Ozark Nurse

by Fern Shepard

  "For heaven's sake," Margaret said, bringing coffee to Paul, "stop fussing over each other, you two. In my book, you've had a very interesting experience. When you're an old lady, Nora, you can boast to your grandchildren about the time you were used for target practice by a bearded mountaineer."

  With a deep sigh, she added: "Things like that never happen to me."

  Nora laughed, announced that she felt ever so much better, and that maybe she'd better go see how Andrew Fine was doing.

  "You are to go home," Margaret ordered firmly. She personally would check on Andy Fine. Nora was not to show her face in the hospital tomorrow. If she took two or three days off, that would be even better.

  "I'll drive you home," Paul suggested, only to be told by Nora that he would do no such thing. After a short but heated argument, they compromised. Nora would drive home by herself. Paul would drive over to see her after dinner. Maybe they could take a short drive. "We have a lot to talk about, honey."

  Their eyes met, and again Nora felt a comforting warmth pervade her. Things were going to be all right between them. His loving smile told her so.

  "Hmmmm," said Margaret. "I've heard tell there's nothing like a bit of shooting from the hip to settle worrisome problems."

  Nora burst out laughing, a little amazed that she was now able to laugh. "You've got the locale wrong, Maggie. I'll always believe that crazy loon had his gun stashed away in his beard."

  Driving home, Nora decided that she would say nothing to the family about her near-brush with death. While she felt considerably better, she was still shaky, certainly not up to spending the dinner hour rehashing what had happened, or to listening to her mother's critical remarks about Paul.

  From the start, Caroline had taken a dim view of her romance with a doctor who seemed content to settle down in a small town where he could "never make much of himself."

  "Paul reminds me a lot of your father, Nora. Now I'm not saying John wasn't one of the best men who ever lived. But he lacked drive. He was perfectly satisfied to spend his life doctoring poor folks, and when they didn't pay the first bill he sent, John figured he shouldn't pester them by sending any more bills. I used to tell him that charity should begin at home, but he couldn't seem to see why I wasn't satisfied with a comfortable home and sufficient good, nourishing food."

  A man who looked at things that way, according to Caroline, could be very irritating. "No matter how much you love him, you can't help wishing he'd bother a little more about giving you the nice things every woman wants."

  Nora was less than two blocks from home when she saw a child running along the pavement, sobbing.

  It was Bobby, Jerry's four-year-old son.

  She braked the car and got out.

  "Where do you think you're going, honey?" The child had orders never to leave the front yard by himself.

  She caught up with him, stopping his headlong dash in the direction of downtown.

  He tried to wrench free of her hands. "I'm going to look for my daddy. He went off to get some ice cream, and he ain't come back, and Mummy says maybe he's gone away and left us and ain't ever coming back. And I've got to find him."

  Leaning down, Nora drew the little boy close. "Your daddy wouldn't go away and leave you, darling."

  Bobby was a high-strung, nervous child with curly yellow hair and the face of an angel. She loved him as dearly as if he were her own son, and it made Nora sick all through to watch him growing into a highly neurotic child in a constant state of anxiety. It was his mother's fault.

  "He would so go away and leave us." Bobby was still sobbing, but now clinging to Nora for comfort. "He did. Out there in that ole California, he went away a lot of times."

  "Only twice, honey, and only to hunt for a job. He always came back, didn't he?"

  She got the little boy in the car and drove on home.

  In the kitchen, Bobby's mother, who did most of the cooking, was taking an apple pie out of the oven. She said hello to Nora, scolded Bobby for running off, and immediately cut a small wedge of the pie to taste. Ethel was a compulsive eater, forever nibbling and tasting.

  Nora stood for a moment, chatting, watching Ethel, and wondered, as she often wondered, why Jerry's wife didn't take drastic measures to cut down her weight. Five years before, when they were married, Ethel had been a slim blonde girl with a very pretty face. Now she was a fat blonde girl, the prettiness fast disappearing.

