Without using his hands, Leslie uncoiled his legs into a standing position. “You’re the one who needs reviving now. Take in a cleansing breath.” While she took in a lungful of air, then another, he poured green tea into two cups.

She sipped, but tension strained her nerves, as tight as guitar strings. She covered Lulu’s naked body with a blanket, but the palm of her hand kept tracing circles on it. “Wait for the doctor, little dumpling. Please?”

The rapid movement of Lulu’s ribs slowed to a normal rhythm. She would be all right. She must be. It had all been ordained. In the book of rights and wrongs someone was keeping, it said that Nola had paid her dues; she had been paroled.

Sounds from the foyer made Leslie sprint out.

Daniel appeared at the door. With him was a miniature Chinese woman in a long white coat and blue cotton pants, with a stethoscope around her neck and large, dark-framed glasses covering a third of her face. She was holding a physician’s satchel.

The woman walked briskly while inserting her stethoscope earpieces. She adjusted her glasses on the flat arch of her nose. Without a word, she proceeded to the bed, checked Lulu’s pulse, and with a small flashlight examined the pupils, ears, nose and throat. She tickled Lulu’s feet and listened to her heart and lungs. Her hands glided over the scalp, spine, ribs, abdomen and limbs, her movements concise and assured.

“Bring bowl of warm water.”

Nola sprinted to the kitchen, almost colliding with Leslie.

“I pump baby stomach. Maybe not much drug left. Most absorbed in system.” The physician’s English had a strong accent, but the words shot out of her with confidence. She tucked her short hair behind her ears. Her face was so young she looked like a child playing doctor.

“Hold baby, face down, head a bit lower than body,” she instructed, adjusting Lulu’s position in Nola's arms. “Not swallow when vomit, okay?” Nola winced and nodded. At least by helping she was doing something. She found herself breathing easier.

The physician inserted a rubber tube in Lulu's throat and pumped water into it. The little body in Nola's arms heaved and retched, and whitish water poured out.

“She be okay,” the doctor said after a couple of ministrations. “Stop now. Lot of strain not good. She sleep off rest of drug what’s left.”

Nola could barely utter the words. “Any chance of permanent damage?” she asked while diapering and dressing Lulu.

“I don’t think, but I check tomorrow when drug out of system.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“I thank you. You helping stop baby killed.”

Daniel, who had been standing by the window since entering the room, stepped forward. “Dr. Ming-Ji Liang is a college friend of mine.”

“From Georgetown University?” Nola asked, not looking at him.