"That one's for my father," she answered, "in case he comes by; to make sure I'm okay."
I wondered if this was the truth or a subtle way for Karen to keep her father out of my bed. No, I was being silly, but I still wondered why she didn't remain in her own house. Perhaps the absence of both Mrs. Doberchek and her father made her uncomfortable but surely there were other people on site. Was Karen just a nervous child or a young adult attempting to control her father's social life?
When I returned to the room ensconced in a hotel bathrobe over my skivvies, Karen was propped up in her bed with the covers up to her chin, reading a book.
"It's late. Aren't you tired?" I was exhausted, physically and mentally. Tired as I was, I felt guilty trundling off to sleep and abandoning this child who had undergone such a traumatic evening. "Keep your cell phone handy in case Paul . . . your father calls." Karen didn't answer so I turned over and faced her. "Do you want to talk about what happened? You must be sick with worry over Timmy, and Mrs. Doberchek." When she didn't reply, I pushed on. "I'm sure they're both in good hands." Then I remembered the snub. "You didn't seem to like Dr. Graham. Do you have a problem with him?"
"He was my mother's doctor but that's none of your business." She switched out the light thereby ending my one-sided conversation.
I lay awake for an hour or more, listening for Karen's breathing but only heard silence and muffled street noises. I must have dozed because sometime later I woke up to the sound of Karen thrashing and rolling in her bed. She was obviously in the midst of a nightmare. I rose and shook her gently. She woke with a start and quickly pulled away. After returning to my bed I listened until I heard the telltale rhythm of her undisturbed sleep. Later, after a brief nap, I once again awoke, this time to sobbing. I strained to make certain I wasn't dreaming. The sound was repeated. Turning on the light and blinking back the glare, I tossed off the covers. Karen was turned from me and feigned sleep, in spite of the lighted room.
"Karen, honey, what's wrong?" She didn't answer so I shook her shoulder. "It's all right to cry. You had a terrible evening."
"You woke me up," she managed to mumble. "Go away."
"No, you weren't sleeping and no, I won't go away." I lay next to her on top of the covers and reached over her to wipe away the tears with a corner of the coverlet. "Sit up and talk to me." I pulled her upright. When she opened her eyes, she saw I was only in bra and panties and tightened her eyes and tried to turn away. "Sorry," I said pulling the spread over me, "but I'm not going away." While she wouldn't open her eyes, she relaxed and let me hold her.