Page 25 of Families and Other Enemies

She tried to speak again, but tears welled in her eyes.

Dr. Nouvelle walked on.

Dorothy sat on her stool in the door of the prep kitchen. In her cranky old-lady voice, she said, “It’s about time you got back.”

“I was just lolling around,” Ralph told her.

“So I thought.” Carefully she climbed off the stool and put one hand on the handle of the wheelchair, over the top of Dr. Nouvelle’s. “The soup makers are busy, and they wanted to see you, too, so we’re headed in there.”

As they passed Bridget’s office, Ralph gestured. “Is Mrs. Soderquist in there? I’d like to say hello.”

“She’s back this direction,” Dr. Nouvelle said.

They moved slower now—with her bad hip, Dorothy couldn’t move quickly—and Kellen and Sandra brought up the rear. Ralph didn’t know it, but behind him, people were coming in from every open door, following Ralph as if he were a magnetic field. Dr. Nouvelle pushed him into the soup kitchen to meet Bridget and one other person, a young teenager with Down syndrome.

Bridget gave the child a little nudge.

She wasn’t shy. She marched up to Ralph and asked, “Do you know who I am?”

“I don’t.” Confused, he looked around at Dr. Nouvelle, at Sandra and Kellen, at Bridget, then back at the child. “Who are you?”

“I’m Ellie Pettijohn. My mom is Melissa Pettijohn.”

“Oh!” Ralph offered his hand with a smile. “I do know who you are.”

Ellie took his hand. “My mother says you saved my life. After I was born, my father got mad because I have Down syndrome. He ran away and took all our savings. She couldn’t work because I was sick and I cried all the time, and no one would take care of me. We lost our house and we were starving. She wanted to kill us both, drown us in the ocean. So she came to Virtue Falls, and you recognized her because once you had been in despair and wanted to kill yourself, too.”

“That’s all true.” Ralph nodded encouragingly.

The child continued. “You gave us all your money and you found us someplace to live, and someone to help us.”

“That someone was Dr. Nouvelle.” Ralph indicated the man who held the handles of his wheelchair. “Did you know that?”

“I did know that. He did it because you helped him out of trouble and to become a doctor. He wanted to pass on what you had done.” Ellie smiled at him, an unaffected smile that lit up her face. “I want to thank you for saving my life and helping my mother be happy and healthy.”

A woman walked out from behind Kellen and took her place in front of Ralph. She kissed him on the cheek and gave him a yellow carnation. In a choked voice, she said, “Thank you, Ralph, for helping me and giving my little girl life—and for showing me how to pass it on.”

Dr. Nouvelle turned the wheelchair toward the door, toward the crowd of fifty people who now filled the room. They crowded in, more and more of them—teachers, parents, the homeless, a state senator, a college president—all smiling and crying, offering carnations and roses and lilies, and murmuring thank-yous.

At first, Ralph stared incomprehensively, then as he recognized the faces of the people he had helped, and shook hands and accepted the flowers, tears began to leak from his eyes and trickle down his pallid cheeks.

Bridget leaned close to his ear. “We’ve raised seventy-five thousand for your medical expenses, and more is coming in every hour.”

Ralph looked at her in amazement and choked out his gratitude.

“No, we’re grateful for you,” she replied, “for all the things you do to help people, and for your soup, too!”

His lips moved, as if he wanted to say something to her, but Sophia came through the line, hugged him and said, “I’m sorry you got hurt helping me, but I’m going to do good like you. Me, and my brothers and sister.” Her siblings—fourteen, thirteen and eight—were lined up behind her, and they nodded as fiercely as their sister.

“I don’t deserve this,” he said.

“Of course you do,” she scoffed. “Mister, don’t nobody do something like this for someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

“I don’t deserve it. Remember what I told you?” Ralph asked. “About me and my...my family?”

“About your daughter? Yes. And remember what I told you? That you should find her and explain? If she was here, she’d see what you’re really like. She’d forgive you for sure.”

“It’s never easy like that.” His tears flowed slower and hotter. “Not when it’s so important.”

With the confidence of youth, she said, “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

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