Part 2 (2/2)

I hated to expose him to Erica at her worst, not to mention the rest of Dr. Albert's patients. But then, on the other hand, it might be good for Danny to get a look at the state mental facility. After all, it was a lot like a prison.

And if he didn't stop following in his father's footsteps pretty quick, that just might be his next home.

By the time Ray dragged Erica into the house, all the song had left her. In fact, she ran to the bathroom and all the drink left her, too. I sc.r.a.ped her off the bathroom floor and tucked her into our bed. Ray would have to take the couch tonight, and the kid would have to make do with a sleeping bag on the floor.

Ray lit a fire and toasted marshmallows with Danny, for whom it seemed a new experience. He torched several before he got the hang of it. Then Ray told him a few ghost stories. The kid didn't scare easily. I left them around ten o'clock to lie down beside my sister, who snored louder than Ray. I wrapped my pillow around my head and tried to get enough sleep to face the next day.

At seven a.m. Ray left for work with a crick in his neck, shoulders hunched from sleeping on the too-short couch, a grim look on his face. He didn't even kiss me good-bye. Danny and Erica arrived at breakfast around ten, both with sour expressions and moans.

”Coffee. Water. Aspirin.” Erica rested her head on the table. ”Did you get another kid last night?”

I set a cup of coffee in front of her. I'd made it especially for her, knowing that she would want it. I never drank coffee, although I did enjoy the aroma of it. It reminded me of Ray, who could never go more than a couple hours without a cup.

I set juice and pancakes in front of Danny. ”What are you talking about, Erica?”

She pointed to Danny. ”There's two of him.”

Danny rolled his eyes. ”You're a drunk.”

Erica whipped her head off the table, then put her hands to her temples, blinking rapidly. ”I am not.”

”You puked last night. You're gross.”

”You're a thief.”

He shot her the finger.

I banged on the table. Erica moaned.

”Erica, you're thirty-three years old. Stop arguing with the twelve-year-old. Danny, more rules. No swear fingers and no name-calling.” I set the aspirin and water in front of Erica. ”Drink up. We have a noon appointment with Dr. Albert.”

”I don't want to see him.”

”Well, he wants to see you. He's skipping lunch just for you. So get it together, because we're going.”

The forty-five-minute ride to Dr. Albert's office pa.s.sed in silence. I couldn't even play the radio, because Erica said it made her head ache.

Danny muttered ”boo hoo” in the back seat after she complained. I shot him ”the look” via the rearview mirror. He got the message and shut up.

Dr. Albert rented office s.p.a.ce in a building conveniently located next to the state psychiatric center, where Erica had spent many months after her multiple suicide attempts. As we pulled into the parking lot, the shadow of ”the tower,” the nickname for the fourth floor where she'd resided, fell over the car. She slumped in her seat. ”I'm not going in.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but Danny got his word out first. ”Chicken.”

Erica whirled to face him. ”I am not chicken. I hate chicken.”

”Chicken.”

As their battle raged on, I got out of the car, walked around to Erica's door, and whipped it open. I grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the car.

”Ow.”

I kept hold of her arm and marched her toward Dr. Albert's office. ”You're arguing with the twelve-year-old again.”

”I don't like him. Can't you give him back to foster care?”

The thought had crossed my mind more than once, but at the moment, I didn't like my sister all that much either. I kept walking.

Dr. Albert was hot, and the minute Erica saw him, she remembered that. She straightened up and smoothed her clothes, smiling at high voltage. He gave her the same wattage in return and ushered her into his office. ”Give us an hour, please, Jolene.”

I turned and realized Danny hadn't followed us inside. I jogged out to the parking lot. He was in the car. I let out a sigh of relief and climbed into the driver's seat.

”Thanks for riding along with us, Danny. When we get home, your furniture should be coming. And Ray has tomorrow off because it's Thanksgiving. Maybe you guys can start painting the room in the morning.”

”Which room am I getting?”

I swallowed. ”The second bedroom.”

”The one with the baby crib in it?”

Tears warmed my eyes. ”Yeah. You guys will have to move all that furniture into the garage.”

”Did your baby die?”

I dug a tissue out of my purse and blew my nose. ”No. We had a baby from foster care for seven months. We wanted to adopt her, but her mother changed her mind and wanted her back.”

”And now you're sad. That's what Ray said.”

”He did?”

”He said you were sad, but having me around would make you happy. He said not to worry if you cried, because you'd snap out of it.”

That sounded just like Ray. For years I'd soldiered on in the face of my mother's suicide, my father's death, and my sister's bizarre behavior, Ray helpful by my side. But when we lost Noelle and I slumped into depression, Ray accepted two months of my misery before he sat me down. He said he'd never worried about me before when he left for work, because he knew I'd go on whether he came home or not. But now he did worry, and it was affecting his decision-making. I'd told him, ”Don't worry, I'll snap out of it.” And I would-in time. But it needed to be my time.

”He's right. Not to worry.” I managed a smile as I stuffed the soiled tissue back in my purse. ”I'm okay now.”

Danny gave me a relieved twitch of his lips in return. ”I don't know what's so great about babies anyway. All they do is cry and mess their diapers. They smell bad.”

”They smell really nice after a bath, trust me.” I pinched the bridge of my nose to stop the tears from returning.

”I guess.” He faced the window. Our bonding was over.

I turned on the radio and listened until it was time to retrieve Erica, trying not to think about Noelle or about Ray's scheme to make me feel better by sticking me with this juvenile delinquent in training. But when the song ”You Are So Beautiful” played, I pictured Noelle's sweet face and almost lost it.

I locked Danny in the car while I walked into the office building, explaining it was for his protection. His expression said, ”Yeah, right, lady.”

A light snow had started. I stuck my tongue out to catch one of the first snowflakes of the season before entering the office building. Maybe in my next life I would be a carefree, drifting snowflake.

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