by Peggy Gaddis
Long ago Kate had taken a secretarial course and had acted as her father’s secretary since a year before his retirement and the taking over of River’s Edge.
On this hot, humid morning she was busy at the big desk beside the window that looked out over the river. But even here, close to the shade of the giant live-oaks, and with the shimmer of the river beyond, there was no hint of a breeze.
Kate was clad with the informality that such a morning and the privacy of her own home made sensible. With her shining copper-colored curls whipped high on her head and held in place there with a green ribbon, wearing white linen shorts and a green and white top, her bare feet thrust into white sandals, she looked about ten years old.
A maid came to the door to say, “Miss Kate, Miss Chloe is calling.”
“Ask her to come in, Celie,” said Kate, and a moment later Chloe was laughing in the doorway.
“Hi, Katie darlin’,” she cooed sweetly, and opened her eyes wide as she looked about the very efficient office. “Goodness, what are you doing?”
“The month’s accounts, the day’s mail, and this and that,” answered Kate with a lightness she hoped didn’t sound too artificial. “I’m Dad’s secretary, didn’t you know?”
Chloe was perched casually on the corner of the desk, and Kate said, “Shall we go out on the terrace? There’s a faint rumor of a breeze out there, but frankly, I take very little stock in it. Would you like a glass of iced tea? Or lemonade, perhaps?”
“Spiked, I trust?” suggested Chloe hopefully.
“Could be, if that’s the way you want it,” Kate answered. “Only isn’t it a bit early?”
“Darling! It’s never too early for a mint julep, or an old-fashioned, and I have the most priceless news. We really should have something powerful with which to toast it!” laughed Chloe.
When the maid answered Kate’s ring, Kate said, “An old-fashioned for Miss Parham, Celie. I’ll have iced tea. And on the terrace, please.”
Celie said, “Yes, Miss Kate,” in an expressionless tone, but her eyes flashed to Chloe and away before she left the room.
Outside on the terrace, Chloe dropped into a wicker chair and drew a long breath, her eyes taking in the sweep of live-oak-shaded lawn, green and thick as velvet, that dropped away to the bulkhead that held back the river. There was a drift of white and purple petunias bordering the bulkhead, making a brilliant ribbon of color in the hot sunshine.
“The way you run this place, I’d adore living here. The way we had to run it — well, it had the possibilities, always, but we lacked the money!”
Kate set her teeth and did not answer. Chloe never failed to deliver some such barb whenever she came to River’s Edge. She seemed to have a perfect genius for making Kate feel an unwelcome interloper.
Celie came with the two drinks on a little tray and went away.
Chloe tasted her drink, nodded in satisfaction, and turned glowing eyes to Kate.
“Can you keep a secret, Kate,” she demanded like an eager child.
“Certainly not! So please don’t tell me one,” Kate answered her firmly.
“Oh, but I’ve simply got to tell someone or I shall simply burst!” Chloe was gay and excited and bright-eyed. “Scott has asked me to marry him!”
Her eyes were fastened avidly on Kate’s face, and there was an oddly disappointed look in her eyes as Kate showed no reaction whatever. None, that is, beyond the conventionally polite and pleasant surprise.
“Wonderful! You’re a lucky girl,” said Kate quietly.
“I am, aren’t I?” beamed Chloe. Her fingers curled tightly about the frosty glass she held, and for fear that her eyes might reveal something of her disappointment that Kate had not been bowled over by the news, she looked down into the amber-brown depths of the glass. “Of course I like to feel Scott’s not too unlucky, because of course I simply jumped at him and said, ‘Yes, yes, yes!’ He’s such a lamb!”
“I don’t know that I would exactly call him a lamb.” Kate felt a sudden, almost violent distaste for the silly, extravagant phrases these people applied to each other. “But he’s a very nice person. Dad is quite devoted to him. Thinks he has a very brilliant future and will go far in his profession.”
“He’s going a long way and soon,” Chloe said grimly. “He’s going to leave Hamilton, I can assure you of that. He’s lost down here in this little two-bit hick-town.”
