pocket of her dress, played a note, then started singing Jesus Loves Me in a booming voice.

 

     The songs that followed were the ones most Protestant church-going children learned before the age of five.  Fifteen minutes later Tess turned the floor over to Monica.  Johnny watched as the woman stood from a front table where she’d been sitting next to Andrew.  Today she wore a flowing white skirt and baby blue silk blouse.  The blouse was open at the throat to reveal her clerical collar.  In that sweet Irish brogue that would have had Johnny asking the woman for a date had she not been a chaplain, Monica requested, “Let’s all bow our heads for a word of prayer.”

 

     Everyone did as Monica requested with the exception of Clay Hastings.  Even Johnny dropped his eyes to the table. 

 

     Shen Bo leaned into the man sitting beside him.  “We pray now, Misser Hassings.  You bow head.”

 

     “Shut up,” Clay hissed.

 

     “But--”

 

     The man’s voice grew louder.  “Shut up, you stupid little bas--”

 

     Johnny flew to his feet.  “Hey, knock it off!  Don’t you call him that!”

 

     Tess stood from where she’d taken Monica’s vacated chair.  “John, sit down.”  The woman’s eyes traveled from Johnny to Clay. “And you, Mr. Hastings, do as John advises.  Don’t you even think of calling any of these children names.  Now keep your lip buttoned while we have a word of prayer.”

 

     Clay pounded his fists against his thighs but remained seated.  He wasn’t going to allow that pushy black broad to humiliate him further.  Why he didn’t just get up and leave he had no idea, other than to say it would only draw more unwanted and unwelcome attention his way.

 

     Monica started the prayer as though no interruption had occurred.  She bowed her head and clasped her hands in front of her.

 

     “Dear Lord, we thank Thee for the bountiful gifts You have given us in the form of these beautiful children, this camp, and the many volunteers who keep it running.  Allow hearts to be open today to the message I will preach in Your name.  Amen.”

 

     Heads lifted as Monica looked out over her congregation.  She waited a moment, quietly cleared her throat, then began.

 

     “Sometimes the most difficult thing we are asked to do in this life is to forgive.  Forgive the teenager who disappoints us by cheating on an exam.  Forgive the neighbor who makes us angry by playing loud music late at night.  Forgive the spouse who asks us to leave our home for reasons we don’t always understand.  Forgive the friend who betrays our trust, despite that friend’s good intentions.”

 

     Johnny could feel Dixie’s eyes on him, but he refused to look anywhere but at the tabletop.  The tension in the room broke to some degree when Shen Bo swiveled in his seat and pointed at the paramedic.

 

     “Misser Honey forgive Shen Bo when he get on grass machine.”

 

     Monica smiled.  “That’s right, Shen Bo, Johnny forgave you when you got on that lawnmower even though you’d been told several times by Andrew to stay away from it.  And how did it make you feel when Johnny forgave you?”

     Shen Bo returned his attention to Monica like the studious pupil he was.

 

     “Shen Bo feel good.  Shen Bo happy inside ‘cause Misser Honey forgive him and still be Shen Bo’s friend.”

 

     “So Johnny’s forgiveness made you happy?”

     “Very happy.”

 

     “I can see that by the big smile on your face.  I take it you think the ability to forgive is a good quality for a person to have?”

    

     “Yes.  Forgive is good.  If you no forgive now, you may lose chance.  Sometimes. . .sometimes bad things happen and then no be able to say ‘I sorry.’ ”

 

     “You’re right, Shen Bo.  Sometimes bad things happen to those we love, and if we’ve waited too long to say, ‘I forgive you,’ or ‘I’m sorry,’ we might never get the opportunity.”  Monica’s eyes took in the entire room.  “If you have someone you need to forgive, or need to apologize to, make that act your first priority of the day.  After all, a little boy just reminded us that sometimes bad things happen before we’re able to reconcile with a loved one or a friend.  And, if you give it further thought, you’ll likely come to the conclusion that what you’re upset about is hardly worth losing that special person over.”

 

     Monica paused a moment to allow her message to sink in, then smiled.

 

     “Now, shall we bow our heads and have a final word of prayer?”

