Beauty and the Brain

by Duncan, Alice

  Brenda pressed down hard on George’s left shoulder. She saw Colin gulp hard and do the same with George’s legs. Martin shut his eyes and turned his head so he couldn’t see the operation progress. The doctor positioned one hand on George’s right shoulder and the other on his wrist. Then he pulled. George cried out and his body jerked, but neither Brenda nor Colin let go.

  It seemed like forever that the doctor pulled that poor arm, but it could have been only seconds. There was a terrible grinding noise, George whimpered pathetically, and that was it. Almost as soon as he’d begun, the doctor grabbed the splint he’d set by and began bandaging,

  “Keep holding him,” he said crisply.

  Brenda and Colin, exchanging a glance of anguish, did as bidden. George had his eyes shut so tightly, Brenda couldn’t even see his eyelashes. Tears squeezed out from under his closed eyelids and sweat poured from his body. He seemed so young and so vulnerable, and he was in such dreadful pain, that she wished she could hug him to her bosom and comfort him as his mother might have done in these circumstances, had she been here.

  Which would never do. George was, to all effects, an adult man, and she was a woman, and nobody in the whole world would understand. Indeed, George’s brother would probably accuse her of trying to seduce the boy.

  After an eon or three, which could only have been a few minutes, the doctor tied a white sling bandage around George’s neck to hold the splint in place and said, “There you are, young man. You two can release the patient now.”

  Brenda complied, giving George a little pat on the shoulder as she did so. So did Colin; then he sat with a thump on a chair beside the chaise and buried his face in his hands. Brenda feared he might faint.

  “Are you all right, Colin?” she asked, thinking she probably shouldn’t have. Men were so sensitive about these things.

  But Colin nodded and didn’t snap at her, so she guessed he didn’t mind too much. Martin, she noticed, was as white as a sheet and was tossing back a small brandy. She grinned. Bless Martin’s heart. He wasn’t shy about showing emotion. Not like some men she could name. She wanted to hug him, too, but didn’t dare.

  Instead, she asked quietly, “Would you like a little brandy to steady your nerves?”

  “No. Thank you.” Colin’s voice sounded very strained and scratchy. Which Brenda understood. She felt as if she’d been dragged through a thousand miles of barbed wire fencing and then thrown into an alligator pit. And she couldn’t swim.

  As for poor George, she could see that his teeth were clamped tightly together. She feared he might break his jaw if he kept that up. With his left hand, he had the edge of the chaise in a death grip. He’d drawn his knees up, and she got the feeling he’d have curled himself up in a fetal position and rolled back and forth except that his right arm was in such mortal agony. She glanced at the doctor and risked asking, “Can we give him some laudanum or something else to deaden the pain now, Doctor?”

  The doctor had been puttering about, putting stuff back into his black bag. Brenda disapproved. While tidiness was all well and good in its place, she considered George’s plight of more importance at the moment. He looked up, frowning, which didn’t surprise her. She frowned back to let him know what she thought of doctors who cared more for their darned black bags than they did for their patients.

  “Yes, yes,” he said impatiently. “I’ll give him a dose of morphia now and leave a prescription with instructions. He shouldn’t take too much, as I’m sure you know. We don’t want him to get addicted to the stuff.”

  “I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Brenda said in a voice as dry as dust. “He only needs it for pain.”

  “For heaven’s sake,” Colin said, suddenly looking up from his cupped hands. “My brother is no drug addict! He needs some relief from that pain, and he needs it now. Will you snap it up a little? Please?”

  Brenda gave Colin a big smile. He noticed it, blinked at her, and looked confused, as if he didn’t understand why she was smiling at him. But she heartily approved his eagerness to end his brother’s suffering. He so seldom exhibited the characteristics of a normal human being; the fact that he was doing so now on behalf of his brother gave Brenda hope. For what, she didn’t know, but his attitude encouraged her anyway.

  “Very well. Here, young man, can you lift your head?” The doctor had a teaspoon poised in the air over George’s head. George couldn’t see it, since he had his eyes shut.

  Again suppressing an urge to sock the doctor in the chops for being a coldblooded, coldhearted, not to mention blind and deaf, son of a female dog, Brenda said. “I’ll help.”