Kate stared at her, wide-eyed. “But he seems perfectly contented here.”
“Oh, contented! That’s no way for a young man to be. There are all sorts of opportunities for brilliant young medical men, and I’m going to see to it that Scott realizes that! Atlanta first, I think; and then eventually New York.” Chloe was so superbly sure of herself, so arrogantly convinced of her ability to make Scott into whatever she wanted him to be, that Kate could not help staring at her, wide-eyed.
“That sounds pretty selfish.”
“Oh, I’ll keep his wishes in mind, too,” Chloe assured her blandly. “And I’ll decide what is best for both of us. Look at Doctor Graves. Now that he’s old and worn out and has given his all for humanity, what does humanity do for him? Gives him a kick in the pants and turns to a younger man. It would be all right if Doctor Graves had money to retire on. But he hasn’t, though if he could have collected ten per cent of all the bad bills he’s had, from the people he has served all these years, he could retire and drink himself to death with ease. Oh, no, that’s not for Scotty!”
Kate said uncomfortably, “I can see what you mean, but after all, isn’t it something for Scott to decide?”
Chloe gave her a slow, not very pretty smile.
“Ordinarily, yes,” she drawled. “But with me as Mrs. Scott, definitely no!”
When Chloe had gone at last, Kate came back to the office and sat down at her desk.
But for a long time she made no effort to concentrate on her neglected work. She sat very still, elbows on the arms of the chair, her hands locked tightly together. It was perfectly crazy that she should feel this deep depression, as though suddenly the hot sun had gone behind a thick dark cloud and a bitter wind had begun to blow. As though she had lost something infinitely precious, something dearly desired, something she had hoped but not dared believe that she would ever win.
For of course she was in love with Scott. She had been in love with him for a long time. And there had been moments when she had dared to hope that Scott was growing fond of her. They had been together a lot at River’s Edge, during his clinic visits; he had often stayed to lunch when the hours were over. They had dated gaily and lightheartedly, sometimes with Chloe’s tight-knit crowd that had opened to receive them with every evidence of delight.
Kate had read Scott with an accuracy that would probably have surprised that young man. She admired him as a man, and respected him as a doctor. He was good-looking, attractive, stimulating. The sight of him, the sound of his voice, stirred her to a sweet, breathless excitement. His gentleness, his skill, his devotion to his patients, deepened her respect and her admiration for him.
Her carefully ordered thoughts about Scott were shattered when the truth suddenly forced itself on her: “Respect? Admiration? You crazy fool, you’re wild about him. You’re madly in love with him, and you may as well admit it. And that little brat, with her silky yellow hair and her wet-violet eyes, has him in her clutches and she’ll ruin him and there isn’t one single blessed thing you can do about it. If she cared for him enough to be a good wife to him, you wouldn’t mind.”
And her rebellious, aching heart lifted its own voice in bitter denial and she stopped trying to argue with it. For no matter how fine a girl, how wonderful a person he might love — unless he cared for her, Kate, she would mind furiously and helplessly and bitterly. When Celie came to call her to lunch, she sat at the desk, her face hidden on her crossed arms, and she was weeping heartbrokenly.
- 11 -
Scott had finished the last call of the afternoon and stopped in at a neighbor
hood drug store to call the office and see if there were patients waiting, or if any calls had come in.
“There are no office patients, Doctor Etheridge,” said Miss Henderson. “But Mrs. Hanover called and wants you to stop in when you have time. It’s not an emergency call, or anything like that. But she would like to see you as soon as it’s convenient.”
Scott was tired and the day was very hot, and he had been looking forward to a cold shower, a change of clothes, and perhaps a half-hour of relaxation before he dressed for dinner.
He smothered an impatient sigh and said crisply, “I’ll stop in on my way home. If you need me, I’ll be there or at home until you close the office.”
“Of course, Doctor Etheridge,” said Miss Henderson, and then asked severely, “Have you had lunch?”
Scott managed a laugh. “A very pleasant one, thank you. The Turner child is doing nicely, and Mrs. Turner was so relieved when I told her Tommy would be able to go outdoors to play in another three days she insisted on my staying for lunch. Cornbread, buttermilk fresh from the churn, turnip greens, country ham, and a hot apple pie!”
