The Nurse Novel

by Alice Brennan

  He gave a low chuckle of amusement. “Everything’s paid for,” he told her. “So go ahead and order the works. That’s what you were worrying about, wasn’t it?”

  Merry nodded wryly, and ordered the cheapest thing she could find on the menu.

  Jeff Morrow shook his head. “This is no time to be economical. Do you like steak?” And when Merry nodded, he ordered three filet mignons. “They have wonderful steaks here,” he said.

  He was right, the food was delicious. Her anger began to cool. A person in Arch Heller’s position, she thought, would have to be careful about the people he saw. Wasn’t there something in the paper not too long ago about a young girl who had hidden in a star’s bedroom and then sued him?

  Being famous or rich, or both, had complications. Well, she thought, as she sipped at her coffee, she certainly wouldn’t have to worry about that kind of complication.

  After they finished dinner, the spotlight came on, and Arch walked leisurely to the center of the stage, splendid in a sequined jacket that shone and glittered under the lights. Casually he adjusted the oversized guitar that hung from his neck and moved the microphone so that he was facing the table at which Merry and Tammy sat.

  “Good evening, folks,” he said in a low, easy drawl. “I’m going to do my best to entertain you tonight. My first number of the evening I’m going to dedicate to some friends of mine, sitting at that table there.” And grinning widely, he pointed a finger directly at Merry.

  Merry blushed and glanced down at her hands in her lap. Tammy, she thought, was enjoying it hugely.

  “Don’t you know blushing is passé?” Jeff Morrow whispered.

  Merry blushed even more furiously, and he gave a low, delighted laugh.

  Merry fixed her attention firmly on the stage and Arch Heller. His voice throbbed and wailed and wept. He seemed to transfix people, so that all conversation stopped and no glass was lifted. His voice dipped and soared, and the room was filled with the loneliness of melancholia and remembering. It wasn’t a great voice, but there was a quality in it that got through to a person’s innermost, hidden feelings.

  Tammy’s eyes were sparkling. “Isn’t he great?” she said. “Isn’t he wonderful? Doesn’t he have the greatest voice ever?”

  “I don’t know,” Merry said.

  Jeff smiled at her across the table. “Me, either,” he said. One hand reached for hers, and she felt her hand engulfed in a warm, firm grip.

  The lights came on, and Merry quickly snatched her hand away. Jeff said amusedly, “A girl who doesn’t like being touched?”

  “It isn’t that,” Merry protested, suddenly feeling gauche.

  He raised his eyebrows ever so slightly. “It’s the person doing the touching?”

  Arch Heller jumped lightly down from the stage and came over to the table. He caught a passing waiter with his voice. “Bring me a long, cold one, Johnny.”

  The waiter nodded. “Your usual, Mr. Heller?”

  “My usual,” Arch said. He swung around in his chair and his gaze rested on Merry. “My usual,” he said, “a long, cold ginger ale, with limes and lemons floating around in it. For effect, you know. A singer can’t drink.” He put up a slightly pudgy hand and touched the front of his throat. “Clog up the pipes.”

  His glance swiveled from Merry to Tammy. “Hey,” he said, “now where did you come from? You’re beautiful. Did you know that?”

  Jeff said intimately to Merry, “That’s one of Arch’s failings—he’s fickle. He can’t help himself. But take me now, I’m the faithful kind.”

  Arch said, “That’s the honest truth he’s telling you, too.” He swung his gaze back to Merry. “How’d you like my song?”

  Merry said, carefully honest, “I wanted to cry.”

  “Do tell,” he said. His voice was soft, and his eyes on her face held no mockery. “Them are West Virginia hill songs, honey. And them kind of songs can be sung only one way, and that’s from the heart.”

  Tammy said, a sudden throb in her voice, “Isn’t that Natalie Pries coming over here?”

  Jeff had been talking idly with Merry. He turned his head now, and looked up at the girl who paused at their table, one hand resting lightly on a slender, curved hip.

  “Visiting cousins, sweetie?” she asked, in her famous sultry voice, her lips pouting at him.

  “These two cuties are kinfolk of mine from West Virginny, sweetie,” Arch drawled. “They come here to get themselves in the movies.”

