Sorenson shook her head. “I’ve tried, but…”

“Right. You can’t. But trust me, it’s terrible.”

Alicia knew. She’d been hospitalized a few weeks into her first year at college—for dehydration secondary to a viral gastroenteritis very similar to what had brought Hector here. She was in only two days, but it had been an awful experience. No boyfriend and no close friends, no one to visit her or even ask after her, and damned if she was going to call home. She’d never forgotten that feeling of utter helplessness and isolation.

“So that’s why they need someone on every shift who’ll come in and talk to them and smile and hold their hand every hour or so, someone they can count on, just so they don’t feel so damn alone. It’s almost as important as the medicine we pump into them.”

“I’ll get on it right away,” Sorenson said.

“Good. But don’t do it for me. Do it for him.” She turned and rubbed Hector’s bristly head. “Hey, guy. That buzz cut looks as mad as ever.”

Now she got a smile. “Yeth. It’th—” He coughed. He tried again but interrupted himself with more coughing.

“Easy, Hector,” Alicia said.

She sat him up and parted the back flaps of his hospital gown. Pressing the head of her stethoscope against his ribs, she listened for the soft cellophane crinkle that would herald pneumonia. She heard nothing but an isolated wheeze.

Alicia checked Hector’s chart. The admitting chest X ray had been negative. She ordered a repeat, plus a sputum culture and gram stain.

She stared down at his bony little body. She didn’t like that cough one bit.

2.

“Oh, no,” Alicia said as she rounded the corner and saw the police cars in front of the Center. “What now?”

She had her donut and coffee from the hospital cafe in one hand, the fat Sunday Times in the other. She usually spent the rest of Sunday morning at the Center. They still had kids coming in for their treatments, just like every other day, but it was a lot less intense than the rest of the week—nowhere near as many phone calls, for one thing—so she used it to catch up on her paperwork.

She had also planned to devote some of today to figuring out her next step in the saga of the will and the house that supposedly belonged to her but no one wanted to let her have.

But now…

Just inside the front door she nearly collided with two cops, one white, one black, talking to Raymond. Raymond. He was devoted to the Center, but he rarely if ever showed up on Sunday.

“Oh, Alicia!” he said. “There you are! Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Isn’t what wonderful?”

“Didn’t anyone tell you? The toys! The toys are back!”

Suddenly Alicia wanted to cry. She turned to the pair of policemen. Raymond introduced her. She wanted to hug them.

“You found them? Already? That’s… that’s wonderful!” Better than wonderful—fantastic was the word.