“Wonderful! I’ll stop worrying about you, then, until tomorrow,” said Miss Henderson lightly.
Scott grinned as he left the drug store and got into his car. He was certainly being mothered, and he loved it. Miss Henderson fussed over him at the office; Miss Mowbray, at home, saw to it that he had a nice hot breakfast by just happening to be breakfasting herself when he appeared in the morning. And then there was Miss Mabel at the clinic at River’s Edge. He sighed as he started the car toward the Hanover place.
The sigh was not of unmixed satisfaction, unfortunately. In spite of the fact that the three older women who played so important a part in his life were determined to mother him, and for all his appreciation of it, he was not an entirely happy young man. His work in Hamilton was being well received. His list of patients was growing, not by leaps and bounds, but slowly, little by little. Doctor Searcy at the hospital was friendly and cooperative. There was only one thing, and he was unwilling to admit it even to himself. The day had been a hard one. The death of a patient, even when she was old and worn out and unafraid, is always a painful thing to a doctor worth his salt. And he had admired and respected, yes, even loved old Mrs. Brownlee.
It was only at such times as these, when he was tired and depressed, that he thought of Chloe with something so nearly like distaste that it shook him badly. He was in love with Chloe, he reassured himself vehemently. Yet he realized, though he tried to deny it, that the very vehemence with which he repeated it was in itself a dangerous symptom of something he didn’t want to believe. Chloe was dear and lovely and alluring. And the fact that her parents had given their gracious consent to the marriage and had even gone so far as to offer the upper floor of their home as an apartment for the newlyweds was something for which he should be very grateful.
His reluctance to face the fact that he was engaged to be married and that the engagement was to be formally announced in a week was only because he was tired.
He parked in front of the Hanover house, took out his instrument case and went quickly up the walk, as though to convince himself that he wasn’t tired at all.
The door swung open before he could ring and Liss stood there, tall and slender and smiling in a turquoise-colored housecoat, zipped from throat to heel and sashed in silver.
“Do come in, Doctor,” she greeted him. “Your patient has rallied.”
“That I can see with half an eye, and very pleasant seeing, too,” said Scott. He put down his hat and instrument case and followed her into the living room.
Liss curled herself in a deep wing chair and smiled at him.
“Tea, Doctor?” she suggested, her hand hovering above the bell-button.
“Oh, so this is a social call? Would you be shocked if I asked for tall iced tea, if possible with a sprig of mint on top?”
“It’s a wicked waste of mint, since mint was supposed to be used on stuff stronger than iced tea, but we strive to please,” said Liss gaily, and when the maid came, ordered, “tea, please, Julia. With mint.”
The maid went out and Liss studied Scott, as he sat relaxed in a wickedly comfortable armchair. The laughter went out of her eyes and she said quietly, “Tired, Scott?”
“A little,” he admitted. “Mostly, it’s that Mrs. Brownlee died this morning. I tried so hard, and it makes me feel so useless.”
Liss let him talk it all out, and when he had finished, he looked up at her, put down the empty, chilled glass and said quietly, “Thanks, Liss. You’re a friend.”
Liss looked down into her own glass, and was silent for a moment. And when she looked up there was a mist of tears in her eyes and her soft mouth was tremulous.
“I owe you so much, Scott, so terribly much. It just occurs to me — the idea is not particularly new; I’ve had glimmerings of it for some time — that you’re a pretty wonderful guy, Scott.”
“Oh, come now.”
“No, let me finish, Scott. And don’t bother blushing. You’re going to hate me before I’ve finished,” Liss was terribly earnest. “You see, Scott, I’m going to New York next week. I talked to Clay on the telephone yesterday. It was my birthday, Scott, and he remembered and called me. He thinks we can make a go of it, and he wants to try, and so — well, we’re going to.” She brushed the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand and smiled at him warmly.
“I’m terribly glad, Liss.”
“You should be. You’re the one that brought it about.”
He looked startled. “I did?”
