“Almost totally. I attend at six different ER’s and I rarely get to do any follow-up. So yes, if Lucretia’s willing to see me, I’d be very interested. She’s an interesting woman.”
“Where’s your office?”
“Tarzana. I rent space from another psychiatrist.” She gave me her card. “Where are you?”
“Malibu.”
“Not too shabby. I would like you to stay closely in touch. We need to make sure she doesn’t see you as yet another man who’s walked out on her.”
“I was planning to visit her while she’s in. When would you like me to start?”
“Any time you’re ready. I’ll leave your name with the charge nurse.”
She ate some more Jell-O and finished her milk, wiping away the white mustache. “While you’re there, though, I’d keep it casual. Especially in terms of your gay friend. I’d just as soon hold off on any more surprises until I have a better feel for what’s going on with her. Make sense?”
“Yes, but once she’s out, she’s likely to seek him out. She views him as a protector.”
I described how Lucy and Milo had connected at the trial.
“Well,” she said, “for now I’d tell him to keep a low profile. What she needs is protection from her own impulses.”
I drove home thinking Wendy Embrey might be very good for Lucy. But I wondered how Lucy would react to a change in therapists.
I had conflicts of my own about the transition: relieved at the chance to get out of a mess, but more than a bit guilty at how good that freedom sounded. And I still wanted to know what had happened that summer. For her sake or mine? The answers weren’t comforting.
I put on some music and drove like a robot. When I got home, surfers’ vans were parked all along the turnoff to the public beach.
When I opened the door, the phone was ringing.
My service with a long-distance call from Ken Lowell.
“Hi, doctor. Anything new on Lucy?”
“She seems to be holding her own.”
“I spoke to Dr. Embrey and she sounded pretty sharp, but I’m a little confused. Who’s going to be Lucy’s doctor?”
“As long as Lucy’s in the hospital, Dr. Embrey’s in charge.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t seem to reach Dr. Embrey now. Are you going to be speaking to her? If you are, I’d like to pass something along. I think she should know.”
“Sure.”
“I got a call from my brother early this morning, explaining why he hadn’t shown up for dinner. Some sort of business emergency. In Taos, New Mexico, of all places. I told him what had happened to Lucy and he really went ballistic. But then he said he couldn’t come back because he was tied up.”
“He said the same thing to Dr. Embrey. Must have called her right after he spoke to you.”
“But it doesn’t make any sense. Because when we met last week he wasn’t involved in any business—told me he’d been unemployed for a long time. So what was so urgent?”
“I really don’t know, Ken.”
“No, no reason for you to. . . . I have to tell you, doctor, he sounded very edgy. I can’t help thinking he’s in some kind of trouble. I was just wondering if Lucy said anything to you that you could divulge without breaking confidentiality.”
“She really didn’t, Ken.”
“All right. Thanks. I’ll be back and forth to L.A. for the next few weeks. Would visiting Lucy be appropriate?”
“I’d talk to Dr. Embrey about that.”
“Yes, of course. I have to tell you, doctor, this is strange.”
“What is?”
“Instant family.”
At 4:10 Robin called to let me know she’d been invited to attend a showcase that night at the Whiskey, a band of thrash-metal heroes brandishing guitars she’d built.
“Would you mind if I passed?” I said.
“If I had a good excuse, I’d pass too. Zero showed up at the site and invited me personally.”
“What time do you think it’ll be over?”
“Late.”
“How about if I come by before and we grab some dinner.”
“What about Spike?”
“I can bring takeout.”
“That would be great.”
“When should I get there?”