The Doctor Dines in Prague Read Online Free PDF Page A

there was a message.

    Dear Doctor,
    We’re all here at the bookstore.

    That explained the delay!

    I’ve read your message and I have a suggestion. Why don’t you send the child over here? I can take much better care of her where I can speak the language and I know the ropes.
    Best wishes,
    â€”Kathleen Doyle
    P.S. This is Jen. If you want, I could come over and baby-sit. My passport is up-to-date and I could leave tomorrow.
    P.P.S. Hi, Doc. Rat here. I’d be glad to come over. I’ve never been on a plane.
    P.P.P.S. “Meow!” (Me, too!)
    P.P.P.P.S. That was Sal.

    Had they taken Sal to the bookstore?

    Doctor—Doyle again. Don’t forget to get Marie a passport.

    As if I would!

    Send plenty of warm clothes. It’s still cold here even though it’s almost April. And if she has a favorite toy, be sure she brings it. She may be homesick and a doll or a stuffed animal would help.

    How does Doyle know that? Then Fenimore remembered: His nurse was from a family of eight and she had oodles of nieces and nephews.

    Make a sign for her with her name on it to hold up at the airport. We don’t want to miss her. We’ll wait here at the bookstore until you send her plane’s arrival time.

    So, Doyle’s “suggestion” was already a fait accompli!

    P.P.P.P.P.S. I TOLD you, you should get a computer! Jen

    That was all.
    Fenimore typed “PASSPORT” on the e-mail screen.
    Marie looked puzzled.
    Frustrated, Fenimore reached for the dictionary. In Czech, passport was pasport . He typed, “PASPORT BUREAU.”
    â€œNe, ne,” Marie said, and with a few keystrokes, took him to the Web. When www appeared, she typed, czechpasportbureau.com . After a brief pause, the Web page for the Czech Passport Bureau appeared, with instructions on how to apply in many languages: Czech, German, French, Russian, and English.
    Magic, thought Fenimore, and cursed himself for being such a computer dunce.

    He learned that in order to get a passport for Marie he must supply her birth certificate and a photograph. The latter would be easy, but the former might be hard. He read on. There was an application form and the address of the passport office in Prague. At the end was the warning: “Processing a passport takes three days.”
    Three days! Fenimore groaned.
    Marie showed him how to download the application and print it out. He laid it aside and asked her to find him some U.S. airline Web sites. He found a plane that left Prague in three days. He ordered a one-way ticket and paid for it with his Visa card. He relayed this information to his friends in Philadelphia. After he had sent the message, he looked for Marie. She had vanished. He went to her room. She was lying on her bed, clutching her teddy bear.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” he asked.
    For answer, she rolled away from him—onto her stomach.
    He went and sat on the bed. “Marie?”
    She looked up, her dark eyes wet with tears. “Neodjíždj,” she pleaded. (“Don’t leave.”)
    In her distress she had reverted to Czech.
    â€œOh, my dear …” He reached for her hand. “You don’t understand. I’m not going. You are. To America!” He grinned, sure that this news would make her happy.
    She drew her hand away. “Ne,” she said into her pillow. “I want to stay with you.”
    Fenimore took a pad and pen from his pocket and began drawing. “How would you like to see this?” He showed her his crude picture of the Liberty Bell.

    She shook her head.
    He drew again. “How about this?” He showed her a picture of Betsy Ross hard at work on the flag.

    No response.
    In desperation, Fenimore reached for the bear. “What’s his name?”
    â€œJiri.” (“George.”)
    â€œLook, Jiri.” He showed him both pictures. “You want to go to America, don’t you?”
    With a little help from Fenimore,