“Really,” I said.
“Uh-huh. Because of her I tried out the service, too. Boy, this is really taking me back a few years.”
“You were in the army?”
She gave a half-smile, as if expecting my surprise. “Strange for a girl, huh? It happened in my senior year in high school. The recruiter came out on careers day and made it sound pretty attractive — job training, scholarships. Aunt Harriet thought it would be a good idea, too, so that clinched it.”
“How long were you in?”
“Just a few months.” Her hands worked her braid. “A few months after I arrived I got sick and had to be discharged early.”
“Sorry to hear that,” I said. “Must have been serious.”
She looked up. Blushing deeply. Yanking the braid.
“It was,” she said. “Influenza — real bad flu — that developed into pneumonia. Acute viral pneumonia — there was a terrible epidemic in the barracks. Lots of girls got sick. After I recovered, they said my lungs might be weakened and they didn’t want me in anymore.” Shrug. “So that was it. My famous military career.”
“Was it a big disappointment?”
“No, not really. Everything worked out for the best.” She looked at Cassie.
“Where were you stationed?”
“Fort Jackson. Down in South Carolina. It was one of the few places they trained only women. It was the summer — you don’t think of pneumonia in the summer, but a germ’s a germ, right?”
“True.”
“It was really humid. You could shower and feel dirty two seconds later. I wasn’t used to it.”
“Did you grow up in California?”
“California native,” she said, waving an imaginary flag. “Ventura, My family came out from Oklahoma originally. Gold Rush days. One of my great-grandmothers was part Indian — according to my aunt, that’s where the hair comes from.”
She hefted the braid, then dropped it.
“ ’Course, it’s probably not true,” she said, smiling. “Everyone wants to be Indian now. It’s kind of fashionable.” She looked at me: “Delaware. With that name you could be part Indian too.”
“There’s a family myth that says so — one third of one great-great-grandfather. I guess what I am is a mongrel — little bit of everything.”
“Well, good for you. That makes you all-American, doesn’t it?”
“Guess so,” I said, smiling. “Was Chip ever in the service?”
“Chip?” The idea seemed to amuse her. “No.”
“How’d the two of you meet?”
“At college. I did a year at WVCC, after R.T. school. Took Soc One-oh-one and he was my teacher.”
Another look at Cassie. Still busy with the house. “Do you want to do your techniques now?”
“It’s still a little soon,” I said. “I want her to really trust me.”
“Well... I think she does. She loves your drawings — we saved all the ones she didn’t destroy.”
I smiled. “It’s still best to take it slow. And if she’s not having any procedures, there’s no need to rush.”
“True,” she said. “For all that’s happening here, I guess we could go home right now.”
“Do you want to?”
“I always want to. But what I really want is for her to get better.” Cassie glanced over and Cindy lowered her voice to a whisper again: “Those seizures really scared me, Dr. Delaware. It was like...” She shook her head.
“Like what?”
“Like something out of a movie. This is terrible to say, but it reminded me of The Exorcist.” She shook her head. “I’m sure Dr. Eves will get to the bottom of whatever’s going on, eventually. Right? She said we should stay at least one more night, maybe two, for observation. It’s probably for the best, anyway. Cassie’s always so healthy here.”
Her eyes moistened.
“Once you do go home,” I said, “I’d like to come out and visit.”
“Oh, sure...” Unasked questions flooded her face.
“In order to keep working on the rapport,” I said. “If I can get Cassie totally comfortable with me when she’s not having procedures, I’ll be in a better position to help her when she does need me.”
“Sure. That makes sense. Thank you, that’s very kind. I... didn’t know doctors still made house calls.”
“Once in a while. We call them home visits now.”
“Oh. Well, sure, that would be great. I really appreciate your taking the time.”
“I’ll call you after you’re discharged and set up an appointment. Why don’t you give me your address and phone number?”
I tore a sheet out of my datebook and handed it to her along with a pen.
She wrote and handed it back.
Fine, round hand, light touch.
A phone number with an 818 area code.
“That’s out at the north end of Topanga Boulevard,” she said. “Near the Santa Susanna Pass.”
“Pretty good ride to the hospital.”
“Sure is.” She wiped her eyes again. Bit her lip and tried to smile.
“What is it?” I said.
“I was just thinking. When we come in, it’s always the middle of the night and the freeway’s clear. Sometimes I hate the night.”
I squeezed her hand. Her fingers were slack.
I released them, looked at the paper again, folded it and put it in my pocket.
“Cassie B.,” I said. “What does the B. stand for?”
“Brooks — that was my maiden name. It’s sort of a tribute to Aunt Harriet. It’s not exactly feminine, I guess. Brooke with an e would have been more of a girl’s name. Like Brooke Shields. But I wanted to remember Aunt Harriet.” She glanced sideways. “What’re they doing now, Cass? Cleaning up the dishes?”
“Dih.”
“Good! Dishes!”
She got up. I rose too. “Any questions before I go?”
“No... I don’t think so.”
“Then I’ll stop by tomorrow.”
“Sure. Great. Cass? Dr. Delaware’s leaving. Say bye-bye?”
Cassie raised her eyes. Each hand clutched a plastic doll.
I said, “Bye-bye, Cassie.”
“Bah-bah.”
“Great!” said Cindy. “That was really great!”
“Bah... bah.” The hands clapped, dolls clicking upon impact. “Bah! Bah!”
I walked over to the bed. Cassie looked up at me. Shiny eyes. Neutral expression. I touched her cheek. Warm and buttery.
“Bah!” A tiny finger probed my arm, just for a second. The puncture wound was healing nicely.
“Bye, cutie.”
“Bah!”
Vicki was at the nursing station. I said hi, and when she didn’t answer, I noted my visit in Cassie’s chart, walked to Five East, and took the stairs down to the ground floor. Leaving the hospital, I drove to a gas station at Sunset and La Brea and used a pay phone to call Milo at Parker Center.
The line was busy. I tried twice more, same result, dialed Milo’s home, and listened to Rick’s sister do Peggy Lee.
One beep sounded. I talked quickly: “Hey, Mr. Blue, no emergency, but some data that might save you some time. Dad was never in the army but mom was — how’s that for a switch? Maiden name: Brooks, as in babbling. She spent her time at Fort Jackson, South Carolina. Discharged early, due to a bout of viral pneumonia, she claims. But she blushed and got a little antsy when talking about it, so maybe it’s not the whole truth. Maybe she misbehaved and got kicked out. She’s twenty-six now, was a senior in high school when she joined up, so that gives you a time range to work with.”