Words Get In the Way (15 page)

Linden nodded thoughtfully. “I’d like to read it someday.”

Fairbanks smiled, took off his glasses, and wiped them on his shirt. He suddenly looked a bit distracted. “Someday ...” he murmured.

Linden put the headset on his head and climbed in the truck. Henry looked at him curiously, furrowed his brow, and then looked away, but when Linden took the headset off and reached over to put them on Henry, he didn’t resist.

Linden looked back at Fairbanks, raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

Fairbanks nodded. “We sometimes mimic what people do. That’s how we get our clues.” Linden listened to Fairbanks refer to himself and others who have autism as “we,” almost as if they were a separate class of people. It sounded odd.

“Thank you again,” Linden said as he started the truck. He began to pull away but then stopped to call back. “I may not be here the next couple of days. I have a cow that’s about to calve, and I need to keep an eye on her.”

Fairbanks nodded and waved. “No hurry!”

31

C
allie had been sitting in the waiting room, staring at the same print for what seemed like hours. She had noticed it as soon as she sat down, and she’d immediately stood back up to walk over and look at the title. The gold plate read, A VIEW OF THE MOUNTAIN PASS CALLED THE NOTCH OF THE WHITE MOUNTAINS, 1839. Below the title was the name of the artist: THOMAS COLE (1801–1848).
It doesn’t look like Franconia,
she thought,
so it must be Crawford
. She took a sip of her coffee and did the math: Thomas Cole was only thirty-eight when he painted it and he died nine years later. She wondered why he had died so young. She opened the book on her lap and tried to read but soon found herself gazing at the painting again.

It was beautiful. The sun-dappled trees were swept with red and orange brushstrokes, and although it seemed like a tranquil autumn scene at first, the viewer soon realized that a storm was imminent. To the west, a threatening cloud, bursting with rain, was coming over the mountain, and a man on a black horse was racing through the pass, trying to reach the safety of a white house tucked at the base of the mountain. The clear blue autumn sky and sun-filled valley were contrasted ominously against the black clouds and shadows of the storm sweeping over the mountain. Callie gazed at it, her eyes taking in every detail. She felt the urgency the painter was trying to express and she understood all too well the feeling of racing, running, and longing for safety.

Callie’s mind wandered back to the art history class she’d taken in college. She’d dreaded that class! Slide after slide flashing across a tremendous screen in an impersonal lecture hall while the art professor droned on and on. Callie had tried to remember each artist and date by finding a part of the painting that looked like a letter or number to trigger a clue, but it had all seemed so pointless. What mattered in art was how the painting made you feel. She sighed. So few of those paintings made her feel the way this one did. It was how she felt all the time!

She looked at the clock. It was twelve-thirty. She took a sip of her now cold coffee and wondered if there was a microwave nearby. Maybe she should get something to eat too, although she still wasn’t very hungry. Her stomach was too tied up in knots of worry. She stood to stretch her legs, stepped closer to the painting, and thought of the time she and her parents had hiked from Crawford Notch to Ethan Pond. It had been on her tenth birthday and, when they finally got there, she’d been so hot she’d jumped in the pond with all her clothes on. Somewhere in the house there was a picture of her standing next to her dad, wet and grinning.
Oh, how I’d love to go back to the carefree simplicity of that day,
she thought longingly.

Callie turned from the painting and went to look for a microwave. As she rounded the corner, she saw Jess standing outside one of the rooms, looking at the open notebook on her medicine cart. “Hey, Jess,” Callie said.

Jess looked up and smiled. “Hey, honey, any news yet?” Callie shook her head and Jess looked at her watch. “Anytime, now, don’t you worry. Dr. Franklin is the best.”

Callie nodded. “Do you guys have a place I can nuke this?” she asked, holding up her coffee cup.

“I can do better than that. There’s a fresh pot in that little room right there, and there’s a plate of homemade brownies one of the nurses brought in. Help yourself.”

“Thanks.”

“Have you eaten anything today?”

Callie shook her head.

“Do you want somethin’ more than brownies? They’re goin’ ’round with the food cart and there’s always extra. It’s not your typical hospital food either. Not like when your mama worked here. It’s all fresh local produce and everythin’. You should try it.”

“Thanks, but I’m not very hungry.”

