Child Of The Night

by Lee Karr

  Tyla kept her expression neutral. The playroom was set up so that children could act out their frustrations without injuring themselves or causing any damage to the facility. Most of the children who came to Tyla were so hemmed in by rules and pressures that they rebelled the first chance they were given. They had to test the assurance that they could do and be exactly what they wanted for this one hour. Since the playroom was virtually childproof, Cassie could do pretty much as she wanted as long as she didn’t attempt to injure herself or Tyla.

  When Tyla failed to respond in any way, Cassie quit dumping sand on the floor and lost interest in the sandbox. She walked around the room again, looking over shelves of books, paints and stuffed animals, but this time she passed them all by without naming any of them.

  When she came to the dollhouse, she stopped. Without looking at Tyla, she sat down in front of it, crosslegged, as if she’d known all along what she intended to do.

  Tyla feigned disinterest in her choice but was alert to interact with Cassie if and when she made an overture.

  Cassie began taking everything out of the dollhouse. Then as she began putting the furniture back, she held up each piece and said its name. “Refrigerator… cupboard…table.” Each time she looked at Tyla for reassurance.

  “That’s a refrigerator. Yes, a cupboard. That’s a table, isn’t it?” Tyla responded. Reinforcing Cassie’s offer of verbal communication by naming objects was a benign beginning to more sophisticated exchanges that Tyla hoped would eventually lead to a sharing of her thoughts and fears.

  Very deliberately Cassie put everything back except the doll family. For a long time she sat with the miniature woman, man, boy and girl in her lap. She seemed undecided about what she wanted to do with them, and several times she glanced at Tyla as if silently asking for some direction.

  Tyla smiled back at her, waiting. She would offer help only if Cassie asked for it.

  Finally the little girl picked up the woman doll. “Mama?” she asked Tyla.

  Tyla nodded. “That doll could be a mother.”

  Very slowly Cassie got up and walked over to the sandbox. Very carefully with both hands she scooped out a hole in the sand and, when it was deep enough, she tenderly laid the mother doll into it. Then she covered it over with sand. “Mama…sleep, Mama,” she said in a hushed voice as she patted and smoothed the mound. Her little lips trembled, and Tyla blinked to keep back a fullness spilling into her eyes.

  Cassie turned and walked slowly back to the dollhouse. For a long moment she stared at the man doll. Then she snatched it up and marched purposefully back to the sandbox. This time the sand flew every which way as she dug a hole and viciously buried the man doll. No tenderness, no gentle patting of the sand. Tyla watched her with a tightness in her chest. She remembered the hurt and masked anguish in Clay’s voice when he talked about the way his child treated him.

  Cassie turned and looked at Tyla. Her round eyes were as dark as midnight. “I buried Papa.”

  Tyla managed to keep her voice even as she repeated, “You buried Papa.”

  Her little mouth quivered. “And Mama.”

  “Yes, you buried Mama.”

  The child looked lonely and lost standing in the middle of the floor. Tyla wanted to gather the little girl into her arms and comfort her, but she steeled herself against the temptation. Unless Cassie reached out to her, she knew that she shouldn’t force any intimacy. Her goal was to help the child achieve emotional strength within herself, to develop feelings of inner security, not to develop an emotional dependency between them that would only complicate Cassie’s life even more. She wondered what Cassie would do next and wasn’t surprised when she crawled up into the window seat. For the rest of the hour, Cassie stayed there, quiet and withdrawn.

  As the minutes ticked by, Tyla felt a growing frustration that she couldn’t probe the child’s private world. Her professional training wouldn’t allow her to confront Cassie with the perplexing questions racing through her mind.

  Why had Cassie buried both the mother and father doll? The way the child had gently covered over the mother doll might indicate that she’d been taken to her mother’s grave, Tyla speculated.

  But Clay Archer wasn’t dead!

