Minding Debbie - by MMB

Chapter One

Broots put a gentle hand on his daughter's well stuffed backpack as it hung from her shoulders and propelled her into the Sim Lab in front of him, juggling his own luggage awkwardly in his other hand.

"Where's Miss Parker, Dad?" Debbie asked brightly. Her father's normally prickly boss was one of her all-time favorite people, and she always looked forward to an opportunity to spend time with her when her dad ended up being sent out of town on business. The first time, the two of them had gone shopping, resulting in Debbie's acquiring a sophisticated leather skirt and overcoat combo and hairdo that had made her look like a miniature Miss Parker. The second time they had talked late into the night about all kinds of things that Debbie could never discuss with her Dad. What they would do this time had been a fascinating daydream ever since her father had announced the trip the previous evening.

"Miss Parker isn't around today, sweetie. She was getting ready to go somewhere else last night when I called her, and won't be back for several days." Broots gave his daughter a look of regretful chagrin. "She said to tell you she was sorry, and that she'd catch you next time."

Debbie was disappointed and suddenly very unsure of herself. "But, I thought you said that you were going to have to go to Texas and that you were dropping me off..."

"I do and I am, Deb. I'm leaving in just a few minutes."

Debbie's big brown eyes looked up into her father's in full confusion. "Then who..."

"Ah, Broots, there you are..." Sydney's voice proceeded him from the small office on the edge of the Sim Lab. "I was beginning to wonder if you still wanted me to..."

"Sydney!" Broots seemed relieved to see the psychiatrist. "Oh, so sorry I'm late. I figured that this time of year, Texas would be stifling, so I was trying... And then you wouldn't believe..."

The Belgian smiled indulgently, but put up a quieting hand. "Broots! Mr. Raines won't appreciate being held up for much longer. He's called down here at least three times already. You'd best say your good-byes to Debbie and get moving. You were supposed to be here a half-hour ago."

"That's what happens when these things are decided at the spur of the moment," Broots grumbled. "This is a weekend, fer Christ's sake - why couldn't Mr. Raines have called a computer tech WITHOUT a family..." He gave a shudder to think of the ghoulish company he would necessarily be keeping for the next two days, then shook himself and bent down to his daughter. "Since Miss Parker isn't going to be here for you this time, Debbie, Dr. Green has agreed that you could stay with him while I'm gone. So you be good for him, and do everything he tells you, OK?"

Debbie looked up apprehensively into the kindly face of an older man her father had spoken of so many times with a consistent combination of admiration, awe and deference. She had met the man her daddy called "Sydney" herself only once before, briefly, while waiting for Miss Parker to take her home. While she had found herself intrigued by his soft accent and refined manner, she'd been intimidated by his age and apparent exalted status in her father's estimation. "I promise, Daddy." She stood up on tiptoe while Broots bent to give his daughter a kiss good-bye.

"We'll be fine, Broots, don't you worry." Sydney had moved to Debbie's side and had placed a gentle yet protective hand on her shoulder.

Broots thought for a moment, then shook Sydney's hand. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate this..."

Sydney chuckled. "Its my pleasure, Broots. I look forward to getting to know Debbie a little better." He nodded in the direction of the sliding doors. "Now, you'd better get going."

"Uh, yeah..." Broots blew Debbie another kiss. "I love you, sweetheart," he murmured in a voice meant just for her, then walked quickly out of the Sim Lab.

Debbie looked up again into the face of Dr. Green with her touch of apprehension just that much more acute. She knew her dad was smart - so if there was somebody that he held in high esteem, being so close to such a person was almost frightening for Debbie. Sydney smiled down at her kindly, noting the apprehension in her face, and bent down so he could address her more on her level.

"Well, now, its just us for the next couple of days, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir," she answered in a meek voice, not entirely sure how to act around him.

"I'm afraid that I have some paperwork that I need to catch up on this morning, so we're stuck here for a little while yet. By any chance, did you pack something that you can keep yourself busy with while I finish up?"

Debbie nodded - she had packed the sketchbook and drawing pencils her father had given her for last Christmas in the backpack that was serving as her overnight case. Drawing was fun.

"Good!" With a gentle hand at her back, Sydney guided the girl over to a worktable and held the chair for her while she sat down. "Another thing - I like to listen to music while I do paperwork. It's probably not the kind of music you and your friends like to listen to, but would you mind if I put some on?"

"Go ahead," she said with tiny shook her head, as much to indicate her permission as her confusion. Miss Parker had never spent much time asking her what she WANTED; she had assumed that other exalted people wouldn't do such a thing either. She pulled out the sketchbook and pencils to mask her discomfort, opened the sketchbook, and set herself to trying to remember the farm she and her dad had visited a few weeks back. She was aware that Dr. Green continued to watch over her for a long moment, then...

"I'll be just over there, in my office, if you need me. OK?" he asked softly, stepping back.

Debbie nodded again wordlessly, concentrating on her drawing. Soon, soft strains of Mozart flowed over the Sim Lab. It was music Debbie had never heard before, but she found it soothing and helpful to her concentration.

Just about the time that Debbie was finally starting to get tired of drawing, she heard the sliding door of the Sim Lab activate behind her. Turning, she saw someone she recognized walk quickly into the Lab and over to Dr. Green's office with some folders under his arm. When the man emerged from the office again and began heading for the sliding doors again, she waved and called at him brightly. "Hi, Sam!"

"Hey, squirt! What are you doing here?" The burly sweeper's face softened with a wide smile, and he made a detour over to her table.

"Dad's off to Texas," Debbie explained.

"Yeah, I heard about that. What are you doing here? I understand Miss Parker's gone too."

Debbie nodded. "I know. I was really hoping to get a chance to see her."

Sam's brow furled. "So - what are you doing here?" he repeated.

"Dr. Green is taking care of me this time, and he has a few things to do before we can leave."

Sam grunted and nodded, filing the information away. "Well, pint-size, I wish I could stay and give you another chance at me on the checkerboard while the doc finishes his paperwork, but they've got me running errands all over the place today. I gotta get back, ya know?"

The girl smiled up at him. "That's OK. It was nice to see you again."

"Is something going on out here?" Sydney poked his head out the door of his office at the sound of voices, and frowned as he saw Sam standing so close to his temporary charge. "Debbie, are you OK?"

"Hey, doc, you better watch out for this little lady. She's a tiger on the checkerboard!" Sam called over his shoulder. He gave a quick pat on Debbie's head by way of farewell, which made the girl giggle, and then he slipped back out the sliding doors again.

Sydney's eyes had widened at the familiar way the huge sweeper had interacted with the girl combined with her surprising total lack of fear of the man, and then smiled as he leaned against the doorjamb. "That's right - I now remember Miss Parker giving Sam an AWFULLY bad time about his losing to you at checkers a while back. Maybe you and I could play a game or two this weekend - what do you say?"

Debbie smiled back at him shyly. "That sounds like fun." She thought for a moment, then decided to get brave and piped up again, "Dr. Green, are you just about finished with your papers yet?"

Sydney chuckled. "Getting bored with drawing, are you?" He chuckled again as he watched her shyly turn red and look away in embarrassment. "I'm not surprised. This isn't a good place for a healthy child to spend much time." He thought for a moment, then seemed to reach a decision. "That's it. I'm done. Whatever's left can wait until Monday. Let me shut down things in here, and then lets get out in the sun and fresh air."

Debbie perked up and immediately began stowing her drawing supplies back into the over-stuffed backpack. By the time she had everything zipped up tight and the pack hanging from one shoulder, Sydney had turned the lights off in his office and was waiting by her table. He had his jacket tossed nonchalantly over his shoulder and held by one finger and a grey felt beret perched jauntily on his head. He extended his other hand out to the young girl, who thought for a moment and then put her hand in his. He then touched a pad on the wall near the sliding doors, and the lights in the Sim Lab dimmed to nearly extinguished. Together they walked through the sliding doors and out of the Lab.

"Well, well, well! And who is this?"

Lyle's heavy hands landed, one on Sydney's shoulder and the other on Debbie's, as he stepped up behind them as they stood waiting for the elevator.

"Mr. Lyle," Sydney said dryly, in a way that reminded Debbie of somebody having something foul-tasting in their mouth. "This is Debbie, Broot's daughter. Debbie, this is Mr. Lyle."

"Ah! I've heard about you, young lady," Lyle said smoothly, squeezing Debbie's shoulder for emphasis.

"Hello," Debbie managed in a very small voice.

Sydney felt Debbie's hand in his hold onto him just a little more tightly, and he turned an impatient eye to the younger Parker male. "Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Lyle? We WERE just on our way out..."

Lyle's gaze flicked up to meet Sydney's with a short spark of irritation, then he covered it over with a wide, patently insincere smile. "No, no, nothing important, Sydney. I just was wondering who your young friend was here. I don't often see you escorting children OUT of the Centre..."

Debbie watched, mesmerized, while Dr. Green simply looked without speaking at the man whose attitude and mannerisms reminded her of a snake. Young as she was, she had seen this game played before - when watching her mother deal with moneylenders she owed money to in Las Vegas. Obviously, Dr. Green was no more impressed by this Mr. Lyle than she was and was going to give him as little information as necessary.

The elevator door chose that moment to slide open, and Lyle patted Debbie on the shoulder again. "Nice to have met you, Debbie," he smiled in his own insincere, predatory manner, then nodded at Sydney. "See you Monday, Syd." He turned on his heel and walked away as if he owned the entire complex.

Sydney felt Debbie shudder away the sensation of Lyle's pat on the shoulder and squeezed the girl's hand comfortingly. "I agree completely. C'mon, Debbie. Let's get you out of this place."

~~~~~~~~~

"I was thinking that you might enjoy spending the rest of the weekend up at my fishing cabin in the mountains," Sydney mentioned as he climbed into the driver's seat of his car and fastened his seatbelt. "But it occurs to me that you may not have packed for colder weather."

"No, I didn't," Debbie said, crestfallen. Her daddy had spoken of Sydney's beautiful cabin in the mountains, wishing that he might be able to talk his friend into letting him take her up there someday. Then she brightened. "But I have a key to our house - I can always let myself in and grab something warmer." She turned a hopeful face to her temporary guardian. "Please, Dr. Green..."

"Alright, I'll take you over to your place on one condition," Sydney said gently.

"What's that?"

"That for the rest of this weekend, no more of this “Dr. Green” stuff. My friends call me Sydney, and I'd be very honored if you would too." He smiled at her encouragingly in answer to her shocked and hesitant expression. "I know your dad has taught you that this is the way to be polite, but its also OK for an adult to give you permission to use their given name. So, will you do that for me?"

Debbie smiled back brilliantly. "OK, Sydney," she tried out a little hesitantly, and received a wide grin for her efforts. It warmed her, knowing that something so simple could please someone so important. "Thanks!"

Sydney started up the car. "OK, now that THAT'S settled," he stated to nobody in particular and then put the car in gear. He could feel that the young girl's apprehension of him had ebbed considerably with the exchange, and smiled inwardly. Broots had done a very good job raising a thoughtful and polite young lady. This was promising to be a most enjoyable and relaxing weekend.

The stop at the Broots house was a quick one. Debbie flew from the car and into the house while Sydney waited for her patiently, then flew back out of the house again with a plastic shopping bag into which she'd obviously stuffed some warmer clothing clutched in one hand. Over her other arm, she had slung a substantial jacket. Sydney took her burden from her as she climbed back into the car and deposited it on the back seat. "Did you remember to lock up?"

"Yes, sir," Debbie perked happily.

"Then off we go!"

~~~~~~~~~*

After a short stop in a small market in the village closest to the cabin for enough groceries for the weekend, Sydney watched Debbie's reaction to the scenery as he steered the car up the winding mountain road with pleasure. When the cabin finally came into view through the trees, and the car turned from the paved road itself onto the graveled drive, she turned to him with wide eyes. "This is your cabin?!"

"Uh-huh. What do you think?" he asked with a smile.

"Its as beautiful here as Daddy said it was," she answered in a breathless voice, awed by the sense of silent majesty that the surrounding forest and peaceful lake gave to the rustic building.

