by Anne Vinton
“Go on with you. I’m not kind at all, just fatalistic. If he loves you, he loves you. Who can change it?”
“But what can I do about it?” Sylvia pleaded. “Tell me that!”
“Just follow your heart,” Sister advised gently. “That’s what they do in all the romantic novels.”
In the morning David was injected for severe pain and he lay quietly, day-long, with half-closed eyes. The news was kept from him that Harold Wilstrop had packed up during the night and left for Lagos.
Sylvia was content to leave most duties to Mike, and sat dozing intermittently by David’s bedside. Once, when she stirred, he asked her not to leave.
His fingers clenched over hers, and they were thus when Velda suddenly burst into the room.
“Well!” declared the newcomer. “So much for your promises, Dr. Phillips!”
“Send her away!” David pleaded.
Sylvia rose to her feet, still holding David’s good hand. “Please don’t upset him,” she pleaded. “I’ll come and see you later, Mrs. Carroll.”
“Oh, no, you won’t. I’ve decided to leave today. That is what I had to tell Dave. Martin and I are moving off in an hour, do you hear?”
“Yes. God speed!” groaned the patient.
“You’ve asked for it,” Velda said nastily. “I’ve given you dozens of opportunities to make up for the past, but you wouldn’t seize one. He’s stubborn,” she told Sylvia, “you might as well know.” Addressing David again she went on, “I’m past thirty now, and you can’t expect me to go on living like a nun forever.” He managed a weak smile. “So Martin is my choice, and you have no one to blame for it but yourself. Goodbye, then, David, and—I hope you are soon better.”
“Goodbye, Velda. Wish Shale all the best from me.”
“I will. Goodbye, Dr. Phillips. We don’t need to express regrets at parting, do we? See that he”—she indicated David—“gets all his injections and things.”
The door closed after her flouncing red skirt.
Sylvia looked down at her patient, wondering how he was reacting to the shock of his wife’s virtually running off with another man. To her amazement, he was sleeping peacefully.
She felt enough agitation for the two of them as she eased her cramped hand away from the grip of his fingers. Obviously there would be a delayed reaction to such momentous news, and it was up to her to do something about it. Martin, whom she had known and understood for many years, was the one to tackle. She confronted him in the bungalow as he was packing.
“Sylvia”—he looked heavy-eyed and sleepy—“how can you run about in this climate? You are a bundle of frantic energy. You exhaust me.”
“Martin, stop beating about the bush. You can’t do this to David, you know.”
“Do what to David, poppet? He doesn’t need me. That was very clear in theater last night.”
“Don’t make cheap and nasty digs, Martin. It doesn’t become you as my friend. You’re virtually going away with Velda, aren’t you? I mean you are—going to be together in—every sense?”
“Yes. But I shall make an honest woman of her, you dear old prude. We intend to marry.”
She felt weak and uncertain.
“But how can you—when Velda is married already?”
It was Martin’s turn to grow pale.
“I wasn’t aware of it. You mean the affair with Hogan wasn’t just a mild flirtation, as she told me? That he actually married her?”
“This grows more fantastic!” she cried. “Now Mike is involved. Where is it going to end? Martin, I mean simply that Velda is David’s wife. They have a son, also named David.”
“Dear old Sylvia!” he said affectionately. “Just how many bees have you under that bonnet of yours? I can see my pretty little spitfire coming across the compound, and she certainly isn’t going to like finding you here. Someone is going to relish correcting your misapprehensions, my dear, but I must relieve your mind very quickly on two points. Velda is a widow; she was married to your David’s younger brother. Her David is your David’s nephew and ward. His father most sensibly saw to that. Now scram, Sylvia, the back way! I don’t like to hear Velda scrapping with you, of all people. Don’t worry about me!” There was a brief understanding glance between them, then Sylvia fled.
David’s awakening, on the third morning, found him savoring once more the awareness of living, rather than mere existence. For one thing he had really slept for a few hours, not simply been pushed behind a suffocating curtain into limbo by means of a powerful drug. He felt hungry, too, a novel sensation indeed after his fill of pain.
Light lips descended on his brow. He opened his eyes and saw that the object of his thoughts had entered the room unobserved.
“I have a better report of you this morning, David,” Sylvia smiled happily. “You have slept fairly well and your temperature is down. Now, tell me how you feel in your own words.”
“Simply wonderful, Sylvia.” With his one good arm he managed to convey just how wonderful he felt, and he thrilled at her ready response. “Darling,” he ventured, looking deeply into her eyes, “I have been thinking we—we might stay on at Buwambo together. What do you say to that?”
