Nurse Hilary

by Peggy Gaddis

  To Hilary and Dr. Marsden, having coffee at a small table in the dining room, it had been an exciting, stimulating night; and though they were both tired, they were happy in the knowledge that their skill and their devotion to their jobs had brought assuagement of pain. Which is, after all, the motivation that drives men and women to the practice of medicine.

  Dr. Marsden smiled at Hilary.

  “Tired?” he asked gently.

  Hilary answered his smile with one as warm.

  “But it’s good to be tired when you feel you’ve done a good job, isn’t it?” she answered.

  He studied her for a moment and then he said quietly, “You haven’t been happy here, have you, Hilary?”

  “I haven’t felt very useful,” she confessed frankly.

  “Well, I can understand that, of course,” he agreed slowly, scowling in his effort to assemble his thoughts. “And yet, every time I think of giving up my research in gerontology, I look around at the old people and realize that they, too, have a right to all the skill a doctor can offer. After all, there’s a lot of truth in Browning’s ‘Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be.’ I believe with all my heart that all of us have a duty to help people in their late years to realize that; but to do it, they have to prepare for it while they’re young.”

  He grinned at her wryly, thrust his hands through his dishevelled hair, and stood up.

  “I’m maundering! Five in the morning, after hours in an emergency clinic, and here I am burdening you with my inner convictions, justifying myself and my job.” He held out his hand, and drew her to her feet. “We’ll both be much better after a few hours sleep.”

  “All I need is a shower and a fresh uniform and I’ll be right as rain,” she assured him lightly.

  “You sleep late!” he ordered her. “You’ve earned it.”

  “What about you, with clinic hours beginning at nine?” she asked. “And your morning rounds before that, and then house calls?”

  “I think I’ll skip morning rounds,” he confided. “Most of our guests will sleep late, anyway.”

  “Middy and I will do the morning rounds,” she assured him firmly. “I’m sure there’s nothing we can’t handle here in the Club, anyway. And I’ll keep an eye on the ward, too. So you get some sleep.”

  “Yessum,” said Dr. Marsden meekly, a twinkle dancing in his eyes.

  The long corridor was deserted, and suddenly, she never quite knew just how it came about, she found herself close in his arms, and as she tipped back her head, startled, to look up at him, she was even more startled by the touch of his mouth, masterful, thin-lipped, ardent on her own.

  It was a kiss that took them both by surprise, and endured for a long moment, and then Dr. Marsden released her, looking as startled as she felt. For a moment he looked down at her, scowling, his eyes wide with shock. And then, without a further word to her, he turned and went away down the corridor, walking very fast.

  Hilary watched him, while the wild, tumultuous beating of her heart slowed a little; and then a small endearing giggle rose in her throat and she murmured into the soft, dim-lit darkness, “So he thinks he’s in love with me, does he? Well, bless the man, I think he is, too. And I know I’m in love with him.”

  She turned at last towards the stairs that would take her to her own room, and her eyes were alight, her face flushed with a lovely color, and she put up one hand tentatively to touch her soft mouth as though she expected to find there some tangible evidence of that kiss that had suddenly brushed away all the cobwebs of her doubt, doubt of his love and her own; because now she knew beyond any doubt that they loved each other and she was a little dazzled by the prospect of what the future must hold for them.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It was noon the following day and the T. & C. was just coming back to its usual routine after the night of excitement and confusion. Little groups of guests gathered in the club room and the solarium, hashing over and over their reactions to the bus accident and the arrival of the victims. The morning paper, of course, had already gone to press and was on the street before the accident had occurred; but the afternoon paper, they assured each other eagerly, would be sure to have a full account because there had been two reporters out, and there had been photographers with flash cameras. Some of the feminine guests were flutteringly uneasy that they might have been caught by one of those flash cameras in night attire and secretly hoping they had been, because it would break into the pleasant, but undeniably monotonous routine of life here to have one’s picture in the paper.