“You should eat, girl! You’re too skinny! You need to put some meat on those bones.” She patted her own round arm. “Have one of those brownies. They are yum-
mee!
”

“Okay, I will.” Callie disappeared into the nurses’ room. She warmed up the little bit of coffee left in her cup with some from the fresh pot and then took a small brownie and retreated to the waiting area. A middle-aged couple and a doctor were standing in the hall, talking quietly. The woman was crying and the man had his arm around her shoulders. Callie looked at the painting and tried not to eavesdrop, but she quickly realized that the couple’s teenage son had just been diagnosed with cancer. Listening to their hushed anguish, Callie’s eyes filled with tears.
Oh, God, why do You let these things happen? What lesson can his parents learn from this ... besides grief and despair?

Out of the blue an answer filled Callie’s mind.
They can learn to trust me!
Callie shook her head in wonder and glanced at the couple. The woman’s sobbing was easing, and the man was nodding resolutely. Callie could tell, from the change in their demeanor, that they were not giving up. They were determined to win this fight and, like it or not, they
would
learn to trust. She looked at the painting again and wondered if the man on the horse ever reached the safety of the house. It was a question that the artist had purposely left unanswered.

Callie reached for the book beside her and thought of Henry and Linden. She closed her eyes and prayed that everyone she loved would be okay. What more could she do? She needed to learn to trust too and she wondered if this was
her
lesson.

Moments later, Dr. Franklin appeared, and Callie stood up, her heart pounding. He smiled. “Everything went well. Your dad’s in recovery. He’s still a bit groggy, but you can see him.”

A ray of sunshine spilled into the corner of her dad’s room as Callie sat near his bed and watched his chest rise and fall. He was sound asleep ... but he was alive and his prognosis was good. She held his hand and whispered a prayer of thanksgiving.

32

H
enry traipsed along after Linden, still wearing the pilot’s headset. Behind him trailed Springer, and moseying along on her own was Kat. Henry had helped Linden feed the animals, but Linden had quickly discovered that, with the headset on, Henry didn’t hear anything and he’d had to motion with his hands to communicate with him. He’d begun to wonder if the headset was a bad idea. He hoped Callie wouldn’t be upset about it and, if she didn’t approve, he hoped Henry didn’t give her a hard time. He suddenly had a funny feeling about the whole thing, which was never a good sign.

Callie raised her eyebrows when she saw the oversized headphones covering her son’s ears and Linden quickly explained. “It turns out Fairbanks has autism too, but you’d never know it ... except for a couple of quirky little things he does.” Callie listened as Linden went on. “Why don’t we give ’em a try? Fairbanks said he used to wear them when he was little. It made it easier for his parents to go out to dinner, and you said Henry wasn’t fond of restaurants, so I thought we could go to Harlow’s tonight and see if it helps.”

“I don’t know,” Callie said slowly. “What if they don’t help? Besides, I thought you wanted spaghetti.”

“We can have spaghetti another time, and if Henry’s not happy, we’ll get dinner to go.”

Callie hesitated. “All right,” she said finally.

“I just need to take a quick shower,” Linden said.

“Need help?” Callie teased. Linden raised his eyebrows, and she laughed, suddenly embarrassed. “Just kidding.”

“Want a beer?” Linden called as he went inside.

“No, thanks, but I’ll have a sip of yours.”

“
Mine
will be in the shower with me.”

“Oh, well, save some for me, then.” She sank into one of the chairs on the porch and watched Henry gently stroking Springer’s soft ears. As she watched, she realized that her son seemed to be teasing the hapless dog. He’d pet him and then take his hand away, and moments later Springer would open his eyes and nuzzle Henry’s hand for more and Henry would oblige briefly but stop again, waiting for Springer to nudge him again.

A few minutes later, Linden pushed open the screen door. His hair was wet and he was wearing a clean white T-shirt with a picture of Tuckerman’s Ravine on the back. He held his beer out to Callie, and she took it and nodded toward Henry. “Watch what my son is doing to your poor dog.” Linden watched Henry pet Springer and then stop and wait for his hand to be nudged.

Linden grinned. “He’s just like his mother ... a big tease!”

Callie laughed and took a sip of the beer. “Mmmm, this tastes good.” She handed it back to him. “Are you ready, finally?”

“Yup.”