“Oh!” She put her tongue in her cheek and frowned at him. “What’s wrong with Ebe Mula all at once?”
“You won’t be there, my darling. I know how you feel about it!”
“You do?” She raised her brows. “I don’t remember you ever asking me what I thought about the settlement.”
“But you turned me down because of it! You said you couldn’t contemplate such a step. I distinctly remember telling you my life was decided and dedicated before I met you, Sylvia, you do remember?”
She controlled lips that trembled to smile.
“Then what has gone wrong with the dedication?” she demanded.
“I banged my head against a brick wall,” he told her. “That is what falling in love with you has felt like. I can’t get around it—or through it. It’s just there blocking all other vision.”
She put her soft arms around him.
“I have teased you long enough, David,” she reassured him. “There have been so many misunderstandings all around I hardly know where to begin to explain. I thought there was something far more awesome than Ebe Mula between us.”
“What could be worse from your point of view than a prospective husband taking over the administration of a leper colony?” he asked.
“Another woman. Velda. I presumed a Mrs. Carroll must be your wife, even though estranged. In all our conversations nothing ever betrayed the fact that I was barking up the wrong tree.”
“Sylvia, you goose! Was that it? To think I might have lost you for a minx like Velda. What eventually put you wise to the facts?”
“Martin. He wanted to marry her. I wouldn’t let him while I had her married to you.”
“That’s rich! But while I’m enjoying the joke I’m busily thanking God you did find out in time. I’m presuming you are going to marry me, Sylvia?” His tone was suddenly serious.
“As I intend to work with you in Ebe Mula it might be more respectable if I did, David.”
She hid her burning face against his for a moment.
“I think I owe you the story of Velda before you go on duty,” he told her, after a few more exquisite moments. “When I was first a serious young practitioner I fell in love with the silliest girl I could have met, who needs no further introduction, being so obviously Velda. We became engaged. Then after some time I happened to come across an R.A.F. type who wished me to meet his fiancée. It turned out to be Velda. How she dared brazen it out, I don’t know, but she tried in front of both of us to explain her mistake. She didn’t marry the R.A.F. type either, but for a long time she pestered me with letters that I never answered. She declared she would always love me, no matter what happened. She threatened me with dire consequences to her fair self if I did not respond, which I had no intention of doing. Then I received a letter telling me of her marri
age to some fellow called John, who was a naval surgeon-lieutenant. The coincidence was too complete when she signed herself ‘Carroll.’ I knew she had married my younger brother to spite me mortally. She knew how I loved him. Of course she led John a merry dance; she gave him hell. Unfortunately she always had too much money and could afford to flit about where she willed, whereas John insisted on living on his pay. Her wings were clipped for a while when young David was born, but after a time the novelty of motherhood wore off, John was called to the Far East and Velda ran off with a hunter to South America. That is why my hackles were always up at poor old Blaine. He reminded me—you see? Of course John acted while all this was warm and took Velda’s father’s advice to have the child placed as a ward in Chancery, with the grandfather and me as guardians in the event of his own death. It was hardly concluded before John was lost at sea. A one-in-a-million chance. A collision between two ships in fog. John went to the help of trapped men and died with them.
“Velda came back from foreign parts as wide-eyed and wondering as ever. It was during a scene with her that I—I”—he indicated his bandaged hand—“smashed this in the first place. Otherwise it might have been her! I picked up the threads of my life and came here. The boy is all right—he lives with his grandparents. Velda can always see him when she wants to, but she prefers a freer rein than she is allowed at Skelton Court. She flits about Majorca or Las Palmas when she isn’t annoying me. You know the story from there. Shale had taken it up.”
“Will it be so bad?” Sylvia frowned.
“No. That young man thinks with his head, obviously, or he would never have allowed you to escape. I think Velda may settle down with him. I hope he sees to it that she makes it worth his while.”
“Well,” sighed Sylvia, “I must go to work now, David. There’s one thing I have discovered since your snake bite. A bit of gross deceit.”
“What’s that?”
“Baby Ku-Ku. You told me you were delaying removing the bandages. You didn’t tell me he still couldn’t see.”
“No.” David lowered his eyes. “I thought you might mind—too much. Such things happen to all of us. A success and—occasionally—a failure.”
“Well”—Sylvia squared her shoulders to ward off the natural disappointment she felt—“he still has another chance, hasn’t he?”
