The Thanatos Syndrome

Lucy? I’ve been up to my ass in cellar water. Come on in. Excuse me,” he says, bowing to Lucy. “Not Cud’n but Dr. Lipscomb, I believe. Nurse Cheney is expecting you.”
    â€œI’ve come to pick up the kids, Van,” I say, feeling better about him. “I called Mrs. Cheney.”
    â€œSho now. Okay, come on in and I’ll have ’em rounded up from the dorm or more likely from the stables.”
    â€œY’all go on in,” says Lucy. “I’ll just go on over there to the rec room. I know the way.” “Sho now. Tom—” He opens a hand to me and the house.
    Van Dorn doesn’t mind Lucy striking out on her own. Inside, he fixes his half-drunk drink and offers me one. I shake my head. We’re in a splendid room, what I remember as an old-style living room but now turned into a sort of gaming room with a large round mahogany-and-rosewood poker table with red-leather inlay and slots for the chips, a Bokhara rug, a severe Derby mantel on which, however, are scattered half a dozen teal and pintail decoys. The plantation desk, stomach-high, so the busy squire, on the run between hunts, could write checks standing, has become a dry bar, with crystal decanters of whiskey and toddy glasses.
    We are sitting at the poker table, Van Dorn gazing down at his bourbon, face grave. “I owe you an apology. I thought to be doing ya’ll a favor, keeping the kids.”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œWith Ellen headed for Fresno and you busy as a bird dog with your practice, I told her the kids were perfectly welcome to stay with us. She seemed quite worried. And she couldn’t locate you.”
    â€œThanks. I understand. But I’ve got Chandra to help me look after them. Is something wrong with Ellen?”
    â€œI’m glad you asked, Tom.” Van Dorn, still gazing at his drink, pulls back his upper lip. “I’m really glad you asked. Frankly I’ve been concerned, Tom.”
    â€œIs that so?”
    â€œIt’s the mood swings, Tom”—he looks up, fine eyes glittering even in the soft light of the room— “which I’m sure you’ve noticed and which you certainly know more about than I do. But I’ve got news for you.”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œThis trip is going to help her!”
    â€œIs that right?”
    â€œYou better believe it.”
    â€œHow?”
    â€œI’ll tell you how. She and Sheri are going to win the non-master pairs, she’s going to go over one hundred MPs, become a master in her own right, and come home feeling great!”
    â€œOh, is Sheri going with her?” I feel better.
    â€œI insisted on it. Sheri’ll look after her. And Ellen will carry Sheri in the non-master pairs. Sheri’s competent enough, though no super-lady like Ellen. Hell, Ellen would win it even with you, ha ha!”
    â€œHow do you know?”
    â€œLike I told you, Tom, remember? She somehow knows the cards.”
    â€œHow do you mean?”
    â€œTom.” Van Dorn leans toward me, cradling his drink in both hands, elbows propped on the green baize. “I’ve tested her. After three rounds of play or two rounds of bidding, she knows the exact probability of distribution. I checked the math of it. She doesn’t know how she knows, but she knows.”
    â€œHow do you think she knows, Van?” I watch him curiously. He’s exhilarated. He’s still grave, but there’s a fondness and a thrill in his gravity.
    â€œI—don’t—know, Tom! I’ve ruled out ESP. It’s nothing supernatural. What she’s doing is high-order math without knowing how she does it.”
    â€œLike an idiot savant.”
    Van Dorn gives me a single, steely look. “Don’t hand me that, old buddy. That lady is not only not an idiot, as you well know, but is a great lady in her own right.”
    â€œRight. Is she on heavy sodium, Van?” I ask in the same voice.
    He sets down his drink, eyes level, lips thin. “I’m glad you asked, Tom. Now that you’re part of the team. If she is, old buddy, she ain’t getting it here. You see that?” Picking up his drink, he holds it toward the French window. Beyond it, beyond the magnolias rises a silver bullet of a water tower. “You know where our water comes from? A ten-inch flow well, artesian water fifteen hundred feet straight down. More to the point, Doctor, where does yours come