A Caring Heart 5

Menard set the picture frame back on his desk, but facing him this time. "And each night," he continued, "when any of us was scared, we would call out to him 'Willie Nealy, I'm scared please come to me!'

I felt my breath catch in my throat as I heard the man recite the well known phrase and give it a whole new meaning at the same time.

Mr. Menard never took his eyes off of the boy's picture as he spoke. "He would come straight to my bed and sit with me, running his fingers through my hair to soothe me. He was there every night for all of us when we needed him. And as he made it all better he would hum a song to us."

I felt chills run the whole length of my body as I heard Mr. Menard begin to hum the song that I had heard earlier that day and every other day. And as Menard stopped at the familiar spot he said, "And that's when we would take over and sing the rest of the song. Willie always insisted that it was hard to be scared when you were singing a good song." I saw Menard try to smile through a frown. He took a deep breath in then slowly exhaled, saying, "Sometimes I can hum the first part and I swear I can hear him finishing the rest of it."

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I was breathing slowly as I realized that the humming boy that I heard earlier was a ghost. I wondered if it was a good thing that I was also hearing sounds from this orphan who'd passed on. The right side of my mouth turned up a little as I took new joy in remembering the toy car that went flying to hit Carl in the head. I had gotten very angry at Carl and it seemed that this ghost boy was just as mad.

Mr. Menard became quiet as he still looked at the photo. Finally he turned to me, shaking his head, "As you know, we were orphans during a tough time." His voice changed becoming slower and more sad, "And as boys got sick all around us."

I heard Mr. Menard's voice crack as he tried to keep talking. He pursed his lips tight and his bottom lip quivered. "Willie tried to save us all, but he was just a boy." The tall man seemed to shrink in his chair. His eyes shut tight and released long streams of tears at the same time.

"And," he continued, "all he could do was make sure that other boys received the medicine that he should have gotten."

Mr. Menard couldn't talk normal anymore. His face screwed up and became red with free flowing tears that glistened on his face. I wiped the moisture from my own eyes and sniffled through my nose. Finally I heard Mr. Menard clear his throat and say, "Well, you can guess what happened. And, Artie, I've told you all of this because Willie was the only thing that I ever had as a parent and every day since his passing, has been empty." He paused, holding tight onto the picture, "He deserves peace in his after life and not to be hounded by the media." Menard pointed to the video camera in my lap.

I jumped a little, hearing Mr. Menard's accusing voice. I placed the camera on the desk in front of me shaking my head slightly. "That was Carl's idea."

The man across from me nodded his head, scooting the camera closer. "I figured as much. The little turd blossom doesn't have anything better to do than to poke his nose in everything." He paused, examining me for a minute, then said, "Thank you for letting me share, Artie. And please keep helping little Stevie out like you have been, he'll remember it for many years to come."

I nodded and stood up. Before leaving the room, I turned the picture so that I could see the image of the boy one more time. The smiling face wasn't scary anymore, but he actually seemed happy and I think I even saw a bit of myself staring back.

The walk back to my floor was different than before. I was alone, in the dark halls. As I walked, I peered into dark hallways, now hoping to see the ghost boy that I had just learned about. It was nice to think that some one who had done so much for so many was able to stay in the place that he knew as a home.

Every light was on in the large room where my bunk mates were. Mrs. Menard sat her plump figure on a chair at the end of the row of beds. She nodded at me as I tried to be quiet about entering the room and walked over to my bed.

I saw Stevie's scared little face staring at me from under his covers. The little 18 year old was red faced with tears and a frown that made my heart sink. I looked carefully at Mrs. Menard, then sat on the edge of Stevie's bed. The large woman nodded her head briefly and then left the room, shutting the door behind her.

I pulled the covers down to reveal the whole of Stevie's face. I placed my hands gently on either side of his face and wiped away the tears with the balls of my thumbs. Stevie opened his mouth is a silent cry, releasing his full emotion now that I was there. He tried to be quiet while I took one hand and ran my fingers slowly through his light brown hair. I caressed Stevie's hair and cheek while he let it all out and as he settled down and was breathing normal again, I hummed a soft tune to him that I had heard everyday since I could remember. My 18 year old little buddy's expression turned from sadness to curiosity as I hummed the soothing song.

"You're not scared?" Stevie asked between shuddered breaths.

I smiled genuinely as I said, "No." I leaned in close to Stevie, whispering, "The ghost is our friend."

I heard the breath catch in Stevie's throat and his eyes open wide when he asked, "It is?"

"Yes." I replied. "The ghost is a boy just like us and he didn't like the way you were being treated. That's why he threw the car at Carl's head."

The bed shook as Stevie let out an audible giggle. "He did?" Stevie asked.

I nodded my head in answer as I laughed right along with my little buddy. It was always nice to see a frown turn into a smile, especially after such a difficult night. I kissed Stevie's forehead and continued running my hands through his hair. I watched the fear drain from the little boy's face and saw his eyes close more and more, but suddenly his eyes opened wide.

"Carl." Stevie said, "Carl says he's gonna beat me up when I go to sleep."

I sat up, examining Stevie's expression and feeling the adrenaline surge through me again. I turned around to see Carl's eyes watching me as he laid down. There was a large red knot at the center of Carl's head that marked the spot where the toy had hit him.

"He says he's gonna sneak out and steal the video tape back." Stevie added.

I turned back to show a reassuring smile to Stevie. I kissed his forehead again, then told him, "You don't have to worry about Carl."

I got up from Stevie's bed and stood like a statue, meeting Carl's eyes. I made sure that he saw the anger in my eyes and the silent growl on my lips. I stayed there for at least two minutes until Carl took his eyes off of me. I watched Carl turn over in his bed, facing the other way.

Stevie was still awake and watching me as I fished my hands under my bed to pull out my olive green army coat. I slid out another box from under the bed that had toys and trinkets and in the middle of it all was my silver flash light.

I sat in the middle at the head of my bed with my back resting against the headboard. I was sitting on top of the covers with my shoes on along with all of my outdoor clothing. My knees were bent upward so that my hands were resting on them and holding onto my flashlight. To anyone who saw me, I was on guard and ready to move at a moment's notice. I glanced side ways to view the comforted smile of Stevie's sleepy face. I winked at the little guy, letting him know that he was safe and that I had his back for the night.

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