The Blue Nowhere

“Lesson Plan,” walked to the desk. The receptionist whispered, “Joyce and Don Wingate were in an accident.”
    “No!”
    “It sounds bad.” The receptionist nodded. “This’s Don’s brother, Irv.”
    They nodded and stricken Amy said, “How are they?”
    The brother swallowed and cleared his emotion-thickened throat. “They’ll live. At least that’s what the doctors’re saying now. But they’re both unconscious still. My brother broke his back.” He forced back tears.
    The receptionist wiped away her own. “Joyce’s so active in the PTA. Everybody loves her. What can we do?”
    “I don’t know yet,” Irv said, shaking his head. “I’m not thinking real clearly.”
    “No, no, of course not.”
    Amy said, “But everybody at the school’ll be here for you, whatever you need.” Amy summoned a stocky woman in her fifties. “Oh, Mrs. Nagler!”
    The gray-suited woman approached and glanced at Irv, who nodded at her. “Mrs. Nagler,” he said. “You’re the director here, right?”
    “That’s right.”
    “I’m Irv Wingate, Samantha’s uncle. I met you at the spring recital last year.”
    She nodded and shook his hand.
    Wingate recapped the story of the accident.
    “Oh, my God, no,” Mrs. Nagler whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
    Irv said, “Kathy—that’s my wife—she’s up there now. I’m here to pick up Sammie.”
    “Of course.”
    But Mrs. Nagler, sympathetic though she was, nonetheless ran a tight ship and wasn’t going to deviate from the rules. She leaned over the computer keyboard and typed with blunt, polish-free nails on the keys. She read the screen and then said, “You’re on the authorized list of relatives to release Samantha to.” She hit another key and a picturepopped up—the driver’s license photo of Irving Wingate. She looked up at him. It was a perfect match. Then she said, “But I’m afraid there’re two other things we have to verify. First, could I see your driver’s license, please?”
    “Sure.” He displayed the card. It matched both his appearance and the photo on the computer.
    “Just one more thing. I’m sorry. Your brother was very security minded, you know.”
    “Oh, sure,” Wingate said. “The password.” He whispered to her, “It’s S-H-E-P.” Mrs. Nagler nodded in confirmation. Irv gazed out the window at the liquid sunlight falling on a boxwood hedge. “That was Donald’s first Airedale, Shep. We got it when he was twelve. That was a great dog. He still raises them, you know.”
    Mrs. Nagler said sadly, “I know. We sometimes e-mail each other pictures of our dogs. I’ve got two weimaraners.” Her voice faded and she put this sorrowful thought away. She made a call, spoke to the girl’s teacher and asked that the student be brought to the main reception area.
    Irv said, “Don’t say anything to Sammie, please. I’ll break the news to her in the car.”
    “Of course.”
    “We’ll stop for breakfast on the way. Egg McMuffins’re her favorite.”
    Amy of the crimson suit choked at this bit of trivia. “That’s what she had on the class trip to Yosemite. . . .” She covered her eyes and cried silently for a moment.
    An Asian woman—presumably Sammie’s teacher—led a skinny redheaded girl into the office. Mrs. Nagler smiled and said, “Your uncle Irving’s here.”
    “Irv,” he corrected. “She calls me Uncle Irv. Hi, Sammie.”
    “Wow, you grew your mustache back like totally fast.”
    Wingate laughed. “Your aunt Kathy said I looked more distinguished.” He crouched down. “Listen, your mommy and daddy decided you could take the day off school. We’re going to go spend the day with them in Napa.”
    “They went up to the vineyard?”
    “That’s right.”
    A frown crossed the girl’s freckled face. “Dad said they couldn’t go till next week. Because of the painters.”
    “They changed their mind. And you get to go up there with me.”
    “Cool!”
    The teacher said, “You go get your book bag now. Okay?”
    The girl ran off and Mrs. Nagler told the teacher what’d happened. “Oh, no,” the woman whispered as she shouldered her portion of the tragedy. A few minutes later Samantha reappeared, her heavy book bag hooked over her shoulder. She and Uncle Irv started out the door. The receptionist whispered to Mrs. Nagler, “Thank God she’ll be in good hands.”
    And Irv Wingate must’ve heard her say this because he turned and nodded. Still, the receptionist did a brief double take;