Ryder's Angel

Chapter Twenty: Numbered: Danny

Chapter Twenty: Numbered: Danny

The next few days passed by drearily. Miss Sadie’s state of health was kept from anyone’s ears. The mind readers and future-tellers were sworn to keep the secret, but most of us had no idea why her health was being heavily guarded – you’d think it was the president in the infirmary, not an old woman who runs an orphanage.

For me, of course, it made no difference. But the days went on, and things were normal despite the secrecy. Penelope and Jason keep to themselves and were hardly ever seen. But we’d certainly heard the story, whether true or not: They supposedly didn’t know he could go down stairs by himself. No one knew what really happened – how Miss Sadie broke her leg – because the only witness was Ethan, who couldn’t talk, and the mind readers or future-tellers had taken the oath not to say anything.

My son, with his short attention span, was happier than ever, discovering new ways to get into trouble. Twice we had to fetch him from the bathroom – I didn’t see what was so entertaining about sticking your hand in the dirty toilet water – and soon we had to put a gate blocking the stairway. Then we had to chase him around throughout the orphanage because someone left the elevator open. Still, he was getting bigger every day, had a bigger appetite, his baby teeth were growing in, and he was slowly learning to form words.

Angeline was no different – just her usual, mixed feelings self, but whenever around me or Ethan, she was aglow with happiness. Our son’s mere face made her smile like he was the center of her world. She was leaner than she was in a long time, though, what with losing her baby fat.

Now, we go to teach the thirteen-year-olds, we take Ethan with us, putting him in a playpen. Kendall sits and watches him in his wheelchair. Kendall was doing great, even finding himself in love with Veronica, Dr. Blu’s twenty-two-year-old assistant.

But after two full weeks, the time came for the secret to be revealed. At dinner, with Ethan in my lap and his hands in my half eaten spaghetti – sauce and noodles all over the place, all eyes trained on his giggling face – all heads turned suddenly toward the quiet sound of a throat being cleared. There was Miss Sadie in a wheelchair in the doorway. Several people gasped. Ethan had no clue what was everyone was staring at, so he repeatedly patted my face impatiently with sauce-stained fingers, saying “Daddy? Daddy, what w’ong?”

But I wasn’t listening – I was staring at the woman who was like my mother. Miss Sadie looked much older than she had a few weeks ago. Deep lines were etched in her face, her back hunched over, and a faded smile that had never been faded before. Her eyes were sad and helpless. Her leg was in a cast and her wrist looked different too, a little cooked if not bent farther than normal.

Angeline was first to stand, her beautiful features pained, but she was at a loss for words.

Her voice was hoarse when she finally spoke after hesitating, her bent wrist twitching. “I could be better, my dears,” she replied softly. “However, I need to speak with you, Miss Angeline.” Miss Sadie looked at me, her eyes then getting brighter, happier, when she saw Ethan in my lap, his fingers in his mouth. “You, Daniel, and your young son as well, please.” I didn’t like her formal tone.

Angeline quickly snatched a couple napkins and Ethan from me, rapidly wiping his face while leaving the deathly quiet dinner room to follow Miss Sadie. No one had heard her use this tone before. She led us to a room where the blinds were closed. She told me blankly to close and lock the door, and I did so hesitantly. Ang and I sat in one of the chairs with Miss Sadie in front of us – which reminded me of almost four years ago when we going to tell Kendall he was going to be an uncle.

Miss Sadie’s face was pained as she sat in her wheelchair and so were her eyes, but when she rested her gaze on Ethan’s sauce-covered face – Angeline was wiping each of his fingers one by one stiffly, uncomfortably – the pain disappeared and was replaced by pure joy. It was almost as if my son had saved her life, not cut it shorter.