Devil's Waltz Part 4

"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 s.h.i.+fts are supposed to log everything Ca.s.sie 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 h.e.l.l, 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. b.u.t.termilk 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 eggsh.e.l.l. 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 s.h.i.+ny 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 Ca.s.sie'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 pa.s.sed for a college student.

From the bed came a soft, breathy sound. Ca.s.sie 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 b.u.t.tons. The clothes were simple-plaid cotton s.h.i.+rt 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, Ca.s.sie 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."

"h.e.l.lo, Dr. Delaware."

"h.e.l.lo, 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 Ca.s.sie 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 pa.s.sed 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 s.p.a.ce-like a pet.i.t 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."

"Well, that's good-the fact that she's got a good attention span."

Cindy nodded but she didn't look rea.s.sured.

Stephanie drew an appointment book out of a coat pocket, ripped out a back page and handed it to Cindy. "Tell you what, next time you see this staring, make a record of the exact time and call in Vicki or whoever's on duty to have a look, okay?"

"Okay. But it doesn't last long, Dr. Eves. Just a few seconds."

"Just do the best you can," said Stephanie. "In the meantime, I'll leave you and Dr. Delaware to get acquainted."

Pausing for a moment to look at the sleeping child, she smiled at both of us and left.

When the door closed, Cindy looked down at the bed. "I'll fold this up so you'll have somewhere to sit." There were delicate lavender veins under her skin, too. At the temples, throbbing.

"Let's do it together," I said.

That seemed to startle her. "No, that's okay."

Bending, she took hold of the mattress and lifted. I did likewise and the two of us turned the bed back into a sofa.

She smoothed the cus.h.i.+ons, stood back, and said, "Please."

Feeling as if I were in a geisha house, I complied.

She walked over to the green chair and removed the LuvBunnies. Placing them on the nightstand, she pulled the chair opposite the couch and sat, feet flat on the floor, a hand on each slender thigh.

I reached over, took one of the stuffed animals from the window ledge, and stroked it. Through the gla.s.s the treetops of Griffith Park were green-black and cloudlike.

"Cute," I said. "Gifts?"

"Some of them are. Some we brought from home. We wanted Ca.s.sie to feel at home here."

"The hospital's become a second home, hasn't it?"

She stared at me. Tears filled the brown eyes, magnifying them. A look of shame spread across her face.

Shame? Or guilt?

Her hands shot up quickly to conceal it.

She cried silently for a while.

I got a tissue from the box on the bed table and waited.

4.

She uncovered her face. "Sorry."

"No need to be," I said. "There aren't too many things more stressful than having a sick child."

She nodded. "The worst thing is not knowing-watching her suffer and not knowing . . . If only someone could figure it out."

"The other symptoms resolved. Maybe this will too."

Looping her braid over one shoulder, she fingered the ends. "I sure hope so. But . . ."

I smiled but said nothing.

She said, "The other things were more . . . typical. Normal-if that makes any sense."

"Normal childhood diseases," I said.

"Yes-croup, diarrhea. Other kids have them. Maybe not as severe, but they have them, so you can understand those kinds of things. But seizures . . . that's just not normal."

"Sometimes," I said, "kids have seizures after a high fever. One or two episodes and then it never recurs."

"Yes, I know. Dr. Eves told me about that. But Ca.s.sie wasn't spiking a temp when she had hers. The other times-when she had gastrointestinal problems-there were fevers. She was burning up, then. A hundred and six." She tugged the braid. "And then that went away and I thought we were going to be okay, and then the seizures just came out of nowhere-it was really frightening. I heard something in her room-like a knocking. I went in and she was shaking so hard the crib was rattling."

Her lips began to quiver. She stilled them with a hand. Crushed the tissue I'd given her with the other.

I said, "Scary."

"Terrifying," she said, looking me in the eye. "But the worst thing was watching her suffer and not being able to do anything. The helplessness-it's the worst thing. I knew better than to pick her up, but still . . . Do you have children?"

"No."

Her eyes left my face, as if she'd suddenly lost interest. Sighing, she got up and walked to the bed, still carrying the crumpled tissue. She bent, tucked the blanket higher around the little girl's neck, and kissed Ca.s.sie's cheek. Ca.s.sie's breathing quickened for a second, then slowed. Cindy remained at the bedside, watching her sleep.

"She's beautiful," I said.

"She's my pudding pie."