  Mrs. Keenan was still keeping to her room, and apparently knew nothing of the commotion of the night before. Her quarters were at the far end of the corridor from the wards, and though the noise of cars coming and going must have been audible to her, she had not appeared this morning, and she had been very grim and silent when a P.N. took her breakfast in.

  The arrival of Reid was greeted by the other guests with the friendly warmth with which they always greeted guests from ‘‘outside,” and this morning there was added excitement for them when they realized that Reid was not alone. Angela Ramsey walked beside him, her hatless head high, little spots of color in her lovely face, not smiling and greeting the guests as she usually did, but looking straight ahead of her, something very like fear in her eyes.

  They marched determinedly and silently down the corridor to Mrs. Keenan’s room, where Reid tapped lightly, and opened the door, ushering Angela in ahead of him, following her and closing the door firmly.

  Mrs. Keenan, propped up among a multitude of pillows of varying sizes, newspapers spread about her, took off her reading glasses and glared at them.

  “So you finally got here!” she blazed forth at Reid. “I had them call you yesterday morning, and here you come wandering in twenty-four hours later. Where have you been? And what’s she doing here?”

  “We’ve been getting married, Aunt Kate, and she’s here because she insisted on being with me when I told you our news,” said Reid quite firmly, and drew Angela to him and put his arm around her.

  Mrs. Keenan sat bolt upright, her eyes blazing, her old face contorted in angry amazement.

  “You’ve been doing what?” she cried furiously, unbelievingly.

  “Getting married,” said Reid quietly, and Angela’s heart overflowed with her loving pride in him as at last he stood on his feet and gave the Duchess back a dose of her own medicine.

  “You married to this—this little nobody? My nephew, a Keenan, married to—” the words almost choked Mrs. Keenan in her amazement and anger.

  “Angela has forgiven me for being your nephew since she knows it isn’t my fault,” said Reid quietly his eyes meeting the blazing old eyes quietly. “She overlooked the point, which I think was very big of her don’t you? And she also forgave me for letting myself become your favorite whipping-boy—and that’s something very few girls would forgive a man.”

  “Why—you—you—” Mrs. Keenan managed to regain her voice. “She forgives you for being my nephew? I’ll bet she does, but if she thinks either of you will get one cent of my money, you’re very badly mistaken!”

  “We don’t want any of your money, Mrs. Keenan.” Angela spoke for the first time since they had come into the room. “Reid wants to earn our living himself.”

  “I’ll have him fired from the job that he had only because he was my nephew—” began Mrs. Keenan.

  “Oh, that.” Reid’s tone threw the job away as of no importance whatever. “I gave that up yesterday.”

  “Oh you did, did you? And I suppose you propose to starve to death while you establish a practice of your own? Collection agency stuff, cheap divorce cases, defending chicken-thieves and the like?”

  “No, Aunt Kate,” said Reid pleasantly, his eyes quite cold. “I’ve already got a small office, a secretary, and the handling of Mr. Jason Hodding’s business affairs, with a retainer of twelve thousand a year.”

  Mrs. Keenan stared at him, dazed and incredulous.

/>   “I don’t believe it,” she snarled. “You’re lying. A man like Jason Hodding, worth millions, investments in all sorts of real estate—he’d never trust his business to a young whipper-snapper like you.”

  Reid grinned wryly.

  “Whatever my many faults may be, and you’ve pointed them out to me innumerable times, Auntie, lying is not one of them as you yourself know,” he reminded her.

  “Don’t call me Auntie!” she blazed at him. “You know I hate it.”

  “Sorry,” said Reid and didn’t sound a bit sorry. “Well, since I won’t be around much in future, it isn’t terribly important whether I call you Aunt Kate—or the Duchess. Angela and I’ll be running along. I am opening my new office on Monday and I’ve got to spend the rest of this week learning the details of Mr. Hodding’s affairs from his present attorneys.”

  He nodded to her, and with his arm about Angela turned towards the door.

  “Come back here!” Mrs. Keenan called furiously.

  Reid looked back at her over his shoulder, eyebrows raised politely.

  “Yes, Aunt Kate?” his tone was perfectly courteous, entirely without warmth.

