The Kid & Me: Chapter Three: The Inheritance

Previous Episodes:

Chapter One: The Diary
Chapter Two: The Letters

Author's Note: Any of the smaller pictures can be enlarged simply by clicking them with your mouse.

Before leaving the Bimbo Farm Hotel I had sent off a quick email to the kid telling her I was coming home. It was late on a Wednesday evening when I arrived, but I quickly unpacked, showered and hit the bed. The next morning, I had decided to start my day by doing some diving, along with a few laps around the pool. The water felt cool and clean as the summer heat was beginning to settle into the relentless suffocating fire that defines living in the valleys of Eastern California.

With each dive into the water I would rate myself as if I were in the Olympics going for the gold medal. That morning on my first two dives, I couldn't do any better than a 5.0 out of a possible 6. No gold medal for those dives. On my third dive I was ready. My concentration was strong, I jumped up on the spring board, headed into two perfect spins. And as I did the telephone rang, throwing my concentration off and my legs to bend as I entered the water.

"Darn phone," I thought as I came back up to the surface. "That was certainly no better than an 2.0."

I hurriedly climbed the ladder out of the pool, not bothering to dry myself off. The phone was still ringing, and I cursed myself for having forgotten to turn the answering machine back on. I walked to the front of the house to answer it. A woman's voice, answered and the first thing I thought of was that it was the tele-marketers again

"Is this the Baker residence," the voice asked me.

"Yes, it is," I answered thinking I was about to get a long sales pitch."

"Would your name be Joseph Baker III" she asked. There wasn't anybody I knew who called me Joseph anymore and there had never been anybody who put the Roman Numeral after my name. The last time anyone had called me by my full first name had been my father, but I answered affirmatively.

"Did you have a cousin by the name of Veronica, Veronica Appleton?" I thought for a moment and a couple of bells went off. I remembered the kid telling me about all the phone calls from a Mrs. Martinson asking about my cousin Veronica. That cousin's last name wasn't Appleton, it was Turner which had been my mother's maiden name.

"I don't have a cousin by the name of Veronica Appleton. The Veronica that was my cousin was Veronica Turner." I told her.

"Yes, yes," Mr. Baker. "That would be her maiden name. When she married, her name became Appleton."

"Well I haven't seen my cousin in years, before my father died. How's she doing?," I asked still not having a clue as to where the conversation was headed.

"Mr. Baker, your cousin is deceased, I'm afraid. She came down with pneumonia while working in one of our missions overseas."

I had hardly known Veronica, but I offered my sympathies. "I'm sorry to hear that Mrs. Martinson. She was such a wonderful person," I offered. I didn't really have a clue as to what kind of a person Veronica was, but if she was working in a missionary she couldn't exactly have been a bad person, could she? "So how can I help you Mrs. Martinson?"

"It seems, you are Veronica's only living relative. Her husband passed away in a helicopter accident just a few years ago. There is no one else. Veronica left specific instructions that in the event of her death, we were to contact you, and see that you take care of her personal belongings."

I couldn't think of what kind of personal belongings a missionary might have that needed to be taken care of, but as long as there wasn't a lot of paper work involved or lawyers or anything like that, I figured that it was the least I could do. The last time I had seen Veronica, I vaguely remember her and dad having a fight about something, and Dad in no uncertain terms had told her to butt out.

"I'm only going to be in the States for a few more days Mr. Baker, so I would like to take care of this matter as soon as possible. Of course at your convenience. I can drive into Devonshire from L.A. on Saturday morning and meet you at your residence. There's no need to worry Mr. Baker, your cousin had very little in the way of personal belongings, but I do think it fitting that we honor her final requests since she had always given so much to so many."

"You are a kind and thoughtful person, Mr. Baker." she said after I had rattled off the directions. "Your cousin would be proud" I wasn't sure that Miss Martinson could find too many people at the moment to agree with that particular assessment of me, and if Veronica were alive, I doubt if she would agree with it either. I thanked her, shrugged my shoulders and hung up, eager to get back to my diving and swimming.

Once again as I stepped onto the the diving board, my concentration grabbed hold. I flew off of the spring board did my triple somersault and went into the water smooth as silk, then swam to the surface. "A perfect 6 if there ever was one," I chuckled to myself.

I spent most of Friday checking on business. Yeah, I was rich, but Dad's money still had to be looked after from time to time. The stock market page was the usual, some were up, some were down, some just stayed the same. I also made a quick trip into town to check with my accountant and my stockbroker and was assured everything was going fine. I also put a call into my attorney, Edgar Hatch, to tell him about the Martinson lady. He said considering she was a missionary, he couldn't foresee any problems there. If I had any doubts once the woman arrived, I could call him at his office on Monday morning. So my mind having been put at ease, I began to relax.

I placed a call to Bettie not only to thank her for taking care of my house, but I thought we might have a chat and catch each other up on what had been going on. Unfortunately, she was at her new job so that was out. Since I wasn't in the mood yet to do any other socializing or hitting the bars, I decided to take in a movie alone, and rest up so that I'd be wide awake and ready for the Martinson lady. When I returned home, there was a message from the kid on the answering machine telling me she'd be working the next day but would try to stop by on Sunday to say hello. I ended the evening by watching one of my favorite John Wayne films, True Grit, and then headed off to bed.

