Read Online A Rendezvous to Die For by Betty McMahon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Betty McMahon
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maybe three, four
times in a year.” He played with his napkin, twisting it around his
finger.
“ Is he easy to work with?”
“ He’s a grumpy kind of guy,
know what I mean?” He glanced at me again. “Maybe he don’t mean
nothin’ by it, but he can be rude as hell. And demandin’.” He
motioned for the waitress to bring him another bottle of Coors.
“ Like when?”
“ The last time, I thought he
was gonna throw a punch at one of the EMTs.” He took a long swig
from the bottle.
“ Why?
What happened?”
Randy rested his elbows on the
table and leaned toward me, making eye contact for the first time.
“It was an accident out on County Road 113. Remember it? Middle of
the winter? Colder ‘n a witch’s tit.”
“ I can only imagine.”
He dropped his gaze and ran a
finger around the rim of the beer bottle “A mother and her son went
off the road and plowed into a snow fence. Both had to be airlifted
out of there. We had the two bundled up when Madigan set his chopper
down in the road. The guy insisted on seein’ their faces before
he’d take ‘em on board.”
“ Was that a problem?”
Randy folded his arms and leaned
back in the booth, gazing in my general direction. “I’d say so.
They’d been bandaged up and covered to keep from gettin’ frost
bite and goin’ into shock. Usual thing is to just load ‘em up and
fly the chopper to the hospital. Every minute counts. You know?”
“ So what happened?” I leaned
toward him to make sure I caught every word.
“ Madigan kinda spazzed out.”
He rubbed his forehead. “He’s a big guy, you know? He pulled his
arm back like he was gonna hit the EMT guy, then yanked the cover off
the woman, took a quick look, and told the EMT to load ’em up.”
“ Was the EMT concerned that
Marty might not transport them safely?”
“ Well, yeah, but he wasn’t
about to challenge him. He’s got the only chopper for miles around.
Nobody’s gonna make Marty mad.”
“ Thank you for telling me about
this, Randy. I really appreciate it.” I reached into my pocket and
handed him my business card. “Just in case you think of anything
else,” I said.
All
by itself, Marty’s behavior probably did seem strange, but if his
family really did disappear without his knowledge, maybe he was still
focused on searching for them. As much as anyone else, I knew the
powerful pull family could have on a person. While Marty had a family
and lost it, I remembered a time when I didn’t have a family and
yearned for one.
Foster mothers would tell me,
“Any day now, a family is going to swoop you up and take you home
for their very own!” What I really wanted was for my own parents to
come back and reclaim me. I imagined them “somewhere.” Whenever I
went into a public place, I looked for my “real parents.” I’d
check out every passing couple and listened to how they talked to
each other or to their kids. I even studied their eyes, to see if
they were like mine. But every year, my fantasy family faded further
into the background, and months passed into years. Over and over
again, I packed my meager belongings and moved on to another foster
family’s house. Always abruptly. Always without discussion.
I remembered the oft-repeated
scenario, as if it were yesterday. My social worker would come to
school to pick me up. She’d take me out to her car, and my clothes
would be there, in plastic bags. Once, I was allowed to keep a toy
stuffed horse I’d gotten for a birthday. But in ten years, I didn’t
own anything that couldn’t be put into a Hefty bag.
One day, I started looking
forward to a permanent new family, not backward to the ones who’d
abandoned me. As each placement ended, I would think that maybe the
next one was the real family, the real mother, the real place I could
stay forever. I still had my stuffed horse with me when the concept
of “family” took on a whole new meaning. Mrs. A took me in and
kept me with her until she died, when I was
times in a year.” He played with his napkin, twisting it around his
finger.
“ Is he easy to work with?”
“ He’s a grumpy kind of guy,
know what I mean?” He glanced at me again. “Maybe he don’t mean
nothin’ by it, but he can be rude as hell. And demandin’.” He
motioned for the waitress to bring him another bottle of Coors.
“ Like when?”
“ The last time, I thought he
was gonna throw a punch at one of the EMTs.” He took a long swig
from the bottle.
“ Why?
What happened?”
Randy rested his elbows on the
table and leaned toward me, making eye contact for the first time.
“It was an accident out on County Road 113. Remember it? Middle of
the winter? Colder ‘n a witch’s tit.”
“ I can only imagine.”
He dropped his gaze and ran a
finger around the rim of the beer bottle “A mother and her son went
off the road and plowed into a snow fence. Both had to be airlifted
out of there. We had the two bundled up when Madigan set his chopper
down in the road. The guy insisted on seein’ their faces before
he’d take ‘em on board.”
“ Was that a problem?”
Randy folded his arms and leaned
back in the booth, gazing in my general direction. “I’d say so.
They’d been bandaged up and covered to keep from gettin’ frost
bite and goin’ into shock. Usual thing is to just load ‘em up and
fly the chopper to the hospital. Every minute counts. You know?”
“ So what happened?” I leaned
toward him to make sure I caught every word.
“ Madigan kinda spazzed out.”
He rubbed his forehead. “He’s a big guy, you know? He pulled his
arm back like he was gonna hit the EMT guy, then yanked the cover off
the woman, took a quick look, and told the EMT to load ’em up.”
“ Was the EMT concerned that
Marty might not transport them safely?”
“ Well, yeah, but he wasn’t
about to challenge him. He’s got the only chopper for miles around.
Nobody’s gonna make Marty mad.”
“ Thank you for telling me about
this, Randy. I really appreciate it.” I reached into my pocket and
handed him my business card. “Just in case you think of anything
else,” I said.
All
by itself, Marty’s behavior probably did seem strange, but if his
family really did disappear without his knowledge, maybe he was still
focused on searching for them. As much as anyone else, I knew the
powerful pull family could have on a person. While Marty had a family
and lost it, I remembered a time when I didn’t have a family and
yearned for one.
Foster mothers would tell me,
“Any day now, a family is going to swoop you up and take you home
for their very own!” What I really wanted was for my own parents to
come back and reclaim me. I imagined them “somewhere.” Whenever I
went into a public place, I looked for my “real parents.” I’d
check out every passing couple and listened to how they talked to
each other or to their kids. I even studied their eyes, to see if
they were like mine. But every year, my fantasy family faded further
into the background, and months passed into years. Over and over
again, I packed my meager belongings and moved on to another foster
family’s house. Always abruptly. Always without discussion.
I remembered the oft-repeated
scenario, as if it were yesterday. My social worker would come to
school to pick me up. She’d take me out to her car, and my clothes
would be there, in plastic bags. Once, I was allowed to keep a toy
stuffed horse I’d gotten for a birthday. But in ten years, I didn’t
own anything that couldn’t be put into a Hefty bag.
One day, I started looking
forward to a permanent new family, not backward to the ones who’d
abandoned me. As each placement ended, I would think that maybe the
next one was the real family, the real mother, the real place I could
stay forever. I still had my stuffed horse with me when the concept
of “family” took on a whole new meaning. Mrs. A took me in and
kept me with her until she died, when I was
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