  “Who’s going to look after my business, while you’re running around attending to Jason Hodding’s?” she demanded sharply.

  “Oh, I’m sure Latham and Shepton will be glad to continue to handle it,” Reid answered causally.

  “Those crooks! They were robbing me right and left when I put you in the office to watch them,” she wailed.

  “Oh, come now, Aunt Kate, they are perfectly reliable.”

  “Does your contract with Hodding forbid your taking on any more business?” she demanded sharply.

  “Of course not. I have to give his affairs precedence, of course—”

  “Then why can’t you take my business right along with you into your new office?” demanded Mrs. Keenan sourly. “I won’t pay you any such retainer as he’s giving you—perfectly ridiculous, twelve thousand a year. I’ll give you—well, maybe five.”

  Reid’s eyes danced for a moment.

  “Make it six, Aunt Kate, and it’s a deal,” he said pleasantly.

  “You robber!” she wailed.

  “You’re paying Latham—” he began gently.

  “Oh, all right,” she snapped furiously. “Six thousand a year. But mind you, I expect full value for my money.”

  “Of course, don’t you always?” asked Reid mildly, his eyes level and cool on her raddled, angry face.

  Because she was so angry and upset, tears of rage filled the old woman’s eyes.

  “This is the thanks I get for all I’ve done for you ...” she cried unsteadily at him.

  “Mrs. Keenan,” it was Angela who spoke now, and her tone was cool and level, demanding the old woman’s attention in spite of herself, “Reid and I are very grateful for all you’ve done for him.”

  “This looks like it, doesn’t it? Sneaking off behind my back, marrying a girl he knows I disapprove of, taking on the business affairs of somebody else, leaving me to a firm of thieves and robbers.”

  Angela eyed her for a moment and then she said quietly, “Didn’t anybody ever tell you Abraham Lincoln freed the slaves?”

  Both Reid and Mrs. Keenan stared at her, shocked to momentary silence.

  “You’ve dragged Reid around by the nose; you’ve used him as a whipping boy, taking your bad temper out on him no matter who it was that made you mad in the first place,” Angela told her. “And making you mad is just about the easiest thing in the world. You seem to dote on being mad at everybody and everything; it’s a sort of hobby with you to which you seem to devote practically every waking moment. Well, Reid and I are grateful to you for all you’ve done for him. I’m very bitter against you for what you’ve done to him. I’ll try very hard to forgive you if you behave yourself from now on out. But you must realize one thing: if anybody’s going to bully Reid from now on, it’s going to be me, not you!”

  And without waiting for Mrs. Keenan, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, to find an answer, Angela turned and marched out of the room, her head held high. And Reid, grinning what his aunt privately thought was an absolutely fatuous grin, followed her.

  Halfway down the corridor, Reid overtook Angela, and put his arm about her.

  “And if you ever let her yell at you again—” Angela turned to him stormily.

  “I won’t, I promise,” he answered meekly, eyes dancing. “From now on, nobody yells at me but you.”

  “She makes me so darned mad!” said Angela savagely, and drew a long hard breath and squared her shoulders. “So now, while I’ve got this good strong mad on me, let’s go break the news to Pop.”

  “Let’s,” Reid agreed firmly and grinned down at her as they walked hand in hand to Mr. Ramsey’s door, which Angela opened without knocking.

  Drew Ramsey, anxiously poring over the monthly records, looked up from his desk, annoyed.

  “Oh, Angela,” he greeted her curtly, and then saw Reid and his brows went up, as he glanced warily from one to the other, “And Reid. What’s this all about? I’m very busy—”

  “Too busy to shake hands with your new son-in-law?” asked Angela sweetly.

  Mr. Ramsey jumped up, under the lash of startled surprise, looking sharply from one to the other.

  “A joke, Angela?” he asked sharply.

  Angela met his eyes straightly.

  “Would I be likely to joke about such a thing, Pop? I’ve been pursuing him shamelessly for months and months and now I’ve caught him,” she answered and beamed happily up at Reid.

