The Bad Daughter(19)

“Be kind.”

“Uh-huh,” Melanie acknowledged. “So now I’m not only uncivil. I’m also unkind.”

Robin bowed her head. “Forget it. I’m sorry I said anything.”

“Apology accepted,” Melanie said with a smile. “That was me lightening up,” she added, the smile spreading to her eyes.

Robin couldn’t help smiling in return. “Have you heard anything more from the hospital?” she asked, scooping another spoonful of chili onto her plate.

“Not a word.”

“I guess that’s good.” She got up from the table, went to the sink, and poured herself a glass of water, her heart racing despite the “happy pills” still in her system. “Would you like some?” she asked her sister.

“No, thanks. But you can pour Landon a glass.”

“Is he coming down?”

“If he wants to eat. I don’t do room service.”

Robin returned to the table, depositing Landon’s full glass of water next to his empty plate. “Have you spoken to him since we got home?”

“No. Why?”

“I was just wondering how he feels about my being here.”

“Don’t know. You’d have to ask him.”

“I knocked on his door before. But he didn’t answer.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll run into each other eventually.”

“Is he seeing anyone?” Robin asked.

“You mean, like a girlfriend?”

“No.”

“I see. You mean someone like you?”

“Well, preferably someone who specializes in autism.”

“We don’t have a lot of specialists in Red Bluff, remember?” Melanie said. “We were seeing this one doctor for a while,” she continued, surprising Robin by elaborating. “But Landon didn’t like him very much, so we stopped.”

“Is he on medication?”

“The doctor or Landon?” Melanie asked. “Sorry,” she went on, immediately qualifying her statement. “Another attempt at levity.” She dragged Landon’s glass of water across the table and took a sip, then pushed it back with her index finger. “The doctor prescribed something. Can’t remember the name. Sometimes Landon takes it; sometimes he doesn’t. Says it makes him dopey. Anyway, there’s not much I can do about it. He’s a little big for me to force-feed.”

Robin knew that the teen years could be a time of major stress and confusion for those who suffered from autism. They became painfully aware that they were different from other kids. Subsequent hurt feelings and the problems of connecting with others often led to depression and increased anxiety. And if there was one thing Robin understood, it was anxiety. “Is he still in school?”

“No. He quit a few years back.”

“Does he have friends?”

“Not really. There’s this one kid, but—”

The doorbell rang.

“Are you expecting someone?” Robin asked.

Melanie pushed herself away from the table. “Nope.”

Robin followed her sister out of the kitchen to the front door. She watched Melanie peer through the peephole, then take a step back. “Speak of the devil…,” she said, opening the door to a slender young man whose black hair and pale skin emphasized the intense blue of his eyes. He was wearing black jeans and a plain black T-shirt, and Robin estimated his age as late teens.

“Mrs. Davis,” the boy said to Melanie.

“Miss,” she corrected him, sounding as if this wasn’t the first time she’d made such a clarification. “How are you, Kenny?”

“Not so good,” he said. “I heard about Cassidy. Can I come in?”

Melanie stepped back to allow him entry.

“Is she all right?” He stopped abruptly when he saw Robin.

Melanie followed the young man’s gaze. “This is my sister, Robin.”

The boy managed a weak smile. “How you doin’?”

“This is Kenny Stapleton,” Melanie said. “We were just talking about you, as a matter of fact.”

“You were?”

“My sister was asking if Landon had any friends. You’re pretty much it, I guess. Although you haven’t been around much recently, have you?”

“I’m really sorry about that. Been kind of busy,” Kenny said. “How’s Cassidy? Is she gonna be all right?”

“We don’t know. She’s still critical. You heard about her mother?”

Kenny lowered his gaze to his black boots. “I can’t believe it. Who’d do this?”

“I don’t know.”

“They’re saying it was, like, a home invasion or something.”

“That’s what they’re saying,” Melanie agreed.

“What about Mr. Davis?”

“It’s not looking good.”

“But he’s still alive,” Kenny said. “That’s something, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

“He’s pretty tough. He’ll pull through. Cassidy, too. You’ll see.”

“Guess we will.”

“How’s Landon?”