She picked up the chart the nurse had hooked to the end of the bed. “Your name is Winslow, is that right?”
“Yes. Tyler Winslow.”
“Tyler? Is that a nickname?”
“No. My mother’s brother was named that. She wanted to keep the name going.”
“Unusual name.”
Tyler studied the young woman as she took some instruments out of a cabinet. He had forgotten how attractive she was. Once again her hair was pulled back into a bun, emphasizing her beautiful blue eyes and incredibly even complexion. When she came closer, he noticed her full name on her name tag: Jolie Vernay. He sat still as she examined his head.
“It looks like it’s healing very well. We can take the stitches out.”
As she began to remove the stitches, Tyler felt her firm grasp and noticed also a faint perfume. “I never went to a woman doctor before.” When she did not answer, he said, “Where I come from we don’t have too many doctors of any kind.”
“And where is that, Mr. Winslow?”
“Africa.”
Jolie leaned back. “Africa?”
“Yes. My parents are missionaries there. I only came here a few years ago to go to school.”
“I’ve often wanted to go to Africa. I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance.”
“It’s quite a place,” he said. Then he asked curiously, “You said you’re from France?”
“Yes.”
“Did you come to this country to study medicine?”
“No.”
Tyler waited for her to explain, but she did not. He tried to make conversation as she went back to work on his stitches, but she only supplied brief answers.
Finally she stepped back and said, “There, all done. I’d try not to get hit in that spot again if I were you.”
Tyler grinned crookedly. “I’ll try. Listen, when you get off, do you suppose we could get something to eat?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“I might have a relapse. I’d need a doctor there.”
The woman smiled, and he saw an appealing dimple on her right cheek. “You have a dimple,” he remarked.
Instantly the smile went away. “I hate it.”
“I think it’s cute.”
“Well, I don’t. Now, you’ll have to excuse me.”
“I really would like it if you would come out and have dinner or at least coffee with me.” She appeared to be examining him, and he said quickly, “I may have a lot of faults, but I’m rather persistent.”
Somehow his remark amused Jolie, and she said, “I won’t be off for two hours.”
“It’s a date. I’ll meet you in the waiting room in two hours.”
****
As Jolie stepped out into the waiting room, she saw Tyler Winslow relaxing in a chair. He got up at once and came over.
“Are you finished?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m starved. How about you?”
“I’m always hungry when I get off.”
“Do you have a favorite place close to the hospital?”
“I have a favorite Italian place. Do you like Italian food?”
“I love it.”
The two walked to the small restaurant called Gregorio’s. “They have very good Italian food,” Jolie told him as he opened the door for her.
When they entered, a short, rather rotund man greeted Jolie with a big smile. “Ah, Doctor, good to see you again.”
“Good to see you too, Gregorio. We’re awfully hungry. Just bring us something good. You pick it.”
“The very best for you, Doctor, and for your friend.”
As the two sat down, Tyler said, “You’ve been here before.”
“The food is cheap and good, and it’s handy to the hospital.”
Tyler was studying a painting of an Italian landscape on the wall near the table.
“Do you get involved in fights very often?” Jolie asked abruptly.
“Well, not as a rule,” Tyler said. “This one was sort of forced on me.”
“I’d like to hear about it.”
“It’s not a very pleasant story.”
“Are you ashamed of it?”
He felt like squirming. “I’m not proud of it.” He tried to change the subject, but the conversation was stilted, and Tyler was feeling more and more awkward. Finally Gregorio strutted from the kitchen with two plates held high and set them on the table.
“Escarole with fresh lemon juice, chicken parmigiana, and green beans with olive oil and lemon,” he explained. “This you will like!”
“Thank you, Gregorio,” Jolie said. “It looks delicious, as always.”
Gregorio made a little bow, and Jolie clasped her hands in her lap and bowed her head.
“That’s what my folks always do,” Tyler said when she opened her eyes.
“You don’t say grace over your food?”
“I’ve kind of gotten into bad habits since I’ve come to this country.”
“Tell me about yourself,” Jolie said as she took a bite of escarole.
“Well, not much to tell. I’m studying art. I want to be a painter.”
“I love paintings.”
“Really? What kind do you like?” he asked.
“I like the Flemish school. That’s one reason why I like New York. There are so many good museums. I’ve been to all of them, I think.”
“Maybe we could go to one together someday.”
Jolie took a bite of her chicken and chewed slowly.
“What about you?”
“I’m studying to be a doctor.”
“Well, I know that, but you’re from France? Why didn’t you study there?”
Jolie toyed with the food on her plate, shoving it around with her fork. Finally she looked up and said, “I had to come to America to help my father.”
“Your father? What’s wrong with him?”
“It’s not a very happy story.”
“I’d like to hear it.”
Jolie shrugged, and he saw again the strength that was in her. Her cool eyes seemed to mirror some sort of ancient wisdom. He was intensely aware of the perfect curve of her mouth, and her abundant brown hair lay smoothly pulled into the bun on her head. He was also aware, even as she sat there, of the lovely turnings of her throat and the clean-running lines of her body. “Do you have a large family in France?”
