Sleight of Hand (45 page)

"How many times did your father win the Zone Seven marksman trophy?" White asked.

Drake jerked his head up, surprised by the question.  "I dunno, why?"

"He won it every time he re-certified," White answered.  "Set a new record."

Drake looked out the window, focused on the cerulean sky outside White's windows.  No ball game today to distract him from the shrink's mumbojumbo.  

"I think, in order to not compete with your father or his memory, you've learned to take the easy way out.  You coast by, doing only what needs to be done, until something grabs your attention, attracts your passion.  Like the Trevasian family and their problems.  Or Dr. Hart."

"Maybe I do," Drake replied, still staring out the window.  "If that's what works for me–"

"Has it?" White interrupted.  "Has it really worked for you, Detective?"

Drake whirled around, tired of the psychobabble.  "What are you trying to say, doc?  You're not going to let me go back to work?  You gonna put a bad review in my jacket?"

White sighed and shook his head.  "You need this job, just as you need Hart.  I think you have the makings of an excellent police officer."

"But?"

To Drake's surprise, the shrink laughed.  "No buts.  That's the whole point.  Stop holding back, Detective, waiting for your father's approval or judgment.  Start living for you–use that passion Hart stirs in you.  Don't run from it or try to control it."  White stood, emerging from behind his desk to stand before Drake.  "You've been granted a terrific gift, Detective.  Don't let it go to waste."

White held out his hand.  Drake took it.

"Go on, now," the shrink said in dismissal.  "I've got real patients to treat."  Drake started for the door.  "But," White called after him, "don't let me hear about any more screw-ups or I'll call Hart, tell her to kick your butt!"

Drake grinned at the older man, thinking of the sparring session he'd had with Hart the day before.  She had kicked his butt.  Of course, then she'd eased the pain of defeat in a most pleasurable way.  "Don't worry, doc.  That's her specialty.  No one slacks off around Hart."

<><><>

Cassie was busy packing up her office when a knock came at her door.  Before she could answer it, the door opened and Ed Castro filled the doorway.  

"Hi."  

She reached for the clock the residents had given her.  Best teacher, yeah, right.  

Ed handed it to her, held it for both of them to look at for a moment.  "I was so proud when they gave you this award," he said, relinquishing the crystal clock.  She began to wrap it in newspaper.  "I kept thinking how happy your father would be, if he could have been there."

She sucked her breath in.  This was hard enough without him bringing up dreams that could never be.  How many times over the years had she wished her parents were there to witness her accomplishments?  How many times had she prayed for their guidance, tried to live up to their expectations?

"Maybe it's a good thing he's not around to see what's happening now," she muttered.  She gestured to a stack of mail on her desk.  "Get a load of what was waiting for me when I got in today.  Not to mention the websites memorializing Virginia as a fallen martyr.  Or the news segment Sterling did today, claiming she suffered from pregnancy induced psychosis and that none of this would have happened if I hadn't accused her of Munchausen's."

Ed took the top letter from the stack and quickly read its message of hate.  "This is awful.  Did you ask Drake for protection?"

She shrugged.  "I don't think any of them will actually do anything.  Besides," she said with a scoffing laugh, "some of the things they suggest aren't even anatomically possible."

"Still, that's a lot of venom.  Are they all like this?"

"Actually, no.  Read this one."  She reached for another letter.  "This one is anonymous.  She says her mother subjected her to numerous hospital admissions and procedures, even smearing feces in her wounds to cause infections.  She survived because her mother turned her attention to her younger sister after she started kindergarten.  Her sister died, and she's certain it was because of what her mother did."

"God, what a way for a child to grow up."  Ed returned the letter.  "At least she's grateful that you brought this Virginia Ulrich business into the public light.  Maybe there are others out there that it will help, too."

"Maybe.  Sure hasn't done your clinic any good.  I heard The Senator is blocking any government funding for it.  I'm sorry.  I know how much the Liberty Center meant to you and Drake."  

He moved a stack of books from where it threatened to topple from her desk and leaned against it.  "Actually, that's what I came to talk to you about.  The Liberty Center has been given a grant from an anonymous benefactor.  Enough to get it opened by September."

"Really?  That's fantastic.  Any idea who the donor is?"

