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 lnsuject 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' '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.