  Tyla underlined his name. What did Cassie’s action mean? Why had she buried “Papa” with such a vengeance? Tyla had felt a dark emotion when Cassie had held the father doll in her hand. Did the child in some way blame him for her mother’s death? If only she could ask Cassie why she had behaved that way toward the male doll, but she couldn’t. At the moment her main concern was not to do anything that might threaten the tenuous communication she was developing with the child.

  When the hour was up, Tyla said quietly, “Time to go, Cassie.”

  Without protest Cassie slipped off the window seat. She seemed tired and spent. When she paused beside the sandbox and looked at the two rounded mounds, Tyla asked quietly, “Would you like to put the dolls back in the house before you go?”

  After a long moment Cassie carefully dug up the mother doll. She carried it gently over to the dollhouse and placed it on a sofa in the miniature living room. Then she walked past Tyla and out the playroom door, leaving “Papa” still buried in the sand.

  As they walked down the hall, Tyla offered her hand, and once again Cassie refused the offer. She kept pace at Tyla’s side, but there was no childish lift to her steps and her little shoulders were slumped as if weighted by unseen pressures.

  Tyla’s heart tightened. She worried that Cassie’s resiliency might be at its limit and would snap if some of the pressure wasn’t removed soon. Tyla had always been one to trust her intuitions. Some undefined peril hung over the child, and she had to discover what it was before it was too late.

  Would Clay Archer pick up Cassie again today?

  Tyla braced herself to see him again, but it was Doreen who stood at the reception desk talking to Dr. Reardon. Barry turned and gave Tyla a smile as they reached the desk.

  “Here’s Dr. Templeton now,” he said. “And this must be Cassie.” He sent Tyla a questioning raise of his eyebrows, and she wondered what Doreen had been telling him about the child.

  “Cassie, say hello to Dr. Reardon,” Doreen prodded, but she could have been speaking to a deaf child for all the response she got.

  The psychiatrist’s trained eyes narrowed slightly as he said pleasantly, “Nice to see you, Cassie.”

  “She looks worn-out,” Doreen said with an accusing glare at Tyla. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you home. Your father’s promised to spend the whole evening with us.”

  Tyla remembered the way Doreen’s eyes had softened when she spoke of Clay Archer. Would a family unit formed by the three of them be good for Cassie? Doreen was vivacious and attractive but was she using Cassie to get to her father? Tyla had no way of knowing. But I’ll find out, she promised herself. A purely professional interest, of course. She knew from the caressing touch of his hands and the magnetism of his dark eyes that he knew his way around women. She could just imagine what effect he had on a sexy blonde who was under his own roof.

  “I bet we can talk him into taking us to a movie. Won’t that be fun, Cassie?”

  Doreen was obviously more excited about the evening’s activity than Cassie. The little girl seemed resigned and made no protest when Doreen firmly took her hand. “We’d best be going. Nice to meet you, Dr. Reardon.” Her smile at Tyla was less cordial. “I’ll tell Clay that Cassie seemed overly tired after her session. Maybe coming here every day is too much.”

  “Not in the beginning,” Tyla countered firmly, holding back a rise of anger at the woman’s presumption. Worried about what kind of reaction Cassie might have to Doreen’s stupid remark, Tyla smiled down at her and said firmly, “I’ll see you again tomorrow, Cassie.” She was rewarded with a softening glint in the child’s deep eyes. “It’s going to be all right, Cassie.” It’s going to be all right.

  But was it really? Tyla asked herself. Was she only trying to
convince herself that an explosive situation was under control?

  Chapter 5

  Tyla was suddenly aware of Barry watching her as she stood staring out the front door long after Cassie and Doreen had disappeared. She gave a rather embarrassed laugh. “Lost in thought.”

  Barry raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were seeing Lynette Archer’s child.”

  “You know the family?” Tyla asked in surprise.

  “I was on Lynette’s shopping list of psychiatrists at one time,” he said wryly. “Like the others, I only saw her for a few sessions. She talked a little about her daughter, but I didn’t realize the child was in need of therapy herself.”