  Natalie pointedly ignored him. Her large dark eyes with their sweeping tangle of lashes swept Merry’s face and then Tammy’s.

  She said pouting, her glance warm and intimate on Jeff Morrow’s face, “Sweetie, I thought you said you had to help a friend out tonight.”

  “That’s what I’m doing,” Jeff said lightly.

  She smiled at him. All the critics agreed that Natalie Pries had the sexiest smile in the business. “I know a friend who needs helping out, sweetie,” she said. “Cocktails tomorrow at eight? Okay, Jeffie?”

  There was a tightening in Jeff’s voice. “Don’t call me ‘Jeffie’, Natalie,” he said.

  “All right, sweetie,” Natalie said, not at all upset. “Don’t go snarling at me. I’ll expect you tomorrow. Now you be there. Hear?”

  She swept off, in a tangle of mink and silk and perfume.

  Jeff stared after her for a minute, and then he brought his gaze back to Merry’s. “There’s a terribly mixed up kid,” he said. “What she needs is the kind of guy who’d sock her any time she got out of line. She’d respect a guy like that. But she was born with a beautiful face and that louses everything up. Now, what was it we were talking about?”

  “I can’t remember,” Merry said stiffly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to freshen up a bit.”

  “First door at the end of the hall,” he told her.

  Merry looked at Tammy, who shook her head. “I’m going to dance with Arch,” she said. “He’s only got a few minutes before he has to get ready for his next set.”

  Merry applied more lipstick and smoothed her hair. She hadn’t really wanted to freshen up. She’d only wanted to get away from the table for a few minutes.

  She stared miserably at her reflection. “I don’t belong here,” she whispered. “Arch Heller and Jeff Morrow aren’t my kind. They know too much; they have too much.”

  “Well, and how is the hospital holding up without you?” Mai Hinge’s cold, sarcastic voice stabbed at her back.

  Merry snapped her purse shut and got to her feet. She said, keeping her voice level, “I don’t work day and night at the hospital.”

  “My, my,” Mai said. “I thought the dedicated ones did just that.”

  She pulled out a cigarette and pushed it into a jeweled holder. “How’s our special friend, Pierson?”

  “He’s going home day after tomorrow,” Merry said, heading for the door. She had no desire to get into a discussion with Mai about Pierson Webb.

  As if she knew what was on Merry’s mind, Mai laughed. She said coldly, “I’m not interested in Pierson at this particular moment.” She pointed the cigarette holder at Merry. “Do you know who Jeff Morrow is?” she demanded.

  “He’s an attorney,” Merry answered. “A friend of Arch Heller’s.”

  Mai’s eyebrows rose and she said, with deliberate amazement, “My, my, but you do roll names around on your pretty pink tongue, don’t you?”

  She put the holder in her mouth and puffed. “Jeff Morrow,” she said, speaking past the holder, “is Natalie Pries’ current heart throb. Natalie wants Jeff. And if you think a little nobody nurse is going to change that, then you aren’t even as smart as you look.”

  “Mr. Morrow’s romantic attachments are no concern of mine,” Merry said. She swept towards the door, intending to make a regal and dignified exit, but picked the wrong door. Mai’s amu
sed laughter sounded behind her. “The other door, sweetie. That one leads nowhere.”

  Jeff glanced up as she came back to the table. “Now that you’re all prettied up,” he said, “let’s dance.”

  He swung her out onto the floor. He held Merry just a bit too close, so that she was vibrantly, unhappily, aware of his nearness.

  “I don’t like this man,” she said to herself. “He’s cocky and sure and he thinks all he has to do is to turn on the charm and the women fall at his feet.”

  “You’re thinking the wrong kind of thoughts about me,” he teased her. “I can always tell. You can’t ever fool a lawyer.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Merry said, her voice strangely sharp.

  He laughed down at her and his arm tightened almost imperceptibly. “You aren’t like your friend,” he said. “You’re soft and feminine. She looks soft and feminine, but she isn’t. She’s wanting. She could become grabby and greedy; you never could, because the only thing you’d ask from a man would be love.”