It was the night before the wedding. The lovers were enjoying a cool drink on the porch of the larger bungalow, which was to house them until they moved on to Ebe Mula together.
“I’m sorry I can’t offer you the usual honeymoon trip, Sylvia,” David sighed. “With that outbreak being confirmed at Ba-bai, we simply can’t be spared. Who would be a doctor, eh?”
“We would,” smiled Sylvia, watching a crescent moon gleam between the palm fronds high above. “If I wondered at myself before, I had my answer today when we took Ku-Ku’s bandages off and he responded to light with that great, frightened bellow. You think it will be a good eye, David?”
“No doubt of it. It requires a needling, but that’s a minor thing. I might even do it myself!” He was clenching and stretching the fingers of his right hand as he spoke. Conscious of Sylvia’s incredulous smile, he went on, “Of course you know I’m only kidding! But not for long, my girl, thanks to you! I held a needle today, and actually sewed a button on with it. This hand!”
“Darling!” gasped Sylvia. “I’m so glad. But don’t thank me. I had nothing to do with it. That night is a complete blank in my mind.”
As they stretched contentedly, tired with the day’s work, the blossoms of golden chalice poured out a rich incense in their nostrils.
“The mail arrived today,” David said dreamily. “Our friend Wilstrop—! There goes my girl! A shudder even at the mention of his name! What exactly happened, my darling?”
“Nothing, David. Nothing ever happened. He never harmed a hair of my head, as he keeps telling you. It was hysteria on my part.”
David reached for her hand and squeezed in understanding. “That I might believe of a girl like Velda. Not you.” Her fingers curled in his. “I know you’re the sort who would rather drink hemlock than...”
She sighed, losing all her fear in this sharing of understanding. “You’re right, David. That number four I produced from my pocket when you were bitten—I didn’t pack it with the other instruments.” She snuggled close, felt the reassurance of his arms around her. “Had Dr. Wilstrop anything further to say?”
“Not much. The hospital in Lagos requires a reference from me to prove he was not summarily dismissed. Have I to send one?”
“Yes, oh yes. His work was all right. Anything else of interest in the mail?”
“There seems nothing of interest about anything but that it’s my wedding day tomorrow,” he told her. “What a feeble world it is outside Buwambo, with my Sylvia here! Velda sent their wedding announcement. They had a bishop. You, my girl, will be on duty in hospital until midday, as I will. What’s this about not seeing your bridegroom on your wedding day? Obviously we’ll be bumping into one another every other minute. We might even have a nice, ripe old ulcer to tackle together!”
“David!” she protested, laughing. He always wondered at her laughter, rare and deep. “I don’t intend to have my wedding day belittled like this. I have a new dress, and that you will not see until I join you in the Mission. I also have a wonderful bridesmaid—Sister. You never saw her before in chiffon!”
“Lord!” gasped David.
“She is extracting every ounce of excitement out of the situation. It won’t be her fault if you see me before the ceremony. I am to have breakfast in bed, and all the staff are standing guard, so keep your eyes on your work if that ulcer develops, won’t you? I promise not to wear a mask, but a yashmak! Where is the ring?”
“Oh, Mike has that, of course. But he and Kalengo promised to leave Ba-bai at dawn to be on time. I can’t wait to see Sister all dressed up. You’ll see she doesn’t get in your place by mistake, won’t you?”
“Silly boy!”
“On the whole she has reacted pretty well, don’t you think?”
“She loves you very much. It was she who bullied me into marrying you. Dr. Carroll has to have everything he wants.”
“You’ll get your first spanking in one moment, my lady.”
“I can’t wait to see you try! I took six months of judo at St. Augustine’s!”
There was the daring of eyes, then they laughed together, like delighted children.
“Sister is rather offended about the fact that I won’t be sharing rooms with her tomorrow night. She wanted to enjoy a long, girlish chat about the wedding.”
David looked at her suddenly, saw her dimples and the little flush where they played; noted the curling of her lashes when the eyes evaded him. He was impatient. Twenty-four hours was too long to wait to know more of her. His arms sought her and she came. She lay malleable in his arms, her coolness sending needles of fire throughout his body. She was his own, there were no barriers between them now. Her gray eyes fastened on his and her lips trembled for kisses. She was not afraid of him, not fearful of the mighty tide that swept them along. Glorying in her trust, her love, her complete surrender, David gathered the tatters of his patience around him like a threadbare cloak, and gently put her from him.