From: magsrose@comcast.net   
      
   by MagsRose   
   See Chapter 1 for header.   
      
   Chapter 3   
      
   The next day, Frohike went into the school and made an appointment to   
   meet with the counselor the following week. He didn't tell Emma what   
   he was up to. He wanted to wait until he had actually talked with this   
   person. He made a vague excuse about checking out her schedule, which   
   she accepted because she was in danger of being late.   
      
   That evening they had dinner with the next-door neighbors, the   
   Craemers. Frohike had met Patty's husband, Paul, shortly after moving   
   in. He was an executive at a small software company that was doing   
   quite well. He was also a do-it-yourself kind of guy so he and Patty   
   had spent a great deal of time remodeling their home. He also liked to   
   work on vintage cars and was rebuilding a 1957 Chevy Belair   
   convertible in his garage. Frohike had willingly helped him with the   
   car a couple of times when he needed an extra hand.   
      
   Dinner was delicious and the conversation was amiable. Little Louie   
   thoroughly enjoyed the extra attention the company offered him. Emma   
   was his favorite and he insisted that she sit by him. Emma was more   
   than happy to oblige. When dinner was done and it was time for Louie   
   to go to bed, Patty carried him to his room.   
      
   Not five minutes later, Louie came running back in his pajamas   
   insisting that Emma had to come and read him a story. Patty followed   
   closely behind him to return him to his bed. He started to whine and   
   cry. Emma picked him up and assured Patty that she would not mind   
   reading to him. She put him down and walked out of the room holding   
   his hand. Patty sat down smiling to herself, "Thank God for Emma. She   
   can be a real life saver sometimes."   
      
   With Emma out of the room Frohike took the opportunity to talk to   
   these two people who knew his daughter better than he did. "Does Emma   
   seem all right to you?"   
      
   "What do you mean?" Patty asked.   
      
   Frohike took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I don't know what   
   is normal for Emma. As far as I can tell, she has shown no real sign   
   of grieving the loss of her mother."   
      
   "She doesn't seem all that different to me but Patty has spent more   
   time with her than I have," Paul offered.   
      
   Patty thought for a moment. "For the most part she seems normal, but   
   there's something missing. She's more subdued than usual."   
      
   "A friend of mine picked her up from school the other day. When they   
   got home he tried to get her to play the piano and she became quite   
   upset."   
      
   This didn't seem to surprise Patty. "Michelle taught Emma to play the   
   piano. One of their favorite things to do was to play four handed."   
   Frohike asked what that meant. "They would both sit at the piano. Emma   
   would play on the upper keys and Michelle on the lower ones. They had   
   a number of pieces that were pretty involved that required two people   
   to play the whole thing. Emma had also gotten good enough to play   
   accompaniment so that Michelle could sing. She had a beautiful voice."   
      
   This Frohike knew. She loved to sing and did so often. Of course she   
   had passed her love of music on to her daughter. Patty continued. "I'm   
   willing to bet that the piano is a symbol of what her mother meant to   
   her. "   
      
   "I have an appointment to talk to the counselor at her school. We'll   
   see what she has to say."   
      
   "If we can help in anyway, please let us know." Patty was sincere in   
   her offer and Paul nodded in agreement.   
      
   Emma returned a short time later having read no less that 4 stories   
   before convincing Louie that sleep would be a good idea. Frohike told   
   her they needed to leave so she could finish her homework. Emma   
   agreed. They said their good nights and left.   
      
   Late that night Frohike awoke with a distinct impression that   
   something was wrong. Hearing a noise he turned in bed and looked   
   toward the open door of his room. He could just make out a figure   
   standing in the doorway to the dimly lit hallway. He fumbled for his   
   glasses, finally found them and put them on. "Emma?" She moved towards   
   him. Now he knew what had woken him up. It was the sound of her quick,   
   wheezy breathing.   
      
   "Dad, I can't find it. I can't breathe and I can't find my inhaler."   
   She managed to gasp out between short, shallow breaths. He turned on   
   the light as she came all the way into the room.   
      
   "I'm calling 911," he told her as he got out of bed.   
      
   "No, don't! I just need my inhaler."   
      
   "Where is it?" He put his hands on her upper arms and guided her to   
   sit down on the edge of his bed. She gripped the edge of the bed with   
   both hands and started rocking back and forth ever so slightly in time   
   with her labored breathing.   
      
   "It was in the drawer of my nightstand and now it's not there."   
      
   "What does it look like?"   
      
   "It's in a blue bag."   
      
   He left her on the bed and ran into her room. He flipped on the   
   overhead light and quickly surveyed the room. The nightstand drawer   
   was open. He pulled it out all the way spilling the contents onto the   
   floor. He checked the bottom shelf and behind the nightstand. Next he   
   got down on his knees and looked under the bed. There was a blue   
   drawstring bag under there. He reached under and pulled it out. She   
   must have knocked it out of the drawer and under the bed in her panic.   
      
   He ran back to his room, opened the bag and handed it to Emma. She   
   took out three different inhalers before she found the one she wanted.   
   She tried to take a deep breath and hold it but started coughing. Her   
   breathing did ease though and her eyes looked much less wild.   
      
   "Thank you. I'm sorry I woke you up." Emma started to get up to leave.   
      
   "Sit down. You're not going anywhere until I am certain you're back to   
   normal."   
      
   She didn't argue. The whole thing had really scared her. She hadn't   
   had an asthma attack that bad since she was a kid. Frohike picked up   
   the bag from where she had set it down. She still had the one inhaler   
   she had used in her hand and there were three more in the bag. She   
   used the original inhaler again and this time was able to hold it in   
   for about 10 seconds before she started coughing again.   
      
   "Why didn't you tell me about this?"   
      
   "I didn't…" she started then changed her mind, "I haven't really had a   
   problem with this for a long time."   
      
   "But you still should have told me."   
      
   "I'm sorry."   
      
      
   He held the other inhalers out to her. "What are all these others for?"   
      
      
   She picked up one, "This one and the one I already used are for when I   
   have trouble breathing. The other two are supposed to keep me from   
   having an attack."   
      
   "Have you been using the others?" He figured he already knew the   
   answer to that.   
      
   Emma looked down at the floor and shook her head.   
      
   "I didn't think so."   
      
   She switched to the second rescue inhaler. "I need to drink water   
   after using this one."   
      
   "Wait here." He went into the bathroom and got her the water.   
      
   By the time she was done with the second dose on the other inhaler she   
   couldn't keep her eyes open. Frohike just had her lie down in his bed.   
   He covered her with the quilt he used as a bed spread. He brushed   
   stray hair back from her face. Then he bent down and lightly kissed   
   her cheek.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
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