As it was, I climbed out of bed early the next morning, and quickly showered shaved, and spent most of the morning watching a replay of the previous evening's Dodger game. Along about the fifth inning, was when I heard the van pull up outside and looked out.

Peering out of the window, I saw a blue van being driven by a dark haired woman. I could already tell that she was much younger than I had anticipated. I guess like most people, I had this vision of most missionaries being older, and quite plain. Of course, it had been so long since I had seen Cousin Veronica, that I had a difficult time remembering exactly what she looked like. I tried standing off to the side of the window, not only to get a better view, but so that Mrs. Martinson wouldn't see me checking her out. It was then that I noticed there was another passenger in the back seat.

From a distance, it looked like a young child with pig tails. The windows of the van were somewhat tinted so it was hard to tell for sure. Mrs. Martinson hadn't mentioned having a kid but there wasn't really any reason to. I could only think she couldn't find a sitter or maybe she was going to take the kid to see the sights. Not that there were a lot of sights for tourists to to see in Devonshire.

When she stepped out of the car, Mrs. Martinson was carrying a light blue, almost grey overnight bag. If the bag had Veronica's personal belongings in it, Mrs. Martinson had been understating it when she said there wasn't much. My smallest suitcase was larger than the overnight bag. I watched as Mrs. Martinson walked around to the other side of the van and opened the door to let her kid out. I could only think that this was going to take longer than I thought, so she wouldn't be able to keep the kid in the van in the summer heat.

I saw Mrs. Martinson's lips move, so obviously she was saying something to the girl. Hopefully telling her to behave and stuff. Children were okay around me as long as they minded their manners, which is why I had always gotten along so well with Nick and the kid. As they headed across the street, the young girl trotted out ahead of the Martinson woman, and I backed away from the window to go greet them. As I turned down the hallway though, it was me who got the rude greeting instead.

The child who had been with Mrs. Martinson had come bursting through the door, and I thought of the Bettie's email about remembering to lock the door. "So much for being well behaved," I thought to myself. As the girl approached me she stopped dead in her tracks and looked up at me. I tried to smile.

"Hello Mister," was all that came out of her mouth.

As she continued to look me over I felt like a bug under a microscope. From the look on her face, I could tell she didn't care too much for what she saw. As far as I was concerned the feeling was mutual.

"Hello, little girl," was all I could manage. At that time Mrs. Martinson had reached the doorway but unlike her daughter she made no movement to come inside, or to retrieve the child so I walked over to the door to greet her. She was still carrying Veronica's bag with her belongings. I was just about to take the bag but she started talking in rush hurried tones as if she was flustered. With a kid like hers, I could see why.

"Hello, Mr. Baker, you don't know how glad I am to finally meet you. This matter has had me greatly worried. I guess it was just poor timing that all this came about while you were out of town. Of course, when the good Lord calls us to glory, we don't have much say so in the matter now do we."

I could see her point in that regards. "You can call me Joe," I told her. "There's no need to be so formal. Won't you come on in?"

"Fine, fine," she continued. "I'd really like to stay, Joe, but if I come in and make myself comfortable, it would put me way behind schedule so I'd just as soon not get too relaxed. I've only been home for a few weeks to take care of this matter, and while it has given me the chance to visit some old friends and relatives, it has been very hectic and tiring. I have a few friends in this area I'd like to visit, and with only a short time left, I think we should just get down to business."

"I suppose you're right," I told her. "And I wouldn't want to keep you, of course."

"Or her little brat," I thought not daring to say it out loud. I sneaked a quick peak behind me to see that the child was still standing silently in the foyer.

"Your cousin was such a wonderful gifted woman," Mrs. Martinson said. "she was so motivated to do God's work and help the less fortunate, especially with so many children in the world that need our assistance." For someone who was in a hurry, Mrs. Martinson was sure beating around the bush. Perhaps the true purpose of bringing my cousin's belongings was to ask for a huge donation. It couldn't have been that hard to find out about my finances. Veronica surely knew how wealthy my father was and had to have known I'd end up with the leftovers.

"We at the St. Luke missionaries get little in the way of monetary reward for our work and that's the way it should be for people who do The Lord's work." (Here comes the sales pitch I thought.)

"That's why it's so difficult for us when we lose someone like Veronica, who gave so much so unselfishly."

I was becoming impatient. For someone who seemed to be in a hurry she was spending an awful lot of time lecturing me about the good works of Cousin Veronica. If Mrs. Martinson was trying to lay a guilt trip on me, it was having no effect. I looked back in the foyer again, the young girl was still standing there and she looked right back at me. It was then that Mrs. Martinson finally put Veronica's bag down and pulled out a long form in triplicate.

"Now you can look this over if you want, Joe. It just says that you are taking custody of Veronica's possessions, and that you are entitled to do with them what ever you deem necessary." I looked at the form, of which there were five pages, all in small print. To read over them carefully would take a while and I wanted the woman and her daughter to be on their way. The temperature outside was rising steadily and I was in a mood to hit the diving board once again. So I glanced at a few paragraphs, not really reading them, then took out a pin and signed.

I handed the form back to her, she ripped off the duplicates and handed them to me.

"Is that Veronica's possessions?" I asked pointing at the bag sitting on the sidewalk.

