The Lucky Ones(8)

The first time she’d seen the man with the beard he’d been hugging Miss Whitney in her office. Allison stood in the doorway and stared at the man who was tall and dressed in what looked to her like blue pajamas. He patted Miss Whitney’s back very hard as he hugged her, which made Miss Whitney laugh and wince, wince and laugh.

“My God,” the bearded man said as he pulled back from the hug. He’d seen her lurking in the doorway. “Is this her?” He turned to Miss Whitney, his brown eyes wide.

“That’s her. That’s our Allison.”

Immediately, he squatted on the floor to meet Allison eye to eye.

Allison took a step back, afraid she’d broken a rule.

“It’s all right,” the man said, and his beard split apart in a big smile that showed a row of bright white teeth. “Don’t be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” Allison said. “Are you?”

He grinned at that. “Surprised. You look a little like another girl I used to know.”

“I thought the same thing when I saw her,” Miss Whitney said. “Cousins at least. Should I not have called?”

“No, no...” the bearded man said. “It’s fine.”

“Why are you wearing pajamas?” Allison asked the bearded man. She knew they were pajamas because the pants had a drawstring on them like her pajamas. Zipper meant outdoor pants. No zipper meant indoor pants. That’s how her mother had explained it.

The bearded man laughed and it was a nice laugh and he had nice eyes. Nice, not like pretty, but nice like kind.

“These are called scrubs,” he said. “They’re not pajamas. Doctors wear them.”

“Are you a doctor?” Allison asked.

“I am.”

“Is somebody sick?”

“You tell me,” the bearded man said. “You don’t look too good.”

“I got hit.”

“Hit?” the bearded man said, and looked up at Miss Whitney.

“Melissa?” Miss Whitney asked.

Tears welled up in Allison’s eyes again and she nodded.

“I’ll be back,” Miss Whitney said with a put-upon groan.

“You go jerk a knot in Melissa’s tail,” the bearded man said. “I’ll get Allison here back in working order.”

He stood up straight and Miss Whitney patted him on the arm as she left the office. They were alone together now, Allison and the bearded man.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his hand on his chin.

“A little.”

“It’s okay if you cry,” he said. “I can tell you want to.”

“Katie said I shouldn’t cry.”

“Why not?”

“They don’t want you if you cry too much.”

“They?”

“People who take kids home with them,” she said.

The bearded man cupped his hand by his mouth and whispered, “I don’t mind if you cry. No skin off my rosy nose.”

That made her feel better, so much better she didn’t want to cry anymore.

“Let’s go find a bathroom,” he said.

Allison showed him where it was. He put her on the counter, wetted a washcloth and pressed it to her cheek.

“How’s that now?” he asked. “Better?”

“Lots.”

“Fantastic,” he said. “Another patient cured. That’ll cost you two bits.”

“What’s a bit?”

“I have no idea,” the bearded man said. “Used to hear it on TV all the time—shave and a haircut, two bits. Never did figure out how much two bits was.”

Allison looked around, saw a tissue box and ripped two pieces off one tissue.

“Here,” she said, holding them up in front of his face. “Two bits.”

“Are you sure?”

“You said you didn’t know what they are,” Allison said. “So how do you know those aren’t bits?”

The bearded man looked at the two tissues in his hand, stuck his lips out and nodded.

“You’re a very smart little girl,” he said. “I accept your payment. And I give you a clean bill of health. Now tell me, what’s going on with you and this Melissa?”

“I sat in her chair. She didn’t like that.”

“And she hit you?”

Allison said nothing.

“You know,” the man said, “sometimes kids learn to hit from their parents. Their parents hit them and then they don’t know any better.”

“I know not to hit,” Allison said.

“That’s because you’re so smart,” he whispered again. A whisper, then a wink. She didn’t know why he was whispering. Everyone in the house was a shouter. Melissa shouted and the other two girls shouted and Miss Whitney shouted at them all to stop shouting. Allison didn’t shout. She cried. She hid. She slept. But she never shouted.

“How’s the patient?”

Allison turned to see Miss Whitney coming into the bathroom.

“She’s on track to make a full recovery,” the bearded man said. “If we can keep her out of the path of slappers.”

“That’s not going to happen in this house,” Miss Whitney said with a sigh.