by Fern Shepard
Jerry turned his back for a moment. He lit a cigarette, stared out over the shimmering lake, and debated whether or not to call the ride off. Why bother to explain anything to this dame? He should just tell her to get her pretty little self off his boat and stay off, then make it stick. That was the only way to deal with her kind: get a little rough, if necessary. He didn't owe her anything; not even a few polite words. So why bother to say those words, or to do a thing which might put the poor kid in a sick bed from sheer panic? Funny how Bobby got so upset about being left alone for a few minutes.
Having analyzed it all in his mind and reached a decision, Jerry began: "Look, Reds," and turned, just as it happened.
In a sudden frenzy because Bobby had started to beat at her with his fists, Rita's hands grabbed the child.
Through gritted teeth, she snapped: "I'll teach you to keep your grubby little paws off me!" She said further: "Now in you go—and if you don't want to swim, drown!"
She lifted the screaming boy and pitched him down into the water, then turned to glance at Jerry, who was shouting at her: "What the devil are you doing! Have you lost your mind?" And he ran, ran fast, not listening to Rita, who was explaining carelessly: "Oh, don't make a big deal of it, Jerry. The kid can't drown in water less than two feet deep."
That was perfectly true. Bobby was in little danger of drowning. He didn't drown. But after he picked himself up, he stumbled, fell flat on his face, and by the time Jerry got to him and lifted him back to his feet, he was trying to swallow and couldn't.
Within seconds it was apparent that he could not breathe properly. He made strangling sounds when he tried to, and as Nora and Paul came rushing up, Bobby's face was turning a frightening, bluish tinge.
Kneeling beside him, Nora cried: "He's swallowed something that can't get through." Maybe a little pebble, some tiny object caught in the sand.
"He's choking to death!"
Terrified, she looked up at Paul, who took over without hesitation.
Quickly running his finger around inside the child's mouth, he said in the tone of the sure, confident surgeon who knew exactly what he had to do and was perfectly capable of doing it. "Have you your first aid kit with you, Nora? Get me a knife, quickly. I'll have to do an emergency tracheotomy!"
Standing like a man in partial shock, Jerry managed to stammer: "You mean, cut into the poor kid's throat? You mean, do it here, now? But, Doc," his voice strengthened a little, "can't you wait until we get him to the hospital?"
"He'd be dead," Paul said, as Nora came racing back from her car and handed over the small, sharp-edged knife which she used to cut bandages.
Suddenly a shriek was heard. Rita was crying shrilly: "You'll kill that child. You're no good as a surgeon, and you know it. Somebody stop him! Jerry, why don't you stop him? He's going to cut into that boy's windpipe, and he'll kill him, and you'll have only yourself to blame."
"And besides," as if it were an important point, "I can't stand the sight of blood. It makes me ill."
About to make the incision which would let air in and out of the windpipe, Paul snapped: "Get that babbling female away from here, Jerry."
With a steady hand, with all the confidence of an experienced and skilled surgeon who did not know what the word fear meant, Paul went to work.
Afterwards; Nora was not at all sure that she breathed during those tense moments while the little knife was inserted, then began its slow, rhythmic turning; while she waited to see if Bobby would breathe again.
When he did, it was a small, choking sound, but it was enough. I've just seen two miracles performed, she thought wonderingly. He has saved Bobby, and he has saved himself.
Chapter 20
Nora drove home slowly, at twilight. Now reaction was about to set in. She felt like a slowly deflating balloon, after all the hours of being so keyed up, under almost unbearable tension. The sense of relief had been almost unbearable, too.
Once, a short distance from the house, she stopped the car and sat perfectly still, thinking, living the afternoon over again.
After Paul had made the emergency incision that would save Bobby from strangling to death, they had taken the little boy to the hospital. Jerry had driven on ahead, and when they reached the emergency entrance, a cart was waiting to take the child into surgery.
Again there had been no hesitation on Paul's part. He went into the operating room with the assurance and steady hand of a surgeon who had no doubt about himself. "Say a little prayer for me," he said to Nora as she pulled up his face mask. And that was all he said.
Now it was all over. Bobby was in the recovery room, doing fine. He had swallowed a tiny rubber frog, and if Paul hadn't been there when it happened—
On the other hand, if it had not happened exactly when and as it had, Paul might never have overcome the almost psychotic fear which was destroying him.
For a moment Nora covered her face with her hands, and murmured under her breath: "Thank you, God, for everything." And then she added with a quavery little smile: "I'd appreciate it, too, if You'd fix things up with Paul and me."
But maybe it was too much to ask. She had no way of knowing how Paul felt about her now, or if he felt much of anything. "I missed you," he had said. But you could miss a good friend, or even an old pair of comfortable shoes.
He had not said in the boathouse: "I still love you." He had said only: "I was not pretending when I once said I loved you." But love could come to a dead end, like anything else. And before she left the hospital today, he had only told her: "I'll get in touch with you later," and said it fast. For he was on his way to take over another emergency case which had just been brought in.