She laughed. "Why heaven's no, Jim. Those are Dagmar's things."

"Dagmar? Who's Dagmar," I asked somewhat confused.

"Dagmar is your cousin's daughter," she answered pointing at the girl standing in the hallway. Poor child, now without a mother or a father but I'm sure the two of you will get along just great."

"No, no," Mrs. Martinson, "There must be some mistake." I answered quickly but the feeling that I'd been had began to quickly sink in. "I never agreed to take in any kids. I can't do that." I was speaking rapidly now, almost in a panic. "I'm a bachelor. Not married. I have a life to lead. I can't take care of a kid. I don't know the first thing about changing diapers."

Mrs. Martinson laughed again, but I wasn't joining in. This just couldn't be happening. Not now.

"No need to worry about that, Joe. Dagmar has been out of diapers for a long time now. And she really is a well behaved child and won't be one bit of trouble. She can almost take care of herself. I'm sure the two of you will get along just fine."

I could feel myself beginning to panic. "Please, Mrs. Martinson, I just can't have a child in my life. I mean, well how can I say this.....Mrs. Martinson, I'm a sinner. You wouldn't want to leave a child with a sinner now would you? I have a different woman in here three or four times a week. I can't have a kid running around while I'm trying to....well you know....having carnal knowledge of the opposite sex." I was hoping what I had just said would make her grab Dagmar and rescue her from the gates of hell. No such luck though.

"Mr. Baker," she said, "I am not here to judge you or your lifestyle. There is only one person you'll have to answer to when judgment day arrives. You obviously have the means to take care of the child and that is why Veronica was so insistent that you take care of her."

I walked out of the house and closed the door behind me. She was not smiling any longer and she was back to calling me Mr. Baker. "If you see fit, you can find the child a good home. If you read the papers thoroughly you'll see that it says you may do what you deem to be necessary. Now if you excuse me, I must be on my way." And she started to scurry on across the street to the van, leaving behind one child known as Dagmar, and one overnight bag.

"But...but...Mrs. Martinson...," I hollered at her as she climbed in to drive off.

"You'll be just fine, Joe. Dagmar will be no trouble at all, you'll see." and she drove off leaving me standing on the sidewalk. I stood there for the longest time, unsure of what to do next. Finally I picked the bag up, carried it into the house and set it by the door. Dagmar still stood in the same spot. It seemed like it had been an eternity but it hadn't been fifteen minutes at the most.

As I turned to look at her she was still staring at me. I had no clue as to what to say, but I'm sure the expression on my face told the girl she was not entirely welcome. We stood there eyeballing each other suspiciously before she finally turned to walk away.

I turned toward the door again, perhaps in some faint hope that Mrs. Martinson would see the errors of her way and come back to rescue Dagmar from the clutches of the evil bachelor. The door did not open, no van pulled up, and the overnight bag was there on the floor where it would stay until I had reason to move it. I thought about calling my lawyer but on a Saturday, there would be no reaching him or for that matter anyone else. The truth was that I was stuck with Dagmar for at least the better part of two days, and however many days afterward that it would take to send her on her way to some family who would take care of her. It was a bad situation, but I would just have to make the best of it. I thought about calling Bettie to help me out then remembered that she would be working at the mall. I ran down the list of my female acquaintances in my brain, but there was no one I could call that would show up to help me out. Susan Dale was the only one I could depend on, and Susan was gone. And besides, the less the gossipy citizens of Devonshire knew about my predicament the better.

I wanted to scream. I thought about how I had been in such a hurry to return home from the beach. If I had just stayed three more days, I wouldn't have been in this fix. The worst of it was, I should have taken the time to read the papers, ask some questions, but the fact was that despite Mrs. Martinson's continual evoking of the Lord's name and the missionary's good works, she had pulled a con job on me, not seen since Robert Redford and Paul Newman had joined forces in The Sting. There was nothing to do but to face the facts and face Dagmar, so I went into the living room where she had already made herself comfortable on the couch. The Dodger game was still on the TV, they were losing 10 - 0, but they were doing better than I was. I was having a no hitter pitched against me, and the opposing pitcher had struck out 27 batters for a new unbeatable record.

As I stood facing her, trying to figure out what to say, she didn't look up.

"Hello, Dagmar," was all I could manage.

"Hello, Mister, she said finally looking at me.”Are you my new daddy?"

I made a face. "No Dagmar, I'm not your daddy. Your mother was my cousin." Dagmar frowned as if she wasn't pleased, and as if she was thinking about something.

"Oh......okay, Mister." was all she said. Then she looked at me again. "My real daddy is up in heaven with my mommy and they said I was going to have another daddy to take care of me. But that's okay if you're not him." It seemed like I was having an occurrence of foot in mouth disease again. I was sorry the kid had lost her parents, but I was not the person to be raising Veronica's daughter, or anyone's daughter, son, cat, or dog for that matter.

"In a couple of days, we'll see about finding you a new daddy." was all I could say. It didn't brighten Dagmar's day as she just frowned some more. Dagmar looked around the room. "You sure have a nice house, mister. You must be rich or sumpthin. I haven't ever seen a TV that big before, just little ones sometimes but when I was with my mommy at the mission, they didn't have any TV’s. Is the big TV because you can't see very good?"

I couldn't help but be amused. "I can see just fine, Dagmar. I have a big TV because it's like going to the movies."