 

     The last ‘amen’ was barely uttered before Johnny shot out one door and Clay Hastings out another.  Tess watched both men leave.  She had no idea where they were going, but she prayed they took the time to contemplate Monica’s message and allow it to lead them in the right direction.

 

Chapter 38

 

     Monica’s sermon did nothing but lead Clay to his pickup truck.  He revved the engine and peeled out of the parking lot.  There was a guy six miles up the road who kept Clay supplied in drugs.  Despite his desire to get back to Minnesota to see his children, Hastings was spending most of his weekly paycheck on drugs and alcohol. 

 

     Johnny, on the other hand, mulled over Monica’s words as he took a walk around the lake.  His boys had caught up with him and were now skipping stones across the crystal clear water as they hiked with their counselor.  Johnny glanced over his shoulder when his twelve boys were suddenly joined by twelve girls.  He saw Dixie hiking toward him.  This time rather than walk away from the nurse, or turn his back on her, Johnny stopped.  He waited until she’d reached his side, then resumed his slow trek along the lake shore.  Dixie walked with the paramedic.  When five minutes of silence had passed between them she took the risk of starting a conversation.

     “Beautiful place, isn’t it?”

     “Uh. . .yeah.  It’s nice.”

 

     The nurse sneaked a glance at the face she could only see in profile. 

 

     “How’s your head?”

     “What?”

     “Your head.  I see you’ve got a bandage there above your left eyebrow.”

 

     “Oh.  That.  It’s okay.”

 

     “No headache?”

     “Not anymore.”

 

     “Blurry vision?”

 

     “No.”

 

     “Dizziness?”

     “No.”

 

     “Nausea?”

 

     “Dix, I’m fine.  They had a doctor look at me.”

    

     “I know, but I just want to make sure you’re all right.”

 

     “I’m okay.  I’ll probably be able to take this bandage off by tomorrow.”

 

     “Well, let me at least take a look before you do.”

 

     “I think I’m capable of determining when. . .”  Johnny bit back his terse words.  He didn’t want to fight to with Dixie.  “Yeah, sure.  You can take a look.”

 

     Dixie watched the children play a few hundred yards ahead of them at the water’s edge.  She marveled at how willing the older children were to take responsibility for a younger child in order to keep him or her from wading out too far.

 

     “These kids are pretty special.”

 

     “Yeah, they are.”

 

     “Listen, Johnny, I’m sorry about what happened on Thursday morning.  I was wrong to have called--”

 

     Johnny held up his right hand.  “No, Dix, don’t.  Don’t apologize.  I. . .it’s me who should be apologizing to you.”

 

     “For what?”

 

     The paramedic stopped walking.  He turned to face the woman.

 

     “For what?  Dixie, I shoved you.  I. . .I’ve never shoved  a woman before.  I’ve never done anything like that. . .gotten rough with a woman.  Honest I haven’t.”

 

     “I know.  You don’t have to apologize.”

 

     “But I do.”  Johnny glanced at the cloudless sky while raking a hand through his hair.  “I. . .there’s a lot of things I’m not certain about, the least of which is whether I can ever go back to being a paramedic again, but--” 

 

     “Johnny, you can’t let that lawsuit do this to you.”

 

     “It’s not just the lawsuit, Dix.  It’s. . .it’s everything.  The boys on that bus. The second train.  I. . .if only I’d gotten them off ten minutes sooner.  Hell, even five minutes sooner would have been enough.  Two minutes would have done it.  That’s all I needed.  Two minutes.  Just two lousy minutes and they would have been far enough away from the bus for the second collision not to matter.”

 

     “I understand how you must feel, and I wish I had an answer for you as to why that second collision happened, but--”

 

     “I wish you had an answer for me, too, Dix.”  Dixie was sure she saw unshed tears swimming in the man’s eyes when he finished with a choked, “I wish to God someone had an answer for me.  Those boys. . .they survived Vietnam only to be killed on the bus ride home.  It just. . .it makes no sense to me, Dix.  It just. . .it makes no sense.”

 

     “It doesn’t make sense to any of us, sweetheart, and I doubt it ever will.  But you can’t punish yourself, physically or emotionally, for something that isn’t your fault.”

 

     A tiny smile touched Johnny’s lips at the term of endearment Dixie used.  It wasn’t said in a romantic way, but more the way a mother would say it to her son.  Or, maybe in the way a big sister would say it to a much younger brother.