Sydney smiled inwardly again. It was amazingly refreshing to visit this place, for years his own personal refuge from civilization, through the eyes of a child. Besides, it had been a while since he had considered the peaceful beauty of the setting for its own sake, and not in relation to other more difficult memories. "Well," he said, turning the engine off, "let's get our stuff into the cabin and get settled a little, and then I'll take you exploring." He reached around and retrieved her jacket and sack of warmer clothing, then watched Debbie bounce from the car joyously before climbing out himself and heading for the trunk and their groceries.

Except for a slight smell of dust, the cabin seemed unchanged from the last time Sydney had been there - during that painful time when Jacob had taken his final turn for the worse and then died. He pushed the door open and let the girl enter before him, and watched in amusement as she looked all around with intense curiosity, but politely held back and waited for her host. He led her into the spacious living room and then nodded at the staircase by the kitchen doorway. "There's a bedroom up there that can be yours for the night. Why don't you scoot upstairs and drop off your stuff up there, then you can come down and check the place out a bit while I fix us some lunch."

Debbie glanced up at him for reassurance again, then vanished up the stairs. Sydney chuckled to himself and then headed towards the back of the cabin and the kitchen to put away the perishable supplies, leaving out the sandwich makings and chips. He was almost at the point of calling to his young visitor when Debbie peeked around the corner and then stepped into the kitchen.

"There's only the one bedroom upstairs. Where are you going to sleep?" she asked quietly, finding a seat for herself at the kitchen table.

"The other bedroom is downstairs," he informed her as he handed her a plate. "The curtains near the front door hide it."

Debbie munched on a few chips thoughtfully. Then, "Do you think it would be OK if I went swimming in the lake this afternoon?"

Sydney shook his head. "I don't think so, Debbie - not at this time of year. Unfortunately, the water's too cold now because we're getting close to winter. In the summertime, however, it can get rather warm up here - and yes, it would be OK to swim in the lake then." He saw a shadow of disappointment flit across her features. "I'll tell you what: maybe this next summer you can come up and swim, maybe even bring one or two of your friends with you for a weekend..."

The girl looked up at him in astonishment, her sandwich suspended halfway between plate and lips. "You'd let me do that?"

He nodded thoughtfully. "I think that it would be a shame to know someone who would love to come up here from time to time, and yet just keep this cabin to myself and not share." He looked around the kitchen. "I think its about time this cabin starts to live again."

"Don't you come up here by yourself sometimes?" Debbie asked with shy curiosity.

Sydney shook his head and reached for a chip. "I haven't for a while now - not since my brother died."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know..." Debbie found herself unsure of how to proceed in the face of unexpected sadness.

"Don't worry about it," he said, shaking off the mood he'd been in danger of falling into and smiling at her again encouragingly. "I think it will be a good thing for me to help you have an enjoyable time here this weekend - you can give me a new set of memories to associate with the cabin." He popped another chip in his mouth. "So you see, you're really doing me a favor by coming up here with me today."

"And its really OK if I invite some friends to come up this summer?"

"It really is OK if you do that. As a matter of fact, I'll make a point of suggesting that to your Dad when I see him next time," he chuckled indulgently. "How's that?"

Debbie grabbed up her sandwich and took a huge bite with a smile on her face. "That is SO cool! Thanks, Sydney!!"

~~~~~~~~

Sydney sat down on a fallen log and rested, at the same time watching Debbie explore this untamed, uncultivated forest glen with unrestrained enthusiasm. Their afternoon walk had been kept to a steady and tolerable pace more suited to his age and lack of stamina. Together, they had explored along the lakeshore and up the mountainside to the barbed wire fence that was the edge of the property. They had found the little creek that was one of the feeders to the lake and watched a pair of white-tailed does walk through the underbrush in the distance.

"We're going to be needing to head back soon," he called over to her after casting an appraising eye to the sky visible through the canopy of red and gold leaves above them. He pushed the sleeve of his jacket up to glance at his watch. "The sun goes down fast up here. Besides, its getting close to suppertime - and I don't know about you, but an afternoon of wandering up and down a mountainside has given me an appetite."

Debbie straightened and walked carefully through the underbrush to sit down next to him, then looked out over the various features of the secluded little glen. "Its beautiful here," she said softly, as if unwilling to disturb the serenity of the setting anymore than necessary. "Can I bring my drawing stuff up here tomorrow and do some sketching?"

"Provided the weather stays favorable," Sydney agreed in an equally soft tone. "We've got clouds that have moved in since we started out this afternoon," he pointed up above their heads, "and we may have rain before the night is done."

Debbie looked up herself, then shrugged. "Well, I suppose if I don't get to do the sketches this time, I can do them when I come up in the summer..."

Sydney chuckled. "If your friends don't keep you too busy to do any, that is," he remarked lightly, and got to his feet. "Let's head back now."

Debbie rose and walked with him quietly for a while, enjoying the scenery along the pathway back down the mountain to the cabin by the lake. Her time with Sydney today had been very restful; and she hadn't found him half as intimidating as her father appeared to, nor as inflexible or irascible as her mother had taught her to think most older people were. He was a quiet man, not prone to endless or boring lectures about this or that regardless of her interest and yet full of useful and interesting information when she did ask. He had proven to be far more approachable than Miss Parker had been at first, which had steadily eased Debbie's apprehension of him. He'd answered all of her questions with the same kind of forthright honesty that her dad did, and had not refused her permission to go or do something without also giving her what he felt was a good reason for the denial. He made her feel comfortable and respected, and she was finding she genuinely enjoyed being in his company.

At times like these lately, she would marvel at how different her life had become since she'd come to live with her dad. She never had reason to doubt that she was the center of her father's world - his every word and action spoke of his devotion. That unconditional and constant love was so different from what she'd received from her mother, especially in her last days in her care. Life had always been a rollercoaster ride in Las Vegas or Atlantic City, always a contest whether there would be enough money for rent and food as well as her mother's gambling, with the gambling always being the most important - more important even than Debbie herself. And when her mother had been unwilling or unable to care for her, she had either simply left her daughter to shift for herself in their apartment or motel room or foisted her off on casual acquaintances who could be easily convinced. Some of those “visits” had left her with lingering nightmares that she had yet to reveal to anyone.

In contrast, her father had managed to consistently find her decent people who seemed genuinely interested in seeing to her welfare when his work drew him out of the picture. Miss Parker had twice stepped up to take care of her, and now Sydney had taken on the task. Both were intensely private and very responsible people who evidently thought enough of her father to extend the same consideration to her they did to Broots. Miss Parker had become a very important element of Debbie's new life, someone she knew she could look up to and depend on; and something told her that it was very likely that Sydney would become equally important to her as well over time. She was curious to know more about him, and decided to satisfy one of her questions.

"Sydney?"

The psychiatrist looked down at the girl walking at his side. "Yes?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he consented without hesitation. "What would you like to know?"

Debbie looked up at him. "Do you have any kids?"

She saw him smile softly. "I have one son, Nicholas."

"How old is he?"

"Old, to you," Sydney chuckled. "He's all grown up now."

"Are you a grandfather, then, too?"

"No. Nicholas isn't married. Why do you ask?"

The girl shrugged. "I was just curious. You just remind me of how a grandfather would be."

"And how is that?" Sydney was intrigued. "Do I remind you of one of your grandparents?"

"I never knew my grandparents," Debbie said, her voice having gone flat in an attempt not to show how much the admission hurt. "My mom told me they were all dead a long time before I was born."

"I'm sorry." His voice was soft and comforting, having heard the pain anyway and wishing to soothe if he could. "But if you never knew your grandparents, how do you know what a grandfather would be like?"

She shrugged again. "I hear some of the other kids in school talk about theirs, and I kinda fill in the blanks."

"That makes sense," he said with a nod. "So, tell me - what do you think a grandfather would be like?"

"Nice," Debbie said, blushing slightly again, "like you."

"That's quite a compliment," Sydney remarked, touched. "Thank you."

They walked into the clearing where the cabin sat, and Sydney looked up at the sky. "I tell you what. I'll go in and start our supper, and you can play near the cabin until its ready. Do you know how to skip rocks?"

Debbie shook her head. "I've only heard about it from other kids talking about their vacations..."

"Well, then, let me show you before I go in. This is something every child should have a chance to learn at least once in their lives..."

Sydney took her down to the lakeside and showed her how to select the best and flattest rocks and how to throw them so they bounced across the water. Then, with a caution to stay within sight of the cabin and not to go in the water, he went inside to prepare their meal.

Fifteen minutes later, he heard the front door of the cabin open and close rapidly. "Get tired already?" he called from the kitchen.

Debbie started laughing in the living room, then walked into the kitchen to show him that she was now nearly drenched from head to toe. "Uh... I was standing there making triple skips, and all of a sudden it started to pour..."

Sydney tsked and shook his head at her, then walked over to turn her around with a gentle hand at the shoulder and give her a gentle push out of the kitchen. "You get out of those wet clothes before you catch your death, young lady," he insisted, pointing toward the stairs. "I'll have a towel from the bathroom for your hair when you come back down. Bring your wet clothes with you - we can hang them in the bathroom to dry overnight."

He ducked into the bathroom and retrieved a thick, fluffy terry bath towel, then draped it over the back of a chair and headed for the free-standing fireplace and began cleaning out ancient ashes and laying the kindling for a fire to warm the cabin as nighttime fell. The flames were just beginning to dance up between the logs he'd carefully arranged, and he'd just turned on the floor lamp to bring more light into the quickly-darkening room when he heard her stirring behind him. He turned and saw Debbie had exchanged her drenched denim overalls, t-shirt and jacket for a warm set of sweat clothes and thick socks for her feet.

"Much better," he smiled at her approvingly, rising. "You take that towel and dry your hair here in front of the fire while I finish supper, then. Give me your wet things..."

Debbie handed him her soaked clothing and took the towel from back of the chair and moved towards one of the chairs near the fireplace, rubbing at her hair. "This is nice," she commented over her shoulder at his back as he headed toward the bathroom. "The fire makes the place smell warm."

"We'll eat our supper out there, I think," Sydney answered over his shoulder as well as he carefully hung clothing over towel racks. "I don't want you catching a chill with a wet head." As if to echo his sentiment, from outside came a crash of thunder and flash of lightening that briefly shone through the windows of the cabin like bright sunlight, and the lights in the cabin flickered slightly. He looked over toward his young guest after finishing with the clothing in the bathroom and found her staring back at him with frightened eyes. "Are you OK?" he asked gently, moving in her direction in concern.

"I... I don't like storms," she began lamely, wringing the towel between her two hands in distress, her wet hair forgotten utterly.

Sydney seated himself in the other chair near the fireplace and motioned for her to come over to him. "I can see that," he said in a smooth and soothing voice. "Come on over here, turn around and sit in front of me, then, and I'll dry your hair for you," he directed, twirling a finger to demonstrate what he wanted her to do. Debbie seated herself on the braided rug at his feet, grateful for the security of his closeness. As he spread the towel over her head and began gently rubbing away the water from her hair, the thunder crashed again - a little louder this time - and he felt her flinch beneath his hands and cringe back against his legs a little closer.

"You know, a long time ago, when my brother and I were both terrified of the storms, my grandmother told me that the thunder was nothing but the angels pushing the clouds around until they crashed into each other," he mused aloud at her in a calm and soothing voice. "And then, when we asked her about the lightening, she told us it was heavenly fireworks." He could feel her relax slightly against his knee as he spoke. "She had us so convinced with her story that for a while that we'd race to the windows to see if we could see the angels pushing the clouds."

"When I was really small," Debbie began in a very hesitant voice, "one of my first memories is of living in Atlantic City not long after Dad left, and this huge storm came in off the Atlantic. I was terrified by all the noise and the lightening." She paused, and Sydney could feel her muscles tighten up.

"What happened?" he asked gently, his hands slowing in their rubbing and coming to rest on her shoulders, as if to give her support to tell the rest of her story.

She shook her head. "My mom got really mad at me," she said finally, with the same kind of flat, emotionless tone he'd heard earlier in the forest that was evidently her way of trying to hide her distress at painful memories.

"And?" he urged her, putting a hand on her damp hair and stroking it soothingly. What was it about children whose lives brushed too close to The Centre? The very last thing he had intended to be faced with during this restful weekend of babysitting was a distressed Debbie facing painful or disturbing memories on his watch. Broots had never intimated that his daughter was anything but a happy-go-lucky eleven-year-old, although it was no secret that her life with her mother had been anything but pleasant or stable. Still, he had the impression that he was being made privy to a very closely held secret fear, something that maybe she hadn't yet had either the opportunity or courage to bring to her father.

She shook her head beneath his hand a little more vehemently. "I don't remember," she said and then sniffled. She wiped at her nose and eyes with a hand and trained her eyes on the multicolored fabric braid of the rug she was sitting on.

Sydney sat very still after setting the towel aside on the arm of his chair. When she sniffled again, he knew he needed no more information about what had happened than she'd already provided - her sadness spoke eloquently of how not only did she indeed remember, but the memory itself was a bad one. He quickly stomped down a flash of intense anger at such an insensitive and cruel mother. "Does your dad know about this?" he asked very gently, almost certain of her response and thus not very surprised when she shook her head again after a short hesitation. There was an incredibly bright flash of lightning that once more illuminated the interior as if at midday, followed by the loud crash of thunder. Debbie once more flinched as if hit and cringed back against Sydney's leg even tighter.

"Come here," he said, no longer able to bear the idea of letting her continue to suffer her fear alone. When she turned terrified and tear-filled eyes over her shoulder at him, he opened his arms to her and said, "Come here and sit up here on my lap with me for a while. I'll keep you safe." Another bright flash and the beginnings of another loud rumbling motivated her to finally scramble to her feet and let him gather her into his arms and pull her into his lap.

"You aren't mad at me?" she asked in a small voice.

"For what?" he asked in surprise, sitting back finally as she leaned into his chest and rested her damp head on his shoulder. "Why, I can remember being so scared by a storm when I was small that I ran upstairs to my room and crawled under my bed and hid there until long after it was finished. Nobody ever got angry with me when I got scared, so why should I be angry with you for being scared?"

The thunder crashed again, and the lights flickered again - and this time went out, leaving the cabin dark except for the light from the flames in the fireplace. Debbie dove deeper into Sydney's arms with a terrified squeak, and he tightened his embrace around her and hushed gently into her ear until she stopped her trembling.

"You know, one way to stop being so afraid of storms is to try to turn them into an adventure," he said finally, once he knew she was able to listen to him again.

"An adventure?" she sniffled against his neck, intrigued by the idea despite herself.

"Indeed. We can pretend that this is a time before electricity. We can get out the oil lamps and candles, and eat our supper by candlelight." Sydney deliberately made his voice light and carefree, so as to begin to dispel the aura of fear that was drowning his young charge. "What do you say - are you game?"

Debbie slowly untucked her face from where she had hidden it against Sydney's neck and looked out into the dimly lit living room with trepidation. "Eat by candlelight? Us??"

"Uh-huh."

Sydney could feel a little of the extreme tenseness in her body had eased slightly as she snuggled back against him again. "I can remember Daddy making me a special dinner for my birthday and us eating by candlelight..."

"That's the idea!" Sydney exclaimed in a reassuring tone. He pointed across the room. "Do you see where that oil lamp is there on top of the cabinet?" He saw her head nod. "Can you go bring it here to me? I'll get one of the matches I use to light the fire and get that one lit, so we can have light to move through the cabin. OK?"

After another assessing look up into his face and seeing nothing but calm and expectancy there, Debbie scooted off Sydney's lap and trotted over to collect the oil lamp. Just as quickly she trotted back to his side where he now stood next to the fireplace, shaking a match from the matchbox. "You hold the lamp base for me, while I take the chimney off," he instructed, then pulled the bulbous glass tube from its metal bed and set it safely to one side. "Now, hold it very still for me." He twisted the little knob to bring forth the wick a little further, then struck the match and lit it. He blew out the match and tossed it into the fire, then adjusted the wick again before it could begin to smoke and then replaced the chimney.

Debbie watched the process in fascination, and couldn't help but see how that single small flame immediately chased away much of the darkness of the room. Seeing that having just a little bit extra light had obviously helped the girl relax, Sydney pocketed the matchbox, then reached down to take the lamp from her. He put out his other hand to her. "Come on. Let's go to the kitchen and dig out some candles to set up for our dining table." He felt Debbie slip her hand into his empty one as he began to move, and together they headed in the direction of the kitchen.

Another distant rumble of thunder sounded. He felt her hand tighten around his and her body press in a little more closely to his side, and then he heard her mumble to herself, "Just angels crashing the clouds together." He smiled inwardly and sent a quick thought of gratitude in the direction of the memory of his grandmother. Then he set the oil lantern in the center of the kitchen table, where its light could reach most corners of the room, and began directing the slightly less frightened girl in where to find candles and holders.