"I haven't ever been to the movies," she said. "Mommy said she would take me some day, but she had to go take care of my daddy in heaven before we could go." If I was supposed to be taking Dagmar's mind off her tragedy, I was failing in every single aspect. I decided the best course of action was to take a seat next to her. The Dodger replay had finished, just in time for the Angels to take the field live. I was grateful and was hoping the game would keep Dagmar entertained. Of course I wasn't that lucky.

Other than our opening conversation Dagmar didn't have much to say, although she would look at me every once in a while frowning. It was obvious she didn't have much interest in baseball. The Angels quickly jumped out to a 5 - 0 lead against the Mariners, which I hoped was a sign that things would improve. By the fifth inning however, Dagmar had become quite fidgety, kicking her feet against the couch, sometimes humming to herself. I tried to ignore it but by the fifth inning, my patience was wearing thin.

"Can you read?" I asked her.

Her face brightened. "My mommy and the people at the mission taught me to read," she answered.

I pointed to my bedroom. "If you go in there, there's a case with a whole big bunch of books for you to read."

She didn't seem that enthusiastic about the idea, but I knew she could sense my growing irritation. "Okay, Mister," she said sliding off the couch and walking towards the bedroom.

I was thankful when she disappeared behind the door leaving me to enjoy the game. I don't know for sure how much time passed, but the Mariners came back to tie the game in the eighth inning, leaving the door open for some dramatics in the ninth as the Angels took it with a walk off home run. As the game ended I looked at my watch and realized that quite some time had passed since Dagmar had gone into the bedroom. I hurried in to make sure everything was okay. I needn't have worried. She was sitting there poring intently over magazine.

"What are you reading?" I asked.

She didn't look up but she answered. "I don't know, mister. The words are too big. But it's got a lot of pictures in it and there was a pretty lady dressed as a bunny on the front." I walked over to where she was sitting and quickly grabbed my latest issue of Playboy magazine from her.

"I don't think you ought to be reading this book since you don't know the words," I told her. I quickly looked over the books already knowing there was nothing that would interest a kid. I finally pulled out a torn and tattered copy of a biography of George Bush, found a pen in my desk and gave them to her.

"Here, practice drawing some faces on this guy," I told her. She took the pen and the book and proceeded to scribble on the faces in the pictures. I'd almost say it was an improvement. Now that she was occupied again, I headed back to the living room and began watching an old movie. That lasted about fifteen minutes before Dagmar came sauntering in.

"I colored all the pictures, Mister," she said looking at me. I sighed and took a deep breath, but once again arose from the couch. I had an idea.

"Have you ever played pinball," I asked.

"What's pinball, mister," Dagmar asked.

Come with me and I'll show you. She followed me into the game room. I proceeded to instruct her in the fine art of little metal balls rolling around, hitting bumpers, then flipping the ball back up to hit the bumpers again. I did it a few times to show Dagmar how it was done.

"Now here, you do it," I said stepping aside. Dagmar approached the machine cautiously. Then doing as I had done, pulled the lever and shot the ball forward. The ball slowly rolled upward, barely nudged the top bumpers, slowly rolled down to the bottom bumpers, and back into the slot.

"Well that was a pretty good, start, but you have to hit the ball back up with the flippers," I pressed the flipper buttons to show her once again. And again she pulled the lever, and stood watching the ball as it performed the same trick it had previously, rolling slowly upward, then downward and out of sight.

She looked at me as if she knew the only reason she was learning this game was so I could keep her out of my hair. She turned to the machine, again pulling the lever and for the third time achieving the same result. This time Dagmar didn't look at me but pulled the lever again watching as the ball began it's snail pace assault on the bumpers. I decided to let her play it her way and went off to the living room. Whenever I was beginning to get tense, sometimes playing the piano helped to relax me. I was no great musician, but I was quite adequate.

I sat there for a while hammering out some of my favorite show tunes on the keyboard listening in the background to the sound of the ball rolling up and rolling back down. I was just about to launch into a stirring rendition of "It's a Hard Knock Life," from Annie when Dagmar came slowly walking in once again.

"I don't like that game," she said. For the first time during the day, she had not added the Mister word to the end of her sentence.

I could tell her patience with me was running out as quickly as mine was with her. I quit playing and looked at her.

"Is there a song you would like to hear that I could play for you," I asked hoping against hope she would name something I knew. She thought for a minute before answering.

"Twinkle, twinkle, little star," she answered. For the umpteenth time that day I sighed again. Little Star was the first song anybody learned to pound out on the piano. Hoping to keep her happy though I proceeded into a special jazzed up version of Twinkle Twinkle while she sat patiently listening. When I finished I looked at her.

"Pretty good, wasn't it, Dagmar?" I asked quite pleased with myself.

"That didn't sound like Twinkle Twinkle little star," she answered. My shoulders drooped. I was ready to surrender. I felt like Custer at Little Big Horn. My stomach was growling though, a sad reminder that I had gone the entire day without a bite to eat. Worse yet, I didn't know how long it had been since Dagmar had eaten.

"Let's eat," I said jumping up from the piano. I made a quick trip into the kitchen to inspect the contents of the refrigerator. It wasn't promising. There was some hamburger but it was frozen. I removed it from the freezer and put it into the refrigerator, but it would be the next day before it was ready. There was only one thing left to do and call the thirty minute pizza guys. I hurried to the phone to place the order with Dagmar following me like Peter Pan's lost shadow.