  Merry said, “You’re only making noises, and I’ve heard those noises before.”

  He said softly, “Heard and listened and got your heart broken? I’d never break your heart, Merry. I’d treasure it too much.”

  Merry was glad that the music ended just then. When they got back to the table, Tammy was there. “Arch showed me backstage,” she said, her eyes shining. “Did you know,” she asked Merry, “that Pierson Webb was the one who gave Arch his big chance? He was telling me.”

  Chapter Six

  Agnes lay stiffly on the bed, unable to relax. She didn’t cry. There were no more tears left in her. She’d cried them all on the flight back from San Francisco.

  She had not given in to her mother’s request that she talk to the doctor about Ellen. She had assured her mother vehemently that there was nothing radically wrong with the child. She was a nurse, wasn’t she? She knew a little about symptoms, didn’t she? Well, she had never seen any symptom, not the tiniest, to warrant a diagnosis of heart damage. The doctor had been mistaken. It was as simple as that, and she was not going to discuss it, she told her mother calmly.

  What she was going to do was to use her time visiting with Ellen. She’d hugged her small daughter to her, and the two of them made all sorts of elaborate plans for her two-week vacation from the hospital.

  She stared up at the blackness of the ceiling. She wouldn’t wait until her vacation came up; she’d ask for a leave, and borrow enough money to rent one of those terribly expensive cottages that hugged the ocean. And with two weeks of sand and water Ellen would be rosy-cheeked and tanned and healthy and then…then…she’d go with her mother to see that doctor.

  Her breath caught in her throat, and tears came from under the tightly closed lids. “God,” she said, “Ellen’s all I’ve got. You know that.”

  She drew an unsteady breath. “Didn’t I pick myself up and start punching again after Harvey walked out on me? Did I whine and cry about it? So all right… You’ve got to quit messing up my life. Please!”

  She let out a choking cry which she quickly smothered.

  But Merry, lying halfway between sleep and wakefulness in the other bed, heard the stifled sound and turned over on her elbow facing Agnes.

  “Agnes,” she said softly, “is something wrong?”

  Agnes lay very still, pretending sleep. “Let her think I had a dream and cried out in my sleep,” she thought.

  Merry listened for a few moments, and then relaxed and rolled over on her back again.

  It had been a wonderful evening. She was glad she’d gone. She liked Arch Heller. He was natural and fun-loving. Nothing at all phony about him in spite of his success. And he had seemed quite taken with Tammy.

  She frowned. It made her feel guilty to be lying here thinking of the lovely evening she’d had, while Agnes… She bit at her lip. Was she really asleep?

  When she and Tammy had come home from the Alibi Club Agnes was already in bed and asleep, or at least pretending to be asleep. Tammy, yawning, had said, “Her friend must not have been nearly so bad as Agnes’ mother let on, or Agnes certainly wouldn’t have come home and gone right off to sleep like that. Even I would have sat up for a while worrying about it. Or I’d have stayed over in San Francisco, or something.”

  Merry turned towards Agnes’ bed again, listening. There was no sound. Tammy had a lot more sense than she did. She took things philosophically. She didn’t run around trying to find things to worry about.

  Agnes had had a bad dream. If she’d been awake, wouldn’t she have said something?

  She closed her eyes and tried to drift off to sleep, but she couldn’t. Because a thin, handsome face and a pair of amused blue eyes kept getting between her and sleep.

  “Jeff’s very attractive,” she told herself firmly. “I found him attractive. I might even enjoy having him kiss me.” She decided that it was best to be absolutely honest with herself. But finding a man attractive did not mean you automatically fell in love with him. Besides, she didn’t believe in love. She’d never be that naive again.

  She decided to count sheep. The last sheep she put over the fence just before she fell asleep had a face remarkably like Jeff Morrow’s.

  Agnes lay not daring to move for fear she’d wake Merry. Tammy slept like a log. She wouldn’t wake up if she turned on the record player and did the Bossa Nova.

