Household Gods

She slid back into the routine of her late-twentieth-century life almost as easily as if she had in fact been away for only a week. Everyone’s assumption that she’d been away only that long helped a lot; if she slipped up, they attributed it to her illness, and brushed it off.

She didn’t slip up much, at that. Old habits died hard. Her life in Carnuntum began to fade, to seem more distant than it actually was, like an intense and vividly memorable dream.

On Wednesday morning, she went to see Dr. Marcia Feldman. The doctor wasn’t any happier to see her than she’d been before, or any happier to report, “By all the tests, Ms. Gunther-Perrin, you’re still perfectly normal.” Her eyes on Nicole were accusing, as if she suspected there was something Nicole wasn’t telling.

Nicole wasn’t about to tell it, either. No matter how tempted she might be to share her experience with someone, this meticulous medical scientist was not the person she’d have chosen. She fit her response to one of the things Dr. Feldman must be wondering. “No, I didn’t take any drugs you couldn’t detect. I don’t do that kind of thing.”

“Everything I was able to learn about you from your coworkers and your ex-husband makes me believe that,” the neurologist said, “but it leaves what did happen a mystery. I don’t like mysteries, unless I’m reading one.” That was meant to be a light touch, but it fell flat. She shrugged. “Under the circumstances, I don’t know what I can say, except that I hope it doesn’t happen again. Everything’s been all right since you went home?”

“Everything’s been fine,” Nicole answered truthfully.

“All right.” Dr. Feldman sighed. “In that case, all I can do is give you a clean bill of health and tell you I do not know whether it will last and how long it will last. Just that, for this moment, you are as healthy and normal a specimen as I could hope to see.”

“Thank you,” Nicole murmured, quashing the small jab of guilt. The truth would upset this good doctor a whole lot more than her current uncertainty. Nicole had to remember that.

“Good luck,” the doctor said at last. “That’s not very scientific, I know, but it’s the best I can do for you.”

“It’s good enough,” Nicole said. “Thank you, Dr. Feldman. Really. You did your best for me; I do appreciate that.”

Dr. Feldman didn’t look exactly pleased, but she had the grace to see Nicole out, and to shake her hand at the door of the waiting room. Feeling oddly as if she’d been given a blessing at the church door, the kind of thing a priest did to equip a parishioner with some small defense against the big bad world, Nicole made her way back to the office.

Cyndi was at her desk, trying hard to look busy. She raised a questioning eyebrow as Nicole came in. Nicole gave her a thumbs-up. Cyndi silently clapped her hands. Nicole grinned and sailed past her, and tackled that analysis. She’d hit her stride there. No matter what Sheldon Rosenthal had done to her, she was going to give him the best piece of work she could. She had her pride, after all. And if she wanted to show him up just a bit, well, who could blame her?

Thursday was D-Day: the deadline for Frank to pay up. Nicole twitched all morning and all through lunch. By mid-afternoon she’d made the sanity-saving decision to call Herschel Falk first thing in the morning and find out what, if anything, was happening.

But late that afternoon, a little before she had to pack up her work for the day and head out to fetch the kids, a FedEx deliverywoman set a cardboard envelope on Cyndi’s desk. Nicole resisted the urge to leap out and grab it. Properly, as an attorney should, she waited for Cyndi to bring it in to her for signature and release. Only after both secretary and FedEx driver were gone did she rip open the envelope.

Inside she found a certified check, a receipt for her to sign and return, and a note. I’ve taken out the cost of the microwave along with the first month at Woodcrest, Frank had written. If you don’t like it, call the damn DA.

Nicole grinned like a tiger, and called Falk – but not to complain about that. It wasn’t too unreasonable, considering. “Good,” the attorney said when she thanked him. “I wish they were all that easy. Most people these days don’t have any respect for anything, let alone law or authority.”

“I thought my ex would,” Nicole said. She turned the check over in her fingers. It wasn’t enough to get her all the way out of the hole, but it would help quite a bit. “Now, if he just keeps up from here on in, I’ll be in fairly decent shape.”

“If he doesn’t,” Herschel Falk said, “you know where to call.”