Thankfully true to their word, the delivery guy showed up in just under a half an hour. Dagmar studied the pizza guy, then looked at me as if she was seeing something strange. I paid for the pizza along with a healthy tip and headed back into the house, Dagmar following close behind. I set the pizza on the coffee table and opened it. I was starving and I knew Dagmar had to be also.

"Eat up kid," I said grabbing a slice. Dagmar cautiously lifted a slice and studied it as if she wasn't sure. I had already swallowed my first bite and was ready to munch into another.

She finally took a slight taste and then took a large bite. As she chewed she made a face as she swallowed.

"It's got onions, Mister". she said making a face.

"Yeah, and olives and pepperoni and lots of cheese and mushrooms. It's good." I told her thoroughly convinced that would satisfy her.

"I don't like onions," she said. "Mommy never made me eat onions," she said glaring at me.

The kid was wearing me out. I took another bite and swallowed before answering her.

"Pick the onions off of it Dagmar, then you can eat it." She looked at the pizza slice again and made another face. "I don't like mushrooms either. I never had to eat mushrooms before."

"Well Dagmar, this all we have to eat right now. There's nothing else. Nada! El Zippo! So if you want to eat you can eat the pizza."

She stood pouting for a second holding the slice of pizza. Then, in a final act of defiance she took the pizza and set it on the floor, standing defiant and proud while looking back at me. She may have won the battle, but she wasn't going to win the war.

"Pick it up," I yelled at her. "Pick it up and put it on the table or I'll paddle your bottom." She crossed her arms and glared. I set my own slice of pizza on the table and started to get up. The trials of the day had made me angry, yet I was bluffing about spanking her and I was hoping she wouldn't see through it. As I got up she slowly walked toward the pizza, bent down and picked it up. She brought it back to the table and gently laid it down, but once again stood there glaring at me. I gathered up the pizza box and took it to the kitchen. I then went down to the foyer to retrieve her overnight bag.

I brought it back to the living room where I sat it down, opened it hoping there would at least be a set of pajamas for the kid. There wasn't much in the bag but there was a set of pajamas.

"Here, it's time for bed," I said holding them out to her. She unfolded her arms and took them from me. "You can change in my bedroom." She walked toward the bedroom door, stopped and looked at me.

"Don't come in," she said, and went through the door slamming it behind her. It was only a few minutes before she came back out, fully dressed in the pajamas.

"You can sleep on the couch," I told her. "It's just your size." She approached the couch and climbed up but it wasn't going to be that easy.

"I need a drink of water," she said. This time I didn't bother to argue but went to the kitchen and hurriedly poured a glass of water. I brought it back to Dagmar, she took one sip, and handed it back to me. "It taste funny," she said.

I took the glass of water back to the kitchen and poured it in the sink. When I returned Dagmar was still sitting on the couch.

"Anything else, Miss," I said as if turnabout was fair play.

"I have to say my prayers. Someone always says prayers with me."

"You say the prayer and I'll just say it along with you," I told her. She scurried off the couch and knelt down folding her hands. Her prayer was "Now I lay me down to sleep," which I always thought was kind of a scary prayer to send kids off to la-la land with. When she got to the last part she began God blessing everybody in the universe or so it seemed. I thought she would never finish but eventually she did, ending it with, "And God bless Mister, even if he don't like me very much."

If I had ever felt about an inch tall, Dagmar had made me feel it just then. I thought she was doing it to get back at me, and waited for her glare but she climbed back onto the couch and laid down as I stood there watching.

In seconds she was fast asleep. The night air had become chilly, as it often did in the early part of summer. It was a sharp contrast to the heat earlier in the day. I hurried into my bedroom closet and after a while found the blanket I was looking for and brought it out placing it on the sleeping Dagmar.

I went through the house quietly turning out the lights, being careful not to wake the sleeping girl. I made sure the blanket was pulled up snugly around her then headed off to the bedroom.

It had been a long trying day, adding to the trials of the past couple of months. I quickly changed into some pajamas, went in to make sure Dagmar was still asleep, and headed off to bed. I pulled the covers up, turned out the light, and was asleep in no time.

The next morning, I awoke early and headed off into the shower. I didn't waste any time, hurrying about my business and quickly dressing. When I went out to the living room Dagmar was no longer lying on the couch and there was no sound coming from anywhere. Then I remembered my swimming pool and cursed myself for my stupidity. I rushed toward the back where the pool was but stopped in my tracks just as I passed the pinball machines. Dagmar was sitting silently in her pajamas in the love seat, staring at a TV set that wasn't on. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Is everything okay, Dagmar?” I asked.

She didn't look at me but continued to stare straight ahead. "What's wrong kid," I asked again. She certainly seemed okay, but again she didn't answer and didn't look at me. "I thought we might go out for breakfast this morning. Sounds pretty good doesn't it?"

Again there was no response. I shifted from one foot to the other. It seemed this day was going to be no better than the day before if not worse. I went outside to grab the newspaper, glanced at it quickly then returned to see if Dagmar had made any attempt to move. She hadn't and I walked toward her. It was then that I could see that she had been crying.

