Free An Imperfect Miracle by Thomas L. Peters Page B

patting my full belly when Aunt Helen told us that she’d baked an apple pie for dessert and that she had some ice cream and chocolate chip cookies too. I said to save me some while I went outside to play with Rocky. I was pretty sure Uncle Carl and Aunt Helen would have understood about Chewy being invisible now, but I didn’t want to say anything with Mom sitting right there.
    I ran all the way to the back of Uncle Carl’s orchard searching for snakes, but I didn’t find even a single garter snake. Rocky was racing around the whole time showing off how much he knew about where everything was, like groundhog holes and raccoons and such. But Chewy never minded Rocky’s bragging and was taking it all in good fun.
    I was finally starting to get hungry again and decided to leave the dogs out there to play some more while I headed back to the house. The window to the dining room was wide open, it being pretty hot out. As I was passing under it I heard Mom talking real low and serious, which was how she always talked about me with her nurse friends when she thought I wasn’t listening.
    â€œNathan’s doing much better now in school. I just wish he had more friends. I still hear him talking to Chewy once in a while. I’ve told the doctor about it, but he thinks he’ll grow out of it.”
    â€œIt’s a tough thing on a boy, losing his dog all of a sudden like that,” Uncle Carl said kind of garbled, like he still hadn’t quite finished off his corn.
    I pictured Aunt Helen throwing him a stern look.
    â€œMaybe that young preacher could help him adjust,” Aunt Helen said. “You know, bring him out of his shell.”
    I hated it when Mom started going on and on about me being lonely and having no friends and maybe being a little crazy too. How would she know anyway? It wasn’t like she followed me around all day. I shut up my ears and then ran into the house as fast as I could, where as soon as they saw me they started talking about how rainy it had been that year.
    â€œGood for the corn and tomatoes though,” Uncle Carl said, and then winked at me.
    After gobbling down the apple pie and cotton candy ice cream, which Uncle Carl had bought special for me, I sat back and patted my stomach, hoping I wouldn’t explode. Then I noticed that Uncle Carl had only eaten one little bite of pie and no ice cream or cookies. Uncle Carl was always shoveling down candy and donuts and anything sweet, and I asked him if he had a bellyache. Uncle Carl said that the doctor had told him to watch his sugar, whatever that meant. Then Mom chimed in that his diabetes wasn’t a problem if Uncle Carl would just eat right and exercise a little like the doctor wanted.
    â€œEasy for you to say,” Uncle Carl moaned.
    Aunt Helen wiped her mouth off with the big white handkerchief she had sitting on her lap, even though her mouth looked plenty clean to me.
    â€œIf you had just taken better care of yourself all these years, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”
    Uncle Carl reached down and yanked off his slippers and then started rubbing his toes a little. His toes looked fine to me, although the nails seemed a little thick and pale and crusty at the top.
    â€œMy feet are already starting to go bad. Next thing you know I won’t be able to see. That’s how diabetes works. It just wears down all your organs.”
    â€œFollow the doctor’s orders and you’ll be fine,” Mom broke in before Aunt Helen could yell at him again. “It’s at an early enough stage that it’s easily treatable.”
    But Uncle Carl still looked pretty sour about it, and I was wondering how I could cheer him up when all of a sudden I got an idea.
    â€œWhy don’t you go down and see Mary? I bet she could heal you up, a lot quicker than those doctors anyway. And she’ll probably let you eat all the apple pie and ice cream you want.”
    Uncle Carl looked at me