  Surely she must realize that all that fat might become repulsive to a man, especially a man like Jerry who was a very attractive hombre. Yet Ethel was so madly in love with Jerry that it was pathetic. Her jealousy of him was a kind of sickness which seemed to be growing worse all the time. She nagged at him, accusing him of being interested in other girls, although Nora was certain he was not.

  Then when Jerry got fed up, made a few biting remarks of his own and went out to get a beer and have a little peace, Ethel went through agony, wondering if he had left her forever. Then she would eat, to comfort herself.

  It was all wrong. Nora wished there were something she could do about it, particularly on Bobby's account. His mother's dread and insecurity were communicating themselves to the child. He adored his daddy, literally adored him. And, like Ethel, he was beginning to live in constant terror that Jerry wasn't coming back. Today wasn't the first time Bobby had taken off on his own to hunt for his daddy and bring him home.

  Just as Ethel was beginning a harrowing, blow-by-blow account of that day's quarrel, they heard the front door open, then bang shut. "Hi, everybody! Where are all my sweethearts?" And into the kitchen walked Jerry, with Bobby in his arms. Bobby was squealing and laughing, hugging his father tight. His fears were gone now.

  Jerry gave Ethel a warm kiss exactly as if nothing had happened, then embraced Nora, who never ceased to puzzle over the conflicting feelings she had about him. In money matters, he was as irresponsible as little Bobby, and at times it drove her wild. Yet she loved him dearly, not only because he was her brother and as children they had been very close, but also because, as she sometimes put it to herself, He was the kind of guy you just couldn't help loving.

  He was a big man with thick, wavy reddish-brown hair, sparkling hazel-brown eyes and a charming easygoing manner, almost always smiling.

  "Well," he said, setting Bobby down while he got a drink of water, "had a change of heart yet, Nora honey?"

  "About what, Jerry?" As if she didn't know what! He had his heart set on that motorboat, and no matter how often she said No, Jerry would keep after her until she agreed.

  "Oh, you know." He grinned at her, gave Bobby a swat on his plump little behind and winked at Ethel. "Baby, how are we going to persuade Miss Skinflint here to let loose of a few of her hoarded dollars?"

  "Well, it's her money, Jerry." Ethel went to the stove to stir the vegetable soup which was simmering in a big pot. "Maybe if you'd go get yourself a job, you could save up enough to buy that crazy boat you're always yakking about."

  "But if I had a job, baby, I wouldn't have any time to use the boat. Furthermore, as long as I have this slipped disc in my back, I can't hold down a job. On the other hand, once I get the boat, I'll get out on that old lake and bake in the sun. That will put the disc back in place."

  "I doubt it." Nora was grinning.

  "You doubt what, Sweetie-pie?"

  Nora threw off her coat and went to the sink to cope with a stack of mixing bowls and pans. Ethel was a wonderful cook, but it never occurred to her to clean the silverware and soiled dishes as she went along.

  "First, I doubt that you have a slipped disc," she said. "If you had, you'd be groaning with pain; not dreaming about a summer of fun on the lake."

  She grabbed a dish towel, wiped several bowls and stacked them in place in the closet. "And second, if you have one, I doubt that a lot of sun would snap it back into place. I happen to be a nurse, Jerry dear. I've assisted in quite a few spinal operations. But I never happened to hear of the sun, all by its little self, correcting th
at problem."

  "The sun," stated Jerry solemnly, drinking more water, "is the great life giver! It can work miracles. You nurses and docs do your small bit, of course. But without the sun, you wouldn't even be here. Ever stop to think of that?"

  Laughing, she hung up the towel, splashed water over her hands and announced that she was going to have a shower before dinner. "If I handed over my savings to buy you a boat, I wouldn't have any more. And suppose I needed my five hundred dollars for an emergency?"

  "But it's only for a loan, honey. I'd pay you back."

  "When?"

  "Some day."

  She shook her head firmly. "Nope."

  "You're a miser," he said, shaking his head as if in sorrow. "It's hard to believe of a gal so young, so beautiful, so sweet, so pleasing to the eye. But nevertheless it's true. You love money for its own sake. That's bad. It's anti-social, too. Hasn't anyone ever told you that the haves should divvy up with the have-nots?"

