Image by Rico Löb from Pixabay
While watching his grandchildren while Mrs. Ludlow got dinner finished, Capt. Ludlow was surprised by the child he didn't expect to come bouncing up to him: eight-year-old Gracie Trent.
“Hello, Uncle Captain!” she said brightly, and the heart of the captain utterly melted … even though Gracie could wreck a whole day by making coffee with God's own water from the downspout, fill everybody's heads with ideas that made perfect sense under 12 and leave the adults scrambling to explain actual reality, and be helping out Mr. Sandman by putting kitty litter from the clean side of the box in everyone's bed, there was something about the spirit of this child that nobody could resist.
“Hello, sweetheart,” the captain purred, because that was the best term for Gracie – a sweet heart, a brilliant mind, just stuck being eight.
Lil' Robert Ludlow, five years old, basically the same nature as Gracie, came bounding up to sit next to her.
“I wanna know too!” he loudly declared, and then there was a general stampede … and Capt. Ludlow found himself covered in all of his seven grandchildren and all three little Trents.
“So, I had a question,” Gracie said as her father Sgt. Vincent Trent was pulled in by the general gravity of his children. “Is the place you are going kind of like an abbey or monastery? I'm asking because I was reading one of Velma's books.”
Velma Trent, Gracie's eleven-year-old sister, produced the book Up the Abbey Road by Jean Richelieu.
Capt. Ludlow considered the question.
“Well,” he said, “kind of, in the sense that I am going for treatment to a place that is quiet so I can rest and think and pray and work on my healing in the mind. But I could never be a monk, or a Catholic priest, because I am a married man, and people of all religions can go to the Veteran's Lodge's inpatient treatment facilities for treatment.”
Gracie considered this.
“You mean right down the road and around two corners – that place next door to the pharmacy here?”
“Yes, little ma'am.”
Gracie looked at Edwina.
“We literally can walk there and rescue your grandfather at any time, and you had us all worried about you getting ready to do 25 years for kidnapping?”
“Well, I didn't know that before today – everybody doesn't have a map in their heads, Gracie!”
“I don't have a map in my head either, but I walk down with Mom to pick up medicine a lot. I mean literally, we can walk down there.”
“Y'all want to go down there and see how close it is?” Capt. Ludlow said.
“Yes!” said all ten.
“With your permission, Sergeant,” Capt. Ludlow said, “may Gracie, Milton, and Velma come with us?”
“Yes, Captain – in fact, I'll walk with you. It's a really nice evening walk.”
“Yay!” all the children said, and off they went, down the road from the cul-de-sac and around two corners until they were at the facility.
Capt.. Ludlow's EMDR-therapist-to-be, Major K.B.Mueller, was actually on site, about to leave for the day, when the Ludlows and Trents walked up.
“You're early, Capt. Ludlow, but that's quite all right – I presume these are your family and friends?”
“Yeah!” Edwina Ludlow said, “and it's a good thing you're dressed right and seem to have your life together because we're gonna keep walking down here and checking, and if we need to, we're going to be able to organize a rescue real easy – ain't that right, Gracie?”
“Ain't it the truth,” Gracie said, “but, Edwina, your name isn't Capt. Ludlow.”
“Oooooooooooooops,” Edwina said as she turned bright red … but there was no anger in her grandfather's face.
“Adult conversations,” he said gently, and then opened his arms to Edwina.
“I'm just scared,” she said as she shed a few tears, “but now that I know Maj. Mueller is dressed right, and we can come rescue you, I'm feeling better. I just need you to come home OK!”
“We encourage socially distanced family visits,” Maj. Mueller said gently. “Zoom is best, but coming by and waving every Sunday and checking in from a safe distance is fine, too.”
He paused, and then his dark eyes twinkled.
“Permission to speak with your granddaughter, Captain.”
“Granted, sir.”
“Miss Edwina,” the major said, “my wife is just like you. If I try to leave my house not dressed right, no way.”
“Really?” Edwina said.
“My wife runs a local fashion magazine – ain't no way in the world I could do that. I would need you to rescue me if I tried. I think I have a copy in my car of the magazine – with your permission, Captain, I can give this to your granddaughter after spraying it down with rubbing alcohol.”
“Granted, sir.”
Maj. Mueller went and got the magazine, and then said, “Hmmmmm … my arms aren't large enough … who is really good at playing catch so we can stay six feet away from each other?”
“Me!” all ten children said, and surged forward, with Velma, the oldest and tallest, actually coming down with the magazine.
“Oh, wow,” she said with a quick look before handing it to Edwina. “Mrs. Mueller is the real deal!”
“She has stuff for men and women in here – look, Papa, we may need to come by here and get some pointers, because we're running a business, and I'm going to be a lawyer, and I gotta show up in court looking right!” nine-year-old George Ludlow said.
“And the church suits!” nine-year-old Milton said.
“Ain't it the truth,” Gracie said. “Just gotta grow a little more!”
“Next week, though!” Lil' Robert said.
“Why don't we head home and really look through that,” Sgt. Trent suggested, “and then next week when we walk down to wave at Capt. Ludlow, we can talk about the stuff we liked.”
“OK!” all ten said.
Edwina and seven-year-old Amanda Ludlow forgot all about the social distancing, and ran to embrace Maj. Mueller.
“Thank you!” Edwina said.
“I feel safe now!” Amanda said.
Gracie brought up the rear, but put both her hands out for her two friends.
“Friends don't let friends catch Covid – let's go,” she said. “Nothing personal, Major, but, you know, rules.”
“Yes, little ma'am,” the major said. “My mother is the same way – she didn't play about us getting sick. You must have some wonderful grandmothers.”
“Ain't it the truth, and this is why we gotta go,” she said, and walked her two friends right back to where they were supposed to be.
“Actually,” Capt. Ludlow said, “we gotta go in general, because it is almost dinnertime, and I'm sure you have to get home too, Major.”
“Yes, Captain, indeed – I gotta pick up dinner today, actually. I'll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir, and thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”
“See, now, the way he treated us today is how he's going to treat your grandfather – you ain't gotta worry no more, Edwina,” Gracie said as they were walking home.
“I'm so relieved!” Edwina said.
“He's really a nice person like he was on Zoom!” Amanda said.
“And if we need to, it'll be easy to do a rescue – we got it made!” George said.
“And if Cousin Harry and Cousin Maggie can't fix a problem, we can throw them over and come get Papa and Grandma at any time!” Edwina said.
“You just have no faith in our cousins, huh?” big sister eleven-year-old Eleanor said.
“Look,” Edwina said. “Only God is God and only Papa is Papa. I'm gonna give Cousin Harry and Cousin Maggie a week to dress right and do right, but y'all know I don't play about me and I don't play about mine – I'm turning them in and getting the real deal back.”
“Yeah, foster care was kinda rough,” Eleanor said.
“It was,” Edwina said. “Now that we've got the real deal, Cousin Harry and Cousin Maggie had better measure up, or else!”
“Remember now, friends don't let friends break bad,” Gracie said. “You gotta stop threatening folks at some point, especially since we're just four feet two or three or so.”
“Ain't it the truth,” said Capt. Ludlow, in a bass-voiced yet pitch-perfect imitation of Gracie's favorite saying.