Elle smiled. They finished up with the train and headed for the crosswalk. There, Elle reviewed the traffic signals. Sid lagged behind, and when they crossed, he was last to step into the road. By the time he did, the light had changed and a car honked at him. In times past, Sid would’ve shaken a fist at the driver or maybe dropped to the ground, weeping, reduced to the abilities of a five-year-old child.
Not this time. With Elle behind him, he stopped, looked at the driver and then waved at the man. Then he turned his attention to the other side of the street and, head high, finished his walk.
Progress! Elle stepped up onto the curb, stopped him, and smiled. “Sid! That was wonderful!”
“He didn’t need to honk.” Sid looked back at the driver, already speeding down the road.
“No, he didn’t.”
Elle and Sid joined the others at the Subway on the corner. Restaurants gave the students a chance to face other tasks that might’ve been daunting without the training they’d received at the ILC. They had to decide what type of bread and meat and fixings they’d have on their sandwich, and whether they wanted a meal package. And each of them needed to count out the right money to pay for the meal.
Twenty minutes later, when they had their sandwiches, the students found seats at five tables all on one side of the restaurant. Another improvement. A year ago, most of them would’ve wandered aimlessly around the dining area trying to figure out where to sit and who to sit with.
As they began eating, they fell into natural conversations. Another sign of independence. When one of them grew too loud, someone at their table would hold up two fingers—the sign that voices needed to be quieter. Elle sat at Daisy’s table with Carl Joseph and Gus. It was one of those moments when she knew with every breath that this was the place God wanted her. Never mind love and relationships, here—with these students, she was making a difference.
They were halfway through their meal when she saw a pickup truck park out front. A rugged dark-haired man in a white T-shirt and jeans climbed out and headed for the front door of the restaurant. Elle was struck by the guy’s looks. In her world of working at the center and stopping at the grocery store and heading back home again, there were few guys who looked like this one. But the set of his jaw and his determined pace shouted that he was preoccupied.
She turned her attention back to her sandwich just as Carl Joseph dropped his sandwich and stood up.
“Brother!” He waved at the man. “Over here. Come sit with us!”
The guy’s expression eased. Several students let out similar shouts. “Hi, Carl Joseph’s brother!” “Come sit here!”
Daisy tugged on Carl Joseph’s shirt. “Is that the bull rider?”
He puffed out his chest. “I’m a bull rider, too.”
“Okay, everyone.” Elle stood and looked at her students. “Let’s remember our restaurant manners.”
The guy gave a sheepish wave to the others and one at a time the excited students sat back down. Then he came to Carl Joseph’s side and looked straight at him. “You remembered, right, Buddy?” His tone was kind, but his eyes looked troubled. Maybe even angry. “You and I have a date today?”
Carl Joseph did an exaggerated gasp. He covered his mouth and looked from Daisy to Elle and back to his brother. “I forgot, Brother. I’m sorry I forgot.”
The guy gave a short laugh. In a way that made it clear he had no choice, he pulled up a chair and sat next to Carl Joseph. “Can you finish up?” A strained smile lifted his lips. “I have something to show you.”
“But . . .” Carl Joseph pointed slowly at Daisy and Elle and Gus and then at the other tables. “These are my friends and . . . and this is Field Trip Day.”
“Yeah.” For the first time he looked at Elle. There was suddenly enough ice in his tone to change the temperature of the room. “Mom told me.”
Elle held out her hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Elle Dalton. Director of the Center for Independent Living.”
He took Elle’s hand for the slightest moment. Long enough for her to see his wedding ring. “I’m Cody Gunner, Carl Joseph’s brother.”
“World-famous bull rider.” Daisy’s entire face lit up. She bounced in her seat. “Right here with us. World-famous bull rider.”
Carl Joseph whispered to her, his frustration written into the lines on his forehead. “I’m a bull rider, too, Daisy. Remember?”
“Uh”—Cody gave an uncomfortable laugh—“sorry about this. I need to take my brother. We have plans.”
