so she could take over.”
“For two weeks.”
More of that splotchy pallor. “It stretched a bit. The shows were good, L.M. kept getting more bookings, the bus kept going. But I called in regularly. Connie almost always didn’t answer. The few times she did she always said Rambla was sleeping. So I figured she was fine. So yeah, I did another week. Then another …”
Two weeks stretching to eighty-eight days. I tried to keep my face neutral but maybe I failed because she sighed and threw up her hands and tears flowed down her cheeks. “I screwed up bad, didn’t I, Doc? Just kept going on that bus and let myself be a little happy.”
I said, “What brought you home?”
She dabbed with the tissue. “I should make myself look good by telling you it was Rambla brought me back, just her, nothing else. Myron told me I should say that, he threw words at me that I should memorize.”
“What kind of words.”
“Separation anxiety, maternal urges. And, sure, that was part of it, I missed her like crazy.
That’s
why I kept calling in but with Connie telling me don’t worry, keep having fun, it’ll be a missed opportunity, you may never get another, she’s fine, she loves you as much as ever, she’s perfectly fine, I figured …”
“There was another reason you returned.”
Three slow nods.
I waited.
She said, “I’m telling you the God’s truth so you’ll see I’m an honest person. So you’ll trust everything else I say.”
“Okay.”
“The reason, Dr. Delaware, is no more gigs for L.M.”
“The tour ended.”
“And we all came home.”
CHAPTER
5
I asked Ree Sykes a few more questions about Rambla’s speech, sleep patterns, appetite, fine and gross motor skills. Everything within normal limits.
“She’s a wonderful baby.”
“Look forward to meeting her.”
“You need to meet her?”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“Making recommendations without seeing her isn’t a good idea.”
“She doesn’t like being by herself.”
“You’ll be with her, Ree.”
She flashed a strange smile: abrupt, knowing. Hostile. “That’s really the reason, getting to know her?”
“It is.”
“Okay.”
“You think it might be something else?”
“No, no, you’re the doctor.”
She slid a hand under one buttock. Sat on her fingers as if afraid what they might do if liberated.
I said nothing.
“Fine, I’ll bring her in whenever you say.”
“Actually, I’ll come to your home.”
She looked away.
“Is that a problem, Ree?”
“No—okay, okay, I’ll be honest. I was thinking maybe you want to see me with Rambla so you can judge if I’m a good mother.”
“I’m beginning this assuming you’re a good mother, Ree.”
“Why would you assume?”
“Because so far I haven’t heard anything to the contrary.”
“Well you just wait. When
she
comes in you’ll hear all sorts of contrary.”
“I’m sure I will, Ree.”
“You believe me? About her being crazy and a liar?”
“Let’s deal with one thing at a time, Ree.” I made the appointment.
She said, “Do I need to buy extra toys?”
“Whatever you have is fine.”
She flinched. “Well, I guess I’ll have to depend on you being smart. No offense. I mean I know you’re smart, you’re a doctor. You have to be smart to be working for the judge. I just need to have faith.”
Out came her hand. She studied it briefly, formed a fist that she rested on her knee. Her neck muscles were as tight as bridge cables. The down-slanted eyes had narrowed. “I guess it can only help. Seeing me with Rambla. How much she loves me—will she have to come in here with Connie?”
“Probably not.”
“Probably?”
“Most likely not.”
“I don’t want her alone with Connie. The last time that happened, Connie tried to take her from me.”
“The day you came to get Rambla from Connie’s office.”
Three hard nods. “Connie got crazy, came at me like she was going to hit me, like … clawing. Like she was gonna get
Mark Russinovich, Howard Schmidt