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Designed Intent

Chapter 21

Saturday Afternoon

"Hi, Mom," Bobby said, standing in the doorway. Mrs. Goren looked up from staring into her lap and her face lit up.

"Oh, Bobby, my Bobby," she struggled to stand. Bobby ushered Gleason into the room, stepped past her and was at his mother's side in two strides. He helped her to her feet.

Frances reached up with a hand on each side of his face and kissed his cheek. She saw Gleason and reached both hands to the tall woman. "Oh, dearest Gleason; how are you my dear?" She kissed Gleason's cheek as well.

"How are you doing, Mom?" Bobby asked.

"Here, sit down, sit. Bobby get Sylvia's chair for Gleason. She's off playing cards. I've told her how dangerous card playing is. You know what it has done to your brother. He's a good boy, Frank is, but he's too much like his father. Your dad loved you boys, but he was just too much of a playboy. Frank is just like your father, he can't help it. You turned out ok, didn't you, Bobby. Poor Frank, just like your father, your father had good intentions. He always provided for us, we were never hungry, collectors were never at our door, you know –,"

"Yeah, Mom, ok. Here, you sit." Mrs. Goren could get under Bobby's skin with talk of his father and brother.

Mrs. Goren's attention shifted back to Gleason, "Here, Gleason, sit in Sylvia's chair. Bobby, get the other chair for you." Frances Goren smiled as her son bustled about, getting everyone settled.

"Well, what's new with you two? Are you married yet? I hope not, I want to be there, you know." Bobby looked down and he and Gleason smiled.

"Uh, Mom, uh, Dr. Shinto talked with us before we came in. Uhm, he, he said that you are, you are talking to a little boy? Is that right? A little boy?" Bobby gave his mother sidelong looks.

Frances Goren looked at her younger son and then over at his lovely lady friend. She did not know what to say. How did Dr. Shinto know about Chris Tian? Frances thought only she could see the boy. Could Dr. Shinto see him, too? Could everyone see him? Was that little boy real? Frances' mind started to twirl this idea. She looked back at Bobby, then at her hands, then over to the window, her right hand rubbed her left, she glanced at Gleason, then back to Bobby. She shifted in her seat.

Bobby saw his mother's anxiety rise. "Mom, it's ok. Don't get upset. It's ok not to talk about it." Bobby was so sorry he had brought it up. "Calm down, Mom. It's ok." Gleason heard the anxiety in Bobby's voice.

"Mrs. Goren, what does this little boy look like?" Gleason said softly.

Frances looked over at the other woman. She saw goodness, pure goodness. She loved this girl. She was so thankful Bobby had found her. Gleason would look after her special boy. "Have you seen him, Gleason?"

"No, I haven't. I don't think Bobby has either. Have you, Love?" She asked Bobby.

Bobby looked at Gleason and then to his mother and said, "Uh, no. No, Mom, we haven't seen him."

Frances Goren looked at her son and his lady and then down at her hands. She thought a moment, nodded and then said, "He's a little boy. I think he is four years old, maybe younger, but not much. He's a good boy." Frances smiled, recalling the last time the child had visited. She stopped talking.

"What does he look like?" Gleason prodded gently.

Frances looked up and said, "Oh, his hair! It is so curly! Dark, dark curls. His hair looks just like yours, Bobby, when you were little, dark, dark curls." She smiled, looking down, remembering. Then she looked up and said, "Oh, but not in the sunlight. No, no, his hair is deep red in the sunshine. Oh, he has beautiful hair."

Bobby watched his mother. He saw her enjoy thinking about, remembering, this child. Bobby's mom sat smiling, thinking. "His eyes, he has beautiful eyes, too. Blue, Gleason, like yours only lighter, almost grey."

The germ of an idea began to form in Gleason's mind. A weight began to settle on her chest; she fought to stay calm and smiled at Bobby's mother.

"Mom, what do you and this boy talk about?"

Frances was tempted to tell Bobby and Gleason what the child had said about them being his daddy and mommy. She looked at each of them. She wanted to tell them. Frances knew the child was related to her son and Gleason, and to herself; she just didn't know how. She looked at them, almost said something and then thought she would not. It would only upset them. Bobby will get angry. Gleason would feel bad. So, she said nothing for several moments.

"Mom?"

His mother looked up at her son and said quietly, "I keep telling him I want you to bring me some children's books so I can read to him. Why don't you bring us some books, Bobby? You have a library card. You still have it, don't you? Is it current? If you use it, it will be current. Make it current by bringing us some children's books. You need to have a library card. Gleason, do you have one? You need to have a library card. Books are free with a library card." Mrs. Goren sometimes perseverated on a topic – library cards were one.

"Ok, Mom, ok. I'll bring you some children's books. Ok." Bobby wiped a hand over his face. Gleason reached over and put a hand on his thigh.

"Mrs. Goren, when you and this little boy talk, what does he call you?"

Bobby's mother smiled and looked at her hands. Her joy was obvious in her face, smile and demeanor. "He, he calls me 'Gramma.' I'm his Gramma." Mrs. Goren looked up and smiled warmly at her son and his lady. Neither of them said anything for a long moment. Bobby sat back in the chair and crossed his right ankle over his left knee. He set his right elbow on the arm of the wooden chair and placed the fingers of his right hand against his lips. He looked at his mother with a heavy heart.

Finally, Gleason smiled back and asked, barely hiding the quiver in her voice, "What do you call this little boy? Does he have a name?"

"Yes, he has a name. I asked him that just the other day. He has a wonderful name, two names, actually. His name is Chris Tian."

Gleason's hand moved slowly from Bobby's thigh to her mouth.

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Bobby and Gleason walked slowly down the hall. Gleason held onto his right arm. She pulled him to a stop before they reached the common area.

"Bobby, that name, Chris Tian, that's Christian, my father's name. 'Tian' is a short, old version for Christian, like 'Liam' is short for 'William.'" She thought a moment, and then said, "How would your mother know my father's name? Did you hear her description of that little boy?" She could not say the rest out loud, 'that child is a mix of you and me.' Gleason was shaking. Bobby looked at the floor and ran his hand down the back of his head. Gleason continued, "Bobby, did you tell her about the miscarriage? Did you?"

"No! It would have served no purpose except to upset her." He didn't know what to think. "We need to talk with Dr. Shinto." Bobby took Gleason's hand and together, they moved to the reception desk.

Gleason could not stop shaking and that weight on her chest. . . Mrs. Goren seemed so happy to talk about the little boy. Who is he?

"I'm sorry, but Dr. Shinto had to leave, an emergency. I can leave word that you would like to speak with him."

Bobby's frustration was obvious. His left hand went to the back of his neck. He two-stepped backward. Gleason walked up beside him and spoke to the nurse. "Thank you; please have Dr. Shinto call us. You have our cell numbers, right?"

The nurse read off all of Bobby's numbers and Gleason's cell number. They nodded and Gleason slid her arm though Bobby's arm and said, "Let's go home."

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