Resting her head in her hands, she tried to think, but all she could concentrate on were her problems with Thomas. She was almost relieved when there was a sharp knock on the door. Before she could answer it, William Bentworth stepped inside.

“Mind if I sit down, Dr. Cassidy?” asked Bentworth with uncharacteristic politeness.

“No,” said Cassi, surprised to see the colonel entering her office on his own accord. He was carefully dressed in tan slacks and a freshly pressed plaid shirt. His shoes evidenced a spit-and-polish shine.

He smiled. “Mind if I smoke?”

“No,” said Cassi. She did mind, but it was one of those sacrifices she felt she had to make. Some people needed all the help they could get in order to open up and talk. On occasion the process of lighting a cigarette was an important crutch. Bentworth leaned back and smiled. For the first time his brilliant blue eyes seemed cordial and warm. He was a handsome man, with broad shoulders, thick dark hair, and angular, aristocratic features.

“Are you all right, Doctor?” asked Bentworth, leaning forward again to examine Cassi’s face.

“I’m perfectly fine. Why do you ask?”

“You look a bit distraught.”

Cassi looked up at the Monet print of the little girl and her mother in the poppy field. She tried to collect her thoughts. It frightened her a little to realize that a patient could be so perceptive.

“Perhaps you feel guilty,” offered Bentworth, considerately blowing smoke away from Cassi.

“And why should I feel guilty?”

“Because I think you have been deliberately avoiding me.”

Cassi remembered Jacob’s comment about borderline personalities being inconsistent, and she contrasted Bentworth’s current behavior with his previous refusal to talk to her.

“And I know why you’ve been avoiding me,” continued Bentworth. “I think I scare you. I’m sorry if that’s the case. Having been in the army so long and being accustomed to giving orders, I suppose I can be overbearing at times.”

For the first time in Cassi’s short psychiatric career, something that she’d read in the literature was occurring spontaneously between herself and one of her patients. She knew, without any doubt, that Bentworth was trying to manipulate her.

“Mr. Bentworth…” began Cassi.

“Colonel Bentworth,” corrected William with a smile. “If I call you Doctor, it’s only reasonable you call me Colonel. It’s a sign of mutual respect.”

“Fair enough,” said Cassi. “The fact of the matter is that you have been the one who has made it impossible for us to have a session together. I’ve tried, if you can remember, on numerous occasions to schedule a meeting, but you have always professed to have a prior commitment. Now I understand that you get more out of the group milieu than private conversation, so I haven’t pushed the situation. If you’d like to meet, let’s schedule it.”

“I would love to talk with you,” said Bentworth. “How about right now? I have the time. Do you?”

Cassi was not willing to fall prey to Bentworth’s manipulation, thinking that it would ultimately have a negative effect on their relationship. She wasn’t prepared now and Bentworth did frighten her despite his newly found charm.

“How about tomorrow morning?” said Cassi. “Right after team meeting.”

Colonel Bentworth stood up and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on Cassi’s desk. “All right. I’ll look forward to it. And I hope whatever is troubling you works out for the best.”

After he was gone, Cassi breathed the smoky air while her mind envisioned Colonel Bentworth in a dress uniform. She could imagine he would be gallant and dashing, and his mental problems would seem fictitious. Knowing the depth of his disorder, she found the fact that it could be so easily camouflaged disturbing.

Before she could even dictate her notes, her door opened again, and Maureen Kavenaugh came in and sat down. Maureen had been admitted a month previously for recurrent major depression. She’d had a serious setback when her husband had come in and slapped her around. Seeing her out of her room was as much a surprise as having William Bentworth voluntarily pay a visit. Cassi wondered if some miracle drug were being secretly added to the patients’ food.

“I saw the colonel go into your office,” said Maureen. “I thought you said you weren’t going to be here this afternoon.” Her voice was flat and emotionless.

“I hadn’t planned on it,” said Cassi.

“Well, since you are here, can I talk to you for a moment?” asked Maureen timidly.

“Of course,” said Cassi. She watched Maureen advance into the room, closing the door and sitting down.

“Yesterday when we talked…” Maureen hesitated and her eyes filled with tears.

Cassi pushed the box of tissues toward the woman.

“You… you asked me if I’d like to see my sister.” Maureen’s voice was so low that Cassi could barely hear. She nodded quickly, wondering what Maureen was thinking. The woman had not shown much interest in anything since her relapse even though Cassi had started her on Elavil. At team meeting several people had suggested electric shock, but Cassi had argued against it, thinking the Elavil and supportive sessions would be adequate. What amazed Cassi was Maureen’s insight into the dynamics of her condition. But for Maureen an understanding of her illness did not automatically give her the power to influence it.

Maureen acknowledged her hostility to her mother, who had abandoned both Maureen and her younger sister when they were toddlers, and the repressed jealousy she felt toward that pretty younger sister who had run off and married, leaving Maureen to live by herself. Out of desperation she’d married an inappropriate man.

“Do you think my sister would want to see me?” asked Maureen finally, her face wet with tears.

“I think she might,” said Cassi. “But we won’t know unless you ask her.”

Maureen blew her nose. Her hair was stringy and in need of a wash. Her face was drawn, and, despite her medication, she’d continued to lose weight.

“I’m afraid to ask her,” admitted Maureen. “I don’t think she’ll come. Why should she? I’m not worth it. It’s hopeless.”

“Just thinking about talking to your sister is a hopeful sign,” Cassi said gently.

Maureen let out a long sigh. “I can’t make up my mind. If I call her and ask her and she says no, then everything will be worse. I want someone else to do it. Would you call her?”

Cassi flushed. She thought of her own indecisiveness in facing Thomas. Maureen’s feelings of dependency and helplessness seemed all too familiar. She too wanted someone else to make her decisions. With exhausting effort, Cassi tried to concentrate on the woman sitting across from her.

“I’m not sure it’s my place to contact your sister,” said Cassi. “But it’s something we can talk about. As far as seeing your sister, I think that is a good idea. Why don’t we talk about it more tomorrow? I think you’re scheduled for a session at two.”

Maureen agreed and, after taking several more tissues, went out, leaving the door open.

Cassi sat for some time, staring blankly at the wall. She felt certain that identifying with one of her patients was a sign of her inexperience.

“Hey! How come you aren’t in team meeting?” said Joan Widiker, doing a double take in the corridor after catching a glimpse of Cassi.

Cassi glanced up but didn’t answer.

“What’s going on?” asked Joan. “You look a little worse for wear.” She stepped into Cassi’s office and sniffed. “And I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t,” said Cassi. “Colonel Bentworth does.”

“He came to see you?” Joan raised her eyebrow. “You’re doing better than you think.” She paused and then sat down.

“I thought I’d let you know that Jerry Donovan and I went out. Have you talked with him?”

Cassi shook her head.

“It didn’t work out too well. All he wanted…” Joan stopped in midsentence. “Cassi, what’s the matter with you?”