“Okay.” Elle looked at Carl Joseph. “The field trip is almost over. It’s okay if you go with your brother.”
“But Daisy and me wanna dance in the park.” Carl Joseph’s face fell. He implored his brother. “I didn’t get to dance yet.”
“Hold on, Buddy.” Cody’s pleasant facade seemed to be cracking. He dropped his voice to a whisper and turned his attention to Elle. “Can I talk to you? In private?”
Elle felt her defenses rise. She stood and looked at her students. “I need to speak with Mr. Gunner outside. I’ll be right back.”
She led the way, and once they were out of earshot, he met her eyes. “What is all this?”
“Excuse me?” Elle could feel the anger flash in her eyes.
“This.” He gestured toward the students inside. “Putting them on display so everyone can gawk at them.” The guy kept his voice controlled, but just barely. “I thought my brother was taking social classes.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Now I find out it’s some kind of independent living?”
Elle was too surprised to speak.
“Look—” Cody seemed to be trying to find control. “I’m sorry, it’s just . . .” He paced a few steps away from her before whirling around and staring at her. “My brother’s sick. He’ll never live on his own. Someone should’ve told you.”
Elle was still shocked by the guy’s outburst. But now at least she understood it. “His epilepsy, you mean?”
“Epilepsy, heart disease . . . the fact that he can’t read.” Cody tossed his hands. “It’s wrong to fill his head with ideas of independence.” He turned his attention toward the students inside. “How can it be right for any of them?”
“Mr. Gunner.” Elle worked to keep her tone even. “I care about each one of those students in that restaurant. I would never bring them into public to be laughed at.” She narrowed her eyes. “This is part of their curriculum. If you’d like to know more about what your brother is learning, I’d advise you to make an appointment with me. I’m available every morning an hour before class.”
“What’s the point? My brother won’t ever be well enough to leave home.” He shook his head. “Don’t you get it?”
“He can be independent even with his limitations.” Elle worked to keep her anger in check. What right did Carl Joseph’s brother have to disrupt the field trip?
“Never mind.” He took a step toward the door and held it open. His voice was still thick with frustration. “Thanks for your time.”
Elle thought of a dozen things she could tell this guy, but why bother? Ignorant people like him came along every now and then. She didn’t need to validate him by defending her work at the center. He was still holding open the door for her, so she went in.
Cody walked up to Carl Joseph and bagged the uneaten half of his sandwich. “Come on, Buddy. Let’s get out of here.”
“Wait!” Carl Joseph’s voice was much louder than usual. “You didn’t meet Daisy.”
Cody smiled, but it was laced with impatience. “Fine.” He looked at Daisy. His tone was kinder than before. “I’m Cody. You must be Daisy.”
“Hi, Cody.” Daisy gave him a bashful look. She batted her eyes. “You’re cute.”
“Hey, what about me?” Carl Joseph turned to Daisy, hurt flooding his eyes.
Daisy took his hand and pressed it to her heart. “You’re the cutest of all, CJ.” She whispered. “Even cuter than your brother.”
At that moment, Cody
seemed to notice the way his brother smelled. “Buddy? Are you wearing cologne?”
“Yes.” Carl Joseph stood and beamed at Daisy. He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Mom bought me some. I wear it for Daisy.”
Daisy leaned close to Elle. “He smells like a bull rider.”
“Thank you.” Carl Joseph puffed out his chest.
“This is crazy.” Cody mumbled the words. He gave a curt nod to Daisy and Elle. “Nice to meet you.” As he headed for the door, he stopped and looked back at Elle. “I’ll stop in one day this week. Like you suggested.”
Elle flashed her most professional smile. “You’ll have to make an appointment, Mr. Gunner.”
The two left, amidst a chorus of good-byes from the other students. As soon as they were outside, Cody put his arm around Carl Joseph’s shoulders. Regardless of his intensity or his intrusion into the field trip, this much was clear: Cody Gunner was crazy about his younger brother. Cody opened the passenger-side door of the truck and gave Carl Joseph more help than he needed getting inside.