  Tyla was relieved to be able to discuss some general aspects of the case with a colleague. “The Horizon Day School referred Cassie,” Tyla said as they walked toward her office. “Since her mother’s death, the child’s behavior has become very erratic. According to the records, sometimes she won’t speak to anyone for days, and other times she explodes into violent temper tantrums. The teachers said she often spends whole days by herself in a corner or under a table, refusing to come out even to eat. Sometimes her aggression puts other children at risk. The school staff decided they couldn’t handle her anymore, and the father finally agreed to seek clinical help.”

  “And how’s it going?”

  “I’ve only met twice with Cassie, but I’m encouraged.” Tyla was surprised to find herself speaking so optimistically. Only a few minutes earlier she had been filled with impatience at the snail’s pace she had been forced to take with Cassie. In spite of her frustration, she realized that the child had made some movement toward her in both sessions. Tyla didn’t yet understand what Cassie’s actions meant, but at least they had set up a tenuous communication between them. And that was progress!

  “And what about the father and other relations? I couldn’t tell exactly what relationship the attractive blond woman had with the family,” said Barry. “She was about to tell me when you walked up.”

  “She claims to be just a friend who went to school with the late Lynette Archer.” Tyla paused, suddenly conscious that she’d better choose her words carefully. She certainly didn’t want to indicate a personal interest in whether or not Clay was sleeping with Doreen. Barry was sharp enough to pick up on any feminine interest in the matter. In what she hoped was a neutral tone, she said, “I have a suspicion Doreen O’Day is ready to get in line as the next Mrs. Clayton Archer.”

  “Interesting,” said Barry in true noncommittalcounselor fashion.

  “I had a consultation with Cassie’s father last night.”

  “And…”

  She felt Barry’s discerning eyes on her and she wished she hadn’t offered the information. “He’s…he’s…” Tyla searched for the right word and came up empty. “I haven’t decided where he fits into his daughter’s emotional problems.” Was Clay Archer truly responsible for his daughter’s emotional deterioration? What deep feelings were behind Cassie’s treatment of the papa doll? She sighed. “If you can give me any insights into the family, Barry, I’d appreciate it.”

  “I’d have to look up my notes. I only had a fleeting professional acquaintance with Lynette Archer. As I recall, she was merely going through the motions of seeking therapy. I know there’s a lot of money in the family. The Archer Investment Company is an old and prestigious firm. Ms. O’Day couldn’t do much better than marrying into that kind of wealth.” He eyed Tyla’s thoughtful frown. “I tell you what. I’ll check my files and Saturday night over Mama Rossini’s special spaghetti dinner, I’ll fill you in.”

  “Do I detect a faint whiff of blackmail in that offer?” Tyla teased.

  He laughed. “Well, it’s your own fault if I have to resort to such low-banded tactics to get a date with you. My moral deterioration is strictly on your shoulders, Dr. Templeton.”

  “Well, in that case, it’s a date, Dr. Reardon. I’ll bring my notebook along and we’ll have a great time.”

  She laughed at his mock pained expression. With a wave of her hand, she went to her office and marked her calendar for Saturday evening so she wouldn’t forget. The dinner meeting might provide some new insights onto the relationship of Clay Archer and his late wife.

  The memory of Cassie burying “Papa” brought a cold prickling to her skin. Maybe Lynette had said something to Barry that would help explain the relationship between Cassie and her father. Tyla was certain that Clay cared deeply about his child, but whatever had happened between them had destroyed any trust the little girl might have had in him.

  Since it was Thursday evening, Tyla came back to the clinic after dinner for a therapy session with eight teenage mothers who had been referred to the clinic for counseling. Tyla listened to the fears and anxieties of these young girls who were only children themselves and tried to give them emotional support and guidance. She was always drained by the end of the evening and left with a feeling of depression.

  One of the young girls, Rose Delgado, had gotten involved with a gang and had a child by a multisubstance abuser who was still harassing her. She was an intelligent girl, sixteen years old, and Tyla’s thoughts were on the girl’s problems as she locked her office and left the building. Sometimes she went with Rose and some of the girls to a nearby café for a coffee after a session but this evening she’d begged off from going. The day’s activities had taken an unusual toll on her energy.