  Ignoring the doctor’s black look, she knelt beside George and put her arms around him carefully, so as not to jar his recently bandaged arm. “Here, George, let me help you lift your head a little bit so the medicine won’t drip down your chin.”

  George opened his eyes, which were swimming in tears of pain, and gave her a stiff nod. “Thanks, Brenda.” His voice was a small, hoarse croak. “You’re a real pal.”

  “Nuts. You’re a brave guy. I’d want to be knocked clean out before anyone set any of my bones. Now drink this stuff. It’ll probably taste nasty, but medicine always does.”

  He gave a feeble chuckle, peered up at the doctor, saw his sour expression, and frowned back. Brenda got the impression he’d like to offer the doctor a few home truths but didn’t have the energy. He drank his medicine with a grimace and a cough, but he got it down.

  Brenda gently helped him to lie back on the chaise, making sure he didn’t do anything to jog his arm. “There. Now you just sleep, George. I’ll get you a blanket.”

  “Thanks, Brenda.”

  She could scarcely hear his voice and said, “Nuts,” again. She wanted to cry for the boy. He seemed so young and so hurt.

  “I’ll get a blanket for him. You stay here and watch him.”

  Surprised by Colin’s sudden entry into their conversation, she glanced up and saw him watching her with an odd expression on his face. She didn’t argue, but nodded and said, “Thanks.”

  “Really, he doesn’t need anyone to watch him He’ll be fine. It’s only a broken arm. It’s not as if he broke his neck”

  Furious at the doctor, Brenda said through clenched teeth, “He got bashed by a huge piece of lumber. It’s not just his arm, for the love of God. The poor boy’s a mess. And you’re a stinking, lousy doctor.”

  “Really, young woman, I don’t understand the manners prevalent in today’s females.”

  “And I don’t understand why you ever decided to become a doctor. You’ve got about as much compassion as a hungry crocodile.”

  The doctor grabbed his black bag and straightened up. Pointedly ignoring Brenda, he spoke to George. “I’ll look in on you later in the day, young man.” Since George was in too much agony to say anything, he turned to Martin and continued in his most cold and doctorly tone. “In the meantime, I’ll get a laudanum mixture prepared for him. He can take two teaspoons every four hours, depending on his level of pain.”

  “Good.” Brenda was generally more polite than this, but she’d begun to hate this ill-natured doctor. She didn’t even care that he was trying to disregard her presence.

  “The laudanum is only for the first two or three days,” the doctor went on, continuing to ignore Brenda and her mood—unquestionably because he didn’t give a hang what she thought of him, since she was a mere woman, and an actress at that, and shouldn’t be allowed to hold opinions in the first place, much less express them. “I’ll leave some salicylic powders, too. They are excellent for fever and for pain, although the laudanum is much stronger. The powders are less addictive and can be taken almost at will.”

  Martin, who had sunk onto the sofa after downing his shot of brandy, nodded. “I know a couple of people who take them for headaches.”

  “I wish I had a headache instead of this.”

  Brenda forced a fairly natural-sounding chuckle and patted George on the shoulder. “You’
re doing fine, George. You’re a bully patient!’ She looked up at the doctor and made a face. “Even if you don’t exactly have a bully doctor.”

  The doctor’s lips pursed; then he snorted one last time and marched out of the room. Brenda stuck her tongue out at his back. “What an icky man. I’m surprised the lodge doesn’t hire a better-tempered doctor. After all, people pay a lot of money to stay here.”

  “I’ll talk to the management about him,” Martin said. He still appeared shaken. “He really was a brute.”

  Brenda appreciated his promise, which she knew he’d carry out since Martin’s word was gold. “Thanks, Martin. That’s good of you.”

  He stood, hanging on to the arm of the sofa until he was sure his legs would hold him. “It’s only fair. If I’d hurt myself, I’d hate to have that troll working me over.”

  George was beginning to look slightly healthier. He even grinned a little. “At least he set the arm.”

  “I still don’t think he had to do it while you were awake and feeling it. I think he just likes to see people suffer.”

  George moaned softly. “If he does, I guess I made him happy. It was awful.”

