with fingers missing. A name, which had come to him once before, echoed
through the leaping flames and melting shadows in the Haunted House.
Regina… ….. . Regina.
The visit to Dr. Nyebern’s office had depressed Hatch, both because the
tests had revealed nothing that shed any light on his strange
experiences and because of the glimpse he had gotten into the
physician’s own troubled life. But Regina was a medicine for melancholy
if ever there had been one. She had all the enthusiasm of a child her
age; life had not beaten her down one inch.
On the way from the car to the front door of the house, she moved more
swiftly and easily than when she had entered Salvatore Gujilio’s office,
but the leg brace did give her a measured and solemn gate. A bright
yellow and blue butterfly accompanied her every step, fluttering gaily a
few inches from her head, as if it knew that her spirit was very like
itself, beautiful and buoyant.
She said solemnly, “Thank you for picking me up, Mr. Harrison.”
“You’re welcome, I’m sure,” he said with equal gravity.
They would have to do something about this “Mr. Harrison” business
before the day was out. He sensed that her formality was partly a fear
of getting too close-and then being rejected as she had been during the
trial phase of her first adoption. But it was also a fear of saying or
doing the wrong thing and unwittingly destroying her own prospects for
happiness.
At the front door, he said, “Either Lindsey or I will be at the school
for you every day-unless you’ve got a driver’s license and would just
rather come and go on your own.”
She looked up at Hatch. The butterfly was describing circles in the air
above her head, as if it were a living crown or halo. She said, “You’re
teasing me, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes, I’m afraid I am.”
She blushed and looked away from him as if she was not sure if being
teased was a good or bad thing. He could almost hear her inner
thoughts: Is he teasing me because he thinks I’m cute or because he
thinks I’m hopelessly stupid or something pretty close to that.
Throughout the drive home from school, Hatch had seen that Regina
suffered from her share of self-doubt, which she thought she concealed
but which, when it struck, was evident in her lovely, wonderfully
expressive face. Each time he sensed a crack in the kid’s
selfconfidence, he wanted to put his arms around her, hug her tight, and
reassure her-which would be exactly the wrong thing to do because she
would be appalled to realize that her moments of inner turmoil were so
obvious to him. She prided herself on being tough, resilient, and
self-sufficient. She projected that image as armor against the world.
“I hope you don’t mind some teasing,” he said as he inserted the key in
the door. “That’s the way I am. I could check myself into a Teasers
Anonymous program, shake the habit, but it’s a tough outfit. They beat
you with rubber hoses and make you eat Lima beans.”
When enough time passed, when she felt she was loved and part of a
family, her selfconfidence would be as unshakable as she wanted it to be
now. In the meantime, the best thing he could do for her was pretend
that he saw her exactly as she wished to be seen-and quietly, patiently
help her finish becoming the poised and assured person she hoped to be.
As he opened the door and they went inside, Regina said, “I used to hate
Lima beans, all kinds of beans, but I made a deal with God. If he gives
me something I specially want, I’ll eat every kind of bean there is for
the rest of my life without ever complaining.”
In the foyer, closing the door behind them, Hatch said, “That’s quite an
offer. God ought to be impressed.”
“I sure hope so,” she said.
And in Vassago’s dream, Regina moved in sunlight, one leg embraced in
steel, a butterfly attending her as it might a flower. A house thanked
by palm trees. A door. She looked up at Vassago, and her eyes revealed