~~~~~~~~

"King me!"

Sydney tsked at himself in frustration at his carelessness and obediently placed the crowning piece on Debbie's man. "Sam was right, you ARE a tiger on the checkerboard," he commented ruefully, although he was quietly pleased to see that a warm meal made special by candlelight, gentle banter during clean-up, and now a winning streak at checkers had allowed her carefree and exuberant nature to return. That the storm itself had eased in the meanwhile hadn't hurt any.

"Did Miss Parker REALLY give Sam a bad time after I beat him?" Debbie asked with a curious and astonished smile.

"She still mentions it from time to time, just to tweak him a little," he admitted, his face crinkling in merriment remembering the look of chagrin that would inevitably come over the otherwise intimidating sweeper's face.

"Then we won't mention our games to her," Debbie suggested with a twinkle in her eye. "I don't want her to give you a bad time too."

"You're too kind," Sydney said with a half-bow from the waist, then without thinking made a move that had Debbie chortling again as she jumped another three men and cleaned him off the board. "Argh! But out of fairness - since he did warn me about you this morning - I'll have to take Sam aside and let him know that I know how he feels."

Debbie grinned at him across the coffee table, then looked about her in surprise when all of a sudden the electric lights in the cabin flared back to life. She looked over at her host, a shadow of disappointment on her face. "Do we have to put the candles and lamps out now?"

"You enjoy the candlelight, do you?" Sydney asked indulgently, and the girl nodded enthusiastically. "Well, then, there's no reason we HAVE to blow out the candles. How about you just go turn off the electric lights instead."

Debbie shot him a look of pure delight, then sprang to her feet to do as he'd directed and then trotted back to her place across the table from him. "Can we play another game?"

"Alright, one more," he agreed slowly, "and then I think we both could do with some sleep."

Together they put their checkers back in their starting places, and this game didn't go nearly as fast as had the four previous to it. This time, Sydney put his full concentration on the game, rather than letting his mind wander as he had before, and he managed to sneak out one victory - barely. Debbie was a very good opponent who was gifted in the art of strategy and, with her good mood restored, she turned out to be as gracious a loser as she was an enthusiastic winner. Having to work as hard as she did only to ultimately lose, however, made her more than willing to set the checkerboard away for the night when the game was over.

While she finished boxing up the board and pieces, Sydney went over to a bureau and opened a drawer, then pulled out a flashlight and handed it to the girl. "Use this to get yourself upstairs and get ready for bed. I'll be up to tuck you in after a bit, and I'll have a nice before-bed treat for you when I come up."

"OK." She smiled at him with a look of happy expectation, then took the flashlight from him and, turning on the beam, trotted obediently up the stairs. Meanwhile, he made the circuit of the room, blowing out all the candles and oil lamps save the one that had lit their checkerboard, then used that to light his way into the kitchen and gather together the ingredients for hot chocolate.


Five minutes later, he was tapping on the wall outside the curtained doorway of the upstairs bedroom with his foot, each hand full of steaming mug. "Is it safe?"

Debbie, now garbed in her pajamas, moved aside the curtain to admit her host, her eyes widening when she caught sight and a whiff of what he was carrying. "Hot chocolate?" she looked up at him in amazement.

"I thought it would be a nice way to put an end to a special day," Sydney remarked, pleased that he'd surprised her so pleasantly with something he regularly made for himself at this time of night. "You climb into bed, and we'll enjoy our treat together."

The little girl fairly bounced into bed and pulled the blankets and bedspread over her legs and lap. Sydney waited until the bed had stopped moving, then seated himself on the edge next to her and carefully handed her the mug. Debbie's eyes danced when she saw the floating marshmallows, and then she sipped at the hot liquid and closed her eyes. "Oh, wow! Thanks, Sydney."

"I'm glad you like it," he answered, sipping at his own drink. "And I'm glad you're enjoying your stay."

"Oh, yes!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining. "I love it up here, it's so beautiful."

"Even when it storms?" he asked her carefully.

Her expression grew more serious. "I still don't like storms," she began, then thought for a bit, "but we did make it fun, didn't we? I never knew they could be fun, just scary."

"Lots of things are scary when we don't know what's going on. It helps, most of the time, to let someone know you're scared so they can help you figure things out and get un-scared."

Sydney could tell from the expression in those wide, sky-blue eyes that Debbie was listening to him very carefully and considering what he was saying. "But what about when that person gets mad when you tell them you're scared and they scare you even more?" Her voice had become small.

"Then you learn not to tell that particular person that you're scared anymore. But you keep telling others you know until you find someone who will help you," he said gently, once more stomping down a feeling of disgust that a mother would react to her child's normal fears like that. "Like your Dad. I can't see your Dad ever getting angry with you just because something frightens you."

"I don't want anybody to think I'm a baby," she muttered into her hot chocolate, suddenly not able to meet the gaze of this kindly old man whose opinion of her was becoming important.

"You're not a baby, Debbie," he reassured her quickly, cupping a cheek gently with a hand warm from cradling warm ceramic. "And your Dad doesn't think you're a baby either, I'm sure."

"Even if I'm scared of storms?"

"I know plenty of grown-ups who get very upset at storms," Sydney informed her honestly, nodding at her blink of surprise. "Sometimes people are just frightened and upset at things, and it doesn't mean they're acting like babies."

"Did your grandmother tell you lots of stories?" she asked suddenly. "Other than the one about angels crashing clouds together, I mean?

He smiled at her. "My grandmother was one of the most interesting story-tellers I've ever met," he told her. "She could keep Jacob and me enchanted by the hour when she'd start telling fairytales, or start remembering when she was a girl in Aix en Provence."

"Aix en Provence? Where is that? Is that where you're from?"

Sydney chuckled. "No, Aix en Provence is another place in France. That's where my grandmother came from. My brother and I were born in near Luxembourg, in Belgium, and then our parents moved us to Lyons."

"Daddy took me to Paris for my birthday this past year," Debbie told him with a happy smile on her face. "Did you ever visit there?"

"Many times, after I grew up," he told her, then signaled for her to finish her drink. "But not for a long time now. And I knew your Dad was thinking of taking you there - he asked me to help him practice his conversational French."

Debbie drained the rest of her hot chocolate as Sydney finished his, and handed him the empty mug with a shy smile. "Sydney?"

"What?" he asked, putting the empty mugs aside on the nightstand and signaling for her to lay down so that he could tuck her in.

She complied, but continued to peer up at him as he arranged the warm covers over her. "Do you think it would be OK if I pretended something else for the rest of my visit here?"

He blinked, then nodded. "I don't think it would hurt much, depending on what it is you want to pretend. What is it?"

Wide blue eyes gazed up into his face, a combination of hesitancy and hope written across her face. "Can I pretend that you're my grandfather until you take me home?"

Sydney sat down again heavily on the side of the bed stunned at the simplicity of the question and the unerring way it had touched him so deeply. "Debbie, you can pretend that whenever you want, and not just when we're up here," he said in a voice made gruff with emotion, and took both her little hands in his big ones and held on. "I can't think of anything I would enjoy more than that. I'm very honored you'd ask me." He bent over her and deposited a loving kiss on her forehead. "You sleep now, ma petite, and I'll see you in the morning."