  She was right about Tammy. She was having wildly wonderful dreams of Arch Heller’s dancing her into Pierson Webb’s office and saying, “Here’s a gal who’ll make Natalie Pries look like cold mashed potatoes. Just give her a try. On my say so, huh? You won’t be sorry. I guarantee it.” She smiled in her sleep, stretched her arms high above her head in a childish gesture, rolled over on her other side, and sighed.

  Agnes waited a few minutes and then got up, damning the bed for the creak it made at the least movement. She carefully eased her feet to the floor and walked soundlessly across to the window that looked out at the darkness of the street.

  Lights still blazed farther uptown. Horns still sounded; lights still pierced the smog. An occasional giggle, high and shrill, drifted up from a passing car.

  When Agnes first came to Hollywood she’d wondered scornfully if people here ever went to bed.

  Now, sitting alone in the darkness, she was not so scornful. Going to bed did not necessarily mean going to sleep. Sometimes it meant thinking. And thoughts could be hurting things, leaving you naked and lonely and afraid.

  She sat for a while longer and then went back to bed. The sounds in the room were peaceful, normal sounds. The breathing of the other two girls; the movements they made in turning; an occasional muttering in their sleep.

  “Oh, Lord,” Agnes thought, “I’ve got to get some sleep.” A nurse could not afford the luxury of lying awake being afraid. She had to be on her feet in the morning, alert, mindful of everything.

  Besides, there was nothing to be afraid of, Agnes assured herself. Her mother had merely misconstrued what the doctor had said. She’d always been a worrier, hadn’t she? She’d probably put her own worry into what the doctor had actually said, and then relayed the garbled version to Agnes.

  She punched at the pillow under her head, trying to firm it. “Go to sleep,” she told herself grimly.

  By morning the smog had begun to disappear, and, as Merry remarked, it looked almost as if the sun might be visible by afternoon.

  “Oh,” Tammy shrilled as they ran for the bus stop, “what you said!”

  Merry shot her a glance, “What do you mean, ‘what I said?’ What did I say?”

  Tammy threw her a mock scowl. “The sun always and forever shines in Southern California. You must never forget that. To say what you did is a positive sacrilege.” She pushed forward. “Hey, that’s our bus.”

  The bus lumbered to a stop and the girls found seats in the back.

 
; Tammy said, “But I wouldn’t want to live anyplace else. I love it here. Why, where else can you walk along a street and spot some celebrity, or bump into one while you’re shopping, or…”

  Merry gave her a humorous glance. “Or be walking along a hospital corridor and be tapped on the shoulder and have someone say, ‘I beg your pardon, but how would you like to be another Natalie Pries?’”

  Tammy tossed her head. “It could happen just like that,” she said. “Don’t knock dreams. They’re good therapy. Ask any doctor.” She narrowed her dark eyes. “What’s to laugh about?” she asked. “Where else would you get a lift, in a white Jaguar yet, and find the driver was Arch Heller? I ask you.”

  Merry laughed and shook her head. “I admit defeat,” she said.

  Agnes turned away from them, gazing out at the moving traffic. In spite of her resolve, she had slept little.

  The girls were silent for about a block, then Tammy, never able to bear silence, leaned across Merry and asked, “How was your friend? I figured that since you were asleep when Merry and I came in last night, you must have found her lots better than your mother said.”

  Agnes nodded and forced a wry smile. “Everything is a catastrophe to my mother. My…friend…is going to be fine. Nothing wrong with her that a little rest and sunshine won’t cure.”

  Tammy smiled warmly at her. “I’m glad for your sake,” she said generously. She pulled back into her own seat and glanced around at the bus that was by now crowded, hot and stuffy.

  “One of these days,” she said, “I’m going to be rich, and have myself a white Jaguar. With air conditioning.”

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Merry jibed. “I thought of that hours ago.”

  Tammy grinned. “Okay,” she said, “I won’t quibble. We can both have white Jaguars.” She turned her bright gaze to Agnes. “How about you, Agnes? Do we make it three?”

  Agnes shook her dark head and, trying to enter into the spirit of the game, said lightly, “Not me. I abhor small cars. I like mine big, long, and attention-demanding.”

  “Well, wow!” Tammy said. She gave Agnes a teasing look. “No one would think, to look at you, that you were that kind of girl!”