  “I didn’t have a chance, sir,” said Reid, eyes twinkling, and then instantly his mocking manner vanished and he put his arm about Angela, and the two of them faced Mr. Ramsey as they had, so short a time before, faced Mrs. Keenan. “No man who isn’t an absolute fool would want a chance, with a girl like Angela. I’m loaded with luck that she even tolerates me.”

  “Stop that foolishness!” Angela scolded him sternly. “I will not have you being all humble and ‘Uriah Heep-ish.’ I’m the lucky one in this deal.”

  Drew Ramsey sighed and dropped back into his chair, scowling up at them.

  “Mrs. Keenan is going to be very displeased,” he sighed.

  “She was,” answered Angela cheerfully. “Only that’s the understatement of the century. She was practically livid.”

  “Oh, she already knows?”

  “We told her first, Pop. We thought you’d want to know what her reaction was,” admitted Angela simply.

  “And?” asked Drew rather uneasily.

  “Oh, she threw a fit or two,” Angela said carelessly, as though she considered that of no importance whatever. “But it wasn’t fatal. I think she’ll recover.”

  Drew eyed them, puzzled, uneasy.

  “Is she going to continue your allowance, Reid?” he asked at last.

  “We don’t want it!” snapped Angela belligerently.

  “Mr. Hodding has asked me to act as his attorney on a yearly retainer, Mr. Ramsey,” said Reid, “and Aunt Kate wants me to continue looking after her property. I’ll be able to feed and clothe Angela, sir.”

  “I’ll go on a diet,” said Angela cheerfully. “And wear nothing but blue jeans.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” said Reid firmly. “You’ll dress as befits the wife of a rising young attorney who can buy his wife a mink stole if she wants it.”

  “I don’t,” answered Angela promptly, and turned to her father. “May we rent the cottage, Pop?”

  Startled, Drew stared at her.

  “Rent the cottage?” he repeated, puzzled.

  “Well, it’s the only home I’ve ever had, and Nora loves it, and I thought that maybe for a year or two Reid and I might go on living there if you’d rent it to us,” said Angela, awkwardly but eager.

  Drew’s frown was more pronounced.

  “Have I been such a bad father, Angela, that you think I’d charge you rent to live in that miserable little place?’’ he asked s
harply.

  “It isn’t a miserable little place, it’s my home and I love every stick-and-stone of it,” Angela protested. “I’d curl up and die in an apartment in Atlanta. And Reid loves the place.”

  Drew turned to Reid.

  “I would like you to draw up what papers are necessary for me to make you a wedding present of the cottage and a couple of acres of land around it,” he said firmly.

  Angela caught her breath and then she flung her arms about Drew, and hugged him tightly, tears in her eyes.

  “Oh, Pop, Pop, what a wonderful wedding present!” she cried joyously. “You couldn’t have given me anything in the world I’d rather have. You’re the most wonderful Pop in the whole wide world.”

  Drew smiled wryly, patted her back and looked across her golden head at Reid.

  “I’ve never understood her, Reid, I hope you can,” he said quietly.

  Reid looked at Angela with adoring eyes.

  “I don’t intend to try, sir. I’m just going to love her until the day I die,” he said simply, his tone making it a pledge and a prayer that made Angela look at him, startled, and the warm color flow into her lovely face.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mr. Hodding and Mrs. Barton entered the lobby, on a gale of excited, almost child-like laughter, their arms laden with bundles and packages of every conceivable size, while behind them stalked a tall husky-looking man in a chauffeur’s uniform, carrying a baby’s bassinet.

  “Just set that down over there, Charles,” Mr. Hodding instructed. “We’ll take it from here. Good night, and thanks.” Charles touched his cap, managed a bleak smile, eyed Mrs. Barton with covert curiosity and went back to the big limousine parked in the drive.

  “Look, Jason, it’s got wheels,” chuckled Mrs. Barton happily, as she dumped her packages into the bassinet, “it’s almost like a baby-carriage, isn’t it?”

  He smiled warmly at her bubbling happiness and pushed the bassinet ahead of him as they moved down the corridor towards her room.