Debbie settled into her pillows and closed her eyes with a contented smile on her face. "OK. Goodnight."

~~~~~~~~

"Well, let me see what you've done then..." Sydney asked, reaching for Debbie's sketchbook over his lunch plate. Carefully he examined each of the three colored pencil drawings she'd added to her collection, then looked over at her. "These are veeerrrrry good," he remarked, impressed. "I like the one you did of the cabin especially."

"Would you like to have it?" the girl asked, her face lighting up with the praise.

"May I?" he asked in return, handing the sketchbook back to its owner.

In answer, Debbie carefully separated the page from the adhesive that held it in the book and handed it to him.

"Can you sign and date it for me?" he asked, still holding it out to her. "That would make it special."

She flashed him a brilliant smile and bent to do as he'd asked with a black pencil, then handed it back to him. "There."

Sydney studied the sketch with a critical eye. Debbie showed real talent for her drawings; she had rendered the cabin very faithfully, and done the autumn colors of its setting full justice. He could already visualize it matted and framed and mounted in his office - where Broots would be able to enjoy his daughter's handiwork too. Perhaps he would see to it that there was a Christmas present of art studies books under the tree for a certain little girl this year. He smiled inwardly. Yes, indeed - that would be most appropriate, under the circumstances.

It had been too wet still outside for her to roam too far up the mountainside that morning, so she had compromised and done her sketches close to the cabin itself. She had found a log to sit on and pivot for different views, and brought forth not just this one study, but rather three drawings of the immediate vicinity of the cabin - including one that showed the view of the lake. For his part, he had contented himself with planting himself in one of the wooden chairs on the wide porch and sorting through an old box of fishing lures he and his brother had made together years ago, making sure the flies were all still in good shape. From there, he'd been able to watch over her without intruding or seeming to be too protective.

"Do we have to go back today?" Debbie asked quietly.

"You have school in the morning," he reminded her gently, chuckling at the unenthusiastic grimace she gave him in response, "and I have to be back at work myself. Your Dad is supposed to call me sometime soon to let me know if he will be back tonight or tomorrow sometime."

"What's going to happen if he's not back tonight?"

"You'll stay with me in town then," he answered easily. "I'll make sure that you get to school on time before I leave for work. If your Dad is still out of town when school is out, I'll have Sam pick you up and bring you in to The Centre - you can draw or do your homework until I'm ready to leave for the day again. How's that sound?"

Debbie nodded contentedly and munched on a chip. "Will I have time to skip some stones before we leave?"

"We won't start packing until the middle of the afternoon," he informed her after a sip of coffee. "You can have an hour or two before you need to come in and gather your things together. I'm sure that's plenty of time to skip some stones."

"Would there be enough time for us to take another walk together, like we did yesterday?" she asked quietly.

"Where do you want to walk this time?"

She thought for a moment. "Around the lake?"

Sydney chuckled. "That's a lot farther than you think, ma petite - I think it would take all of the afternoon and into the evening for us to get all the way back here. Maybe the next time we're up here, we'll walk all the way around the lake. Let's stick to skipping stones and pencil drawings for today, alright?"

"OK." A comfortable and companionable silence fell between them as they finished their lunch. Then: "Sydney?"

"Hmmm?"

"I'm glad I stayed with you."

The older man gazed at the girl, sitting so close to the beginnings of adolescence. She was going to be a real beauty. "I'm glad you did too, Debbie," he responded gently. "I'm glad we got a chance to get to know each other better. Your Daddy talks about you a lot."

"He talks about you too," she nodded.

"Then it was about time the two of us got to know each other, eh?" He could see that there was something on her mind that she wanted to say or ask, but was working up the nerve to speak, so he let the silence fall between them again to make room for her question. The cell phone in his pocket chose that moment to begin chirping at him, however.

"This is Sydney."

"H...hi Syd. How are things going with Debbie?" Broots' voice sounded far away.

"We're fine, Broots. I brought her up to the cabin, and we've been enjoying the peace and quiet." Sydney smiled at Debbie, and saw her face light up as she realized he was talking to her father. "Do you want to speak to her?"

He handed over the appliance and reached for his coffee cup again while Debbie chattered at her father briefly and enthusiastically. Then, with a wistful farewell, the girl handed him his phone back. "Yes?"

"I told her that I'll be seeing her tonight - if Mr. Raines doesn't decide to open another avenue of investigation again, that is. I'll call you about five tonight your time if things run late on this end."

Sydney nodded. "I halfway expected this," he admitted to the technician. "Don't worry about Debbie - if things run late, I'll drop her at school tomorrow, and if need be, I'll have Sam bring her to the Sim Lab after school."

"If that's OK with you. I know its an imposition..." Broots' tone communicated his regret clearly.

"Not at all. Think nothing of it," Sydney soothed, waving his other hand as if the gesture could be seen. "Just keep Mr. Raines happy, and we'll see you soon, then." He nodded a couple more times, then gave his farewell and closed the connection. "Well, how about you help me clear the table and do dishes, and then you can go outside again for a while?"

"Will you come out and skip stones with me after that?"

He smiled. "I think that can be arranged..."

~~~~~~~~

"Daddy!"

Broots stepped through the front door of Sydney's home and opened his arms wide just in time to catch his rocketing daughter up in a tight embrace. Behind him, the psychiatrist gently shut his front door against the chill of the autumn evening, then smiled at the sight of the two greeting each other.

"Thanks a lot, Syd," Broots turned and extended his hand to his co-worker. "I really appreciate your minding Debbie for me while I was in Texas."

"It was my pleasure, Broots," the older man assured his friend easily. "Debbie and I had a very quiet and relaxing weekend at Angel Lake."

"Isn't it pretty up there?" Broots asked the girl at his side, anticipating her answer.

Debbie didn't disappoint. "Its just as beautiful as you said it was, Daddy," she gushed.

"As a matter of fact," Sydney piped up, remembering his promise, "I was thinking that maybe you would consider letting me take Debbie and one or two of her friends up there for a weekend maybe sometime this summer?"

Broots blinked in surprise. "Really? Sure... yeah!" Not exactly sure how to take the unexpected invitation, he turned to his daughter. "Deb? Did you hear that?"

Debbie nodded, her eyes now glued to the man with whom she'd spent the last two days. "Thank you, Sydney," she said with dancing eyes, then reached up her hands for a hug from the older man.

Sydney smiled and picked Debbie up so that she could wrap her arms around his neck and gave her a hug. "You're welcome, ma petite," he answered softly, in a voice meant only for her ears. He kissed her cheek gently. "You be good for your Dad, now, won't you?"

The girl nodded solemnly then kissed his cheek in return. "I will," she promised.

Sydney set her back down, then helped her sling her overstuffed backpack over one shoulder and then gather the two sacks that held the extra clothing. Then he opened the front door to let his guests leave.

"Thanks again, Syd," Broots waved. Debbie turned and waved too.

Sydney waved, then watched as the man and his daughter climbed into the beat-up sedan and back carefully from his driveway. He sighed as he closed his front door again, feeling the emptiness of his house now that his young guest had left. He hadn't realized how quickly he'd become accustomed to the energy Debbie added to her surroundings, or how much he'd miss her and her energy when she left. He would have to break out his cookbooks and invite Broots and Debbie over for dinner sometime soon. It would be nice to know he had someone to consider entertaining for a change. He also decided he'd ask Broots if he could have one of Debbie's school pictures when he saw the tech in the morning. He knew exactly where he'd be keeping it.

He walked into his kitchen, flipped on the light and looked across the room at his refrigerator. It made his heart feel warm to see the pencil sketch of his mountain cabin held to the front appliance with two nondescript magnets and to remember Debbie's face glowing happily as they had put it up there together after scrabbling together through several utility drawers in search of magnets. At the time, the picture had been placed there only temporarily - and one day, he WOULD have it matted and framed for display in his Centre office. But, now that he thought about it, he wouldn't let that happen for a while yet.

For now, he would enjoy the warmth the drawing lent his home and the sense of family, however real or unreal, that it would provide him every time he looked at it. Many had been the times he'd wished he dared bring one of Jarod's drawings home with him to post in a similar way - but refrained in order to attempt to maintain at least the illusion of scientific objectivity for The Powers That Be. This was the first time his refrigerator had held a child's drawing done just for him.

And he didn't need to come close to know that Debbie had done more than just sign and date her picture. Below, she'd dedicated it "To Grandpa Sydney with love". He would keep the picture on his refrigerator for as long as he felt he wanted to relish this secret bond before letting Broots in on it.

Jarod had once remarked to him, after the conclusion of one of his Pretends, that family wasn't so much about blood as it was about love. As he opened the refrigerator to get out the milk for his nightly treat of hot chocolate, he knew his protégé had been right. Family WAS all about love, and blood had very little to do with it. His weekend of minding Debbie had been about finding family in unexpected places - a lesson he wouldn't soon forget with the picture on the refrigerator reminding him daily.

Minding Debbie - by MMB

Chapter 2: Nightmare


"Hey Syd? Sorry to bother you, but have you got a minute?"

Sydney looked up from his clipboard, where he was scoring the responses of his latest set of twins to various optical and auditory stimuli. "Broots! Sure - just a moment..." He quickly gave instructions to his aide to allow the twins - one set of identical middle-aged women with salt-and-pepper hair and matching sets of glasses, and a set of identical twenty-something men in suits - to take a ten-minute break. He then waved the technician into his office and followed him and partially closed the glass door behind him. "Now, what can I do for you?"

"Uh... it isn't for me..." Broots stumbled in his nervous way. "I was wondering if I could ask you a question about Debbie..."

"Debbie?" Sydney's eyebrows climbed his forehead while he moved around the balding man to his desk and indicated that Broots should have a seat. He hadn't seen the eleven year old girl for at least a month or more - not since he'd taken her to his fishing cabin at White Cloud while her father was on assignment one weekend. "Is something the matter? Is she all right?"

"No, she's fine, really," Broots waved his hand with a smile, then drooped visibly. "Actually, Syd, she's not fine. She's afraid to go to bed at night, and keeps waking up at odd hours crying and won't go back to sleep... Its getting to the point that I'm not getting much sleep myself at night anymore, and I'm afraid her schoolwork will begin to slip..."

Sydney shot a sharp and assessing glance in the technician's direction, and found that the younger man did indeed have dark circles under his eyes and look fatigued. "When did this start?"

"She went to a slumber party over at a friend's house about a week ago," Broots explained with a yawn, "but called me up late at night to pick her up rather than sleep over. She was upset when I picked her up, and she's been restless ever since."

The psychiatrist leaned back in his chair. "Did she tell you anything about what went on at this party..."

Broots scratched his face near his eye while he thought a moment. "You know, I asked her about it when I went to pick her up, and she just told me that she just didn't want to stay after all." The younger man looked over at his more learned colleague. "Do you suppose something happened there..."

"Its possible," Sydney nodded slowly. "Then again, childhood fears often come from memories buried deep down. We both know that Debbie's still decompressing from the life she lived with her mother."

"Oh yeah!" Broots considered the word “decompressing” to be an apt description for the way Debbie had slowly been opening up from being simply friendly and good-natured to being out-going and enthusiastic about nearly everything she got involved in over the last half-year he'd had custody of her. "I'm just kinda at my wit's end, you know? Did... did you... uh... talk to her... at all... that weekend...?"

Sydney's face softened. "Well, yes, actually, I did a bit... We had one touchy moment, during a thunderstorm. Debbie was terribly afraid of the storm, and we worked through it - I thought..." He steepled his fingers in front of him as he settled back into the comfort of the leather upholstery. "I didn't pursue anything in depth; I just gave her the support she apparently needed at the time to feel safe. She responded to simple reassurance quite well - and while she may still be unnerved by storms some in the future, I doubt she'll react as violently to them as she did that night."

"I didn't even know she was afraid of storms," Broots commented almost plaintively. "She never told me..."

"I'm not surprised," the older man reassured him. "She didn't want you - or anybody else, for that matter - to think she was a baby. It seemed to be very important to her that she measure up in YOUR eyes especially."

"But I wouldn't have thought she was..." the younger man began.

"I know that," Sydney held up a reassuring hand. "But from what little she let slip at the time... Actually, I'm deducing this more from what she DIDN'T say than what she did." Sydney interrupted his friend. "I don't think her mother handled Debbie's fears all that well during their years together, and I got the impression that the memories associated with that particular fear at least were not very good ones." Broots sighed unhappily, and Sydney nodded. "Exactly. And if it happened that once, it very well could have happened other times too about other things. At that point, you can never know what will bring forth one of these things again - a word, a gesture - anything could be a trigger to kick in a suppressed fear..."

Sydney sympathized with the look of frustration and pique that crossed his younger colleague's face. While he'd been trying to undo some of the damage Debbie's mother had apparently wrought, he too had felt his own share of anger at the insensitivity of any mother who would deal negatively with her small child's fears. "Would you like me to try to talk to her?" he suggested gently.