  "Yup."

  "What are you saving it for, by the way? Your old age?"

  "Nope." She gave his shoulder a teasing thump with her fist. "Your old age, Jerry. Considering the way you operate, somebody will have to worry about you in your old age." A deep sigh. "And one buck will get you ten that that somebody will be little old me."

  Chapter 9

  Nora felt so much better about her own personal affairs that it was easy to kid and joke with Jerry about the loan he wanted. Actually, she was deeply attached to her charming and very lovable adoptive brother. Jerry's whole trouble was that he was still a fun-loving, sports-loving, grown-up kid who had never learned to accept responsibility. Knowing this, she was able to take him as he was without becoming seriously irritated, except when she was bothered and out of sorts because things weren't going right with Paul.

  Running upstairs, she was amazed at her sudden light-heartedness. "Nora dear, I'm sorry if I spoke sharply to you this morning."

  Caroline emerged from her room, across the hall from Nora's. She had been trying to sleep off one of her nervous headaches. "I worry so about Jerry. I know he expects too much from you. And I want you to know I don't mean anything by it when I say things I shouldn't."

  "Forget it." Nora gave her mother a quick, impulsive hug.

  "You're a good girl, Nora."

  "I like you, too." They smiled at each other, and Nora went on into her room, still wondering why, all of a sudden, everything in her small world seemed to have been set to rights.

  Was it because Paul had promised to come over tonight, to take her for a drive so that he could have her alone?

  As she stepped out of her uniform, Ethel called up to say Carol was coming over for dinner. That would delay things. They wouldn't be eating before six-thirty.

  Good.

  That would give Nora plenty of time to shower and dress right now, and if Paul came before she finished eating, she would be ready to dash out and join him.

  As if food mattered, anyway!

  She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, one shoe off, one on. Dreamily she pictured the evening ahead. They would not drive far, because of Paul's bad shoulder; maybe just to the edge of town where there was a lovely, shaded spot, their favorite spot for talking things over.

  She kicked off the second shoe, pattered into the bathroom and turned on the shower. If things go the way I hope, she thought, shivering as the cold spray hit her shoulders and back, I'll talk to him again about getting married right away.

  When she was finally dressed she looked lovely. She was wearing a gray flannel suit with Paul's favorite pale pink cashmere sweater, and a pink wool stole was laid out on the bed to go with it. She had indulged in high heels, earrings, dabs of her precious perfume—all the touches of glamour which she rarely had the time or reason to bother about.

  The phone rang, the extension on her bedside table.

  "Nora?" It was Paul.

  Her heart lifted at the sound of his voice.

  Then it plummeted, down, down, down.

  "I'm afraid I can't make it tonight after all."

  "Oh, Paul, is your shoulder worse?"

  "No. Bothers me a bit, naturally, But—no, it isn't that."

  She waited, tense.

  He muttered something or other which she couldn't make out, hemmed and hawed as a man does when he has something unpleasant to say but can't make up his mind how to say it. Finally: "The fact is, Nora, I'm at Rita Lansing's house."

  "You're where!" That was when her heart did a nosedive. "I must have misunderstood. Where did you say you were?"

  He explained Rita had been in her dad's newspaper office when the story came in about the trouble in the hospital. Worried, Rita had driven right over to make sure he was all right.

  Being a very thoughtful and considerate girl, Rita had insisted upon driving him to her house for dinner.

  "I felt that it would be imposing," he said, "and I didn't want to come. But Rita—" his laugh sounded a bit hollow—"wouldn't take no for an answer. So here I am. And I can't very well rush off as soon as I've finished eating. You do understand that, don't you, Nora?"

  There were dozens of furious, contemptuous things she wanted to blurt out, to cut him down to size. But what would it accomplish? She would simply sound like a jealous, humiliated girl who couldn't stand being pushed aside for a wealthy, more glamorous woman. Which was exactly what she was.

  He would feel sorry for her, and she did not want his pity.

  All she really wanted at the moment was to throw herself over the bed and sob her heart out and give herself a few stiff kicks for having been such a dreaming fool.