“Just my mother.”
She saw the question in his eyes and shrugged, a typical French gesture. “My father is an American. He fought in France in the Great War. He and my mother fell in love, but he did not like it in France, and she did not want to come to America, so they separated.”
“That’s a hard one. Have you seen him often?”
“No. Never until I came here. I was studying medicine at home, but when we found out he was ill and had no one to care for him, I came over to help take care of him.”
“Is he very ill?”
“He cannot live long.”
Tyler shook his head. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Tell me more about yourself, Mr. Winslow,” she said, obviously wanting to change the subject.
“Like I said, I’m studying to be a painter.” He took another bite of his chicken, savoring the flavor. Jolie turned her full attention to Tyler and began to ask him questions about his art. Tyler soon found that she knew as much about art history as he did. He found himself in awe of the combination of beauty and intelligence that she possessed.
As the two continued to talk, Tyler started telling Jolie about some of his problems with his parents and some of his bad behavior. “Hey, that’s enough about me,” he said. He wiped his mouth and put his napkin on his empty plate.
“Yes, it’s time to go. I have to see to my father.” She paid for her own dinner and thanked Gregorio for the fabulous meal.
When they were outside, Tyler said, “I’d like to see you again.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Maybe we could g
o to an art gallery or something.”
“I don’t think I’d like to do that.”
He was puzzled. “What’s the matter?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“It’s not hard to see. You don’t like me.”
“Mr. Winslow, we’re not going in the same direction. It would be pointless for us to try to see each other.”
“Why?”
“I will not date a man I wouldn’t consider marrying,” she said quietly, “and the man I marry must be strong. You are not a strong man. Good night.” She turned and walked toward the hospital.
Tyler stared at her, feeling his anger build, but as he started in the opposite direction, he thought, “Actually, I guess she’s right about that.” It was a discouraging thought, and he kept his eyes down in shame.
CHAPTER THREE
An Unwanted Good-bye
As October slowly passed, Tyler threw himself into his work at school almost in a frenzy. He had not heard from his parents, so he knew Chance had not informed them of his actions, which pleased him but at the same time made him feel guilty for keeping things from them. He felt like he had when as a boy he had hidden a misdeed from his parents.
For two weeks he steadfastly kept at his work, staying up late and rising early. Only three times did he go out with Caroline, which upset her. She did not understand his new work ethic any more than Tyler himself understood it, but she put his reluctance to spend more time with her down as a mark against her own charms. As a matter of fact, she had found herself falling in love with Tyler, which even surprised Caroline. Her father and mother were not happy about the situation, for they saw nothing in Tyler that could appeal to them as a son-in-law, but they knew they had spoiled their daughter to the point that she was difficult to reason with.
As hard as he tried, Tyler could not forget what Jolie Vernay had told him after they had dined at Gregorio’s. “The man I marry must be strong. You are not a strong man.”
More than once, after Tyler went to bed, that scene came rolling before him almost like a motion picture. He remembered the tone of her voice and the look of disdain in her eyes, and for hours he would toss in bed vacillating between dislike and desire.
There was something inexplicable in Jolie Vernay that drew him. Perhaps it was her clean beauty, but more likely it was the old story of the moth being drawn to the candle. She had hurt him and humiliated him with her words and with her attitude, but that did not seem to matter. More and more he began to grow introspective, and even when he worked for long hours on a painting, trying to blot out the memory of her words, they would come floating back to him.
In truth, Tyler Winslow had always been somewhat successful with women. He had never been seriously attached to any of his girlfriends, although he had fancied himself so a few times. His rugged good looks, quick intelligence, and cheerful wit appealed to women, and now for the first time, he was discovering what it was like to be rejected. It was humiliating. As time went on, he spent more and more time thinking of how he might change Jolie’s opinion of him.
****
Every time Tyler was anywhere near the hospital, he came close to going inside and asking Jolie out, but he always refused the impulse. “She’s nothing but a snob,” he muttered once. “I hope she winds up a sour old maid.” He knew this was not very likely, and finally the unpleasant truth pressed upon him that she was stronger than he was. She had left her home and come to a foreign country to complete an obligation that must be very difficult. He himself had never stuck to any course of action that had caused him any discomfort, and the thought that Jolie Vernay could do what he could not was a reproach to him.
Finally one Wednesday afternoon he found himself standing in front of the hospital gazing at the cheerless gray building almost as if it were a human antagonist. It was a cold day and already the sun was hidden in a bleak iron heaven in the west. The air had the taste of cold in it, and even as he stood there, a few flakes of snow fell on his face, burning slightly like tiny bits of fire. He turned his head up and studied the sky and blinked as the snow touched him; then with a burst of resolution he entered the building.
When he discovered that she was on duty, he told the receptionist, “I’ve got an important message for Dr. Vernay.”
“I’m sorry. She’s busy with patients,” the woman answered.
“It’s pretty important.”
“I’ll have to know more than that. We can’t have people interrupting the doctors.”
“It about a personal matter.” He leaned over and said, “Come on, be a sport.”