 

     “I. . .I guess I know that. . .that I can’t go on punishing myself, but I’m just not sure how to stop.”

 

     Thinking of her own bout with depression made Dixie say, “I realize that.  At times we all punish ourselves for things beyond our control.  For feelings we don’t. . .we don’t even fully understand the root of.  Maybe we can just. . .well, just take a few days to hang around here, enjoy the outdoors, be what these kids need us to be, and then see where that leads us.”

 

     “You’re actually thinking of staying here?”

 

     Dixie looked at the children, then the background of water, trees, and mountains.  “I am.  I’ve got five weeks of vacation coming to me and no place to go.  Might as well stay here for at least some of it.  After all, the room is free, the food is wonderful, and the atmosphere isn’t so bad.”

 

     “Guess not.  Except for that bossy Tess.  She gets on my nerves.”

 

 

 

     Dixie laughed.  “I think you do a pretty good job of getting on her nerves, too.”

 

     “I suppose.”  Johnny sobered as he looked into the nurse’s eyes.  “Dix, I’m sorry about the other day.  I really am.  I know you were just trying to help.  I. . .I shouldn’t have gotten so ticked because you called Roy and Doc Brackett.  Maybe I would have done the same thing if I was in your place.  I really don’t know, and I guess it doesn’t matter anyway.  I shouldn’t have shoved you and I. . .I. . . .I’d never hurt you, Dixie.  You know that, don’t you?  If I hurt you. . .in any way, I’d never be able to forgive myself.”

 

     Dixie studied the young man a long moment.  “Johnny, you remember today’s sermon on forgiveness?”

 

     “It’s kinda hard to forget.”

 

     “Good.  Then let me say one last thing about what happened in my house on Thursday morning.”

 

     “What?”

 

     “I’ll forgive you, if you’ll forgive yourself.”

 

     “I didn’t hurt you?”

 

     “No.”

 

     “You’re sure?”

 

     “I’ve got a little bruise on my shoulder from stumbling into the wall, but otherwise, no, Johnny, you didn’t hurt me.  I’ve been hurt a lot worse tripping over my own feet on the tennis court, or taking a fall from my bike.  So, like I said, I’ll forgive you, if you’ll extend yourself that same courtesy.”

 

     Johnny saw the sincerity on Dixie’s face that forced him to do as she requested.

 

     “I. . .okay.”  The paramedic gave a slow nod of his head.  “I guess. . .okay.  If that’s what you want.”

 

     “That’s what I want.”

 

     “All right.”  Johnny held out an open arm the woman stepped into.  He pulled her to his side and gave her a gentle squeeze.  “Thanks, Dix.  You. . .you’ve been a good friend for a lotta years now.  A very good friend.”

 

     Dixie smiled while briefly allowing her head to rest against Johnny’s shoulder.  She’d known him since he was a rescue man with Station 8.  That was seven years ago now, and he’d been just twenty-one the first time she’d met him.  He’d matured a lot since then, and gone on to become one of the best paramedics Kelly Brackett ever trained.  She was so proud of him.  The last thing she wanted to see him do was leave the program.  For now; however, she decided that was a subject best steered clear of.  To a large degree what career John Gage pursued two or three months from now was a choice only he could make.  There was little Dixie could say that would influence him one way or another.  Maybe this place - A Little Bit Of Heaven, would help him find the answers he was so desperately seeking, while at the same time helping to heal the pain caused him by the deaths of ten Marines.  Dixie wasn’t sure how all that would come about, but if nothing else A Little Bit Of Heaven wasn’t a bad place for a couple of city dwellers to vacation, and maybe it would bring her a sense of healing, too.  If nothing else it beat sitting home alone and crying.

 

     The woman stepped from Johnny’s embrace.  “Do you mind keeping an eye on my girls for a few minutes?”

     “Guess not.  Why?”

 

     “I need to make a phone call.”

 

     “A phone call?”

    

     “Yes.  There’s a phone in the office, isn’t there?”

    

     “Yeah, but I’m warning you, Tess is kinda psycho where the phone is concerned.”

 

     “So I noticed.  But I don’t think she’ll mind it too much if I make this call.”

