Doctor Frosty by John C. Laird (accelerated reader books .TXT) 📕

The snowman stood glistening in the glow from the porch light. Eli Solomon, his breath misting in the twenty degree air around him, watched the slow graying of the six a.m. darkness with a growing sense of urgency. He and the snowman, Dr. Frosty, were ready for their trip, but with a six hour drive still ahead of them Eli just hoped that it wasn’t too late.

The rented, refrigerated truck was backed into their driveway, the cargo door open and the lift gate lowered, ready to receive its important load. Eli had the hand-operated forklift ready to move the sturdy wooden pallet upon which the snowman rested.

He and his wife, Amy, had created Dr. Frosty the prior day. He stood over six feet tall, of traditional snowman countenance and garb. His eyes and a smiling mouth were made of charcoal from the past summer’s barbeques, the buttons down his front from the red decorative rocks found around their flower beds. He sported a large, plastic carrot nose and tree branches for arms. A bright red scarf circled his thick neck, and a black top-hat rested regally upon his head.

Frosty had acquired the ‘Doctor’ appellation from Amy. A stethoscope gleamed from around the snowman’s neck—above and over his scarf—donated by a friend of Amy’s at the Cloudcroft Hospital. An old, black doctor’s bag would soon be adorning one of Dr. Frosty’s arms…

Amy had come outside, but had stopped several feet away. She was holding the doctor’s bag in a white, mitten-clad hand, the words ‘Dr. Frosty’ stenciled in white on both sides of the bag. A red, knit hat was pulled down over her ears, strands of her dark hair fighting their way loose around the edges. She was staring at the snowman—seemingly mesmerized—her free hand clutching the front of her heavy winter coat.

Her luminous, brown eyes reflected the light from the porch, eyes now even brighter as they brimmed with tears. Eli didn’t know if it was from the cold, or if she was on the verge of crying. He walked over to her.

She looked at him with a small, sad smile, wiping away a tear that had escaped down her cheek. “I just got off the phone with the Anderson’s—their daughter had a bad night— they weren’t sure she was going to make it. She said to be careful, but to please hurry; they’ll be expecting you.”

She hooked the handle of the bag over the snowman’s tree-limb arm, briefly resting her hand on his rounded chest before continuing. “You boys better get a move on, you have a long drive ahead of you.”

Eli knew there was something more behind her tears, but remained silent. He began the process of loading Dr. Frosty onto the truck—managing the operation without mishap—and secured the big snowman with restraining ropes as best he could.

Having finished, he looked over at Amy. She was still standing near the front porch with her arms crossed in front of her, looking small and frail. Walking over to her, he noticed that her eyes still glistened. “Are you sure you won’t come with me?”

“I can’t. I don’t think I could do it… not face to face. It’s different than the Internet.” Standing on her toes to stretch her 5’4” frame up to his bending down 6’2, she gave him a hug and briefly pressed her cold lips to his. “You’d better get going; the sun’s coming up. I‘m going to call once more and tell them you’re on your way.”

He was walking to the truck when she called out to him, “Wait!” Running up, she gave him another kiss, longer, warmer. Now, the tears were streaming down her cheeks; she turned and ran back to the house.

Eli’s mind churned with emotion. He knew that Amy had been thinking, not only about the little girl in Tucson, but about their own daughter Mikaela, who had died over two years ago. She had passed away at the age of six after a two year battle with acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Amy had been devastated and had never fully recovered, had never let go of their little girl. She had refused to seek help, talk about Mikaela or discuss the possibility of any more children in their future. Eli worried that the shadow cast over Amy’s soul would defy the passage of time.

Eli’s own struggles with the loss of their only child had been long and agonizing—the scars would always be with him—but eventually he had moved forward out of the shadows. Unfortunately, Amy had not made the journey with him.

For the last two years Amy had immersed herself in the blogs and Facebook pages of families with terminally ill young children. She had corresponded with several families, commiserated, offered advice and helped organize fundraisers for those so tragically stricken.

Death, inevitably, claimed those innocent young, and Amy would move on to the next child and family in need of solace, seemingly never finding any peace herself. Eli didn’t know if this emotional commitment was therapeutic, or was just prolonging her pain. He could only hope and pray that her involvement with the plight of these children was somehow helping her.

As he pulled the truck out onto the highway and headed west, Eli couldn’t help but wonder if the time had come, if she was ready to finally move forward.

Eli prayed that maybe…this time…

#

Eli backed the truck up to the Tucson Children’s Hospital and carefully unloaded Dr. Frosty, placing him on the grassy area near the entrance. Eli had called ahead, and apparently this endeavor had been cleared with hospital security because no one bothered him while they unloaded. The snowman now stood regally in the seventy-five degree Arizona sunshine, an emissary from the mountains in faraway Cloudcroft, New Mexico.

Eli and Dr. Frosty didn’t have long to wait before the hospital’s main door opened, and a little five year old girl appeared in her wheelchair, being pushed by her father, her mother wheeling an IV pole beside them. Several doctors, nurses and orderlies followed close behind. Even a number of curious visitors—as well as a few of the hospital’s more mobile patients—had joined the approaching group.

The small band of stunned onlookers crowded around the tall, exotic snowman; a unique sight in the southern deserts of Arizona.

The father lifted his gravely ill daughter out of the wheelchair, a mere shadow of a child. The little girl touched the grinning snowman wonderingly. Her dad held her closer and higher, and she put her cheek against the coolness of Dr. Frosty’s smiling face, her own dry lips forming a rare smile—a smile that grew and grew.

Several minutes later the child’s mother approached Eli who had been standing apart from the group. She had been crying. “I’m Karen Anderson; you must be Mr. Solomon.”

“Yes, ma’am, but you can call me Eli.”

“Eli, I don’t know how to thank you. My daughter’s been sick most of her life; a life of endless doctors and hospitals. She’s never been outside of Arizona, never seen snow or a snowman, only pictures. Dr. Frosty is all she’s talked about ever since your wife told us about the idea.” Karen wiped at her eyes. “It may be the only reason she’s held on these last few days.”

She held out her hand to Eli. “I think this was left in the doctor’s bag by accident, it must belong to your wife or daughter.”

Eli stared at the silver bracelet with its eleven dangling charms: The Ten Commandments and the Lord’s Prayer. Eli had to swallow several times to compose himself. “That belonged to my daughter, Mikaela; Amy obviously meant for your little girl to have it.”

She had given away their daughter’s bracelet. He handed the cluster of silver trinkets back to the grieving mother and folded her hand around the charms. “This is for your daughter, from the Solomon’s.”

He looked over at the ever growing crowd around the smiling snowman. He half expected Dr. Frosty’s beaming face to turn toward him and a stick arm to wave a final farewell. The big guy was a success, in more ways than one. Amy was finally free.

Eli squeezed her hand once more. “Please excuse me, ma’am, I have to get home; my wife needs…wants…to talk to me about some things…”

###

Text: John C. Laird
Images: istockphoto.com
Editing: Alexandra Laird
Publication Date: 02-02-2012

All Rights Reserved