"No.  It goes through a non-profit called The Riverstar Foundation.  But, I need your help."

"Of course, anything.  I've got nothing but time on my hands. Not since the Executive Committee accepted my resignation.  At least the Medical Board found me innocent, so my medical record will be clear, even if no one around here will hire me."

"I want to hire you.  Two jobs, actually.  One as Special Projects Director of the clinic–hands on involvement with project development as well as clinical shifts, maybe even making house calls if you're up to that."

She nodded, already envisioning the work that the Liberty Center could accomplish.  Every time Drake and Ed discussed it, they came up with new ideas to help the people of East Liberty and the surrounding neighborhoods.  "Sounds great."

"It won't pay much, but with the addition of the second job, I think you'll make by."

"Second job?"

"You know how much I hate flying, doing any kind of transport."  

Ed's fear of flying and tendency to get sick in the back of ambulances were legendary.  She didn't enjoy flying either, but she still loved transports–the thrill of being on-scene, improvising, using only her hands and skills to make a diagnosis and save a life.  "You'd like me to take over as Transport Director?"

"I won't have time, not with my job in the ER and being Medical Director of the Liberty Center.  And, that way, you could also cover some shifts here in the ER, keep your skills up." 

She was speechless.  He'd just described her perfect job.  She dropped the clock she was wrapping into the box and threw her arms around him.  "Thanks, Ed.  You're my favorite fairy godfather!"

He returned her embrace.  "Promised Rosa I'd look after you," he reminded her.  "Wouldn't want the old witch to curse me from beyond the grave."

"There's just one catch," he continued.

Cassie broke away.  Wasn't there always?  "What?"

"Adeena is going to be heading social services for the Center.  You'd be working closely together.  Is that going to be a problem?"

She hesitated.  Adeena had left several messages of apology on her answering machine, but Cassie hadn't found the time to return her calls.  Who was she fooling?  She didn't want to talk to Adeena, was still too angry to face her.

"C'mon," Ed said.  "You two have been friends for too long.  Don't let Virginia Ulrich take that from you as well.  You have to forgive her, Cassie.  She made a mistake–but she was trying to do what was best for you and the Ulrich family."

"I know."  She looked away, finished piling photos of the ER staff, medics she'd worked with, residents and students into her box.  This was her home, her family.  And she was being forced to leave it, to start over.  She couldn't afford to lose another friend.  Especially not one as important as Adeena.  "I'll talk to her," she promised Ed.  "It'll be all right." 

"Good.  Then, as your new boss, here's your first assignment."  

She looked up at the tone of merriment in his voice.  What was he up to now?  Ed hated confrontation, any disruption in the emotional equanimity of those he was close to–loved playing matchmaker, peacemaker, Santa Claus.  Whatever it took to restore the balance.

"What?"

"You're going to let me finish in here while you go upstairs to Drake's mother's room.  He's waiting for you."

"Ed, what's going on?"

"No questions, that's an order.  Now, go!"

<><><>

Muriel had been moved from the ICU and to a bed on the Neurology ward.  Park said she'd be ready for discharge in another day or so.  Cassie found Drake huddled over his mother's bed, his tall form blocking her view.

"Is everything all right?" she asked, joining him at the bedside.

"How do you like my new hair do?" Muriel asked, moving a hand mirror away from her face.  Ribbons of dark hair littered the bed as Drake brandished a pair of shears.

Cassie stopped and stared.  Muriel's long hair had been replaced by a short, spiky cut that made her look a decade younger.  She nodded in approval.  "It's you.  I like it."

Muriel combed her fingers through it.  "Thanks.  I do, too.  You can still see the staples, but Dr. Park said those will come out soon.  And the hair he shaved will grow in soon."

A knock on the door interrupted them.  The door opened, and Antwan Washington limped inside, followed by his mother and Adeena.

"Can we come in?" Adeena asked Muriel, but her eyes were fixed on Cassie.

Should've known Ed wouldn't wait for Cassie to make the first move.  He'd set her up.  

"Sure," Muriel called out.  "Who are you?"  

Tammy approached, staying behind Adeena, not meeting anyone's gaze.   Antwan wasn't as shy and marched up to Muriel, his left leg dragging slightly from his stroke, the white plastic of an ankle-foot orthotic visible above his sneaker.   

