Lee Goldberg: The Walk

“Looks like it, too if you don’t mind me saying so,” The man said with a friendly smile and a soft voice that reminded Marty of Mister Rogers. “I’m Alan Plebney, the headmaster of Dandelion Preschool; this is my wife Faye.”

“I’m Martin Slack,” he said, returning the smile. Things were getting off to a good start. “May I have some water?”

“Help yourself.”

Marty guzzled down four cups and half expected to see it all leaking out of the hole in his gut. Instead, the water flowed through him like an electric charge.

“Where are the other teachers?” Marty asked.

“I let them go home to their families. As headmaster, I have to stay until all the children are returned to their parents. Besides, I can’t go anywhere with this leg anyway.” He motioned to his wife and his eyes glowed with admiration. “My wife walked all the way here from Studio City to make sure me and the children were okay.”

Marty glanced at Faye, and saw her having a muffled conversation with Clara. The little girl looked fearfully back at him, a look that wasn’t lost on either Faye or her husband.

“How do you know Clara?” Alan asked protectively.

Marty decided to go with honesty. “I don’t.”

“Then I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re doing here, Mr. Slack, besides having a couple cups of water.”

Marty reached into his pocket, took out the singed picture of Molly and Clara, and whispered as he showed it to Alan. “Her mother gave this to me. Just before she died.”

Alan glanced over at Clara, then back to him.

“She asked me to take care of her daughter,” Marty said. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Were you a close friend?” Alan asked.

“Not until that moment.”

Alan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I can’t let this child go with a complete stranger, no matter how well intentioned he may be.”

“Is there any one else? Did Molly give you a name of someone she trusted as an emergency contact?” Marty asked, but he already knew the answer.

Alan shook his head. “She said she had to think about it. That was three months ago.”

Faye rejoined them, leaving Clara with her friends.

“You can’t let this man take her, Alan,” she said firmly, then lowered her voice so Clara couldn’t hear. “He could be a child molester.”

“Take a good look at me, Mrs. Plebney,” Marty said. “Do I look like I’m in any shape to hurt anyone?”

From the expressions on their faces, he knew he’d scored a point with that. Marty reached into his pocket, took out his wallet, and handed them his driver’s license. “This is me. You keep it. If anyone else comes for Clara, you can tell them that’s who has her and that’s where she is. But we both know that’s not going to happen.”

Alan took his license and studied it, as if the answer to this problem was written on it in very fine print.

“I walked here from downtown Los Angeles, carrying that picture in my pocket. Along the way, I’ve been shot, poisoned, burned, impaled, and nearly drowned. I want to go home to my wife now, and I’d like to bring Clara with me. I don’t know if my house is still there, or if my wife is even alive. But I promise you, no matter what I find, Clara will be safe. I will take care of her.”

Alan and Faye Plebney stared at him, wrestling with the decision. And while they were, Clara came up and touched the picture in Alan’s hand.

“That’s my mommy,” Clara said. “Is she coming to get me soon?”

“She asked me to get you, Clara,” Marty spoke up quickly, before the Plebneys could answer. “My name is Martin.”

Clara looked up hesitantly at Marty. She wanted to believe him. “What’s the secret word?”

“Please,” he replied.

“No, the other secret word,” Clara said.

Marty had no idea what it was.

The Plebneys and Clara were staring at him, waiting. Like it was a challenge. Like they all knew he didn’t know.

Why didn’t Molly tell him? She had to know her kid would ask.

“She said not to go with a stranger who doesn’t know the secret word,” Clara repeated, just in case he needed reminding.

In a few seconds, Clara was going to turn against him, and then the Plebneys would follow suit. Marty couldn’t let that stop him, even if it meant calling in Buck and using force. Because if Marty didn’t leave with Clara, he’d be haunted for the rest of his life with that last image of Molly, holding that picture out to him, her eyes pleading, calling to him with her last breath…

And by remembering that, what didn’t make sense before now was perfectly clear. Molly did tell him.

“Angel,” Marty said.

Clara nodded.

“Is that the secret word?” Alan asked Clara gently.

“Yes,” she said, then looked up at Marty with big, wishful eyes. “Will you take me to see my Mommy?”

Marty looked at the Plebneys. It was up to them now.

Alan glanced at his wife, who gave her nod of acceptance, then he turned to Clara. “Martin is going to take care of you for a while.”

“Where’s my Mommy?” Clara asked, stuffing the burnt, wrinkled picture into her pocket.

The three adults shared an awkward moment of silence. None of them wanted to tell Clara the horrible news yet. Some day soon, perhaps even today, Marty would have to tell Clara that her mother was dead. And on another day, a long time from now, he would have to tell her how her mother died and all the things she said to him. Eventually, he’d have to hurt her and it was a pain he knew would never go away, for either of them.

“We don’t know,” Alan replied. “But we know that wherever she is, she loves you and wants you to be safe. That’s why she sent Martin to take you home.”

Faye gave Clara a kiss on the top of her head. “That’s from me and Mr. Plebney. You’ve been a very, very good girl. Now you have to be a good girl with Martin too. We’ll see you soon.”

Clara nodded shyly.

Marty held his hand out to Clara. “We’re going on a long walk, but I’ve got a problem. I hurt myself and I need someone to help me. Would you be my helper?”

She nodded and took his hand.

He squeezed her hand and let her lead him out again through the sideyard.

They found Buck pacing nervously out front, waiting for them. Buck flashed Clara his biggest, most winning smile.

“This is my friend Buck,” Marty said. “He’s going to walk with us.”

“So this is the beautiful princess I’ve heard so much about,” Buck said. “You are even more enchanting than I imagined, your highness.”

Buck did an elaborate bow. Clara didn’t say anything. She was obviously intimidated. Marty couldn’t really blame her.

“See those big shoulders? You know what they’re for?” Marty asked. “Giving beautiful, little princesses rides so they don’t get tired on long walks. Would you like him to give you a ride?”

She shook her head no. “You said you wanted me to help.”

“So I did,” Marty turned to Buck. “Sorry.”

Buck flashed his smile at Clara again. “Well, if you change your mind, your Highness, you just snap your fingers.”

The three of them walked in silence for an hour, working their way west on Ventura Boulevard as darkness fell. Marty was afraid to say anything to her for fear it would lead back to questions about her mother.

Silence was much safer.

Each step was more painful than the last, but feeling her tiny hand in his somehow made him feel stronger, that he could take on anything if that’s what it took to keep her safe. With just that touch, his own life took second place to hers.

Clara unknowingly emboldened him when they came to the inevitable moment when they had to cross the LA river again. He didn’t want to show any hesitancy or fear in front of her, so he simply hustled her across the overpass as quickly as he could without fainting from the pain.