The look of relief on Broots' face was almost painful in and of itself. "Oh, Sydney! Would you? Do you mind?" His smile was almost blinding in its gratitude. "I know it's a horrible imposition, but..."

"Don't be ridiculous! I'd love to get a chance to spend some time with your delightful daughter - we just won't let her know that its really for more than just a friendly visit."

"Uh...OK..." Broots grew concerned again. "When...? How...?"

"BROOTS!!! You moron - where ARE you?!" Miss Parker's voice bellowed down the quiet Centre corridor. "I needed that security report YESTERDAY!!!"

"How about I pick her up from the sitter tonight, with the excuse that you have to work late?" Sydney suggested hurriedly as Broots bolted to his feet in anticipation of Miss Parker's pending discovery of his whereabouts. "From the sound of things, it may well be the truth after all anyway. Its Friday night - I'll pick her up and she can spend the night with me, and we'll see what we can see. How's that?"

"I...I'll call the sitter and tell her... tell her to expect... Th....thanks, Syd!" Broots turned to hurry towards the corridor and his angry boss. "I owe you HUGE for this!"

Sydney shook his head with a sympathetic smile at Broots' retreating back, not envying him the chewing out Miss Parker seemed determined to administer the moment she caught up to him, then reached for his clipboard once more with a now distracted expression.

Broots' little daughter had wormed her way into his heart very quickly over the course of a peaceful weekend at the cabin - he didn't like thinking that she was so distressed she couldn't sleep. Not for the first time he wondered what was it about the children whose lives brushed too closely to the Centre. Why, he demanded of a God he could no longer believe in, could their early years never be quiet and happy? Why did their lives have to be filled with fears and angst instead?

He sighed and mentally forced himself to pigeon-hole Debbie's problem in the back of his mind for the time being, then rose and followed the technician out into the Sim Lab to both physically and mentally return to recording the responses of his twins studies subjects.

It was going to be a loooooooooooong afternoon...

~~~~~~~~

The woman who answered the door at his knock had a kindly face. "Hello? My name is Dr. Sydney Green. I believe Mr. Broots called you to let you know I was going to..."

"Ah yes," the woman responded with a smile and stepped aside so that Sydney could enter the house. "I was expecting you. Debbie! Your ride is here!" she called towards the back of the residence.

She stood waiting with him until a tired-looking Debbie dragged out of the kitchen, shrugging her backpack onto one shoulder. One glance at the person waiting for her, however, and the expression of fatigue partially evaporated into a tired happiness. "Sydney?"

Sydney bent to catch the girl up in his arms as she ran toward him. "There you are, ma petite! Its so good to be seeing you again!"

"I'm staying with YOU tonight until Daddy gets home?! Oh, this is SO cool..." Debbie could hardly contain her joy at the idea of being able to spend more time with her new most favorite person in the world, and she wrapped her arms around his neck tightly after planting a noisy kiss on his cheek.

"Yes; your Dad has to work very late," he explained after kissing her cheek gently and hugging her tightly back, "and Miss Parker has to work too. So that means you and I get to spend a little more time together, if that's alright with you..."

Sydney could feel the girl's body struggling with a deep fatigue that was only thinly masked by her happiness at seeing him so unexpectedly. "It is," she agreed, then seemed to abruptly run out of energy. She settled her head tiredly on his shoulder and cling to his neck just a bit tighter as she looked over at her sitter. "Good night, Mrs. Connelly," she said quietly.

The kindly woman put her hand on Debbie's back comfortingly. "Good night to you too, Debbie." She smiled at the tall, older gentleman with the continental accent and bearing who had come to claim the girl who was one of her favorite charges. "Nice to meet you, Doctor."

"And you, Mrs. Connelly," Sydney answered with a bow that was too slight to disturb the tired little girl in his arms. The woman flipped a switch that illuminated the front yard as well as the porch so that he could see to carry his burden to his waiting town car. He bent to open the passenger door, then carefully deposited Debbie in the seat. She looked up at him with sleepy eyes while he settled the seat belt over her shoulder. "You seem tired tonight, ma petite. Are you feeling OK?"

"I'm fine," she tried to reassure him, but her body was telling him another story entirely.

Sydney chose not to challenge her, but rather moved quickly to the driver's seat and started up the motor. He drove very carefully and smoothly through the darkened streets of Blue Cove, aware that his passenger had closed her eyes almost the moment the car had begun moving. He frowned in concern. Broots was right to worry - it wasn't normal for a child her age to be this tired at this early an hour. It was just a little after the dinner hour after all... He pushed the button to open his garage door and pulled the car fully into the garage before closing the rolling door behind them.

"Debbie, cheri, we're here," he called softly, a hand on her knee shaking her gently. He wasn't prepared for the girl coming awake like a shot, her body tense as if ready to flee, her eyes wide and terrified. "Hey," he smoothed a hand against her hair, " it's OK. It's just me, Sydney. Remember?"

Even in the dimly lit car, he could see her gathering her tired, scattered wits and struggling not to cry. Instead, she nodded, then reached for her seat belt buckle. He reached down and covered her little hand with his big one, stopping her. He waited for her to turn eyes swimming with tears to look up at him then reached up to smooth her hair away from her eyes. "Something's wrong, isn't it?" At first she shook her head, but then as he continued to gaze at her gently, she dropped her gaze and shrugged and nodded slightly.

"Let's go inside, then, and I'll make you a nice mug of hot chocolate, like I did up at the cabin, and then you can tell me what's troubling you. OK?" He held his breath; it was always better to take a relatively straight approach with children, but sometimes that straight approach could fail miserably.

"OK," she mumbled, her gaze still trained on the fabric of the car seat between them.

Satisfied he'd at least gotten this much of a concession from her, he pushed the button to release her seat belt for her and then unbuckled himself. Together they each climbed from the car, and then Debbie followed him into his kitchen, dimly lit from the light in the stove hood. He pointed for her to drop her backpack on the kitchen table, then helped her out of her coat. "You sit, and I'll fix," he directed her, and then turned to gather the makings for hot chocolate while Debbie drooped into one of the kitchen chairs to watch him with tired and wary eyes.

"How long has it been since you've had a good night's sleep?" he asked her eventually after he'd poured the milk into a saucepan. He looked up when he didn't hear an answer, then prodded gently, "Debbie?"

"A while, I guess," she answered in a flat voice that Sydney vividly remembered from their previous time together was her defense mechanism against things she didn't want to think about.

"How long?" he asked again, looking up at her. "Just a couple nights, or longer than that?"

She shrugged, then mumbled, "Longer than that," when she concluded he wouldn't stop pressing until she answered him.

He put the saucepan on the stove and put a very low flame under it, then reached for the chocolate powder and began adding it slowly and stirring carefully. "A week?"

"Maybe," she shrugged again.

"More than a week ago?" he persisted.

Debbie's brows furrowed tiredly, then she shook her head. "I don't think so..." she offered finally.

Sydney was silent while he finished heating the milk carefully, then divided the steaming liquid into the two mugs he had sitting along side the stove, then put a spoon in each and brought them over to her and sat down around the corner from her. "What makes it hard so hard for you to sleep?" he asked gently, the question he'd wanted to ask since he'd seen her.

Debbie gathered her mug close and began stirring her chocolate and avoiding his gaze. "I dunno," she shrugged in an attempt to be nonchalant. "Dreams, I suppose."

"Bad dreams?"

She cringed when she looked up sharply, and he knew he'd scored a hit. She looked back down into her chocolate quickly, hoping he hadn't noticed the fear on her face.

He sat with her and drank at his chocolate quietly for a while, letting her settle and calm a little without being pressed. Then, "Does it bother you to talk about it?"

She shot him a look of pure terror, then looked back down again and nodded, one tear breaking free and tumbling down a cheek.

Sydney set his mug back down on the table. "This is NOT going to do," he announced and then reached over and grasped the girl under the arms and pulled her into his lap before she could squeak out a complaint. "There, that's better. We do our talks better when you're here with me." He wrapped his arms around her completely and leaned his cheek against the top of her head. "Now. Do you remember the storm, up at the cabin?" he asked quietly, gently.

"Uh-huh?" Confused by her sudden shift in location, Debbie was lost.

"Remember how you didn't want to show me how scared you were at first," he explained in a patient tone, "but after we talked everything out, you found out that it was OK to be scared."

Debbie relaxed a little then, leaned against him and nodded. "I remember," she replied in a small tone.

"And do you remember," he continued as if she hadn't said anything, "that later that night we discussed how, when you get scared of something, that you should tell someone about it so that they can help you understand and get un-scared again? Remember, you weren't so scared of the storm after..."

"Yes, but this is different," she whimpered, burrowing closer to him and trembling.

He tightened his arms around her. "Different how so?"

"Storms are loud and flashy and scary," she explained quickly, "but..."

"But..."

"They don't hurt." The three words were in a nearly inaudible whisper, and Debbie sniffled and hid her face.

"Hurt?" Sydney blinked, startled. He held her close and didn't speak for a while, giving her a chance to pull herself together a bit. When he thought she'd regained some of her composure, he asked, "Do you remember what happens in these dreams?" He took a beginning tack that would move toward the cause of her distress slowly and carefully.

She nodded against him.

"And in these dreams, you get hurt?" His voice was soft and soothing, so as to make the subject less traumatic to talk about.

Debbie nodded against his chest, trembling again slightly.

He stopped asking questions again for a while and simply held the girl close until her trembling faded and she rested tiredly against him. "Can you tell me about what scares you in the dreams?" he asked very carefully.

"Snakes," she answered flatly with a full shudder.

"Snakes?!" That took the older man completely by surprise. "And do these snakes hurt you?"

Debbie nodded again and sniffled. "They bite," she explained in a teeny voice that grew more and more shaky as the words seemed to begin to tumble out of her, "and then the grownups have to cut you and make you bleed and you get real sick..." She choked back a sob.

"What..." Sydney could hardly believe his ears. He loosened his hold on the girl and cupped her head so he could look into her face. "Debbie Broots, when have you ever been bitten by a snake?!"

The clear, blue eyes were tragic and filling with tears, and once more the words just tumbled out as if relieved to be finally set free. "My mommy... left me once with these people... in Las Vegas... one time... they lived... there was a... a... rattlesnake... under the trailer... it got in... sometimes... I went to go potty... at night... I heard the rattle but... I didn't see... I stepped on it... it bit me... on the foot... they had... to... cut my foot... 'til it bled... a lot... I got... so sick..." she was now crying hard. "Mommy was... so mad because... she had to come back... and I was in the hospital..."

"Sweet Mother of God!" Sydney whispered, shaken. He'd known that Debbie's life with her mother had been less than optimal, and she'd had given him an inkling in their previous time together of the emotional callousness with which she had been treated. But Broots had told him nothing of such dire or traumatic events in his daughter's life. It was likely he knew nothing about them, which meant Debbie had been suffering with these traumatic events in her life all alone all these years. "But why on earth would you remember this NOW?? What happened to bring this back to you now?!"

"At the slumber party... Nicole's little brother... had this... plastic snake... and he snuck up... behind me... under my chair... and stuck it... into my leg... hard... almost the same spot... He thought it was funny when I screamed..."

"I get it," Sydney said gently and tightened his arms around the girl and pulled her close again. "I understand," he repeated softly in the little girl's ear as she trembled and clung to his shirt front. "Debbie, its OK. You aren't the only person to be afraid of snakes..."

"Charley laughed at me... called me a baby... then he kept pushing the snake into my face..." she whimpered. "His mom finally told him to leave me alone... and I called my Dad..."

"Listen to me," the older man said gently yet firmly. "You have a good reason to be afraid of snakes, and this little boy, Charley, was being very cruel to pick on you that way. You've nothing to be ashamed of..."

"But..." Debbie shook her head and looked up at him again hesitantly, the tears still fresh and wet on her face, "Nicole's mom was... really kinda mad at me too because... I was so upset... and then I wanted to go home..."

"You didn't tell her why you were upset, though, did you?" Sydney pointed out gently.

Debbie shook her head and sniffled. "I was having a hard time to... stop crying..."

He kissed her forehead. "Sweetheart, if you'd have at least told her something, she'd have understood why you were having such a hard time."

"But, Sydney..." Now she was confused. "Mommies always get mad when their kids get scared, don't they?"

Sydney closed his eyes, frustrated beyond belief and furious that Debbie's mother would have let her little girl come to believe such a thing. He carefully schooled his voice into calm and comforting tones so as not to communicate his ire to the girl in his lap, however. "No, ma petite, most mommies don't get mad. Maybe yours got mad more often for other reasons, but..." He wiped away her tears with gentle fingers and then folded himself protectively around the girl. "No, most mommies don't get mad, Debbie. Getting bitten by a snake is a pretty painful and scary thing - even for grownups." He felt her snuggle down into his embrace while he held her close, and he pondered for a long and quiet moment that let them both calm down a little. "Tell me, do you remember how old you were when you were bit?"

She shook her head. "Uh-unh. It was a real long time ago..."

"Did your Mom ever tell your Dad what happened?"

"I dunno," Debbie shook her head again and shrugged, and Sydney found himself once again struck by the careless kind of mothering that this child had survived. How many more of these horrors would Broots - and Debbie - have to work through? Still, having voiced the memories that had been triggered, there was only one more issue to be addressed. "So, now, do you think you can tell me what happens in your dream that scares you so and wakes you up?"

"I'm at home, with Daddy, I'm in bed, I get up to go to the bathroom, and I hear the rattling... and then the snake bites... and then there's lots of blood everywhere... and I hurt so bad again... and then I wake up..."

"OK, OK, hush now..." Sydney kissed the girl on the top of the head and rocked her back and forth in his arms until she had once more stopped trembling and had relaxed against him. "You're dreaming what you went through when you were very small, and changing it to your present situation - no wonder you've been so upset. But why didn't you tell this to your Dad? Don't you know how worried he's been about you?"

"But I didn't want him to think that I'm a baby, afraid of a plastic toy snake," she said in a forlorn tone.

"Ma petite, haven't you figured out yet that you don't have to worry that your Dad will think you're a baby?" He asked her gently, still rocking her slowly back and forth. "I think your Dad would be very sad that you had gone through such a frightening time in the first place, and very happy to be the one to make you feel safe again. He loves you SO much, you know... He wouldn't be angry with you when you get scared of something that reminds you of a bad time."

"I don't want to make him mad at Mommy again either, though..."

Sydney shushed at her and rocked her back and forth for a long time, unable to find the words to address that particular worry. How could he explain to an eleven-year-old that her Daddy was already angry at her mother for the way she'd mistreated his little girl otherwise - and that this was the reason she lived with him now and not with her mother on the gambling circuit still? How could he tell her that of all the people in her world, she needed to be defending her mother the least?

Then again, as he held her close, he realized that this little girl had had no reason to learn to trust the adults in her life properly. He suddenly understood that the closeness he'd managed to achieve with her at the cabin had been phenomenal, considering the circumstances that were slowly coming to light; and that even the conversation that had just transpired was a big step for her. He'd heard her say it twice, and only now did it fully register: "Mommy got so mad". As much as it pained him to think of it, he knew that she could only know and work with what her previous experiences had taught her - and those lessons had been hard and harsh ones that had left her deeply scarred.

He felt Debbie give a huge sigh and then nestle down against his chest utterly relaxed and limp, and he knew that she'd finally given up and actually fallen asleep. After all the tears and exhaustion, her feeling safe enough with him to let down her guard and fall sleep in his lap was still nothing less than a gesture of complete trust from a child who he was now certain didn't otherwise know how to trust those closest to her. Nothing could have made her dearer to him at that moment. He kissed the top of her head again very softly and continued to rock her back and forth slowly, engraving this moment in his memory.

When after a while it became apparent that her sleep was deep and genuinely restful, he shifted her slowly and cautiously in his arms so as not to awaken her, and then lifted her up and rose to his feet. Walking slowly and smoothly, he made his way through the otherwise darkened house to the front and then up the stairs toward the spare bedroom. He caught back the bedspread with his fingers, then gently deposited her against the pillows, with gentle hands removed her shoes, and then covered her with the bedspread against the chill of the winter night. He clicked on the electric blanket beneath her to a comfortably low setting, then stepped quickly out into the hallway far enough that he could turn on the light there, so that the bedroom was dimly and indirectly lit through the open door.

He then settled himself into a winged easy chair by the window where he could watch over her sleep, all night if need be, ready to comfort should the nightmare make another disruptive appearance. Then tomorrow, when she was hopefully more rested and fresh, the two of them would discuss her bringing this latest fear to her father when Broots came to pick her up. She needed to see for herself that she didn't have to fear his reaction the way she'd had to fear her mother's. He knew she trusted HIM now; he just wanted to make sure she could experience how much she could trust Broots too - for all those times in the future when she would need to trust him.