She nodded. “By diagnosing the thing that has kept me from sleeping, that has made me neurotic. Oh, Scott, please believe that if I hurt you now it’s only because I love you. I do love you, Scott, as my dearest friend, as a wise and kindly and interested slightly older brother.”
“Here, here, what’s all this?” Scott was puzzled.
“Scott, you mustn’t marry Chloe,” said Liss, as though the words were so difficult to speak that she could only throw them at him like small stones and then sit back and wait, frightened but determined.
Scott stood up, his jaw hard, his eyes cold.
“I’m sorry; Liss, but you must be out of your mind. I can’t sit here and listen to an attack on my fiancée.”
Liss pleaded swiftly, “Wait, Scott, please. No one else will tell you these things.”
“I’m quite sure of that.”
“But I am so deeply in your debt, Scott, because you’ve helped me clear up the mess I was making of my life, and I can’t just sit idly by and watch her mess up yours,” Liss pleaded, and now she was on her feet, her hand on his arm, holding him when he would have turned to the door. “Oh, please, Scott, listen to me. You like Hamilton, don’t you? Your life here, your friends?”
“Very much.”
“And you have no intention of applying for a position in one of the big, fancy hospitals in Atlanta and setting up offices there and specializing in some fashionable disease or other?” Liss demanded.
In spite of himself, Scott grinned a little, though it was a grin that was still taut with anger. “Have you gone completely out of your head, Liss? What would an ordinary, run-of-the-mill general practitioner like me be doing in a fancy Atlanta hospital? And what in heaven’s name would I specialize in? And what would I use for money to finance such specialized training?” he demanded. And now the whole thing seemed in the nature of a joke, even if it was in rather bad taste.
“That’s what Chloe is planning for you, Scott,” Liss told him swiftly. “She is hinting around that maybe Tim Ryan likes you well enough to finance you for a couple of years while you do your special training. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Scott. It’s the truth. I don’t know whether she has talked to Tim yet or not, but I wouldn’t put it past her.”
“Liss, I’m beginning to wonder if you’d better go to New York after all,” said Scott sharply, “unless you agree to detour for a few months treatm
ent by a top-flight psychiatrist. Even if Chloe had any such absolutely cockeyed ideas in her head — ”
“Take it from me, pal, she has!”
“In that case, very little could be done without my consent. And do you think for one small, infinitesimal moment I’d let her get away with any such thing?”
Liss said quietly, “I’m not ordinarily a betting woman. But want to make a little bet that six months from the day you marry Chloe, you’ll be winding up the details of your practice in Hamilton and moving on to larger and more ambitious fields?”
“I never bet on a sure thing, and I’d hate to see you lose,” Scott told her grimly.
Liss lifted her lovely shoulders in a shrug and smiled at him.
“Oh, well, don’t ever say I didn’t warn you,” she said lightly, and slid her hand through his arm and walked with him to the door, where she stood watching him as he went down the walk and got into his car.
Scott drove to the cottage that was more home to him than any place he could remember in his orphaned life, and left the car in the drive, should there be a call. He let himself into his shabbily comfortable apartment, dropped his instrument case and his hat, and stood for a long time staring straight before him, his eyebrows drawn together.
For the moment he forgot the cold shower and the change of clothes that he had been anticipating so much. What Liss had told him had shaken him badly, for all that he denied it to her and now tried to deny it to himself. Chloe couldn’t possibly have any such ideas as Liss had mentioned…. Or could she?
He had no thought of attempting to specialize; he had always wanted to be simply a general practitioner, a family doctor. He liked it; he liked Hamilton; he liked the people. Move to Atlanta? Try for a job in an Atlanta hospital? Specialize? The thought was actually funny. And where would be the advantage to Chloe of his working in a hospital? Regular hours, perhaps, though there were not many “five o’clock surgeons” in hospitals these days; very few whose hours were hard and fast and who could count definitely on being off duty at five o’clock in the afternoon. There would be a regular salary, of course. That might be an advantage, perhaps, to a woman brought up as Chloe had been, though surely when she had promised to marry him, she had known that their income would be uncertain.