“She isn’t. At least not as far as I know. No, of course she isn’t — I’d know if she was.”
She looked unsure. Beaten down. I realized what a toll the case was taking.
“I would like to know why she was so hostile to me,” I said. “Not for personal reasons but in terms of the dynamics of this family. If Vicki and the mother are tight and Vicki doesn’t like me, that could sour my consult.”
“Good point... I don’t know what’s eating at her.”
“I assume you haven’t discussed your suspicion of Cindy with her?”
“No. You’re really the first person I’ve talked to about it. That’s why I phrased my no-meds instructions in terms of drug reactions. Cindy’s also been asked not to bring food from home for the same reason. Vicki and the nurses on the other shifts are supposed to log everything Cassie eats.” She frowned. “Of course if Vicki’s overstepping her bounds, she might not be following through. Want me to have her transferred? Nursing Ad would give me hell, but I suppose I could swing it pretty quickly.”
“Not on my account. Let’s keep things stable for the time being.”
We walked behind the station. Stephanie retrieved the chart and studied it again.
“Everything looks okay,” she said finally. “But I’ll have a talk with her anyway.”
I said, “Let me have a look.”
She gave me the chart. Her usual neat handwriting and detailed notes. They included a family-structure chart that I spent some time on.
“No grandparents on the mother’s side?”
She shook her head. “Cindy lost her parents young. Chip lost his mom, too, when he was a teenager. Old Chuck’s the only grandparent left.”
“Does he get up here much to visit?”
“From time to time. He’s a busy man.”
I continued reading. “Cindy’s only twenty-six... maybe Vicki’s a mother figure for her.”
“Maybe,” she said. “Whatever it is, I’ll keep a tight leash on her.”
“Don’t come down too hard right now, Steph. I don’t want to be seen by Vicki — or Cindy — as someone who makes anyone’s life harder. Give me a chance to get to know Vicki. She could turn out to be an ally.”
“Okay,” she said. “This human relations stuff is your area. But let me know if she continues to be difficult. I don’t want anything getting in the way of solving this thing.”
The room was inundated with LuvBunnies — on the windowsill, nightstand, the bed tray, atop the TV. A bucktoothed, rainbow-hued welcoming party.
The rails of the bed were lowered. A beautiful child lay sleeping — a tiny bundle barely swelling the covers.
Her heart-face was turned to one side; her rosebud mouth, pink and parted. Buttermilk skin, chubby cheeks, nubbin nose. Her hair was sleek, straight, and black and trickled onto her shoulders. The bangs were moist and they stuck to her forehead. A ring of lace collar was visible above the blanket hem. One hand was concealed; the other, dimpled and clenched, gathered the fabric. Its thumb was the size of a lima bean.
The sleeper sofa by the window was unfolded to a single bed that had been made up. Military corners, pillow smooth as eggshell. A flowered vinyl overnight bag sat on the floor next to an empty food tray.
A young woman sat cross-legged on the edge of the mattress, reading TV Guide. As soon as she saw us she put down the magazine and got up.
Five five, firm figure, slightly long-waisted. Same shiny dark hair as her daughter’s, parted in the middle, tied back loosely and gathered in a thick braid that nearly reached her waist. Same facial cast as Cassie’s, too, stretched by maturity to something just barely longer than the perfect oval. Fine nose; straight, wide, unpainted mouth with naturally dark lips. Big brown eyes. Bloodshot.
No makeup, scrubbed complexion. A girlish woman. Twenty-six but she could easily have passed for a college student.
From the bed came a soft, breathy sound. Cassie sighing. All of us looked over at her. Her eyelids remained closed but they fluttered. Threads of lavender vein were visible beneath the skin. She rolled over, facing away from us.
I thought of a bisque doll.
All around us, the LuvBunnies leered.
Cindy Jones looked down at her daughter, reached over and smoothed hair out of the child’s eyes.
Turning back to us, she ran her hands over her clothes, hurriedly, as if searching for unfastened buttons. The clothes were simple — plaid cotton shirt over faded jeans and medium-heeled sandals. A pink plastic Swatch watch. Not the post-deb, VIP daughter-in-law I’d expected.
“Well,” whispered Stephanie, “looks like someone’s snoozing away. Get any sleep yourself, Cindy?”
“A little.” Soft voice, pleasant. She didn’t have to whisper.
“Our mattresses have a way to go, don’t they?”
“I’m fine, Dr. Eves.” Her smile was tired. “Actually, Cassie slept great. She woke once, around five, and needed a cuddle. I held her and sang to her for a while and finally she fell back around seven: Guess that’s why she’s still out.”
“Vicki said she had a headache.”
“Yes, when she woke. Vicki gave her some liquid Tylenol and that seemed to work.”
“Tylenol was the right thing to give her, Cindy. But in the future all medications — even over-the-counter stuff — will have to be approved by me. Just to play it safe.”
The brown eyes opened wide. “Oh. Sure. I’m sorry.”
Stephanie smiled. “No big deal. I just want to be careful. Cindy, this is Dr. Delaware, the psychologist we spoke about.”
“Hello, Dr. Delaware.”
“Hello, Mrs. Jones.”
“Cindy.” She extended a narrow hand and smiled shyly. Likable. I knew my job wasn’t going to be easy.
Stephanie said, “As I told you, Dr. Delaware’s an expert on anxiety in children. If anyone can help Cassie cope, he can. He’d like to talk with you right now, if this is a good time.”
“Oh... sure. This is fine.” Cindy touched her braid and looked worried.
“Terrific,” said Stephanie, “If there’s nothing you need from me, I’ll be going.”
“Nothing I can think of right now, Dr. Eves. I was just wondering if you’d... come up with anything?”
“Not yet, Cindy. Yesterday’s EEG was totally normal. But, as we’ve discussed, with children this age that’s not always conclusive. The nurses haven’t charted any seizurelike behavior. Have you noticed anything?”
“No... not really.”
“Not really?” Stephanie took a step closer. She was only an inch taller than the other woman but seemed much larger.
Cindy Jones passed her upper lip under her top teeth, then released it. “Nothing — it’s probably not important.”
“It’s okay, Cindy. Tell me anything, even if you think it’s irrelevant.”
“Well, I’m sure it’s nothing, but sometimes I wonder if she’s tuning out — not listening when I talk to her? Kind of staring off into space — like a petit mal? I’m sure it’s nothing and I’m just seeing it because I’m looking for things now.”
“When did you start noticing this?”
“Yesterday, after we were admitted.”
“You never saw it at home?”
“I... no. But it could have been happening and I just didn’t notice. Or maybe it’s nothing. It probably is nothing — I don’t know.”
The pretty face began to buckle.
Stephanie patted her and Cindy moved toward the gesture, almost imperceptibly, as if to gain more comfort from it.
Stephanie stepped back, breaking contact. “How often have these staring episodes been occurring?”
“Maybe a couple of times a day. It’s probably nothing — just her concentrating. She’s always been good at concentrating — when she plays at home she concentrates really well.”