"What's wrong kid," I asked again. Now I was beginning to worry. This was not an act of defiance, this was something else. Her lips turned downward again. I didn't know what to make of it. Then the tears began a slow drip out of her eyes again. I walked closer to her.

"What's wrong Dagmar?" I asked trying to muster the gentlest tone in my voice that I could. In seconds the tears were pouring out full throttle, and soon she was sobbing openly.

Then the sobbing turned into a loud screaming sound. She was having trouble catching her breath in between the cries. I bent down toward her.

"Dagmar! Dagmar! What’s wrong, let me help you." But it was no use. The cries and the screams became almost blood curdling. I was in a panic. This was a situation I had never faced and I was totally clueless. I began to curse Mrs. Martinson. There was only one thing to do. I rushed to the phone and dialed, not once but three times. In my flustered state I had hit the wrong buttons. When I finally managed to get it right, I prayed that she would be there as Dagmar continued her screams. The phone rang once, then twice, then three times, and I began to think I had struck out again. On the sixth ring, it was thankfully answered.

"Hello," the kid's voice on the other end of the phone answered. It sounded a bit put out but I didn't care.

"What took you so long to answer the phone?," I asked. Dagmar's cries continued.

"I just got out of the shower," the kid answered back. "Geez...Joe what are you doing calling this early on a Sunday morning, and what's all that screaming in the background?"

I didn't have time for any long winded explanations. "How quick can you get over here?,"

"I still have to put on my makeup and stuff, and then I can come over."

"Forget the make up," I told her hurriedly. "This is an emergency and I need you......ten minutes ago. I'll explain when you get over hear." The kid must have heard the urgency in my voice because this time there was no hesitation.

"I'll throw something on and head right over," she said and then hung up the phone. I went back to look at Dagmar. She continued to cry, her body was visibly shaking. In all honesty, my hands were beginning to shake also.

I hurried outside to wait for the kid. I looked feverishly at my watch, paced, tapped my foot. And as Dagmar's screams continued to echo through the house, I finally saw the kid approaching. It was none too soon. She started to greet me and the word's, "What's up," weren't even out of her mouth before Dagmar let loose again.

"I'll explain everything later, just follow me," I hurried into the house with the kid right behind me. We hurried to where Dagmar was still crying openly.

The kid looked at Dagmar, then back at me, then back to Dagmar. Her confusion was obvious. But she asked no more questions. Instead she bent down to talk to Dagmar. The loud screams had quieted into steady but continual sobbing. Finally, Dagmar was able to speak through the tears.

"I.....I......I....," she looked at me than at the kid. "I.....I......had.....an.......accident."

"What kind of accident, are you hurt, did you fall?," I asked hurriedly.

Bettie shot me a glance. "Not that kind of accident, Joe," she shot back at me, and shook her head. She turned back to Dagmar.

"It's okay sweetie. Everybody has an accident sometimes. Even grown-ups."

"I was afraid Mister would get mad at me," she said through her sobs. "I didn't want Mister mad at me anymore." It was then that the extent of my ignorance dawned on me. The kid shot me a look as if I was the meanest person on earth.

"I haven't been mean to her," I said pleading my case. The last thing I needed was Bettie to begin thinking ill of me also. She reached down and took the kid in her arms and began to soothe her.

"It's okay, sweetie," she told Dagmar. "He's just a man, he don't understand these things" I rolled my eyes while Dagmar reached to grab the kid around the neck. Her sobbing had almost completely subsided. "And yes, even grown men have accidents so he had better not yell at you."

"I haven't yelled at her, at least not this morning," I said remembering the pizza incident from the previous evening. It wasn't that I was above telling a little white fib to Bettie, but I was afraid that Dagmar might say something to her about the night before.

In moments, Dagmar's crying had completely subsided. The kid told her she'd fix her right up then picked Dagmar up in her arms and headed into the bathroom. I followed behind but stayed seated in my room, while they took care of business. There was the sound of water running, and I heard the kid helping Dagmar into the tub with a splash.

"Don't peek, Mr!," Dagmar hollered out at me. I could hear Bettie chuckle.

She hollered also. "Yeah, don't peek Mister, there's ladies in here." She put strong emphasis on the word lady, as if there was a difference between them and the women who usually occupied my bathroom.

"So your, name is Dagmar," I heard the kid ask. "How did you end up here?"

Dagmar was more than willing to spit out her whole story. "I used to live at the mission with my mommy. Mommy got sick real bad and had to go up to heaven to help take care of my daddy. Misses Martinson said she was gonna take me to a new Daddy but she made a boo boo. Mister says he's not my new daddy, so I suppoze Misses Martinson will have to come get me." There was silence except the sound of Dagmar playing in the water.

"What's your name," Dagmar asked her.

"Well, just about everybody calls me Bettie." Leave it to the kid to get her little dig in about me calling her the kid. "You can call me that if you want."

"Okay, Bettie," Dagmar answered hesitantly. "You're nice. I like you." It was hard to believe that only a few minutes earlier, Dagmar had been having a crying fit. Now she was almost cheerful.

"Will you be okay for a few minutes while I go find you something to wear," the kid asked Dagmar.