As the two drove off, Elle looked around the dining area at her students. Cody’s visit had left a dark cloud of uncertainty over the group. But they knew this much: Carl Joseph’s brother didn’t approve of their field trip.
It was one of the things that made a person with Down Syndrome so special. Part of their makeup included an extraordinary sense of perception. Independent living courses were designed to help people with Down Syndrome recognize their feelings and talk about them.
Elle stood and cleared her throat. There was no time like the present for such a lesson. “Would someone like to tell me how you’re feeling right now?”
At first no one responded. Finally Daisy raised her hand.
“Daisy?”
“I don’t really think CJ’s brother is cute.” She shook her head. “Not anymore.”
Sid tossed his hands in the air. “He didn’t like us.” He looked around. “Could anyone else see that? Carl Joseph’s brother didn’t like us.”
Tears stung at Elle’s eyes. As hard as it was to hear Sid voice his feelings, this, too, was progress. She moved between the tables so she was closer to Sid. “Why did you think that?”
“Because—” Sid pushed his sandwich back. His tone was more hurt than angry. “He didn’t look at us.”
“And something else.” Gus raised his hand.
Elle pointed at him.
“He . . .” Gus looked at Daisy as if maybe this part might hurt her feelings. “I’m sorry, Daisy. I’m sorry to say something bad about Carl Joseph’s brother.”
“That’s okay, Gus.” She touched his shoulder. “You can say what you want.”
“Okay . . .” Gus swallowed. “He said, ‘This is crazy.’ Maybe that means he thinks . . . he thinks we’re crazy.”
Elle’s heart hurt. In that moment, if she could’ve, she would’ve whisked her students instantly back to the ILC, where they were safe and accepted, where living a life on their own seemed like one more fun activity. This reality was something entirely different. She went to Gus and lowered herself to his level. “Gus, no one thinks you’re crazy.”
Gus bit his lip and hung his head. “I think . . . maybe Carl Joseph’s brother does.”
“No.” She stood and met the eyes of the students at every table. “Carl Joseph’s brother is an angry person. Carl Joseph said he was hurt, so maybe he’s in pain. His back or his knees, maybe.” She wished he could see how his appearance had hurt her students. “We can pray for him.”
“Yes.” Tammy, the girl with the long braids, clapped her hands. “That’s a positive idea. Right, Teacher? A positive idea.”
“It is.” Elle blinked back tears. If Cody Gunner were here she’d grab him by the collar and shake him. Then she’d tell him exactly how his careless words had hurt her students. But she couldn’t think about that now. Not with them looking for her to turn things around. “Tammy’s right. If we pray for someone who’s angry, then that’s a very positive idea.”
Gus looked around and then dropped from his chair to his knees. He folded his hands together and bowed his head. Elle was about to tell him he could pray from his seat, when around the room the others followed his example. Before Elle could find the words, every one of her students was kneeling in the dining area at Subway, head bowed.
“Dear God,” Gus began, “be with Carl Joseph’s angry brother. Anger is not a healthy choice. It’s not a healthy life skill.” He opened his eyes and smiled up at Elle. Then he closed them again. “So please be with Carl Joseph’s brother, because maybe bull riders are angry people. Make him happy, Jesus. Amen.”
Around the room, more than a dozen amens came from the group. Only then did Elle notice a table of teenage kids at the back of the room. The prayer had caught their attention. But instead of laughing at the handicapped people down on their knees, the teens were doing something entirely different.
They were smiling.
And at the end of the prayer, a few teens even stood and walked over, patting the shoulders of the students. Finally they nodded at Elle, and she mouthed the words, “Thank you,” toward them. Then she sat down next to Daisy once more.
