Jonathan Kellerman - Self-Defence

"What do you do mostly? Medication?"

"Almost totally. I attend at six different ER's and I rarely get to do any follow-up. So yes, if Lucretia's willing to see me, I'd be very interested. She's an interesting woman."

"Where's your office?"

"Tarzana. I rent space from another psychiatrist." She gave me her card. "Where are you?"

"Malibu."

"Not too shabby. I would like you to stay closely in touch. We need to make sure she doesn't see you as yet another man who's walked out on her."

"I was planning to visit her while she's in. When would you like me to start?"

"Any time you're ready. I'll leave your name with the charge nurse."

She ate some more Jell-O and finished her milk, wiping away the white mustache. "While you're there, though, I'd keep it casual. Especially in terms of your gay friend. I'd just as soon hold off on any more surprises until I have a better feel for what's going on with her. Make sense?"

"Yes, but once she's out, she's likely to seek him out. She views him as a protector."

I described how Lucy and Milo had connected at the trial.

"Well," she said, "for now I'd tell him to keep a low profile. What she needs is protection from her own impulses."

I drove home thinking Wendy Embrey might be very good for Lucy. But I wondered how Lucy would react to a change in therapists.

I had conflicts of my own about the transition: relieved at the chance to get out of a mess, but more than a bit guilty at how good that freedom sounded. And I still wanted to know what had happened that summer. For her sake or mine? The answers weren't comforting.

I put on some music and drove like a robot. When I got home, surfers' vans were parked all along the turnoff to the public beach.

When I opened the door, the phone was ringing.

My service with a long-distance call from Ken Lowell.

"Hi, doctor. Anything new on Lucy?"

"She seems to be holding her own."

"I spoke to Dr. Embrey and she sounded pretty sharp, but I'm a little confused. Who's going to be Lucy's doctor?"

"As long as Lucy's in the hospital, Dr. Embrey's in charge."

"Unfortunately, I can't seem to reach Dr. Embrey now. Are you going to be speaking to her? If you are, I'd like to pass something along. I think she should know."

"Sure."

"I got a call from my brother early this morning, explaining why he hadn't shown up for dinner. Some sort of business emergency. In Taos, New Mexico, of all places. I told him what had happened to Lucy and he really went ballistic. But then he said he couldn't come back because he was tied up."

"He said the same thing to Dr. Embrey. Must have called her right after he spoke to you."

"But it doesn't make any sense. Because when we met last week he wasn't involved in any business- told me he'd been unemployed for a long time. So what was so urgent?"

"I really don't know, Ken."

"No, no reason for you to… I have to tell you, doctor, he sounded very edgy. I can't help thinking he's in some kind of trouble. I was just wondering if Lucy said anything to you that you could divulge without breaking confidentiality."

"She really didn't, Ken."

"All right. Thanks. I'll be back and forth to L.A. for the next few weeks. Would visiting Lucy be appropriate?"

"I'd talk to Dr. Embrey about that."

"Yes, of course. I have to tell you, doctor, this is strange."

"What is?"

"Instant family."

At 4:10 Robin called to let me know she'd been invited to attend a showcase that night at the Whiskey, a band of thrash-metal heroes brandishing guitars she'd built.

"Would you mind if I passed?" I said.

"If I had a good excuse, I'd pass too. Zero showed up at the site and invited me personally."

"What time do you think it'll be over?"

"Late."

"How about if I come by before and we grab some dinner."

"What about Spike?"

"I can bring takeout."

"That would be great."

"When should I get there?"

"Soon as possible."

I picked up earplugs at a pharmacy in Point Dume and sandwiches and drinks at a deli nearby. It took forty minutes to get to the jobsite. Several trucks were pulling away, and Robin was conferring with a bare-chested man with a tobacco-stained walrus mustache. Nearly bald except for some yellow back fringe and a ponytail, he was concentrating hard as she spoke.

She saw me and waved and continued to talk to him, waving a roll of blueprints. Spike was on the rear bed of her truck, and he stuck his frog face above the tailgate and barked. I went over and lifted him out. He licked my face and waved his forelegs in the air, and when I put him down, he stood up, hugged my knees, and rubbed his head against my leg.

"What a handsome guy you are," I said. "Handsome" was his favorite word, after "meat loaf." He started panting; then his nose went after the bag in my hand.

Robin said, "Okay, Larry?" in a tone of voice that meant she was working at patience.

"Yes, ma'am."

"So let's try for inspection by next Monday. If there are any other problems, let me know right away." She shifted the blueprints to the other hand.

"Yes, ma'am. For sure." Larry looked at me.

"This is Dr. Delaware. He pays the bills."

"Sir," said Larry, "we're fixing up a nice new place for you, you bet."

"Great," I said.

He scratched his head, walked up toward the house, and began talking to another worker. The pond was empty and half filled with dirt. What had once been a garden was a muddy pit. The new house's roof points sliced the sky at sharp angles. The sun that showed through was platinum-white.

"What do you think?" she said.

"Very nice."

"Soon." She kissed my cheek.

I kept looking at the construction. The framing was complete and the walls had been papered and partially mudded. The mud was ridged with trowel marks and still wet in spots. The original house had been redwood walls and a cedar roof. "Kindling on a foundation," the fire marshal had called it. The new building would be stucco and tile. I'd get used to it.

Robin put her arm around me and we walked to the truck. "Sorry about tonight."

"Hey, everyone has their emergencies. Here's something for your sanity."

I gave her the earplugs and she laughed. Pulling down the tailgate, she spread an army blanket and we set out the food. We ate listening to the sounds of hammer guns and saws, feeding Spike bits of sandwich and watching birds circle overhead. Soon, I felt pretty good.

I brought Spike home, fed him dinner, took him for a jog on the beach, and settled him in front of the tube. Then I showered, changed into fresh clothes, and headed for Woodbridge Hospital, making it to the parking lot by seven.

The Psychiatric Unit was on the third floor, behind swinging doors labeled LOCKED. I pressed a buzzer, gave my name, and heard the tumblers click. Pushing, I entered a long well-lit hallway.

The chocolate carpet was freshly vacuumed, the walls a pleasant brownish-white. Ten closed doors on each side, the nursing station at the end. One nurse sat there. Soft conversation came from somewhere, along with television dialogue, radio music, and an occasional ringing phone.

When I got to the station, the nurse said, "Dr. Delaware… yes, here it is. Lucretia's in 14, that's back there on the left side." She was very young and had yellow cornrowed hair studded with tiny blue ribbons, and beautiful teeth.

I retraced my steps. Before I got to 14, the door to 18 opened and a small, sweet-faced woman around fifty looked out at me. She wore a pink dress, pearls, and pink pumps. The back wall of her room was covered with family photos, and the aroma of chocolate chip cookies poured out.