 

     “Why?”

 

     “Because I’m not making a call to get either of us out of Heaven, but rather making a call to let someone know we’ll be staying here for a while.”

 

     “Oh.  Well, yeah, I suppose Tess would be cool with that.  Who ya’ calling?”

 

     “Roy.”

 

     When the paramedic didn’t respond Dixie questioned, “Johnny?”

 

     “I. . .yeah, sure.  Go ahead and call Roy.”

 

     “He’s very concerned about you.”

 

     “I know.”

 

     “I promised him I’d call as soon as I found you. He knows I left home yesterday morning.  By now he’s probably frantic wondering where we both are.”

 

     “Yeah, I imagine so.  Roy’s a worry wart.”

 

     “Only because he cares, Johnny.”

 

     “I realize that.”

 

     “So, do you have a message for me to give him?”

 

     “No. . .yes.  Tell him. . .well, just tell him I said hi and that. . .that I’m sorry about Thursday.  Runnin’ out on him and all.”

 

     “I’ll tell him.  I’m also going to ask Roy to pick up my mail every couple days.  Would you like me to see if he’ll do the same for you?”

 

     “Yeah.  Please.”

 

     Dixie nodded her acknowledgement of the paramedic’s request, then begin the trek to the camp’s office.  She’d walked thirty feet when Johnny hailed her.

 

     “Hey, Dix?”

     The woman turned around.  “Yes?”

 

     “How did you find me anyway?”

 

     “The map.”

 

     “Map?  What map?”

     “The map you left in my guest room.”

    

     “Huh?”

 

     “The one that you’d marked Heaven on with gold pen.”

 

     Before Johnny could tell Dixie he hadn’t left a map in her guest room, let alone one marked with a town he’d never heard of until he’d sped through it on Thursday afternoon, Shen Bo was tugging on his belt.

 

     “Misser Honey, Misser Honey!  Come play with kids!”

 

     “I’ll be right there, Bo.”

 

     By the time Johnny looked up again Dixie was too far away to communicate with.  He’d have to remember to tell that he hadn’t left a map behind in her house.  Who did leave it there, Johnny had no idea.  But it certainly wasn’t him.

 

 

Chapter 39

 

     By the end of his first week at A Little Bit Of Heaven, Johnny had gained a good deal of knowledge regarding the camp, its purpose, and its routine.

 

     A Little Bit Of Heaven had the ability to house one hundred and twenty children.  It was normally used throughout the summer months by kids ages ten to sixteen who attended local churches.   These churches combined their money to finance the upkeep of the camp.  There was a board of directors made up of sixteen people, two from each church that co-owned the camp.  Volunteers from the churches ran the camp throughout the summer as the children arrived in shifts for their week-long retreat that included everything from hiking, to swimming, to arts and crafts, to Bible study.  This summer those local children were attending a church camp elsewhere in the state so A Little Bit Of Heaven could house the Vietnamese orphans.  Though there had been heated opposition voiced by some church members because Vietnam was such a sensitive subject at the current time, overall the majority of votes were cast for assisting the orphans in any way possible.

 

     Tess told Johnny and Dixie the camp was currently home to ninety-eight children.  There had originally been one hundred and twenty, the exact number the facility could house, but twenty-two had been adopted or placed with their biological fathers.  Before November arrived and the camp had to be shut down due to cold weather, Tess hoped to have all the children placed.  If that didn’t happen, then those who remained would be put in foster care.

 

     “I surely don’t wanna see that happen, though,” the black woman said.  “I pray every day all these children will find a home with families who want them and will give them all the love a child deserves.  Not that foster parents aren’t good people, mind you, but it’s not the same as havin’ a real home.  A permanent place to call your own.”

 

     Johnny soon figured out why Tess seemed to be everywhere at any given moment, and knew everything that was going on.  She wasn’t just a cook, or the woman who assigned sleeping arrangements, but rather, she was the camp’s director.   When Johnny questioned Tess as to how she could do all this and keep her job at Rampart, she gave him a vague response.

 

     “Oh, I just took me a little leave time from the hospital.”

 

     “I didn’t think you’d worked there long enough to earn any kind of leave.”

 

     “John, when one is doing the Lord’s work then things like leave of absences, and whether or not one is entitled to such a privilege, matters little.”