Linden pulled the car seat out of the truck and put it back in Callie’s car.

“I can’t believe you’re still driving this Nova,” he said.

“Two hundred twenty-eight thousand miles!” she said proudly.

“No!”

“Yup!” she said, beaming.

Linden helped Henry climb in and then pulled the seat back and got in too. He shook his head and looked around. “Lots of memories in this old car,” he said wistfully. Callie smiled, remembering too.

Even though it was early, Harlow’s Pub was busy. Henry trundled through the crowded restaurant, wearing the headset and holding Linden’s hand. A friendly waitress showed them to a table in back, eyed Henry curiously, took their drink order, and disappeared. Linden turned Henry’s paper place mat over and, with a pen he pulled from his pocket, drew a quick sketch of a cartoonish dog that looked a lot like Springer. Henry reached for the pen and immediately began drawing what looked like a small person standing beside the dog.

“Do you know what you’re having?” Callie asked, peering over the top of her menu. “We should try to make this quick.”

Linden nodded. “Just waiting on you.”

“You already know?” she asked in surprise.

“Yup.”

Callie looked back at the menu as the waitress returned with their drinks. “Ready to order?” she asked. Henry continued to draw and didn’t look up.

Callie smiled. “I think so... .” She looked at Linden. “Go ahead.”

Linden handed the waitress his unopened menu. “I’ll have a Reuben, please.”

Callie smiled, still studying the menu and feeling the pressure of the waitress’s eyes. “Hmmm ... how ’bout an Avocado Bliss and a BLT for Henry,” she said, closing the menu and handing it to her with a smile. “Thank you.”

Callie watched Henry drawing contentedly on the place mat and sighed. “I don’t know if it’s the headset, the pen, or
you,
but it’s never this easy.”

“It’s me,” Linden said with a grin.

Callie took a sip of her drink and shook her head.

“So, the surgery went well and your dad woke up right before you left?”

She nodded again.

“What happens next?”

“I’m not sure. Rehab, I guess.” She sighed. “I just wish he were strong enough to move back home.”

“Maybe he will be. My uncle had stents put in after his heart attack, and he felt much better. He had to change his lifestyle though. Exercise and diet ... and my aunt had to keep after him all the time.”

Callie nodded. “Well, I hope they move him out of ICU soon so Henry can see him. I think that’ll cheer him up.”

“Are you going tomorrow?”

Callie shook her head in dismay and laughed. “I don’t know. Are you free?”

“I’ll be around all day. Reba is going to have her calf soon and I need to keep an eye on her, but if she seems okay in the morning, I thought maybe we could go for a hike.”

The waitress brought over a tray with their sandwiches and asked if they needed anything else. They both shook their heads and she disappeared again.

“Where are you thinking of hiking?”

“Monadnock?” Linden replied questioningly, taking a bite of his sandwich.

“Don’t you think that’s a little far for Henry?”

Linden shook his head, swallowed. “I think there’s one of those L.L.Bean child carriers in the attic.”

Callie took a bite of her sandwich and nodded thoughtfully. “Oh, my goodness, this sandwich is amazing,” she said, her mouth full. “I love avocado. Do you want to try it?”

Linden laughed. “No, thanks, I believe you. But somehow you’ve managed to get some of that amazing avocado on your chin.”

Callie found the avocado with her finger and licked it. “Thank you,” she said with a grin. She looked over at Henry and realized he was still drawing. “Henry,” she called, trying to get his attention, but he didn’t hear her. Linden touched Henry’s arm and pushed the plate toward him, inadvertently covering his drawing.

Clutching the pen in his fist, Henry angrily pushed the plate away and almost spilled his milk. “Hey!” Linden said in surprise.

“Leave him,” Callie said quietly. “If he gets upset, we’ll have to leave. I’ll just have it wrapped and he can eat it later.”

“How do you know when he’s just being defiant?” Linden asked.

“I don’t,” she replied, shaking her head. “That’s the hard part.”

Callie drove slowly along the dirt road leading to the cabin. When she pulled in, several sets of startled eyes looked up, glowing mischievously. “Damn those raccoons!” Linden growled. He opened his door, and the raccoons scurried off in the direction of the river, bickering as they went, but the damage was already done: the birdfeeder was on the ground and the seed that was left was scattered across the ground.