28
They were at the play table, holding crayons. Some of the papers were covered with colored scrawl.
When Cassie saw me she gripped her mother’s arm and began whining.
“It’s okay, hon. Dr. Delaware’s our friend.” Cindy noticed the box in my hands and squinted.
I came closer and showed it to her. She stared at it, then up at me. I stared back, searching for any sign of self-indictment.
Just confusion.
“I was looking for toilet paper,” I said, “and came across this.”
She leaned forward and read the gold sticker.
Cassie watched her, then picked up a crayon and threw it. When that didn’t capture her mother’s attention, she whined some more.
“Shh, baby.” Cindy’s squint tightened. She continued to look baffled. “How strange.”
Cassie threw her arms up and said, “Uh uh uh!”
Cindy pulled her closer and said, “Haven’t seen those in a long time.”
“Didn’t mean to snoop,” I said, “but I knew Holloway made equipment for diabetics and when I saw the label I got curious — thinking about Cassie’s blood sugar. Are you or Chip diabetic?”
“Oh, no,” she said. “Those were Aunt Harriet’s. Where did you find them?”
“Beneath the sink.”
“How odd. No, Cass, these are for drawing, not throwing.” She picked up a red crayon and drew a jagged line.
Cassie followed the movement, then buried her head in Cindy’s blouse.
“Boy, I haven’t seen those in a really long time. I cleaned out her house, but I thought I threw all her medicines out.”
“Was Dr. Benedict her doctor?”
“And her boss.”
She bounced Cassie gently. Cassie peeked out from under her arm, then began poking her under the chin.
Cindy laughed and said, “You’re tickling me... Isn’t that odd, under the sink all this time?” She gave an uneasy smile. “Guess that doesn’t make me much of a housekeeper. Sorry you had to go looking for paper — I usually notice when the roller’s low.”
“No problem,” I said, realizing there’d been no dust on the box.
Pulling out a cylinder, I rolled it between my fingers.
Cassie said, “Peh-il.”
“No, it’s not a pencil, honey.” No anxiety. “It’s just a... thing.”
Cassie reached for it. I gave it to her and Cindy’s eyes got wide. Cassie put it to her mouth, grimaced, lowered it to the paper and tried to draw.
“See, I told you, Cass. Here, if you want to draw, use this.”
Cassie ignored the proffered crayon and kept looking at the cylinder. Finally she threw it down on the table and began to fuss.
“C’mon, sweetie, let’s draw with Dr. Delaware.”
My name evoked a whimper.
“Cassie Brooks, Dr. Delaware came all the way to play with you, to draw animals — hippos, kangaroos. Remember the kangaroos?”
Cassie whimpered louder.
“Hush, honey,” said Cindy, but without conviction. “No, don’t break your crayons, honey. You can’t — C’mon, Cass.”
“Uh uh uh.” Cassie tried to get off Cindy’s lap.
Cindy looked at me.
I offered no advice.
“Should I let her?”
“Sure,” I said. “I don’t want to be associated with confining her.”
Cindy released her and Cassie made her way to the floor and crawled under the table.
“We did a little drawing while we were waiting for you,” said Cindy. “I guess she’s had enough.”
She bent and looked under the table. “Are you tired of drawing, Cass? Do you want to do something else?”
Cassie ignored her and picked at the carpet fibers.
Cindy sighed. “I’m really sorry — for before. I... it just... I really blew it, didn’t I? I really, really screwed things up — don’t know what came over me.”
“Sometimes things just pile up,” I said, shifting the Insuject box from one hand to another. Keeping it in her view, looking for any sign of nervousness.
“Yes, but I still blew it for you and Cassie.”
“Maybe it’s more important for you and me to talk, anyway.”
“Sure,” she said, touching her braid and casting a glance under the table. “I could sure use some help, couldn’t I? How about coming out now, Miss Cassie?”
No answer.
“Could I trouble you for another iced tea?” I said.
“Oh, sure, no trouble at all. Cass, Dr. Delaware and I are going into the kitchen.”
Cindy and I walked to the door of the nursery. Just as we reached the threshold, Cassie crawled out, tottered upright, and came running toward Cindy, arms outstretched. Cindy picked her up and carried her on one hip. I followed, carrying the white box.
In the kitchen Cindy opened the refrigerator door with one hand and reached in for the pitcher. But before she could pull it out, Cassie slipped lower and Cindy needed both hands to hold her.
“Why don’t you concentrate on her,” I said, placing the box on the kitchen table and taking hold of the pitcher.
“Let me at least get you a glass.” She went to the open cupboards across the room.
The moment her back was turned, I conducted a manic visual scan of the fridge. The most medicinal thing on the shelves was a tub of no-cholesterol margarine. Butter was in the butter compartment, the one marked CHEESE held a packet of sliced American.
Taking hold of the pitcher, I closed the door. Cindy was setting a glass on a place mat. I poured it half-full and drank. My throat felt raw. The tea tasted sweeter than before — almost sickly. Or maybe it was just my mind, lingering on thoughts of sugar.
Cassie watched me with a child’s piercing suspicion. My smile caused her to frown. Wondering if trust could ever be regained, I put the glass down.
“Can I get you something else?” said Cindy.
“No, thanks. Better be going. Here.” Offering her the box.
“Oh, I don’t need it,” she said. “Maybe someone at the hospital can use it. They’re very expensive — that’s why Dr. Ralph used to give us samples.”
Us.
“That’s very nice of you.” I picked up the box.
“Well,” she said, “we sure can’t use them.” She shook her head. “How strange, your finding them — kind of brings back memories.”
Her mouth turned down. Cassie saw it, said, “Uh,” and squirmed.
Cindy replaced the pout with a wide, abrupt smile. “Hello, sweetie.”
Cassie poked at her mouth. Cindy kissed her fingers. “Yes, Mama loves you. Now let’s walk Dr. Delaware bye-bye.”
When we got to the entrance I stopped to look at the photos, realizing there were none of Chip’s parents. My eyes settled back on the shot of Cindy and her aunt.
“We were walking that day,” she said softly. “Along the dock. She used to take lots of walks. Long ones, for her diabetes — the exercise helped her control it.”
“Did she have it pretty much under control?”
“Oh, yes — that wasn’t what... what took her. That was an S-T-R-O-K-E. She had really great control — careful about everything that went into her mouth. When I lived with her, I wasn’t allowed any sweets or junk. So I never developed a taste for it, and we don’t keep much around the house.”
She kissed Cassie’s cheek. “I figure if she doesn’t get a taste of it now, maybe she won’t want it later.”
I turned away from the photo.
“We do everything,” she said, “to keep her healthy. Without health, there’s... nothing. Right? That’s the kind of thing you hear when you’re young but it’s only later that you start to believe it.”
Anguish filled her eyes.
Cassie wiggled and made wordless sounds.
“True,” I said. “How about you and me getting together tomorrow, right here.”