 

     Johnny assumed that meant Tess had either quit her job when a leave of absence wasn’t granted, or had been fired when she refused to take no for an answer, but didn’t question her further.  He figured it was her choice to live in this camp without benefit of an income.  What she’d do when the camp closed and she had nowhere to go wasn’t his concern.

    

     Monica served as the camp’s chaplain, and as well, was counselor to a cabin of four, five, and six year old girls.  The maintenance guy named Andrew seemed nice enough.  Aside from working to keep up the grounds, he often stopped what he was doing to get in on a baseball game or a round of tag.  The other maintenance man, Clay Hastings, kept to himself.  Johnny caught the guy staring at Dixie a few times with a look in his eye the paramedic didn’t like, but when Hastings saw John watching he’d quickly turn away.  Other than Hastings, Johnny liked the remainder of the adults he’d encountered in the camp.  The counselors were young, enthusiastic, and full of energy, and the older ladies who cooked and did the campers’ laundry were always willing to mother a child in need of attention, or a shaggy haired paramedic, regardless of whether Johnny thought he needed that mothering or not.  True to his personality though, as Johnny settled into the routine of the camp his natural charm began to shine through and he quickly became a favorite of all the children and the older women.

 

     Dixie watched this slow transformation on Johnny’s part during their first week at the camp.  She was pleased to see the ‘old’ Johnny start to emerge as the worries and upsets that had brought him here began to recede because of the children.  The twelve boys Johnny was in charge of depended upon him to be everything from father, to big brother, to friend, to playmate, to paramedic.  He broke up squabbles, wrestled, ran races, instigated water fights, joked, teased, pointed a stern finger and gave a firm order to, “Knock it off, boys,” or “Get that bed made now,” when needed, and bandaged scraped knees.

 

     The routine of the camp varied little from day to day.  All the children, regardless of how young, had jobs to do.  Each cabin was assigned daily chores on a rotating basis.  Aside from being responsible for keeping their cabins cleaned, the kids took turns helping in the kitchen, folding laundry, cleaning the locker rooms, which included dreaded latrine duty, and weeding flower beds.  Despite that, there was still plenty of time for other activities.  Each day included hiking, swimming, an arts and crafts session, and games such as baseball, dodge ball, kick ball, capture the flag, tag, and hide and seek.  The camp also had two-dozen old bicycles donated by the residents of Heaven.  The cabins took turns using them.  Johnny always made sure Dixie’s group was assigned to make use of the bikes the same day his boys were.  The nurse and paramedic would then lead the kids on a long ride down the quiet country road that surrounded the camp, and on two different occasions Johnny had guided them all to Heaven where he’d bought ice cream for the entire group at the Heavenly Sensations ice cream parlor.

 

     After lunch each day Tess led a thirty-minute sing-a-long, followed by thirty minutes of English lessons as conducted by one of the college students. Finally, there was the bonfire each night after the sun went down.  Sometimes there was more singing as marshmallows were roasted, sometimes stories were told, or sometimes they just sat quietly and watched the fire burn, everyone tired from a long day of chores, lessons, and play. 

    

     By his second week in Heaven, Johnny no longer thought of using the phone to call someone to come pick him up.  He had checked on the condition of the Land Rover when he’d taken the kids and Dixie for ice cream, but had been told by Gil both times, “Nope, she’s not ready yet.”

 

     “But it doesn’t even look like you’ve done any work on it.”

 

     “Can’t say as I have.”

 

     “Why not?”

     “ ‘Cause Doc Ferguson says you ain’t ready to leave Heaven.”

 

     “What does that have to do with anything?”

 

     “Well, the Doc put Tess in charge of your care, and until you gain back some weight and strengthen that leg the Doc says you ain’t goin’ no where.  As of right now Tess hasn’t given the Doc her okay for you to leave, so I guess you’ll be hangin’ around Heaven a little while longer.”

 

     “First of all, Tess is not in charge of my care.  I’m a paramedic.  I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

 

     “That might impress me if I knew what a paramedic was.”

 

     “It’s a--” Johnny sighed while rolling his eyes.  “Never mind.  It doesn’t matter.  The doctor has no business discussing my health with anyone, least of all you.  That’s breaking doctor/patient confidentiality.”