Two steps backward, three steps forward. That’s the way it was with her students. The world was still getting used to the idea that people with Down Syndrome might be bagging their groceries or sweeping the floor at Wal-Mart. For every ignorant person like Cody Gunner, there was a group of people who understood, kids who had probably attended school with disabled students—because things were different today than they’d been a decade ago.
Elle was too choked up to take another bite of her sandwich. She sipped her water instead and watched as the cloud lifted and her students began interacting again. She could tell them later that it was probably best not to kneel in a public restaurant, that praying could be done in a chair as well as on their knees.
Or maybe not. Maybe if people had the chance to see an entire Subway dining room filled with people on their knees every once in a while, the whole world would be a little better off.
Chapter Six
Cody didn’t say a word until they were a mile away from the Subway. He’d been wrong to storm in and demand that Carl Joseph leave right in the middle of his field trip. But why had no one explained the situation to him before? Here he’d thought Carl Joseph was involved in some kind of daycare program, a way to give him social interaction . . .
But a center for independent living?
Cody’s knuckles were white from his grip on the steering wheel. The entire car reeked of Carl Joseph’s cologne, the smell a pungent reminder of everything Cody hadn’t understood until today. It had all come together that morning. He’d gotten a late start, and when he walked into his parents’ house, he’d found his mother instead of Carl Joseph.
“Where’s Buddy?” He grabbed an apple and peered into the living room. “I wanted to take him out today.”
His mother was sitting at the dining room table writing a letter. “He had to be at the center early.”
“The center?” He took a bite of the apple. “You mean the club, the social place?”
“Yes, Cody.” His mother looked up. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought she’d been crying. Her eyes looked weary, and there were circles beneath them. “He had a field trip today.”
“What?” Fear took a stab at Cody. He walked closer to his mother. “Who’s chaperoning?”
“The teacher’s in charge. Her name’s Elle Dalton. She has eighteen students like Carl Joseph. Friday is Field Trip Day.”
“One teacher?” Panic welled up inside him. “You let Carl Joseph go on a field trip with just one able-bodied person? Are you kidding?” He paced to the other end of the dining room and then back again. “Where’d they go?”
“To Antlers Park and to Subway.” She set her pen down. “Relax, Cody. Your brother’s been going on field trips every Friday for three months.” His mother explained that Carl Joseph ha
d been to shopping malls and a skating rink and the zoo. “He’ll be fine.”
“No, he won’t.” Cody tried to picture Carl Joseph crossing a city street. “Buddy gets confused. He has epilepsy. You know that. He could wander off and get lost, have a seizure, and then what? He doesn’t even know his own phone number.”
“He does now.”
The conversation had gone in circles, but in the end he made his decision. He and Carl Joseph needed a day to themselves. They’d talked about it when he first got home from the circuit. Cody had even mentioned that Friday might work. And today was Friday—field trip or not.
Cody took a left turn now and eased off the gas. Cody had read something in an issue of USA Today at a hotel in Montana earlier that year—how there was a push among educators to help adults with Down Syndrome and other disabilities find functioning independent lives outside their family homes.
Cody had shuddered at the idea. Innocent, tender-hearted Carl Joseph out in the real world, being laughed at and mocked and getting lost in the rat race? He wouldn’t survive three days in that environment. And with his epilepsy, the idea was unthinkable. His mother even agreed that they were contemplating pulling him from the program. One of the quotations in the article said it all.
“We must be careful,” a person who disagreed with the program was quoted as saying. “Sometimes in our rush to minimize disability, we unwittingly place a handicapped person in danger. The simple truth is that people with mental disabilities are not able to live on their own without great risk.”
Cody agreed wholeheartedly. He had asked his mother why Carl Joseph was still taking part in field trips when he could have a seizure at any moment.
“Elle will take care of him,” she’d said. “Elle knows what to do.”
But now he’d seen Elle. She couldn’t stay at Carl Joseph’s side, and even if she did she wouldn’t be strong enough to catch him if he fell. One seizure and he could crack his head open.
“Brother?” Carl Joseph turned to him.
“What, Buddy?” Cody glanced over.