Her heart-face was turned to one side; her rosebud mouth, pink and
parted. Buttermilk skin, chubby cheeks, nubbin nose. Her hair was
sleek, straight, and black and trickled onto her shoulders. The bangs
were moist and they stuck to her forehead. A ring of lace collar was
visible above the blanket hem. One hand was concealed; the other,
dimpled and clenched, gathered the fabric. Its thumb was the size of a
lima bean.
The sleeper sofa by the window was unfolded to a single bed that had
been made up. Military corners, pillow smooth as eggshell. A flowered
vinyl overnight bag sat on the floor next to an empty food tray.
A young woman sat cross-legged on the edge of the mattress, reading TV
Guiae. As soon as she saw us she put down the magazine and got up.
Five five, firm figure, slightly long-waisted. Same shiny dark hair as
her daughter’s, parted in the middle, tied back loosely and gathered in
a thick braid that nearly reached her waIst. Same facial cast as
Cassie’s, too, stretched by maturity to something just barely longer
than the perfect oval. Fine nose; straight, wide, unpainted mouth with
naturally dark lips. Big brown eyes. Bloodshot.
No makeup, scrubbed complexion. A girlish woman. Twenty-six but she
could easily have passed for a college student.
From the bed came a soft, breathy sound. Cassie sighing. All of us
looked over at her. Her eyelids remained closed but they fluttered.
Threads of lavender vein were visible beneath the skin. She rolled
over, facing away from us.
I thought of a bisque doll.
All around us, the LuvBunnies leered.
Cindy Jones looked down at her daughter, reached over and smoothed hair
out of the child’s eyes.
Turning back to us, she ran her hands over her clothes, hurriedly, as
if searching for unfastened buttons The clothes were simple-plaid
cotton shirt over faded jeans and medium-heeled sandals. A pink
plastic Swatch watch. Not the post-deb, VIP daughter-in-law I’d
expected.
“Well,” whispered Stephanie, “looks like someone’s snoozing away. Get
any sleep yourself, Cindy?”
A little.” Soft voice, pleasant. She didn’t have to whisper.
“Our mattresses have a way to go, don’t they?”
“I’m fine, Dr. Eves.” Her smile was tired. Actually, Cassie slept
great. She woke once, around five, and needed a cuddle. I held her
and sang to her for a while and finally she fell back around seven.
Guess that’s why she’s still out.”
“Vicki said she had a headache.”
“Yes, when she woke. Vicki gave her some liquid Tylenol and that
seemed to work.”
“Tylenol was the right thing to give her, Cindy. But in the future all
medications-even over-the-counter stuff-will have to be approved by
me.
Just to play it safe.”
The brown eyes opened wide. “Oh. Sure. I’m sorry.”
Stephanie smiled. “No big deal. I just want to be careful. Cindy,
this is Dr. Delaware, the psychologist we spoke about.”
“Hello, Dr. Delaware.”
“Hello, Mrs. Jones.”
“Cindy.” She extended a narrow hand and smiled shyly. Likable.
I knew my job wasn’t going to be easy.
Stephanie said, As I told you, Dr. Delaware’s an expert on anxiety in
children. If anyone can help Cassie cope, he can. He’d like to talk
with you right now, if this is a good time.”
“Oh. . . sure. This is fine.” Cindy touched her braid and looked
worried.
“Terrific,” said Stephanie. “If there’s nothing you need from me, I’ll
be going.”
“Nothing I can think of right now, Dr. Eves. I was just wondering if
you’d. . . come up with anything?”
“Not yet, Cindy. Yesterday’s EEC was totally normal. But, as we’ve
discussed, with children this age that’s not always conclusive.
The nurses haven’t charted any seizurelike behavior. Have you noticed
anything?”
“No. . . not really.”
“Not really?” Stephanie took a step closer. She was only an inch
taller than the other woman but seemed much larger.
Cindy Jones passed her upper lip under her top teeth, then released
it.
“Nothing-it’s probably not important.”
“It’s okay, Cindy. Tell me anything, even if you think it’s
irrelevant.”
“Well, I’m sure it’s nothing, but sometimes I wonder if she’s tuning
out-not listening when I talk to her? Kind of staring off into