  Her car was parked in a reserved spot at the side of the clinic. She started walking toward it. Then she stopped. Her breath caught.

  Someone was coming up behind her!

  Tyla swung around in alarm. A loud thumping in her ears accompanied her quickening heartbeat. For a moment she didn’t see anyone, and then a figure stepped out into view between two cars. She stiffened and took two steps backward.

  “Sorry…I didn’t mean to startle you.” A high streetlight caught Clay Archer’s face in a radius of light.

  “Why in the world did you come up behind me like that? What are you doing here?” she demanded as she swallowed and tried to get her rapid breathing back to normal. There had been too many assaults on women in parking lots for her to dismiss her fright as a foolish reaction.

  “I’m really sorry. I was waiting in my car…. I wanted to see you when you finished up. I called the clinic earlier and found out you were going to be here tonight.”

  “I don’t understand. What is this all about? Aren’t you supposed to be taking Cassie to a movie tonight?” Her tone was crisper than she had intended.

  “How’d you know that?”

  “Doreen mentioned it this afternoon.”

  He shrugged. “We went to an early show and returned home about eight. I decided to call you but only got your answering machine. On a hunch I phoned the clinic and was told you’d be through with a therapy session about nine-thirty. I thought maybe we could go someplace for coffee…”

  Tyla took a deep breath to settle her racing emotions. “I prefer to see my clients during regularly scheduled appointments.”

  “I’m not your client.”

  “I know but-”

  “We could talk about other things besides Cassie. We might find a few subjects of interest to both of us. That is, if you wouldn’t find my company too mundane.”

  Mundane? If anything, Clay Archer’s impression upon her had been so extraordinary as to be frightening. She would have rejected the invitation firmly and without any hesitation if it had come from anyone else. She didn’t know why Clay Archer tended to put her off-balance or why this unexpected encounter left her totally unsettled. A polite refusal failed to leave her lips.

  “Please,” he said quietly.

  As he looked expectantly down into her face, he engaged her emotions on levels that had nothing to do with his daughter. Clay Archer presented an undefinable challenge to her as a woman, and in all honesty she was intrigued by him. Where was the dividing line between her professional interest in him and sensual attraction? She had no idea.
/>   Why not find out?

  “All right,” she said, mentally squaring her shoulders.

  “Good.”

  The relief in his voice made her think that he had been unsure of himself. This insecurity surprised her, because she could easily imagine him in a corporate boardroom, manipulating and directing financial decisions. He gave the impression of being totally in control, and yet she picked up an uneasiness that was at odds with his outward composure. “Shall we take my car?” he asked.

  “There’s an all-night café just around the next corner,” she answered. “Sometimes I go there with a group after my evening sessions.” If this wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, he didn’t show it.

  “Fine.” He drew in a deep breath. So far, so good, he told himself. Ever since his session with Tyla Templeton, he’d felt off-balance. Not a feeling he understood. In all honesty he didn’t know what he hoped to accomplish by this impulsive request to talk with her, but he couldn’t deny a compelling need to see her again.

  The café was crowded. As Tyla stood beside Clay waiting for a hostess to seat them, a group of her single mothers sitting at a nearby table caught sight of them.

  One of the young women giggled and said, “Way to go, Dr. Tyla.”

  Rose Delgado’s curious dark eyes instantly fixed on Clay, and then she gave Tyla a broad smile accompanied by a thumbs-up gesture.

  Tyla felt her cheeks coloring. A murmur of sighs and giggles was loudly audible as the hostess led them past the table of gawking young women. Clay chuckled and said, “Good evening, ladies.”

  Tyla was glad to slip into a nearby booth, out of the view of curious eyes. She knew how readily the girls gossiped about everyone and everything. “Sorry about that.”

  “Why?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “It’s obvious they really like you. Clients?”

  She nodded. “Unwed mothers trying to cope with myriad problems. Sometimes I’m afraid it’s too little too late.” She sighed, thinking of Rose and the hard road ahead for her and her baby.