Sighing, she drove on. When she reached the house, Andy was on the front porch, waiting to drive her mother back to the hospital.
She went up the steps, smiling to express the warm, friendly affection she truly felt for him. But that was all it was, all it could ever be, and the time had come to be honest and tell him so.
She said: "Andy, you're a wonderful friend. From the bottom of my heart I do appreciate everything you've done for me and mine, all that you've offered to do and give me."
But right there was the reason she would have said no to Andy, even if Paul had not been in the picture. Andy wanted someone to do things for, to give things to; someone to shield and protect and shower with expensive trifles, as if she were a helpless child. But she did not want this. Expensive gifts meant nothing to her. She did not want to be shielded, protected, have everything done for her.
From infancy, her life had meant struggling, serving, working in the hospital to relieve the pain and suffering of others, and dreaming of the time when she would work beside her man. Without all this, her life would have been empty and meaningless.
He was holding her hands, his smile kind and understanding. "I think I know what you're going to tell me, Nora. And don't worry about it. I'm a big boy, you know. When I was young, I made my money. When I reached the forties, I had my coronary attack. Then I had the pretty dream that frequently comes to a man who longs for a second chance at youth. But I guess I knew all along it was only a dream."
Bending, he kissed her lightly on the forehead. "It's all right. I enjoyed my little dream, and all I really want is for you to be happy."
She turned away from him, deeply moved. Then, with a sudden smile, she turned back to say: "Andy, I do wish you could realize what a wonderful person Margaret Thorpe is. Maggie has just about everything: looks, brains, a warm, loving nature."
To her surprise, he laughed heartily, then took her arms to give her a little shake. "So now you've taken up match-making! You just can't get rid of the notion that you must fix up other folks' lives for them, can you? Well, you little fixer-upper, if you want to know, I have a date with Maggie. After I drop your ma at the hospital, I'm driving to Maggie's to have a game of canasta."
"Sure enough." Another laugh, another teasing shake. "So you worry about your own love life, child. I'll do the worryin
g about mine."
After Andy and Caroline drove away, that was exactly what Nora did. She went up to her room, sat on the bed, scowled at the phone, and wondered if it would ring. If it did not—Well, one thing was certain. If Paul still cared the least little bit about her, he would phone during the next hour, or say the next two hours. He might be held up at the hospital. But if he did not phone by nine o'clock, that would be that.
At quarter past nine she gave up her last forlorn little hope. She undressed, showered, got into bed, and resigned herself to a life of lonely, loveless, single blessedness. She thought drearily, It's probably my fate to end up another disgruntled, neurotic spinster who will be highly regarded as a really dedicated nurse. I'll be like Maggie. And look how lonely Maggie has been. Maggie didn't mind spending long hours at the hospital because, so she said, she dreaded going home to her little house where there was no one waiting for her except a canary bird and two stray cats who depended on her to feed them.
She got up, took a cold drink of water, glared at the phone, then threw herself over the bed and spent a good ten minutes sobbing her heart out. Oh, if only Paul would phone!
At exactly twenty minutes to ten the phone rang.
Sitting up, she grabbed it, for all the world like a drowning person grabbing at a lifeline.
"Oh, it's you," she said, when she heard Paul's voice. "Well, how is everything?" She mustn't let him know she'd been lying there crying her heart out over him.
Everything was fine, Paul said, if she was referring to the hospital. Little Bobby was in great shape. The second emergency operation he had performed was okay, too. In another accident at the lake, a boy had had his back slashed by a water skier. "But I fixed him up, and everything is under control, Nora. When Bobby swallowed the little rubber frog, I seem to have swallowed all my fears, or whatever ailed me."
She was, she told him, truly happy for him. "This means you'll be back at the hospital. Right?"
"Maybe," he said.
"It all depends on you, Nora."
Then, after a moment's hesitation: "Look, you and I have got to get a lot of things straightened out." He had to know, he said, what the chances were of his getting his girl back and taking up about where they had left off, just before fun-packing Ben Sackett had come on the scene. What about that rich widower who had been squiring her around town?
In short, Paul had a lot of ground to cover, past, present, and future. So how about picking her up in his car in about ten minutes?
"Be waiting for me at the curb," he said. And then he said: "My sweetheart. You are still mine, aren't you? Tell me."
"I'll tell you when you arrive," she promised.
She was breathless as she rushed back into her clothes. Those were stars she saw in her eyes in the mirror as she fairly danced across the room to run a comb through her hair. A little while before she had looked positively awful, her color gray, her lips pinched and bluish. Now she glowed with radiance and life, with sheer happiness, as a girl does whose doubts and worries have been banished by the right words murmured at the right time by the right man.
As she ran down the stairs and out of the house, she was laughing softly, amused by her own thoughts. How silly she had been to believe for even a moment that she would like to go around the world with Andy Fine. That was a temptation?
She stood by the curb, and when she saw the lights of Paul's car approaching, the radiance in her eyes was the reflection of the happiness in her heart.
There came her real temptation: Paul. She smiled at the knowledge that when he came he would take her into his arms and back into his life to stay.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20