Demon Child

to say anything more, he passed the serving bowl to Jenny and said, “Freya has had one of her attacks. Harold is upstairs sitting by her bedside. It's a precaution we try to take most times it happens. One or two nights a week, one of us loses a night's sleep.”
        Jenny said nothing. She knew, now, what the argument must have been about just before she came into the room. Richard had been trying to persuade Cora to let him take Freya to a psychiatrist, and Cora had been sticking to her guns, as before.
        Aside from a few comments about the marvelous quality of the food, no one said much for the first fifteen minutes of the meal. Silverware clanked. Ice cubes rattled in glasses. They made chewing sounds. Gentle background music came from hidden speakers. Nothing else.
        Then Richard spoke, as if there had not been a break in his argument with Cora, as if twenty minutes had not passed since Jenny had entered the room. His eyebrows were drawn close together, his brow wrinkled. “At least,” he said to Cora, “let me take her into the city for a few days of tests.”
        Cora put her fork down, dismayed that the scene should be picked up again just when she thought the curtain had been rung down for the night. “I have already said no, Richard.”
        “But why? If there's something physically wrong with Freya, we must-”
        “There isn't anything physically wrong,” Cora said.
        “How can you be sure?”
        “Dr. Malmont assures us.”
        “He's only one doctor.”
        Cora sighed. “Richard, don't try to make me look like a villain in front of Jenny. You know perfectly well that we had Freya in the hospital for an entire week a month ago. They ran every test on her imaginable. She is in perfect health. There aren't even any allergies, obvious ones at least, to account for these things.”
        For a brief moment, he looked mollified. Then he said, “I should still take her to another doctor.”
        “You mean a psychiatrist,” Cora said.
        “Why not?”
        “Because, I know how frightened Freya was in the hospital. The child cried when she came home and asked me not to send her back there again. I do not want her, in her present state, to have to face the ordeal of another session with a doctor.”
        “All children are frightened of doctors,” Richard said. “But that doesn't mean they shouldn't be taken for their vaccinations just the same.” His tone of voice had gotten progressively less respectful until it was now little more than a grumble of anger.
        Jenny continued to eat, trying to remain out of this. She did not approve, in the least, of the way Richard was speaking to his mother.
        “Love and understanding will help Freya,” Cora said. “Good food and a good home. It's the life she remembers with her mother that still bothers her. You know how bad she had it with Lena.”
        “Love?” Richard asked. “Is that what it tells you in your books? Will love dissipate the age-old Brucker family curse, Cora?”
        “That's quite enough,” Cora said.
        “I'm speaking for Freya's good,” Richard insisted, dropping his spoon and leaning over his plate, staring intently over the serving dishes. His dark eyebrows met above his nose.
        “And you're insinuating that I am not speaking for her best interests. Is that it?”
        Jenny had never seen Cora angry before. She could tell that the woman was prepared to lash out, cuttingly, if this exchange should continue for much longer.
        Richard sank back in his chair. “No, Cora,” he said. “I realize you're as worried about Freya as I am. But don't you see- Don't you see that the best way is professional help?”
        “What I see,” Cora said, “is that we have embarrassed our guest and made her first regular meal with us-well, awkward.”
        “That's all right,” Jenny said, cutting a piece of ham. The food was really quite good, though she had lost most of her appetite. She just wanted to rise and ask to be excused. Maybe she could lose herself in a good book tonight. Except that, by not eating she would embarrass both Richard and Cora-and infuriate dear Anna who was so proud of her culinary art.
        Richard cleared the table while Anna brought dessert and coffee. She had made a special surprise to conclude the meal, an ice cream cake with four different flavors in eight different layers. It must have taken most all afternoon for