~~~~~~~~

Debbie looked up at Sydney for reassurance, then seeing his nod, reached down to her sock and removed it. She pointed to a puckered and smooth line of skin near two smaller healed puncture marks. "There."

Broots studied the scars and then looked up at his daughter sadly. "I didn't know, sweetheart. Your Mom never told me about this." He glanced up into Sydney's sympathetic face, then focussed his gaze on his little girl's face. "God, Debbie, I'm sorry. I didn't know..."

"Its OK, Daddy," Debbie pulled her sock back on quickly and wrapped her arms around her father's neck. "I got better. It doesn't hurt anymore..."

The young tech hugged the girl back tightly, his eyes closed against the frustration he felt at the suffering his daughter had gone through that he'd never suspected. "I know you got better, Deb, but for me to think that you've been having nightmares because you remembered this..."

"Are you mad at Mommy?" Debbie's sky-blue eyes bore holes into his soul.

"Well, yeah... I am a bit," Broots admitted with hesitant honesty, after looking at Sydney and getting his own reassuring nod from the psychiatrist. "Even when I wasn't there for you, after your Mommy and I broke up, I still loved you and wanted to know what was going on with you. I would have wanted to know if you were sick - especially if you were sick enough to land in the hospital..." He swallowed hard and then gazed right back at her. "But just because I'm mad at your Mommy doesn't mean I'm mad at you too. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Are you sure?" Her voice was small, hesitant.

"Of course I am, Deb," he said and pulled her back into his hug. He held her close to him, and then whispered at her, "and I bet if we told Mrs. Fielding what you just told me, she wouldn't be so upset with you either."

Debbie shook her head against her father's chest. "I don't want to get Charley in trouble," she protested.

Sydney reached out a hand and smoothed her hair from behind. "You know, I think that Charley could use a good lesson, ma petite, and I think maybe Mrs. Fielding does too. When a child gets that upset, there usually is a good reason - and anger or frustration is never a proper response."

"I think I'll have a talk with her anyway, explain to her why you were so upset," Broots decided. "I'll let her decide whether or not she should scold Charley afterwards. Will that be OK?"

"OK." Debbie turned and looked back over her shoulder at her father's - and now her - friend. "Sydney told me you wouldn't be mad," she informed her father with a soft smile aimed at the subject of her sentence. "He was right." She looked at her father again. "I'm glad he talked me into telling you about my dreams and stuff."

"I'm glad he did too, sweetpea." Broots turned grateful eyes to his colleague. "Sydney knows a lot of stuff about people, Deb, how they feel, how they react." He turned back to her. "We're lucky to have him as a friend, aren't we?"

She nodded her agreement firmly. "Daddy?" She twitched her forefinger to get her father to bend close to hear her whisper. "Do you think it would OK with you if I come over to visit Sydney sometimes, if he's not busy? On the weekend or holidays or something?"

Broots glanced back up at Sydney, knowing the older man's hearing to be acute enough to have heard his daughter's question. The older man knew from the twinkle in the technician's eye that his future access to a certain little girl was assured, if he wanted it to be. He nodded his agreement, and Broots turned those twinkling blue eyes back on his daughter. "I think if you asked, I bet he'd let you..."

Debbie nodded seriously, then turned around and looked up at Sydney wistfully. "Do you think, maybe, sometime, I might come over and see you? Visit, just you and me, I mean?"

Sydney bent down and picked her up out of her father's arms and looked her straight on after he settled her on his hip. "Debbie, I would be very honored if you would like to come over sometime to visit. There's a very nice park just down the street here - maybe when you come over next time, I could take you there?"

"I think I'd like that," she announced, still very seriously, then wrapped her arms around the older man's neck and hugged him very tightly. "I love you, Sydney," she whispered softly against his ear.

Touched deeply, he automatically returned the sentiment in French rather than in English, knowing she'd understand him anyway. "Je t'aime aussi, ma petite," he murmured very quietly into her ear in return and hugged her back. "But that's our secret, yes?" She nodded her head against his, while Sydney's eyes caught Broots' in a conspiratorial glance. Then he put her down again on her feet. "You'd better scoot upstairs for your backpack, then," he advised her, and she scampered from the living room, taking the stairs noisily two at a time.

"You heard too?" Sydney asked quickly and quietly.

"I can't believe how quickly she's taken to you," Broots nodded. "I want you to know how much I really appreciate all you've done for her already. You sure you don't mind her coming over once in a while?"

"Not at all - you heard my answer to her." The psychiatrist laid an arm around the shoulders of his younger friend as they walked together toward the front door. "I meant every word. I enjoy her company greatly and will be looking forward to having her come to visit again verrry much. I..." Sydney paused, and Broots stared at the sight of his very esteemed colleague sounding almost uncertain of himself, the light accent thickening slightly. "I was hoping that perhaps you wouldn't mind if I... think of her sometimes as a kind of adopted grand-daughter. I don't..." Then he remembered that Broots knew about Nicholas. "I don't know that I'll ever have grandchildren of my own. I'm hoping you won't mind if I think of your little girl once in a while..."

Broots was already smiling from ear to ear. "Syd, there's nothing that would make me happier than knowing you've taken that much of a shine to her. Deb's had no family at all around her, ever - just Maggie for a long time, and now me... Maggie's folks and my folks were both long gone before Debbie came on the scene. I always thought, after she came to live with me, that if she could only have just a couple of other people... you know, who would give her a little attention..." He rubbed his nose roughly to hide the way the request had touched him deeply. "You and Miss Parker are the only people I know that I really care about... For you to care about Debbie too..." He rubbed his nose again. "Thanks, Syd. I mean that."

"And thank YOU," Sydney smiled widely, both at Broots' easy acceptance of his request and at the sound of an active, much-more-happy little girl clomping noisily down the stairs. "Do you have everything?" he asked the child as she joined him.

Debbie nodded, then slipped her free hand into her father's. Sydney laid a gentle hand on her head, then smoothed down her hair fondly. "I look forward to your next visit, ma petite," he said gently, then extended the same hand to shake Broots'. "Have a good weekend, Broots - I'll see you Monday."

"Uh, Syd?" Broots looked down at Debbie. "Are you doing anything special tomorrow?" When she grinned and nodded enthusiastically while bouncing on the balls of her feet in happiness, he looked back up at his friend. "Debbie and I have this... tradition... of making Sunday a picnic or special day. She does a pretty good tuna salad sandwich spread that she was intending to make tomorrow anyway. I was just thinking we all could have a picnic together at this park of yours - if the weather is warm enough."

"I'd love to!" the older man smiled widely. "I'll provide the drinks and dessert, how's that?"

"Hot chocolate?" Debbie asked quietly, but with a twinkle in her eye.

"Absolutely!" he agreed, bending down to poke her in the tummy with a gentle forefinger. He straightened. "We can meet here at noon and walk over."

"It's settled then. See you tomorrow at noon, then," Broots nodded and, with a hand at Debbie's back, the two of them took their leave. Sydney waved them into the beat-up sedan and down his driveway, then headed back into the house and back into his kitchen to finish cleaning up after a big breakfast of pancakes.

As he came through the kitchen door, he was struck anew by the sight of the now TWO pieces of artwork that decorated his refrigerator. The top picture had been hanging there for a month or more, a colored-pencil sketch of a mountain cabin surrounded by fall colors. He still had intentions in the back of his mind of having that one matted and framed so that he could display it proudly in his Centre office. The second, however, was a new one - a faithful crayon rendering of Sydney's face - that had been drawn and added to the first just that morning. And while it too would eventually be matted and framed and given a place of honor of its own to hang, unlike the sketch of the cabin, this one would remain the guarded and very private property of the man who owned it. Like the first, it had been signed and dated at Sydney's request. But unlike the other, there was more writing on the back - writing that made this picture extra special:

"To my Grandpa Sydney,

"Even though I haven't known you very long, I love you very much. Thank you for helping me get un-scared, and for being my Grandpa. You're the best Grandpa in the world.

