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?”