“Oh, go right on back,” the receptionist finally assented with a grin. “Let me know how it all works out.”
Tyler quickly turned and went down the hall. He found Jolie in one of the large rooms with several beds, standing over a female patient. He watched her for a moment, realizing he was probably setting himself up for another embarrassment. She’ll probably give me the bum’s rush, but she’ll have to be persistent, because I won’t quit.
When Jolie started around the bed, she saw him in the doorway and her eyes widened. She recovered from her surprise quickly and came over to him.
“Hello, Tyler.”
“Hi. I don’t mean to bother you, but I have something to ask you.”
“What is it?” Her eyes were cool as always, and she seemed on guard as she waited.
“Do you mind not standing there like you’re a soldier ready for an assault?” Tyler asked with some asperity. “I just wanted to ask you out again.”
“I thought I made myself clear about that.”
“Well, I didn’t make myself clear.” Having nothing to lose, Tyler went ahead with his plan. “I need to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“I can’t talk here.”
“Neither can I.”
Tyler smiled and winked at her. He’d had considerable success with his smiles and winks in the past. “What time do you get off?”
“Six o’clock, but I don’t—”
“I’ll be in the waiting room, and I won’t take no for an answer.” He was a bundle of nerves, and all the pressure that had been mounting in him was evident. “I’m not going to bite you,” he said. “I just want to have something to eat and talk.”
Jolie looked as though she wanted to turn and walk away, but finally she shrugged and said, “All right. We can have dinner—but that’s all.”
“Good. I’ll be waiting for you. I’ll be the one looking anxious out there.”
Jolie smiled, and the expression lightened her whole attitude. “I’ll be able to pick you out, then.”
****
Tyler took Jolie to a small restaurant he liked because it was usually quiet and a good place to talk. She only ordered a cup of soup and a salad, and he contented himself with a small sirloin steak and a baked potato. As they ate, Jolie was willing enough to talk.
She had had dinner the previous evening with some close friends of hers, Jack and Irene Henderson. Jack was one of the other medical students who worked at the same hospital, and the family went to the same church as Jolie did.
“You should have seen little Barbara in her high chair,” Jolie told him. “Irene put some peas on a plate in front of her, and she picked them up one at a time and dropped them on the floor. And then when she got tired of that game, she poked her finger into the ones that were still on her plate and squished them.” She laughed. “I love children. You never know what they’re going to do next!”
She went on to tell him about a mother who had brought her child into the emergency room that day, very upset that he had swallowed a penny. “I told the mother that the coin wouldn’t hurt the child, and she said, ‘But it’s a very valuable penny. It’s part of my collection.’ Here I was working myself up thinking she was worried about the child, and she only wanted the penny.”
“Do you get many like that? People who don’t really need a doctor?”
“Not too many. Although we sometimes
get some pretty grim cases there.”
“Some people die, I suppose.”
“Yes, that does happen. People hesitate to seek medical care until it’s too late, and they die before we can help them.”
“I don’t think I’d like to be a doctor. It sounds like a pretty depressing business.”
“Oh, not always.” She took a sip of her soup. “It feels pretty good when you help someone.”
“How long have you wanted to be a doctor?”
“Since I was a little girl, I think. Of course I never had any idea I could. We were very poor. There was no money for school, but my mother and I both worked hard and got me through college. My grades were good so I got into medical school. It’s been a struggle, though.”
As he listened to her, he felt a twinge of guilt. He had no hard luck stories to tell her, for his life had been much easier. He had two good parents, a fine brother, and a sister he was very proud of. Even though his parents didn’t approve of his choice of profession and wondered if he would be able to make a living with his art, they made it possible for him to study in New York. He felt a twinge of guilt at how lightly he had taken their sacrifices.
He poured some more steak sauce onto his meat. “Did you say your father is sick? That’s why you came to New York?”
“Yes. He’s in the last stages of lung cancer.” There was a slight tremor in her voice. She picked up her coffee cup and took a quick sip. When she put the cup down, she shook her head. “He was exposed to gas in the war, and his lungs were never strong after that. To top it off, he persisted in smoking, which I’m sure didn’t help anything.”
“What’s your dad’s name?”
“Dennis Franklin.”
“His last name’s not the same as yours?”
“No.” She sipped her coffee again. “He never married my mother.”
“Oh, I see.”
“He’s not a very strong man, Tyler. He always took the easy way out, from what Mother said. I think he loved her, but he couldn’t face up to taking a foreign bride home and making a living for her.”
Tyler digested that slowly and then he met her eyes. “Was it hard for you to come to the U.S. and take care of a man who . . .”
He wasn’t sure how to finish his sentence, but Jolie managed a smile. “Who’s done me a disservice? It was at first, but my mother is a wonderful woman. She married before I was born, so I was given her husband’s last name—Vernay. Of course, I grew up believing he was my father. My mother didn’t have any contact with my real father for years, and then two years ago we got a letter from him, telling us about his illness. She decided it was time to tell me who my real father was. It was a hard decision to come here, but I don’t regret it now.”
The Hesitant Hero Page 3