"Sure. I don't get to take baths with bubbles in it. Most of the time I take showers. It's kind of neat." I could hear Dagmar splash some more and Bettie came out of the bathroom. I stood up from the chair I had been sitting in to quickly fill her in on the events of the past few days.

"That is the saddest thing I have ever heard," she whispered, trying to be careful so that Dagmar wouldn't hear us. Then she slightly chuckled, "Kind of ironic. Imagine, the great ladies man, the “I'll be a bachelor until the day I die” guy ending up with a kid."

I made a face at her. "It's only for a few days, and then she'll be gone. I'm contacting an adoption agency tomorrow to help find her a good home. She'll be happy."

"Noooooo," the kid said loudly. Too loud as if she were once again afraid that Dagmar would hear.

"Noooo," she repeated, this time softly. "You can't put Dagmar out on the street. You're all she's got. Give the kid a break."

"I'm not putting her out on the street. She'll have a good mother and father. She certainly doesn't need me and more importantly, I don't need and don't want any kid running around." I could see that although we were talking quietly, this was going to turn into an argument.

"But she's got no one," Betty pleaded. "You're her only family."

"We are distantly related. There's a difference." I was unmoved, and vowed to remain so.

"And what if she isn't adopted," the kid said. I could tell she was becoming angry at me. It was not the playful anger I was used to, but something I couldn't recall having witnessed before. "What if she ends up with the wrong parents who'll abuse her? I'm not saying she will or she won't but it could happen. And what if nobody wants a kid her age. She's already about six or seven. People want to adopt babies, not little kids." I knew what the kid was thinking about. She was thinking of her own childhood and where she might have ended up if Frank and Shelley hadn't taken her in.

"Look, I understand how you feel. I feel sorry for the kid. But I'm not a parent. I don't know the first thing about raising a kid, and besides that I'm so use to living my life the way I want to. I'm way to old to change now."

"You did quite well around me and Nick," she said trying to make the best argument possible.

"There's a big difference. I never had to take you or Nick home at night to bathe and feed you and what ever else goes along with it. You know that as well as I do. If I had to do that, I don't think we'd have gotten along at all."

The kid wasn't easily dissuaded. "I'll help you. I'm only working three days a week at the mall. That leaves four full days to help you out. On the days I work I can come over early, help get her dressed, feed her, and then come back when I get off. It'll work. You just can't let her go."

"And what happens the first time some guy in hot jeans comes strolling around wanting to take you out after work? You're young. You don't want to be saddled taking care of some child. No, it just won't work."

She gave it one last try. "Try it, try it for just a month. If it doesn't work out fine. At least you tried. But to do it this way....to just let her go....it's just wrong." Despite the kid's pleading, she was beating a dead horse. I was not the guy to be raising a child.

Other than Nick and Belttie, I had never really liked having rug rats crawling around under my feet. When it became necessary to go to the mall I had avoided them like the plague.

I tried to console her. "I understand how you feel about it, but I just can't do it. I pretty well proved that last night and today. Look at how I panicked this morning and had to call you. I'm sorry, Kid, but Dagmar would be better off elsewhere. You may not think so now, but you'll understand eventually."

"No, I won't understand," She said walking into the living room to rummage through the overnight bag I had pointed out to her. "I don't understand now, and I won't understand a year from now. I just don't understand how you can be so cold sometimes." The anger in her voice was unmistakable.

"I thought you had a heart", she said as she rummaged through the bag. "But I guess I was wrong and everybody else was right." She finally found a plain yellow dress and pulled it out of the bag, heading back to the bathroom where Dagmar was splashing around. If she had meant to hurt me with her words, she had succeeded. But it was a hurt I could easily overcome. The damage done to Dagmar were she to stay with a guy like me would not be so easily healed.

As she approached the bathroom door she turned back to look at me once again. I could see the pleading in her eyes, but I just turned and walked back into the living room.

There was no doubt it was going to be a long day. The kid and Dagmar were in the bathroom for a long time and I was grateful for that. It would give Bettie time to lick her wounds or so I hoped. When they came out, Dagmar's pony tails were gone and the kid had changed her hair in a style that looked readily familiar.

"Bettie made me look pretty, just like her,"Dagmar told me. She was cheerful now, and I was glad that the kid was there to offer Dagmar companionship. The kid followed behind Dagmar carrying one of my books. "Bettie's going to read me a story out of one of your big books with big words," Dagmar told me. While Dagmar seemed at least more agreeable with me, the kid was not. She wouldn't look my way but sat on the floor to begin reading.

Of course, she wasn't really reading the volume of Encyclopedia she had taken off the book shelf. She was making the story up in her head as she went along. The story was about some orphan bear who lived out in the woods and had to go stay with the wicked man who didn't like little bears and would put kiddie bears in a cage and have them for dessert. I cringed as she went on with the story. It ended with the young princess bear coming to the rescue of the orphan bear and shoving the evil man down a big well. At least I knew what my fate was.

Afterwards, the kid took Dagmar in to play the pinball machines. I stayed in the living room, and have to admit that I took a special amount of glee already knowing that Dagmar didn't like the machines. At least Bettie would also have a taste of failure. Fifteen minutes hadn't gone by before I heard the ball shooting upward, hitting the bumpers. I was waiting to hear the sound of it rolling back into the pit, but instead I heard the sound of the flippers knocking it continuously back into the bumpers. I got up from what I was watching, sure it was the kid playing the machine. It wasn't though, it was Dagmar.