"This is Tammy Washington and her son, Antwan," Cassie made introductions.  "And this is Adeena Coleman."  She saw Adeena stiffen at the sound of her name and realized that their estrangement was hurting her as much as Cassie.  She wrapped an arm around Adeena's waist, drew her into the tableau of adults around the bed.  "My best friend since third grade."

"Pleased to meet you," Muriel said after introducing herself and Drake.  

Antwan was trying to climb onto the bed, but couldn't with his hands full of a large stuffed kitten with blue eyes and impossibly long whiskers.  Muriel patted the mattress beside her, and Cassie raised him up, loving the vibrant grin he gave her.  "And who is that cute little kitty cat?"

"This is Felix," Antwan told them, waving the kitten's paw in greeting.  "He's only pretend.  I can't have a real kitty."

"They said Antwan can go home today after his physical therapy, so I wanted to say good-bye," Tammy said in a shy voice.  "Wanted to thank you for everything, Dr. Hart."

"No need to.  I'm just happy to see Antwan looking so well.  Do you have everything you need at home?"

"Oh yes.  His exercise equipment is already there, and the therapists are set to come three times a week.  He needs another week of antibiotics, but they have home nurses who can come and give it to him.  And we get to stay together.  CYS and Adeena are helping me with a tutor so I can find another job, a better job that will let me take care of Antwan like I should."  The young mother beamed with pride as she watched her son and Muriel join in earnest conversation, Antwan tickling Muriel's cheek with the stuffed animal.

"Just don't forget to call us if you need anything," Cassie told her.  Then she thought of a way to repay Ed.  "Adeena, don't you think Tammy might be a great help at the Liberty Center?  I'm sure Drake or Ed could find her a job there."

Drake picked up his cue and smiled at Tammy.  "We'd be honored to have you join the team, Ms. Washington.  But only if Antwan can come visit as well."  

"You mean it?  A job where Antwan could stay, too?"

"Of course," Adeena said.  "We're planning the best daycare facilities in the city."

Tammy was speechless, but the grin that filled her face and lit her eyes was thanks enough.  Antwan's free hand reached up to tug at Cassie's hand, and she looked down at him.

"Look, we match!" Antwan pointed with excitement at the semi-circle of staples in Muriel's scalp to the line of them in Cassie's and then to the two that marked where his cerebral pressure monitor had been inserted.  "Mom, look!  We all got our brains fixed."  

"See, he's a future doctor."  Drake laughed.  He glanced at his watch, then over at Adeena.  "Isn't it about time for us to head out?"

Adeena nodded.  Cassie looked to the two of them, what now?

"We'll be back tonight, Mom," he said, kissing his mother on the cheek and running his fingers through her newly shorn hair.

Muriel grinned up at him, and Cassie realized she was in on it as well.  "Have fun."

"Where are we going?" she asked as Drake led her out, followed by Adeena, Antwan and Tammy.

He pulled four tickets from his back pocket and handed them to Antwan.  "To the Pirate's game.  Buccs versus the Reds.  I'm going to catch Antwan a fly ball.  But first, we need to take a little elevator ride."  Drake's eyes were twinkling with excitement.  He intertwined his fingers with hers.  "Don't worry, I'll be right here."

"Drake–" He leaned forward and kissed her before she could say more.  Antwan giggled despite his mother telling him to hush.

When they broke apart, she saw Adeena using an elevator call key to summon the patient transport elevator.  Antwan rushed in, nimbly maneuvering his bad leg over the threshold, his mother and Adeena following.  Cassie hesitated.

"Trust me," Drake whispered, leading her inside the steel box.

She tried to relax as the doors closed, trapping them inside.  Drake ran his fingers over her tensed shoulder muscles, soothing her.  He pulled her close as they lurched to a stop on the third floor and the doors opened again.

Cassie watched as one of the pediatric nurses who had helped her with Charlie's resuscitation wheeled a patient into the tiny space.  Then she realized that the patient in the wheelchair was Charlie.

A remarkably changed Charlie Ulrich.  He glanced around at the occupants of the elevator with animated interest, grinning at Antwan.  Cassie exchanged glances with Adeena and the nurse who smiled and nodded.