Free The Colors of Love by Vanessa Grant Page A

when he regained consciousness—visits from both a social worker and a nutritionist—then he returned to his office five minutes late for his three-thirty with Jenny and Brad Stakeman's new baby.
    The baby gurgled and rammed a fist into his mouth while Alex listened to his heart. The scar on his little chest was already only a pale pink line.
    "Perfect," said Alex, and both parents broke into smiles. "He'll be sliding to first base in a few years. The incision's healed, the heart's healthy, and you can relax, stop worrying."
    An hour later, between an anorexic thirteen-year-old and a six-month-old baby with measles, Diana called.
    "Have you got the pro formas?" she asked, her voice distorted by some weird effect of the satellite telephone transmission from Europe.
    "I'm picking them up from Dennis tomorrow night."
    "Thursday? Okay, but email them to me Thursday night, earlier if you can. I was talking to Grandfather today. Could you send a copy around to him once I've looked them over? He refuses to use email, so you'll have to courier them. We're close to a decision, Alex."
    "Good. I had a twelve-year-old in a diabetic coma this morning."
    "Is she all right?" He could hear Diana's concern, even with the satellite distortion.
    "Stable now. Yeah, he'll be okay this time."
    "We'll get your treatment center," promised Diana.
    * * *
    It was six before Alex got away from his office, seven before he finished talking to Jason. For the moment, the boy seemed to be taking his condition seriously. He looked scared, and Alex pushed down the urge to soothe the fear.
    "You're diabetic, Jason. With proper diet and care, you can live as long as anyone. If you're careless, if you let yourself resent the fact that the other kids can eat chocolate when you can't, you could die tomorrow."
    Jason nodded, his eyes dark and disturbed.
    "Your health is under your control. If you look after yourself, you can prevent this from happening again. I'm sending the dietitian up tomorrow morning."
    "I saw her last time," protested the boy.
    "Yeah, but this time you need to listen, and when she asks questions, be honest. It's your life, Jason. Look after it."
    * * *
    Alex pulled down his visor against the glare of the setting sun. This scare might have been a good thing, showing Jason the seriousness of his condition. No point wishing for the power of a peer group of juvenile diabetics to help Jason see himself in perspective, for regular counseling and dietetic consultations. For now, Jason would have to make do with the resources available, and hopefully it would be enough.
    Outside Jamila's house, the lightbulb he'd installed Sunday night illuminated a freshly constructed, un-painted safety rail on her landing, and rails on either side of the five stairs leading to it.
    Somehow, between Sunday and Wednesday night, she'd managed to get someone out here to build her a porch rail. So that Sara would be safe? Or because she thought Alex would return to harass her if she didn't?
    There was nothing overtly unfit about Jamila, nothing he could have pointed to when he talked to the social worker Monday morning. Mrs. Davis, the baby-sitter, would fall under scrutiny, as would Wayne Miller himself. But Jamila—what could he have said? We need to stop Sara from seeing this woman. She struck the child with her car—no, it wasn't her fault, but afterward she found the girl's kitten, offered the kitten a home, and now wants the girl to visit. I don't trust her.
    He climbed the stairs slowly, his unease growing even though he gripped the rail and found it solid.
    Jamila had installed a rail. If he went to her kitchen cupboard, would he find the poisonous cleansers gone? If so, it didn't make Sara safe. The danger Jamila represented was more insidious. The motherless girl would be drawn to the warmth of her fire, the brightness of her hair, and the softness of her laugh. Sara would feel safe, but there would be no safety, no vigilance. Jamila was encouraging Sara for