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was helpless.
    “Did she say-could the nurse tell if this is something to do with the diabetes, or? She hated to ask him, but there was no one else.
    “She didn’t say.” His reply was terse to the point of outright unfriendliness.
    “Oh. Thanks.” Grace’s knees felt suddenly weak. Stress was getting to her, she thought. Glancing around, she found a gray plastic chair near at hand, scooted it with one foot even closer to the bed, and sank down in it, her hand never leaving Jessica’s.
    “Did you call her father?”
    “No.” Her reply fell just this side of being outright curt. This guy’s criticism, both overt and implied, was starting to get to her.
    “Shouldn’t you?”
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    Grace met his weighing gaze straight on. “Look, her father’s in New Mexico. We’re divorced. I have custody. He’s remarried with a whole new family and, believe me, calling him in the middle of the night over something like this is completely unnecessary. Okay?”
    “It’s fine with me.” His expression, his stance, his words, his tone were, every one of them, downright judgmental. “Doesn’t seem to be working out too well for your daughter, though.”
    Grace’s eyes snapped at him. She felt her temper stretch almost to the breaking point-it had been a hard day, after all-but she let go of the anger before it could control her. If the guy was an obnoxious jerk, that was his problem, not hers.
    Jessica moved then, her legs shifting and her fingers stirring in Grace’s hold. That brought her attention back to where it belonged: on her daughter.
    just looking at her scared Grace to death. Jess was so thin-too thin. It was a rare thing forJessica to be still, and Grace supposed that it was her daughter’s constant motion that had kept her from realizingiust how fragile-looking the child had become.
    Surely she had not been this frail fifteen months ago. “Mom?” Jessica’s eyes opened. The normally clear blue of her irises looked cloudy and blurred. Her pupils were tiny in the bright light.
    “I’m here, Jess. ” Grace’s hand tightened around Jessica’s even as she leaned closer to her. Awareness slowly grew in her daughter’s eyes as their gazes met. Her pupils enlarged to normal size.
    Z,-1 “Mom, I feel so sick.” It was a slurred whisper. “Shh, baby. You’re going to be okay. We’re at the
     
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    KAREN ROBARDS
    hospital. Everything’s all right. Jess, did you take your insulin?”
    “I think so. I … don’t really remember.” Jessica’s mouth twisted and her nose wrinkled in a way that Grace knew from long experience meant trouble. Wildly Grace looked around and managed to produce a small, plastic-lined trash can from almost underneath her feet just as Jessica leaned over the edge of the bed to vomit.
    “Can I help?” The cop took a step closer, watching with obvious revulsion.
    “No.” Minutes later, her stomach emptied, Jessica rolled back against the pillow. The terrible smell emanating from the trash can made Grace’s stomach threaten to rebel as well. She ignored the incipient nausea, tying the nearly full plastic bag closed. Standing, she carried the trash can to the hallway, where she handed it to a passing orderly. She washed her hands at the sink, wet a paper towel, and returned to her seat by Jessica, wiping her daughter’s face and mouth with tender care.
    “Is it the diabetes?” Fear and loathing combined in Jessica’s question as Grace smoothed the paper towel over her forehead. Jessica hated her disease.
    “At a guess, I’d say so. That, and the amount of alcohol you consumed.” Speaking calnily, Grace wadded the paper towel up, and in the absence of a trash can, reached around to discard it on the nearby counter.
    “Mom Jessica looked at her imploringly. Recognizing a lie when one was getting ready to be told to her, Grace shook her head at her daughter.
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    “You were drinking. You can’t drink alcoholic beverages, Jess, you know