"Love, "Debbie"

He decided he would have to show Broots the pictures tomorrow, before he escorted his little granddaughter - he even liked thinking the words - and her father to the park for their picnic. Smiling in anticipation, and warmed by the permission he'd received to openly think of Debbie in that way, he reached out and turned on the hot water in the sink to begin rinsing dishes.

His life had recently made a subtle but important shift in direction that promised much in the days and years ahead. Playing Grandpa to Debbie opened many possibilities for him to explore that he'd thought forever closed to him. Humming “Frere Jacques” jauntily to himself, he brought the first plate, sticky with syrup, under the steaming faucet.

Life was good.

Minding Debbie - by MMB

Chapter 3: Picnic


Cup of hot coffee in hand, Sydney reached out and turned on the radio of the boom box that sat on his kitchen counter in time to catch the mid-morning weather report and found himself hearing a used car commercial instead. Mentally turning down the attention to be given to the broadcast voice, he stepped over to the sliding glass door and looked out over his late autumn back yard. All the towering elders and oaks and maples in the surrounding neighborhood had pretty much lost all their leaves, and only stark, grey branches and twigs stretched up towards an ever-more-chilly sky. The grass had turned brown for the most part. Visually, at least, the day promised to be on the dismal and chilly side.

There. The weatherman's voice boomed from the counter: the weather today would be sunny and brisk, with a chance of light winds during the day, with clouds moving in by mid-afternoon and a threat of light snow by evening. Having heard all he needed, Sydney snapped the controls on the boom box back to CD player and pushed Play to start up one of his favorite Mozart discs, then reached up into the high cabinet over his refrigerator for the tall zippered case of thermos bottles he kept stored there. One ought to do for the amount of hot chocolate that would be needed. He took the one he wanted from the case and replaced the case in the high cabinet, out of the way, then removed the covering cup and threaded stopper and began running hot water into the thermos itself.

There would be only the three of them after all: Debbie, Broots and himself. The plans for the day called for him to provide drinks - hot chocolate, as per Debbie's request - and dessert for their meal. He'd bought the cookies from the bakery the evening before, so that they'd be as fresh as possible. All that was left was to make the hot chocolate and have it packed to carry across the street when the Broots' got there.

He couldn't help smiling to himself as he pulled a larger saucepan from the lower cupboards and wooden spoon from a drawer. Ever since Broots had invited him to join the him and Debbie in a Sunday picnic at the park across the street from him, he'd been anticipating that time with great delight. He'd been a bachelor his entire life, although not entirely by choice, and had no other family ties to speak of at all, as he only recently had discovered he HAD a son, much less had a chance to get to know Nicholas well. He had long since abandoned any hope of joining in a family outing at a park with a grandchild he could claim as his. And yet here he was, with the sweetest little girl calling him “Grandpa Sydney” now, preparing his offering towards a family outing at his own neighborhood park with her and her father in but an hour or so! How life could change, rapidly and unpredictably!

He turned to the refrigerator to bring out the milk, and was warmed yet again by the artwork carefully affixed to the appliance with several inconspicuous magnets. Debbie showed a great deal of artistic talent for one so young, and he had two treasures to prove it of which he was very privately and inordinately proud. He closed the fridge door and turned back to the stove to pour the liquid into the waiting pan. He turned off the running water into the thermos now that the vessel was full of steaming water, then replaced the milk and went in search of the chocolate powder, humming contentedly to himself as he worked.

~~~~~~~~

Sydney was just tightening the stopper on the thermos as his doorbell rang. He walked through the house and was reaching for the doorknob as the bell sounded again. "Grandpa!" Debbie greeted him boisterously with a dive for his middle and a tight squeeze that he immediately reciprocated fully. Beyond her, Broots stood with a large wicker basket in his hands and a pleased smile on his face.

"Hi Syd. Are we early?"

Sydney ushered them into the house so he could close the door against the slight chill of the outdoor air. "I was just finishing up with the hot chocolate. If Debbie would like to help me find some cups and get everything put in a bag, we can be off."

The girl skipped ahead of her elders toward the back of the house and the kitchen. Sydney noted with approval that she was warmly dressed, and the bulge in her pockets suggested that even a set of gloves or mittens had been brought along, just in case. "I keep the disposable cups down there, I think," he pointed to a cupboard near the floor, "but you may have to dig for them. It's been a while since I've had reason to use them, though, so the package may be kinda grungy..."

For his part, he returned to the thermos, giving the stopper one last tightening twist and then reached for the cup cover. Now fully assembled and full of a hot beverage to stave off a chilly day, the thermos was placed very carefully next to the box of cookies in a plastic grocery bag.

"These the ones?" Debbie asked from below, holding up a rather battered and dusty-looking plastic bag within which were a decent number of nested styrofoam coffee cups.

"You found them!" Sydney smiled at her and relieved her of the bag. "Wait a minute - you can put the bag back. We don't need all of these..." He removed three cups from within the dingy plastic and then handed it back down to her. Debbie promptly stowed the bag back where she'd found it and got to her feet.

"Are we ready now?" she demanded, bouncing happily on the balls of her feet.

Sydney's eyes twinkled mischievously in Broots' direction first, then he turned an impish grin on the girl in front of him. "What?! Are we going somewhere?"

"Grandpa!!" Debbie's expression of frustrated indulgence made both men chuckle.

"Oh, that's right," Sydney continued with a feigned rush of enlightenment. "Well, then, let me get my share of the goodies, and you can lead the way."

Broots stood back and shook his head. "Oh man," he muttered to himself in ill-concealed amusement. "You two deserve each other!" To Sydney, however, he directed a far more conversational "Do you honestly think you're going to be able to keep up with her, Syd?" Then he laughed out loud when the psychiatrist turned to look at him over his shoulder with a very continental shrug.

Meanwhile Debbie had relieved Sydney of the three styrofoam cups, dropped them casually into the bag with the thermos and cookies and carefully gathered the handles of the plastic grocery bag together and held it out to Sydney to take. "You carry it to the door, ma petite," the older man said with a gentle shake of the head. "I still have to get my coat and hat on."

The process was taking altogether far too long for the excited girl, but finally Sydney was encased in a comfortably warm overcoat and had his perennial beret perched jauntily back over his balding pate and they were ready to set out on their day's outing. Broots took one of the girl's hands, and Sydney quickly followed suit with capturing the other, and the three of them made their way down his walk and carefully across the quiet, residential street to the park.

"The play equipment is on the other side," Sydney said, letting go of Debbie's hand so he could point, "on the other side of the lagoon. There are some tables over there nearby. We can go there." Debbie smiled brilliantly and was off like a shot.

"I take it she's feeling more like herself?" Sydney asked her father quietly as the two men followed the little girl at a far more sedate pace.

"Oh yeah! God, thanks again, Syd, for all your help," Broots breathed gratefully. "No nightmares last night. And she went with me yesterday afternoon to talk to Mrs. Fielding - the mother of the little boy who scared her so with that snake - and you should have seen that woman's face when Deb showed her the scar on her leg."

"Not something she expected, I take it," the psychiatrist commented dryly.

"Nope. When it hit her what Deb had gone through before, and then what her kid did to her, I think it almost made her sick. I don't think I've heard a more heartfelt apology."

"Good." Sydney nodded. "I hope anything else that pops up out of her past with her mother is as easily handled."

Broots glanced over at Sydney apprehensively. "You think there will be more?"

Again came the continental shrug. "Storms, now snakes. You never know, my friend."

"Ya know, even though I know I'm getting paid to track Jarod down, I owe him for helping me get Deb away from Maggie before she did any real damage to her." Broots paused and looked across the semi-barren park to where he could see Debbie was already enjoying herself on one of the swing-sets.

Sydney smiled softly, letting his mind rest briefly on his missing protégé as he followed Broots' gaze to Debbie's flying figure. "If I know Jarod at all, knowing that you and Debbie are doing well and putting yourself a little family together will be all the thanks he'd want."

"Do you miss him a lot?" Broots asked carefully, not knowing whether any questions into Sydney's very private personal life were allowed him now. Certainly the scientist had made his reluctance to answer such questions while at work clearly understood for a very long time. But this wasn't work, and there was a new and personal bond of sorts between them as a consequence of their shared feelings for Debbie; perhaps now one or two of the niggling questions might get satisfying answers at last.

The psychiatrist nodded gently. "Veerrrrrry much," he added to his gesture.

"What about Nicholas? I thought after Jarod helped you put the pieces together about that, you'd have been back and forth to Albany all the time." Broots saw the older man glance in his direction. "I mean... if you don't mind my asking... I hope I'm not getting too personal..."

"Relax, Broots. I've been getting quite the earful about your ex-wife. Seems only fair that you get to know me a little better too - especially if you're willing to trust me with your little girl." Sydney put a friendly hand on his colleague's shoulder. "Truth be told, Nicholas had a hard time adjusting to the idea that George Stamatis wasn't his real father. Between wanting to keep the Centre as far away from Michelle and Nicholas as I can, and wanting Nicholas to be the one to set the tone for any relationship between us in the future, I have to be patient."

"Man!" Broots shook his head and looked over at Debbie again. "I don't know how you do it, Syd."

"Sure you do," the Belgian contradicted his friend gently. "You did it yourself for years, thinking you were doing the right thing by letting Debbie stay with her mother until you figured out that things were just not right there. It has to do with putting THEIR welfare and interests ahead of our own - because we love them."

"If you believe that, how can you still help Miss Parker and me track Jarod down?"

Sydney breathed in deeply and didn't answer for a long moment, and Broots wondered if he'd gone too far. Then, "My part in the effort to bring Jarod back gives me plenty of ethical paradoxes to keep me up late at night searching my soul, I assure you," he admitted with rare honesty, deciding to trust in his colleague and friend just a little. "On the one hand, being able to resume my work with Jarod is a wish I hold to this day. In so many ways, the research we were doing held the real potential to help a lot of people, it's just that the Centre tended to make more money on it using it to harm instead. The trouble is that on the other hand, I have to weigh the injustice of what it would take to bring him back where we COULD resume our work. I can't plead ignorance to the fact that Jarod was a virtual prisoner, taken against his will; or that if he were to come back, it would be as a prisoner. I can't ignore it anymore, and I won't."

The older man led his friend to a picnic table not far from where Debbie was still swinging high in the air and, putting his bag of food on the table, settled himself on a bench and watched the child play. "But what you have to understand, Broots - and what Miss Parker hasn't quite figured out yet - is that Jarod KNOWS I'm participating to one extent or another. Not only does he take that into account, but he actually COUNTS on my figuring things out within such-and-such a timeframe. So by the time I get the clues to put two and two together for Miss Parker, Jarod has already moved on two or three steps ahead of us again - or has a reason for running the risk of letting himself get close enough to be caught. Either way, for all practical purposes, I neither really help OR hinder the hunt; I merely do as both the Centre and Jarod intend for me to do in the timeframe one or the other or both intend for me to do it."

"Daddy! Grandpa!! Watch me!!"

Debbie's triumphant shout caught the men's attention, and they each watched with breath held as the girl swung herself high into the air and then launched herself flying forward to land feet-first in the soft sand some distance from the swings and then fall back on her behind. Laughing gaily, she picked herself up, dusted the sand from her bottom and trotted over to her father and new grandfather. "Did you see?"

"Practicing to be Super Woman, are you?" Sydney asked her with an indulgent smile and a welcoming hug.

"That was something, Deb," her father nodded vigorously, more than willing to wait his turn for a hug from his daughter. "Are you ready to eat?"

"Yeah!" Kneeling on the bench, Debbie opened the flaps on the wicker basket and pulled out the paper plates and began setting the table.

~~~~~~~~

"Daddy, Grandpa Sydney and I are going to feed the ducks. You gonna come?" Debbie had the bag of uneaten potato chips firmly in one hand and her grandpa in the other.

