Strangers

from the way the kids talked about him, he must've been good medicine for them."
        "He only worked here one week," Emmy said. "But he comes back - did you know? Every few days he comes back to visit. I was hoping he'd come today, so I could give him a big Christmas kiss."
        "He wanted to stop by, but he's spending Christmas with his folks."
        "Oh, that's good! That's what Christmas is for - isn't it, Gather? Being together with your folks, having fun, and loving each other."
        "Yes, Emmy," Stefan Wycazik said, thinking that no theologian or philosopher could have put it better. "That's what Christmas is for."
        If Stefan had been alone with the girl, he would have asked her about the afternoon of December 11. That was the day Brendan had been brushing her hair while she sat in her wheelchair before this very window. Stefan wanted to know about the rings on Brendan's hands, which had appeared for the first time that day, and which Emmeline had noticed before Brendan himself spotted them. He wanted to ask Emmy if she had felt anything unusual when Brendan had touched her. But there were too many adults around, and they would surely ask awkward questions. Stefan was not yet prepared to reveal the reasons for his curiosity.
        
        Las Vegas, Nevada.
        After getting off to a rocky start, Christmas at the Monatella apartment improved dramatically. Mary and Pete stopped hammering Jorja with their well-meant but unwanted advice and criticism. They loosened up and involved themselves in Marcie's play the way grandparents should, and Jorja was reminded of just why she loved them so much. The holiday dinner was on the table at twelve-fifty, only twenty minutes late, and it was delicious. By the time Marcie sat down to eat, she had worked off her all-consuming interest in Little Ms. Doctor, and she did not rush through her meal. It was a leisurely dinner with much chit-chat and laughter, the Christmas tree twinkling in the background. Those were golden hours until, during dessert, the trouble started with surprising suddenness. With frightening speed, it escalated to total disaster.
        Teasing Marcie, Pete said, "Where does a little bitty thing like you put so much food? You've eaten more than the rest of us combined!"
        "Oh, Grandpa."
        "It's true! You've been really shoveling it in. One more bite of that pumpkin pie, and you're going to explode."
        Marcie lifted another forkful, held it up for all to see, and with great theatricality, she moved it toward her mouth.
        "No, don't!" Pete said, putting his hands in front of his face as if to protect himself from the blast.
        Marcie popped the morsel into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. "See? I didn't explode."
        "You will with the next bite," Pete said. "I was just one bite too soon. You'll explode… or else we'll have to rush you to the hospital."
        Marcie frowned. "No hospital."
        "Oh, yes," Pete said. "You'll be all swollen up, ready to burst, and we'll have to rush you to the hospital and have them deflate you."
        "No hospital," Marcie repeated adamantly.
        Jorja realized that her daughter's voice had changed, that the girl was no longer participating in the game but was, instead, genuinely if inexplicably frightened. She was not scared of exploding, of course, but evidently the mere thought of a hospital had caused her to go pale.
        "No hospital," Marcie repeated, a haunted look in her eyes.
        "Oh, yes," Pete said, not yet aware of the change in the child.
        Jorja tried to deflect him: "Dad, I think we-"
        But Pete said, "Of course, they won't take you in an ambulance 'cause you'll be too big. We'll have to rent a truck to haul you."
        The girl shook her head violently. "I won't go to a h-h-hospital in a million years. I won't ever let those doctors touch me.
        "Honey," Jorja said, "Grandpa's only teasing. He doesn't really-"
        Unplacated, the girl said, "Those hospital people will hhurt me like they hurt me before. I won't let them hurt me again."
        Mary looked at Jorja, baffled. "When was she in the hospital?"
        "She wasn't," Jorja said. "I don't know why she-"
        "I was, I was, I was! They t-tied me down in bed, stuck me full of rmeedles, and I was scared, and I won't ever let them touch me again."
        Remembering the strange tantrum that Kara Persaghian had reported