  "I hope you have a very pleasant evening," she said in a tone dripping icicles. "Have fun, and when the wedding arrangements are all set up, do let me know."

  "Oh, Nora, don't be like that. Please try to understand my position."

  She was angry, and saw no reason to pretend she wasn't. "Listen," she said. "If you ask me once more to try to understand—" She broke off, her threat unspoken.

  Then, in a quiet, controlled tone: "I understand all right; perhaps a lot more than you do. But some day you'll catch on."

  He was still talking when she put down the receiver.

  How she could go downstairs and pretend to eat she did not know. But if she did not go, there would be a thousand questions.

  "Aren't you feeling well, dear?" from Caroline.

  "Catch the B.F. stepping out with another gal?" That would be Jerry. "Well, don't let it bother you, kid. Us guys have to go roaming now and again into the hither and yon. But we always come back. It's a law of nature."

  Then, as likely as not, Bobby would start howling: "Are you gonna run away again, Daddy?"

  The table was set in the kitchen, where they always ate unless there was company.

  Carol had arrived, and when Nora went down she was well along in her report on her latest clash with Howie, who absolutely refused to go to that convention in Atlantic City. "Howie says we can't afford it, as usual. And as I said to Howie, we'll never be able to afford anything, if he won't even try to get out of that pokey law office and out of this horrible little town. And as I also said to Howie, how long he expects me to put up with—"

  Interrupting herself, she glanced up to say, "Oh, hello there," to Nora, then went right on with her list of complaints about her lonely, boring life which was absolutely killing her.

  As usual, when she compared Carol with Jerry, Nora wondered if any twins were ever less alike. Carol was a small size eight, with ash blonde hair and a perpetually sulky expression.

  Carol always looked as if there were something she wanted desperately which somebody had just told her she couldn't have. That was usually the case.

  The magazines and television told Carol that the world was filled with lovely, expensive things which would enrich her life and make her supremely happy, if only she could have them.

  Then came Howie, the voice of reality, to tell her that she might as well stop wanting a lot of useless
junk which he could not afford.

  Howie was what is loosely referred to as a struggling lawyer. He was perfectly satisfied to be exactly what he was, to earn enough to provide a comfortable existence. Since Carol was never satisfied, it made for disharmony between them.

  The main dish of the evening was Ethel's marvelous vegetable soup, served with homemade bread. It was customary for everyone to have two or three bowls. During the first bowl, things went nicely. Carol ranted on and on about Howie. Ethel interrupted once or twice to ask if the soup was okay. She had tried two additional herbs; how did it taste? Bobby, his high chair drawn up as close as he could get to Jerry, gobbled and spilled away happily.

  It was just as Ethel got up to refill their bowls that Carol caught sight of the watch sending out fiery sparkles on Nora's wrist.

  That did it!

  "Where did you get that?" Carol exclaimed as excitedly as if her sister were sporting the Hope diamond.

  Questions then! "Who? Why? How come?"

  When a measure of quiet was restored, Nora tried to explain that the watch was a gift from a patient. "And that reminds me, Mother—"

  Before she could continue, another explosion of questions.

  "A man patient?"

  "Ha!" Jerry speaking. "There's more to our quiet little Nora than meets the eye. Hit the jackpot this time, didn't you, kid?"

  It went on and on until finally Nora all but shouted: "Will you all kindly shut up for a minute? There's something I want to ask Mother, if I can get a word in edgewise."

  She explained again, in more detail, before she said: "His name is Andrew Fine. He's a coronary patient who must take a long rest when he leaves the hospital. He asked me about renting a room from us for the summer. I thought, since we have that downstairs guest room with a bath which we scarcely ever use, it would be all right if we let him have it for a few months."

  Caroline hesitated. "What does Mr. Fine do, dear?"

  "Oh, he has an interest in several businesses. Mainly, he manufactures toys for kids; modern stuff: lions that talk, monkeys that—"

  Bobby broke in, pounding his spoon on the table. "I want a lion that talks. Will Mr. Fine give me one?"