Gently, she rolled Cassie onto her back and changed the little girl’s diaper.
Powdered, patted, and reclothed, Cassie remained restless. Pointing at the floor, she said, “Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!”
“Out?”
Emphatic nod. “Ahd!”
She got on her knees and tried to stand on the bed, wobbling on the soft mattress. Cindy held her under the arms, lifted her off, and placed her on the floor. “You want to walk around? Let’s get some slippers on you.” The two of them walked to the closet. Cassie’s pajama bottoms were too long for her and they dragged on the floor. Standing, she looked even tinier. But sturdy. Good steady walk, good sense of balance.
I picked up my briefcase.
Kneeling, Cindy put fuzzy pink bunny slippers on Cassie’s feet. These rodents had clear plastic eyes with movable black beads for pupils and each time Cassie moved, her feet hissed.
She tried to jump, barely got off the ground.
Cindy said, “Good jump, Cass.”
The door opened and a man came in.
He looked to be in his late thirties. Six two or so, and very slim. His hair was dark-brown, wavy, and thick, combed straight back and left long enough to curl over his collar. He had a full face at odds with the lanky physique, rounded further by a bushy, cropped brown beard flecked with gray. His features were soft and pleasant. A gold stud pierced his left earlobe. The clothes he had on were loose-fitting but well cut: blue-and-white striped button-down shirt under a gray tweed sport coat; baggy, pleated black cords; black running shoes that looked brand-new.
A coffee cup was in one hand.
“It’s Daddy!” said Cindy.
Cassie held out her arms.
The tall man put the cup down and said, “Morning, ladies.” Kissing Cindy’s cheek, he scooped Cassie up.
The little girl squealed as he held her aloft. He brought her close with one swift, descending motion.
“How’s my baby?” he said, pressing her to his beard. His nose disappeared under her hair and she giggled. “How’s the little grande dame of the diaper set?”
Cassie put both of her hands in his hair and pulled.
“Ouch!”
Giggle. Yank.
“Double ouch!”
Baby-guffaw.
“Ouch-a-roo!”
They played a bit longer; then he pulled away and said, “Whew. You’re too rough for me, Spike!”
Cindy said, “This is Dr. Delaware, honey. The psychologist? Doctor, Cassie’s dad.”
The man turned toward me, holding on to Cassie, and extended his free hand. “Chip Jones. Good to meet you.”
His grip was strong. Cassie was still yanking on his hair, messing it. He seemed impervious.
“I minored in psych,” he said, smiling. “Forgot most of it.” To Cindy: “How’s everything?”
“ ’Bout the same.”
He frowned. Looked at his wrist. Another Swatch.
Cindy said, “On the run?”
“Unfortunately. Just wanted to see your faces.” He picked up the coffee cup and held it out to her.
“No, thanks.”
“You’re sure?”
“Nah, I’m fine.”
“Stomach?”
She touched her abdomen and said, “Just feeling a little woozy. How long can you stay?”
“In and out,” he said. “Got a twelve o’clock class, then meetings for the rest of the day — probably dumb to drive all the way over, but I missed you guys.”
Cindy smiled.
Chip kissed her, then Cassie.
Cindy said, “Daddy can’t stay, Cass. Bummer, huh?”
“Dah-dee.”
Chip gave Cassie’s chin a gentle tweak. She continued playing with his beard. “I’ll try to kick by later this evening. Stay as long as you need me.”
“Great,” said Cindy.
“Dah-dee.”
“Dah-dee,” said Chip. “Dah-dee love you. You cute.” To Cindy: “Not a good idea at all, coming for two minutes. Now I’m really gonna miss you.”
“We miss you too, Daddy.”
“I was in the neighborhood,” he said. “So to speak — this side of the hill, at least.”
“The U?”
“Yup. Library duty.” He turned to me: “I teach over at West Valley C.C. New campus, not much in terms of reference resources. So when I have some serious research to do, I go over to the university.”
“My alma mater,” I said.
“That so? I went to school back east.” He tickled Cassie’s belly. “Get any sleep at all, Cin?”
“Plenty.”
“Sure?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Want some herb tea? I think I’ve got some chamomile in the car.”
“No, thanks, hon. Dr. Delaware has some techniques to help Cassie deal with the p-a-i-n.”
Chip looked at me while stroking Cassie’s arm. “That would be terrific. This has been an incredible ordeal.” His eyes were slate-blue with a slight droop, very deep-set.
“I know it has,” I said.
Chip and Cindy looked at each other, then at me.
“Well,” I said, “I’ll be shoving off now. Come by to see you tomorrow morning.”
I bent and whispered goodbye to Cassie. She batted her lashes and turned away.
Chip laughed. “What a flirt. It’s inborn, isn’t it?”
Cindy said, “Your techniques. When can we talk about that?”
“Soon,” I said. “First I need to get a rapport with Cassie. I think we did pretty well today.”
“Oh. Sure. We did great. Didn’t we, pudding?”
“Is ten o’clock a good time for you?”
“Sure,” said Cindy. “We’re not going anywhere.”
Chip looked at her and said, “Dr. Eves didn’t say anything about discharge?”
“Not yet. She wants to keep observing.”
He sighed. “Okay.”
I walked to the door.
Chip said, “I’ve got to be running, myself, Doctor. If you can hold on for one sec, I’ll walk out with you.”
“Sure.”
He took his wife’s hand.
I closed the door, walked to the nursing station, and went behind the desk. Vicki Bottomley was back from the gift shop, sitting in the unit clerk’s chair, reading RN. No one else was around. A box wrapped with Western Peds gift-shop paper sat on the counter, next to a coil of catheter tubing and a stack of insurance forms.
She didn’t look up as I lifted Cassie’s chart from the rack and began leafing through. I skimmed through the medical history and came upon Stephanie’s psychosocial history. Wondering about the age difference between Chip and Cindy, I looked up his biographical data.
Charles L. Jones III Age: 38. Educational leveclass="underline" Master’s degree. Occupation: College professor.
Sensing someone looking at me, I lowered the chart and saw Vicki whipping her head back toward her magazine.
“So,” I said, “how were things down in the gift shop?”
She lowered the journal. “Is there something specific you need from me?”
“Anything that would help me work with Cassie’s anxiety.”
Her pretty eyes narrowed. “Dr. Eves already asked me that. You were right here.”
“Just wondering if something occurred to you in the meantime.”
“Nothing occurred,” she said. “I don’t know anything — I’m just the nurse.”
“The nurse often knows more than anybody.”
“Tell it to the salary committee.” She lifted the magazine high, concealing her face.
I was considering my response when I heard my name called. Chip Jones strode toward me.
“Thanks for waiting.”
The sound of his voice made Vicki stop reading. She straightened her cap and said, “Hi, Dr. Jones.” A sweet smile spread across her face, honey on stale bread.
Chip leaned on the counter, grinned, and shook his head. “There you go again, Vicki, trying to promote me.” To me: “I’m A.B.D. — that’s ‘all but dissertation,’ Vicki — but generous Ms. Bottomley here keeps trying to graduate me before I earn it.”