 

     “Well now, I reckon it might be, but then Sam. . .Doc Ferguson, is my brother-in-law ya’ see, so I don’t suppose he can be held too accountable for what he lets slip out at the Sunday dinner table after his stomach is full and his eyes are gettin’ a little droopy.”

 

     Johnny might have argued that point with Gil that afternoon if it hadn’t been for Dixie and the children riding by the gas station on their bikes and beckoning the paramedic to return to the campground with them.  For whatever reason, after that day, it was no longer as important to Johnny to leave Heaven, as it became important for him to stay.

 

     By then the paramedic had discovered that a freight train chugged by the campground each morning at three a.m.  The blowing of the whistle invariably penetrated his sleep and brought on a nightmare.  He’d wake up screaming night after night, only to have Shen Bo climb in his bed to comfort him.  Johnny’s bond with the boy continued to grow.  Like Johnny himself, Shen Bo possessed an abundance of charm and was a friend to all who met him.  Therefore; it was Shen Bo who took it the hardest whenever a child left the camp for his or her new home, or when one of the counselors had to leave, only to be replaced by someone new.  Johnny held the boy many times during the first two weeks he was at A Little Bit Of Heaven. While the crying child was happy that a friend was finding a permanent home, he was also heartbroken at the thought of never seeing that friend again, and heartbroken at the thought of being left behind with no one to love him.  When his tears would begin to slow he’d invariably ask Johnny, “Shen Bo go to father soon, Misser Honey?”  To which Johnny would always reply quietly, “I don’t know, Bo.  We’ll just have to wait and see.”

 

     By the start of their third week as camp counselors, Dixie noticed something about ‘Mr. Honey,’ as she teasingly called him on occasion, that she didn’t reveal to Johnny.  Physically, he was getting stronger.  He was gaining weight, looking well rested despite the bad dreams Shen Bo had told her about, had a healthy color to his cheeks again, plus a golden tan to go along with that color.  The scar on Johnny’s forehead was gradually fading to the point that Dixie knew plastic surgery wouldn’t be necessary.  In addition to those things, the paramedic’s limp was far less prominent than it had been when she arrived.  Dixie surmised all the physical activity - running, biking, hiking, and swimming, had done more to help heal Johnny’s leg than any physical therapy at Rampart ever could have.  Given a couple more weeks of this type of daily exercise and Johnny would likely be back in the type of condition that would allow Kelly Brackett to release him to return to work.                 

 

     Despite Johnny’s reputation around Station 51 for being frugal at best, and cheap at worst, he was very generous with “my boys” as he referred to his charges.  Day trips thus far had included a bus ride to a county fair where Tess’s budget allowed for admittance for each child, plus two rides, one cold drink, and one treat be it cotton candy, corn on the cob, or a taffy apple.  Johnny had used his own money to buy two additional ride tickets for his boys, and then purchased hot dogs for them.  He swore the kids to secrecy so the other children’s feelings wouldn’t be hurt, but of course, Shen Bo spilled the beans to Dixie the first chance he got on the bus ride back to camp.

 

     “And Misser Honey buy boys dog hots, Dickie.  Shen Bo like dog hots.  Put lots of ketchup on like Misser Honey does.  And Shen Bo order Coke Cola ‘cause that what Misser Honey drink.”

 

     Dixie smiled at the boy from where he sat next to her in a seat at the rear of the bus.   “You really like Mr. Honey, don’t you, sweetie?”

 

     “Shen Bo love him.  Shen Bo live with Misser Honey if father no come for Shen Bo.”

 

     Dixie frowned with concern at that comment.  “Did Mr. Honey tell you that?”

     “No.”  Shen Bo shook his head.  “But Shen Bo know that what happen.  Misser Honey - he no have wife, so he say Shen Bo not be happy at his house.  But Shen Bo no care.  No need mother if have Misser Honey.  And Shen Bo think Dickie can marry Misser Honey, then Misser Honey have wife and Shen Bo live with Dickie and Misser Honey, okay?”

 

     Dixie ran a hand through the boy’s hair while giving him a gentle smile. 

 

     “Sweetheart, you’re a very special boy, and you’ll make some man and woman a wonderful son very soon.  I’m sure of that.  But no, sweetie, Mr. Honey and I won’t be getting married.”