Broots shook his head indulgently. "I'll put things away here, Deb - you go have fun with Sydney." He looked up at the older man's face with an understanding expression. "Its his turn to help you feed ducks today, I get to watch from here. It'll be my turn next time." Sydney's face eased and he nodded his appreciation.

With a full tummy and yet another boisterous play session on the swings and slide behind her, Debbie was no longer bouncing quite as highly or quickly as she had. She contentedly kept her hand firmly in that of her new grandpa and settle back to amble across the brown grass toward the edge of the lagoon at a comfortable walk. Then Sydney patiently held the bag of chips for her while she scattered the crumbs slowly until she had the entire mob of ducks milling at her feet. Sydney was glad that they had come today - he was frankly surprised that the ducks hadn't already headed for warmer climes.

Finally the chip bag was depleted, and as Sydney folded the cellophane into a compact square that would fit in his overcoat pocket, Debbie bent over and searched on the shore for a flat rock. She gave an "Ah-HAH!" when she found what she was looking for and, having caught her companion's attention again, threw the rock and watched it bounce four times across the lagoon's smooth surface before sinking.

"You remembered," Sydney said contentedly as she came back to his side and slid her hand back into his.

"I remember everything about up there," she replied happily. "I love it up there."

"I haven't forgotten that I'm taking you and a friend or two up there this summer," he reminded her. "You'll have to think about just who you want to invite to go with us."

"OK," she said gently. "You know what?"

"What's that?"

"I'm really very lucky." She looked up at him with wide, blue eyes.

Sydney looked down at her with a very soft expression on his face. "How?" he asked.

"Most of the other kids who don't have grandparents don't get chances to have one after all. Even then, you don't always get to CHOOSE your grandpa." She smiled in satisfaction. "I did."

"Yes, you did," he smiled, remembering the hesitant look on her face that night she'd asked if she could pretend he was her grandfather until the end of her visit to his cabin. "Of course, you realize that this makes me just about as lucky."

The blue eyes looked up in surprise. "You?"

He bent down to look her straight across in the eye. "How many people my age get chosen, do you think?"

Her response was to throw her arms around his neck and hug him tightly. "I love you," she stated firmly, resting her head on his shoulder.

Sydney immediately wrapped his arms around the girl and straightened, then settled her slight frame comfortably on his hip. "I love you too, ma petite," he murmured with eyes closed in pure enjoyment. "You are the nicest thing that has happened to me in a long, long time."

Debbie lifted her head and gave him a soft buss to the cheek, then twisted her head as something caught her eye. "Grandpa? Isn't that Miss Parker?" Without waiting for an answer, she waved her arm vigorously over her head.

Sydney turned with the girl in his arms; and sure enough, ambling around the far edge of the lagoon with hands buried in her pockets was a warmly bundled Miss Parker. She hesitated in her pace as she recognized both the child and her perch, then waved back briefly and redirected her ambling in their direction.

"Wandering a little bit afield, aren't we, Parker?" Sydney asked gently as she approached them.

"Hi, Miss Parker," Debbie's greeting was far more carefree.

Miss Parker pulled a hand from her pocket and reached up and caressed Debbie's cheek gently. "Hi there yourself, kiddo. What have you been up to, huh?"

"Grandpa Sydney and I just fed the ducks," Debbie smiled against the gentle hand and then tightened her hold around Sydney's neck as the hand dropped away a little quicker than she'd expected.

"Grandpa?!" Miss Parker's eyebrows flew upwards, and she turned interested grey eyes on her old friend. "Am I missing something here?"

"Parker, please..." he began softly, wishing that for once she could just play along.

Debbie, however, took care of the problem her own way. "I adopted him," she announced firmly with a wide smile, "and then we adopted each other." She looked into Sydney's face. "Right?"

"Right!" Sydney agreed with a chuckle, then turned a playfully defiant expression on Miss Parker. "We adopted each other."

"What does Broots have to say about this arrangement?" she asked with lips beginning to curl in an amused smile at the very similar looks on the faces in front of her.

"I think its pretty neat that my little girl now has someone else who loves her too," Broots voice sounded from behind her. He came up from where he'd been sitting at the picnic table, observing Debbie with Sydney. "Hi, Miss Parker."

"Hey." She studied the three of them standing there, the two men clustered protectively around the little girl. "This is quite the family portrait. I must have intruded on a private outing. I should let you get back to what you were doing..."

"You can join us," Debbie piped up immediately. "You belong too."

Miss Parker stared incredulously from Broots' face to Sydney's, neither of whom were in the least bit taken aback at Debbie's suggestion. "That's..." She blinked and smiled sadly at Debbie. "That's a very sweet thought, Debbie, and I really appreciate the gesture, but..."

"Join us, Miss Parker," Broots added his voice to Debbie's. "Debbie's right. You belong too."

Miss Parker's eyes turned to Sydney, who had watched the exchange with quiet interest. "Sydney? Maybe you can explain it to them..."

"Uh-unh, Parker. I'm with them," he said with a soft shake of his head. "Join us. We're adopting you too. You belong." He smiled at her, knowing where her hesitation was coming from - she'd been standing on the outside of normal family life for far too long. "Just go with it, Parker. It won't harm you to be a part of us."

"We don't bite, honest," Debbie tried to joke with her. "We even have some hot chocolate left."

"I was just taking a walk in the park," she said in stunned bewilderment.

"Think of it as serendipity," Sydney suggested encouragingly.

Debbie peered into her Grandpa's face with obvious confusion. "Sarah Who??"

That did it. Miss Parker tried with all her might to keep from chuckling and failed miserably. First she cut loose with a giggle, then gave in to a full-throated laugh. "This isn't fair," she complained through a chuckle as she reached out a fond hand to Debbie in Sydney's arms. "You're making it awfully difficult to say no."

"Good." Broots' voice had a dry tone to it. "At least you'll listen to SOMEbody..."

"Does that make her my cousin, or an aunt?" Debbie asked with an impish grin, looking to her father and “grandpa” for an answer.

"I think “Auntie Parker” has a nice ring to it, don't you Broots?" Miss Parker glowered at Sydney, who seemed to be enjoying his own wit far too much.

It didn't help when Broots started nodding vigorously. "You're right Syd, it does have that certain..." She shifted her glower to the technician. "...Uh... Then again... maybe “Cousin Parker” will cater to the need to be young forever..." His subsequent snicker at his own contribution to the verbal parley, combined with his playful nudge of Sydney's arm, spoke volumes about how much he WASN'T intimidated by the glower that normally had him quivering.

"Alright! That's it! Either I get hot chocolate, as promised, or the adoption's off," she demanded suddenly, surrendering to the ridiculous nature of the repartee flying around her and deciding to show them what following Sydney's advice to just “go with it” meant to her. She arched an eyebrow at them. "I mean, I either get a rich family or rich chocolate..."

The men broke out in laughter, Debbie cheered and then squirmed in Sydney's arms to be let down. She grabbed Miss Parker's hand in hers and began dragging the woman in the direction of the picnic table with the wicker basket and grocery sack. "Over here," she urged, and looked over her shoulder to make sure the men were following them.

Sydney unpacked the thermos again and shook it to see if there actually was anything left. He removed the cap cover, unscrewed the stopper and poured what turned out to be about half a helping of hot chocolate into the cap and handed it over. "Had you gotten here earlier..."

"Excuses, excuses..." she said with a smile that disarmed the dry tone in her voice and took a sip. "Mmmmm... I should have come earlier, I think..."

Sydney raised his overcoat collar about his neck as a strong, cold breeze whipped through the trees. "Well, considering that I think our nice picnic weather is getting ready to abandon us here, how about we adjourn to my house." He turned to Miss Parker. "I'm sure I can be convinced to make you your fair share of the hot chocolate, if you ask nicely."

"Got any games, Syd?" Broots asked, taking up the wicker basket and putting the handles over an arm.

"I'm sure I can find something," the psychiatrist replied, repacking the thermos, sans cap, into the grocery sack.

"Can we have a fire, Grandpa?" Debbie asked, sidling in closer to her father as the wind whipped her hair around her face.

"That can be arranged as well." Sydney straightened and stepped over to Miss Parker. "What do you say?"

She handed him the cap, which she had drained. "Hot chocolate, a warm fire, and a game with good company? I haven't had a family afternoon like that for a very long time." Her voice was soft. "You'll have a hard time keeping me away."

~~~~~~~~

"I think I'd better take Debbie home," Broots said softly as he helped Sydney pack away the Scrabble game that had kept them entertained since mid-afternoon. When the psychiatrist glanced up at his young friend, Broots jerked his head in the direction of the fireplace and the leather easy chair that sat to on side of it. Following his lead, Sydney turned to look and his face softened immediately.

At the end of an afternoon of lively gaming, Sydney had brought out some homemade soup and bread and cheese for a warm and substancial evening meal for the four of them, after which they had all re-congregated in the livingroom in front of the fire for a final game. As the game ended, Miss Parker had relocated herself to the easy chair near the fire to watch her old friend restoke the flames. Debbie, her energy now fairly well spent for the day in fresh air and play and time with her favorite people, had followed, had climbed into her lap and settled down for a very quiet and private girl's chat.

Obviously both females had caved in at about the same time. Miss Parker had simply leaned her head back against the winged back of the chair, and Debbie had simply nestled down against her chest. Miss Parker's arms were gently looped around the girl, supporting her. Both were definitely dozing.

"I hate waking them," Broots continued, "but it's a school day tomorrow."

"Not to mention a work day for the three of us," Sydney nodded. "Leave this sit. I can put it away later. I'll get Debbie's coat, you see if you can pry her away from Auntie Parker." The two men snorted together in muted amusement. The playful name had caught on, much to Miss Parker's chagrin.

"I heard that," Miss Parker growled sleepily from her chair. She shifted slightly and then tightened her arms around the girl. "Debbie, c'mon now. Time to go home."

The little girl roused, blinked around her sleepily while rubbing her eyes, then gave Miss Parker a tired hug before letting her daddy draw her to her feet. Sydney held out her coat and helped her bundle up and then turned her so he could make sure all her buttons were fastened.

"Thank you for spending the day with me," Sydney told Debbie as he gave her a big hug when the bundling up was finished. "It was a lovely idea."

"And thanks for having us in later, Syd," Broots added, having shrugged into his own coat and now extending a hand to his colleague. "This has been one of the best Sundays we've had yet." Broots turned to where Miss Parker was slowly rising from her chair. "I'm glad you agreed to be adopted, Miss P.," he said with a smile.

Surprising even herself, she leaned forward and pressed her cheek against Broots'. "Thanks for the offer I just couldn't refuse," she smiled tiredly back at him, then folded her brows into a mock glower. "I just don't want to hear even a HINT of “Auntie Parker” at work tomorrow."

Broots chuckled, far more at ease with his normally touchy boss than he'd ever been before. "I think we can keep that one just between us," he agreed easily, "a family in-joke." Then with a hand at his tired daughter's back, he waved. "'Bye."

Sydney waved and then closed the door. It had gotten downright cold outside since they'd come in, and the weatherman that morning had actually had it right that there was the beginnings of a light snow fall already starting. The psychiatrist reached for Miss Parker's overcoat, handing it to her, and then for his own. "Bundle up, Parker, it's freezing out there. I'll drive you home."

"You don't have to, Syd..."

Sydney pulled himself up to his full height. "Listen to your elders."

"I think you're taking this “Grandpa” stuff altogether too far," she relented grudgingly, donning her coat obediently nonetheless as Sydney led her through the house to the kitchen and into the garage and his car.

"I didn't see you minding the “Auntie” stuff all that much when you thought we weren't paying attention," was the crisp retort as Sydney gallantly closed the car door for her after she was in.

She waited until Sydney had climbed in behind the steering wheel and was buckling himself in. "Something happened today, didn't it, Syd?" she asked softly.

"Uh-huh," he nodded, putting the key into the ignition. "We had a family outing - the first of many like it, I imagine." He looked over at her as he pushed the garage door opener to begin cranking his garage door open. "Who knows, in a few months, maybe “Auntie Parker” will be willing to help “Grandpa Sydney” host a couple of little girls up at a fishing cabin in White Cloud?"

In the dim light of the garage overhead he could see the disbelief spread across her face. "In your dreams, “Grandpa” - in your dreams!!"

Sydney nodded sagely and backed the car carefully down the drive. "We'll see, Miss Parker. We'll see."