  She patted his shoulder again. “But you’ll be all right soon, George. I’m sure of it.”

  “Me, too,” said Martin. Now that he was on his feet, he was looking healthier, too, and was eager to leave the sickroom. “Er, I’ll go talk to the management now. The sooner, the better, and all that.”

  Brenda nodded. She understood. Martin wasn’t exactly cut out for life in the medical field. He was better at making pretend stuff come to life on celluloid. “I’ll wait for Colin.”

  “Good. Good.” Martin fled.

  “Poor Martin.” Brenda smiled fondly as the door closed behind Martin’s hastily retreating form.

  “Yeah. He’s a good guy. He gave me a job, you know.”

  “I’m awfully happy to hear it. Will you be working in set design?”

  “Yeah. I’ve started sketches for an Egyptian epic.”

  “Wonderful. It must be either Cleopatra or Egyptian Idyll. I know Martin is looking forward to doing both of those, because he used to live in Egypt.” Brenda was encouraged to note that George’s words were becoming faintly slurry. “Are you in a little less pain now, George?”

  He nodded. “I think so. Can’t really tell.”

  “Good. I hope you’ll be able to sleep for a long time.”

  The door opened once more. When Brenda glanced up, she beheld Colin coming in. It looked to her as if he were holding at least two blankets, four pillows, a dressing robe, and some slippers. She could hardly see his face for all the stuff piled up in his arms.

  “Here,” he said. “I wasn’t sure what was needed, but I didn’t want to forget anything.”

  She rose and hurried to help him. “I don’t think you forgot a thing, Colin. Thank you.”

  George managed to slew his head around so he, too, could see his brother. “Yeah. Thanks, Colin.”

  Colin’s eyebrows rose. “The laudanum’s working, I deduce.”

  With a grin, George nodded.

  “Good. Here, let’s get you covered up.”

  “I’ll lift your head, George,” Brenda said “And Colin can place a pillow under your neck. That might make you feel more comfortable.”

  Without answering, George nevertheless got his appreciation across; Brenda read it in his warm brown eyes—about as brown, but much warmer, than those of his brother. Acting the good nurse, she tucked him in as if he were a baby. Which was fine. She figured people in pain who’d undergone procedures perpetrated by evil witch doctors who didn’t believe in anesthetics deserved to be pampered.

  By the time she was through fussing, George was fast asleep. She stood back, put her hands on her hips, and gazed down on him with a good deal of affection. “There. He’s all set for a little while, at least.”

  “Thank you very much Brenda. You’re a wonderful nurse.”

  Shocked, she jerked her head up so fast to stare at Colin, she nearly broke her neck. She couldn’t believe he’d said that—and in such a sincere voice. “You’re very welcome. I only did what anyone would have done.”

  He shook his head. “No, you didn’t. I honestly believe you could have set that arm as well as that dashed sawbones, and with less pain to George.”

  She licked her lips. She couldn’t believe Colin was actually complimenting her and meaning it. Fearing it some kind of joke or another ploy to get her into bed, she said hesitantly, “I didn’t care for the doctor myself.”

  He smiled at her. “No, I could tell you didn’t.”

  They stood there, staring at each other over the blanketed, pillowed, and exhausted form of the sleeping George, until Brenda couldn’t stand it anymore. The longer they stared, the more she wanted to leap over George’s chaise and beg Colin to make love to her. The notion of them parting and never seeing each other again—and of never experiencing the kind of passion Colin had offered, even if it didn’t include love and commitment—made her heart shrivel up.

  She made a decision then. She feared she’d regret it one day, but at the moment, it seemed only rational.

  Chapter Nineteen

  As Colin gazed at Brenda, he suddenly found it difficult to imagine her as a bit of fluff. He’d been trying to do that, he realized now. He’d been attempting with all of his resources to think of her as just another woman, more lovely than most, to be sure, but that was all.

  He’d pretended to ignore all of the evidence singling her out as a unique person, one with intelligence, integrity, spunk, honor, and huge capabilities. There was no way, in the face of her service to his brother, that he could keep the pretense alive any longer.

  Brenda was about as far from being ordinary as a woodpecker was from an eagle. She was special. She was wonderful.