 

     “Why?”

     “Because we’re just friends.”

    

     “But friends love each other, no?”

 

     “Yes, that’s true.  But it’s not the kind of love to build a marriage around.  Johnny. . . Mr. Honey, is more like a little brother to me than a husband.  Does that make sense?”

 

     “So you no love Misser Honey?”

     “I do love him, but not in the way a woman loves her husband.  He’s just. . .Johnny’s a very good friend to me, Shen Bo, but he won’t be my husband.”

 

     “I go ask him.”

 

     Before Dixie could stop the boy, he charged up the bus aisle to where Johnny was seated with two other campers from his cabin. 

 

     “Misser Honey!  Misser Honey!  You marry Dickie?”

     Johnny turned around in his seat.  He grinned as he caught Dixie’s eye and saw the red circles staining her cheeks.

 

     “I will if she’ll have me.  Do you think I should propose?”

     Shen Bo jumped up and down.  “Yes!  Yes!  Ask Dickie marry you, Misser Honey!”

 

     “Will she say yes?”

 

     “She say love you like friend, not husband.  But you will be good husband, Misser Honey, and soon she love you lots and lots.”

 

     Johnny laughed.  “That sounds good to me.  Especially the part about her giving me a lot of lovin’.”

 

     “Johnny!”  Dixie shrieked from the back of the bus.  “Behave yourself in front of these children.”

 

     The paramedic waggled his eyebrows at Dixie, laughed again, then turned in his seat.  The woman simply shook her head at the young man, but if the truth was known she wasn’t the least bit offended by his sexual innuendo.  His sense of humor was returning, and after what he’d been through the last few months, Dixie McCall was going to be the last person on earth to scold him for that.

 

     Dixie had a feeling things were getting back on track for the paramedic the day the kids visited a nearby fire department.   At first Johnny didn’t want to go on this particular field trip, but Shen Bo wouldn’t hear of him remaining behind at the camp.  Johnny might have ignored the child’s pleadings and bypassed the trip if it hadn’t been for one thing.  Clay Hastings.  He was always the bus driver Tess assigned to Johnny’s and Dixie’s groups, and the paramedic had a strong dislike for the way the man ogled Dixie, not to mention how he treated the kids.  Hastings kept his bad behavior in check if he thought Johnny was watching him.  Otherwise, his leering eyes rarely strayed from Dixie, and if he could get away with it he wasn’t beneath calling a child a ‘yellow bastard’ beneath his breath or giving a kid a shove if no one was looking.  Johnny had yet to determine what the man’s problem was, but had surmised a strong dose of prejudice was part of it.  He also assumed, based on the guy’s attitude, that Hastings hated his job.  Andrew had told Johnny that Clay was the only person currently paid to work at A Little Bit Of Heaven.  If that was the case, Johnny didn’t understand why the man didn’t move onto something else if being around kids wasn’t his thing, but he supposed the need of a paycheck might have something to do with it.

 

     Despite Clay’s surly attitude, they arrived at the fire department without incident.  Johnny hung back and remained silent as the station captain gave the children a tour.  It wasn’t until Shen Bo pointed to him declaring, “Misser Honey a fireman, too!”  that John was inadvertently drawn into the proceedings.  The captain began questioning him on where he worked and what he did.  The man was impressed when Johnny said he was a paramedic.  The paramedic program hadn’t reached this rural county yet, but Captain Gleary had done extensive reading about it and was eager to gain more knowledge from someone with first hand experience.  He turned the group over to one of his men and pulled Johnny into his office.  When John reappeared thirty minutes later Dixie could see the old enthusiasm sparkling from his eyes for a job he loved, and so recently had been considering giving up. 

 

     On the bus ride back to camp that day Dixie heard Shen Bo ask Johnny, “Being a para. . .

para. . .paramedic good job, Misser Honey?”

 

     “You bet, Bo.  It’s one of the best jobs a guy could have.”

 

     “Then Shen Bo be paramedic, too, someday.”

 

     Johnny didn’t try to argue the boy out of that career choice, which gave Dixie another clue as to how much John Gage was beginning to miss his job, his home, his best friend, and Station 51.

 

 

Part 5