Brain Child

change the way I feel.”

Carol sat silently for a few seconds, then reached out and pulled Lisa close. “I know, honey. And I suppose you’re going to have to get over that feeling your own way. In the meantime, what about Alex?”

Lisa stirred suddenly, and sat up. “Alex? What about him?”

“Suppose he wakes up?”

“He will wake up,” Lisa said. “He has to.”

“Why? So you can stop feeling sorry for yourself? Is that why you want him to wake up? So it will make you feel better?”

Lisa’s eyes widened with shock. “Mom! That’s an awful thing to say—”

Carol shrugged. “Well, what else can I think?” She took Lisa’s hands in her own. “Lisa, I want you to listen very carefully. There’s a chance that Alex may survive all this, and there’s a chance he may wake up. But if he does, he’s going to be in bad shape, and he’s going to need all the help he can get. His parents won’t be enough. He’s going to need his friends, too, and he’s going to need you. But if you’re spending all your energy feeling guilty and sorry for yourself, you’re not going to be much good to him, are you?”

Lisa looked dazed. “But what can I do?”

“None of us will know that till the time comes. But for starters, you could try pulling yourself together.” She hesitated for a moment, then went on. “Alex is going to be operated on tomorrow.” Lisa’s eyes reflected her surprise, but before she could say anything, Carol went on. “I know you’re going to want to be there — we all want to be there — but you’re not going to sit on a sofa and cry. If anyone’s going to do that, it’s going to be Ellen, and I suspect she won’t do that either. It’s going to be a long operation, and Alex might not make it through. But if you want to be there, both your father and I expect you to behave like the girl we hope we raised.”

There was a long silence; then the slightest trace of a smile appeared at the corners of Lisa’s mouth. “You mean keep my chin up?” she asked in a tiny voice.

Carol nodded. “And remember that it’s Alex who’s in trouble, not you. Whatever happens tomorrow, or next week, or whenever, your life will go on. If Alex comes through this, he’s not going to have a lot of time to spend cheering you up.” She stood up, and forced a grin she didn’t truly feel. “The ball’s in your court, kid. Play it.”

Forty minutes later, Lisa Cochran came downstairs. She was wearing one of her father’s old white shirts and a pair of jeans, and her hair, still wet from the shower, was wrapped in a towel. “Who all called?” she asked. Her father lowered his paper and opened his mouth. “I mean besides Prince Andrew and John Travolta, Dad. I already talked to them and told them it’s definitely over.”

“All the messages are by the phone,” her mother told her. “Anything going on you want to tell us about, or shall we read it in the papers?”

“Nothing much,” Lisa said. “I just thought I’d get the kids organized for tomorrow. Do you know what time they’re operating on Alex?”

Jim put his paper aside, looking curiously at his older daughter. “Early,” he said. “They want to start by six, I think.” As Lisa started out of the room, he called her back. “Mind telling me just what you’re organizing?”

“Well, everyone’s going to want to go down there, but there’s no point in having everyone show up at once. I’m just going to sort of get them spaced out.”

“Most of them already are,” Jim commented.

Lisa ignored him. “Tomorrow’s Sunday, so nobody has to go to school or anything. We might as well all help out.”

Carol frowned uncertainly. “I hope there’s not going to be a mob like there was last night—”

“I’ll tell them not to stay very long. And I’m going to ask Kate if she’ll just sort of hang around, in case anybody needs anything.”

Now Jim was shaking his head. “Lisa, honey, I know you want to do the right thing, but—”

“It’s all right,” Carol interrupted. “But, Lisa? Can I make a suggestion? Why don’t you call Ellen and see what she thinks? She might prefer it if you just kept everybody away, at least until we know what’s happening.”

Lisa’s face fell, and she groaned. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“ ’Cause you’re an idiot,” Kim said, abandoning the drawing she’d been working on to scramble into her father’s lap. “Isn’t she an idiot, Daddy?”

“It takes one to know one.”

“Daddy! You’re s’posed to be on my side.”

“I guess I forgot.” Jim snuggled the little girl in, then turned back to Lisa. “Got any plans for your sister?” he asked mildly. “If you really want to do some organizing, why don’t you line up your friends to take care of Kim?”

“I want to go with you!” Kim immediately objected.

“That’s what you say now,” Jim told her. “That’s not what you’ll say tomorrow. And don’t argue with me — I’m bigger than you are, and can pound you into the ground.” Kim giggled, but closed her mouth. “Maybe someone could take her to a movie or something. And we’ll need a baby-sitter after dinner.”

Lisa’s eyes clouded. “Won’t it be all over by then?”

Carol and Jim exchanged a glance, then Jim spoke. “I talked to Marsh earlier,” he said. “He told me the operation will take at least eighteen hours. It’s not going to be any party, honey.”

Lisa paled slightly, and fought down the tears that were welling in her eyes. When she spoke, though, her voice was steady. “I know it’s not a party, Dad,” she said softly. “I just want to do whatever I can to help.”

“Your mother can—”

“No! I can, and I will. I’ll take care of Kim, and see to it that there’s no mob scene. I’ll be all right, Dad. Just let me do this my way, all right?”

When she was gone, and they could hear her murmuring into the telephone, Jim turned to Carol. “What happened up there?” he asked.

“I think she just grew up, Jim. Anyway, she’s sure trying.”

There was a silence, then Kim squirmed in her father’s lap, twisting around to look up at him. “Do I have to go to the movies with her dumb old friends?” she demanded.

“If you do, I’ll bet they’ll let you choose the movie,” Jim replied. Somewhat mollified, Kim settled down again.

“I hope Alex gets better soon,” she said. “I like Alex.”

“We all do,” Carol told her. “And he will get better, if we all pray a lot.”

And, she added to herself, if Raymond Torres really knows what he’s doing.

As Carol Cochran entertained that thought, Raymond Torres himself was making his final rounds of the evening.

Not, of course, that they were really rounds, for Alex Lonsdale was his only patient. He stopped first in Alex’s room, just across the hall from the operating complex. The night nurse glanced up from the book she was reading. “Nothing, doctor,” she said as Torres scanned the monitors that were tracking Alex’s vital functions. “No change from an hour ago.”

Torres nodded, and gazed thoughtfully at the boy in the bed.

Looks like his mother. The thought drifted through his mind, followed by a sudden flood of unbidden memories from a past he thought could no longer hurt him. Along with his memories of Ellen Lonsdale came memories of three other girls, and as their faces came into focus in his mind’s eye, he felt himself begin to tremble.

Forget it, he told himself. It was long ago, and it’s all over now. It doesn’t matter. With an effort of will, he forced himself to concentrate on the motionless form of Alex Lonsdale. He leaned over and carefully opened one of the boy’s eyes, checked the pupil, then closed the eye again. There had been no reaction to the sudden incursion of light. Not a good sign.

“All right,” he said. “I’m sleeping here tonight, in the room over my office. If anything happens — anything at all — I want to be awakened at once.”

“Of course, doctor,” the nurse replied. Not that he need have said anything — the first rule for staff working under Torres was made very clear at the time they were hired: “If anything happens, let Dr. Torres know at once.”