  He was in love with her.

  And, what’s more, he feared this new understanding had killed off any possibility of their ever getting together. He supposed they could still be friends. That thought made his heart scrunch up into a little aching lump and his head pound.

  She broke the silence, which had become thick with unspoken emotions. “Um, I think I’ll stay in here with George for a while. I’m sure he won’t need me, but you never know. Something might go wrong, and I don’t trust that doctor to come back any time soon.” She frowned and it was a second before Colin realized her frown wasn’t meant for him “He ought to have secured a nurse to watch him, at least for a day or two.”

  “A nurse?”

  “Yes.” She cast him a quick, enigmatic gaze. “If you didn’t have the money for it, I’d have been happy to pay for her.

  “I don’t need your money, Brenda.” He knew his hot reaction to her offer was unreasonable. There was, after all, no law of nature or of God that dictated men should have more money than women. He, being a typical American male—although he’d have denied it unconditionally until this morning if anyone had accused him of such a thing—was offended by her offer anyway.

  She heaved a big sigh. “I’m sorry. I forgot how touchy you men are about that sort of thing.”

  You men. Colin swallowed hard, unhappy to know that Brenda had categorized him in such a fashion. If he’d behaved decently to her from the first, she probably wouldn’t have. Too late now. And there was no time left to re-establish himself in her eyes. He’d completely failed in this, perhaps the most important mission in his life. And the fact that he hadn’t recognized it as a worthwhile mission until now was no excuse. He should have seen it. The fact that he hadn’t only proved what George and everyone else in his family had been saying about him for years: He paid more attention to his studies than he did the people surrounding him. He cared more about historical folks than living human beings.

  Dash it, he hadn’t even recognized this particular characteristic of his, which he fully acknowledged and had done for years, as a flaw until this minute. But it was one. A gigantic, mind-boggling, misery-making flaw in his ch
aracter. He used to laugh about it, thinking it was amusing that other people were so involved with their fellow humans. He’d considered himself immune to such frippery.

  Until now.

  After a second interval of silence, Brenda let out a chuff of air and said, “I’m going to sit over here and see if I can find a magazine or something to read.” She headed for the sofa.

  Colin watched her back for a moment, then steeled himself for rebuff and asked, “May I sit with you? I’d like to stay here with George, too.” And Brenda. He wanted to stay with Brenda. For as long as she’d let him. He, didn’t dare say so.

  She glanced back at him from over her shoulder, her eyebrows lifted above those spectacular blue eyes, lending her exquisite features an expression of surprise.

  “Sure. I’m glad. For a while there, I’d wondered if you even cared what happened to your brother.”

  Immediately Colin bridled. He opened his mouth, to refute such a monstrous doubt on her part but never got it said Brenda intervened.

  “I’m sorry, Colin. I shouldn’t have said that.” She sounded as if she was nearly too tired to stand up any longer. When she sat, on the sofa with a soft “Whew,” he perceived that she was weary. Very weary.

  Her interruption had given him a chance to think about his objection. Recalling his first meeting with George at the Cedar Crest, he understood how she might have come by such an opinion of him, and he was ashamed of himself.

  Walking slowly over to the sofa, he said, “No. You’re right. Of course you thought I didn’t care. I gave you every reason to think otherwise.”

  He sat next to her, but not too close, fearing she’d tell him to get lost if he took any more liberties with her I heart gave another hard spasm. He could scarcely stand to think about how badly he’d mucked up his approach to Brenda.

  Mating rituals. Good God, he must have been out of his mind.

  She sighed again and stifled a yawn. “I know better now.”

  “You do?”

  Rubbing her eyes, she nodded. The gesture was uncharacteristic of her, and indicated to Colin how worn out she was. They’d been up awfully late last night, and she’d been terrified, which in itself was enough to drain a person’s energy. He’d been a beast in that instance, too. Glumly, he admitted to himself that he had a lot to make up for with regard to Brenda. In a gesture meant to mollify, he said humbly, “I haven’t been very nice to you Brenda, and I’m awfully sorry. I didn’t realize what a stiff-necked bastard I’d become in the past few years.”