The kid was standing off to the side, coaxing Dagmar on as the numbers on the machine began rocketing skyward.

"This is fun," I heard Dagmar say. as the kid coaxed her onward. I didn't know if I was mad thinking of the day before or not. It seemed that for all of the kid's arguing about keeping Dagmar around, Dagmar was proving my case for me. They must have played for a good while before Dagmar came in to tell me that Bettie was taking her outside to look at the sky.

Well there couldn't be any harm in that I thought. And then I remembered my three thousand dollar telescope still perched in the back yard. As they headed out, I went out behind them but stayed off in the distance acting as if I was pulling up some weeds.

The kid showed Dagmar where to look through, while telling her how at night she could see the stars and the man in the moon. Dagmar seemed impressed.

"Hey!," she exclaimed. "I can see an airplane and it's real big. You can see real far, Bettie." Then she turned and in all seriousness asked Bettie a question.

"Can I see my mommy up in Heaven?," Dagmar said quietly. The kid went to her and spoke quietly. "No, baby, your mommy's an angel. Even a telescope can't see angels. But we know they're here with us even when we can't see them. I know your mommy and daddy are looking at you right now and are very proud of you." Dagmar smiled as if she were pleased. and went back to the telescope. Bettie looked at me with a pleading glance but I looked away.

Later I watched as they stood out by the pond, and Dagmar and the kid were both lost deep in thought. I knew that the kid was seeing Dagmar as herself, that when her own parents died she could have been like Dagmar, with no home, no one to love her, and no one to take her in. I felt as small as I had ever felt in my life. Yet, my mind kept telling me that Dagmar would be okay. A loving family would take her in and love her in ways that I never could. I went back to the house and tried watching television, but it was hard to concentrate.

When they came into the house, the kid became busy cooking the hamburger that I had thawed out. Dagmar enjoyed the hamburgers. Of course there were no onions or mushrooms on them so that helped.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Dagmar spoke to both the kid and me, but still called me Mister. Bettie wouldn't look at me let alone talk to me. She hadn't spoken to me since our earlier conversation when I had made it know that Dagmar had to go. About halfway through dinner, Dagmar looked at me as if remembering something.

"I'm sorry about the pizza, Mister," she said. "I'm sorry I made you mad."

"It's okay, Dagmar. I've forgotten all about it. I'll remember the next time that you don't like onions and mushrooms." I was trying to at least make peace with her. After we ate, darkness settled on the valley and we went to watch TV.

We watched some old shows on TV Land, and Dagmar seemed to enjoy them well enough. Every once in a while, I felt the kid looking at me from the opposite end of the couch. I sensed her anger had dissipated, and she was now resigned to my decision. It didn't make it any easier for her though.

Eventually, in the middle of an old episode of Roseanne, Dagmar fell asleep. The kid got up and ever so gently picked Dagmar up carrying her to my room. I followed standing by the door. I stood and watched as the kid placed Dagmar into the bed and covered her up. She stood there silently watching her sleep for a long time, then pulled the blanket up to her before walking away. Bettie had just about made it to the end of the bed, then hesitated and turned around.

She turned off the light, and the room dimmed, leaving it just faintly lit with with the glow from the living room. I watched as the kid slowly leaned over and in the most gentlest way possible, afraid that the slightest touch would waken Dagmar, kissed her on the forehead.

"I'm sorry, Dagmar," she whispered. "I'm sorry life has dealt you such a crap hand." And with that she turned, wiping a tear from her eye and walked past me into the living room.

As she walked by, her head was down. She looked at me only to say that she would still come by tomorrow if she needed me. And she began walking toward the door.

"Hey kid," I said to her softly. She looked up at me. I motioned for her to come over.

"One month. One month with you helping me out. If it doesn't work, and I have to send her away then at least you'll know I tried."

The kid looked at me. "I'll help you every step of the way. If it doesn't work, I won't hold it against you, since at least I would know you gave it your best effort." She suddenly looked hopeful. I still wasn't sure. Yet, it seemed like I had failed so many people lately that maybe, for once I could make someone happy, even if it was temporarily. I finally nodded to her.

"We'll try it for a month, and the first time it doesn't work, then we find a home for her. Not just any home but a good one. If it comes to that, I won't send her to just anybody."

"She can stay than?" A look of pure joy came over Bettie's face.

"Yeah, she can stay." And at that the kid almost jumped out of her shoes. And then she reached around and grabbed me, hugging me. Yet she was crying, but I knew they were tears of joy.

"Thank you," She said. "I won't fail you and you won't regret it. It'll work you'll see." She let loose of her hug and then stepped back as if slightly embarrassed by the moment. She quickly turned to leave. "I'll be back first thing in the morning.....before dawn." She said stopping to grin at me one more time. And then she was gone.

For all the things that had happened the past few months, with Frank and Arcadia, and especially with Susan, it felt good to finally hit a home run. The kid was happy, and I'm sure Dagmar would be happy that the kid would be her caretaker and her companion. I knew Bettie wouldn't fail me. I could see throughout the day that in Dagmar, she saw something special. Yet in the back of my mind I was not so sure about myself, and was almost sure I would be the one who couldn't handle the situation. Either way in thirty days we would both have our answer.

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