Queer Patterns

by Lilyan Brock

  “I’m Sheila Case, Mrs. Mason.” Turning toward the car, “Mr. Graham; Miss Trent.”

  Mrs. Mason acknowledged the introduction with the simplicity of the sincere country woman who loves humanity. Then she opened the back door of the car, and taking Allison’s arm, gently helped him to the ground, saying to Jo, “I’ll help you get Mr. Graham comfortably settled, then I’ll come back for the luggage.”

  Jo started toward the house, then turned and said to Sheila, “You’d better go to your room, Miss Case; you need rest after this trip—you look tired.”

  Sheila opened her bag and extracted her cigarette case. “I’ll smoke a cigarette, then I’ll come in.” Jo disappeared into the house. Only Ring remained. His soft brown eyes scrutinized the lovely sad face. Coming closer, he laid his cold moist nose against Sheila’s slender hand. Yes, he would be friends with this strange quiet girl. Absent-mindedly her fingers stroked the silky hair of the setter’s splendid head, while her thoughts went back.

  The last days in town had been trying ones. Work at the theater, worry about Allison’s failing health, the thoughts of Nicoli which had persisted in haunting her brain no matter how repeatedly she told herself she must not dwell upon that subject again—all had combined to wear both mental and physical resistance to a very thin edge.

  It had been difficult to leave New York, not knowing when she might return, for even though she had not seen Nicoli there had been a degree of satisfaction in knowing that she was near. Now, as the struggle for Allison’s life faced her, she was frankly weary. Months stretched before her, filled with anxiety for his recovery, filled with hours of enforced idleness in which thoughts would flourish as weeds in fertile soil.

  Sheila walked slowly toward the door of the house, closely followed by her new friend. It really was a lovely old place, serene and peaceful, to which clung the atmosphere of much full living, of gracious family life, an atmosphere conducive to a feeling of being deeply rooted—the sort of surroundings which Allison should have in his present condition. Yes, it would be quite comfortable in every way, Sheila decided. It would be comfortable if only she could enter that door and leave all clamoring thoughts behind. Blessed door, that could shut out the griefs of the mind!

  Jo Trent met her in the entry. “I was just coming to see where my other patient had vanished to. I believe I prescribed bed and rest for you, Miss Case, didn’t I?”

  Sheila smiled. “I believe you did. I was just about to follow your instructions. I am tired, painfully so. The strain of the past week is telling on me. You have no idea how difficult it has been to try to give good performances with always the thought of Allison’s condition in my mind—never knowing what I would find when I came home.”

  “I do understand, Miss Case,” Jo said sympathetically as she slipped her arm around Sheila’s waist and gently guided her toward the staircase. “But it is all over now, and Mr. Graham is in my hands. He seems to be quiet after the trip and perfectly content to sleep awhile. His room is ideal for him, and he is comfortably settled, so you need not worry. When he awakens, I’ll be in the next room if he should need anything.” Sheila’s heart felt lighter than it had for some time as she walked upstairs to the room that was to be her own. It was good to be able to shift the responsibility of Allison’s care on Jo’s sturdy shoulders. Somehow she felt as if Jo were destined to fill a still greater need—the need for an understanding friend, one who could comprehend the loneliness in her heart and to an extent alleviate it.

  Sheila’s room was a wide, high-ceiled one, furnished with fine early American pieces, their patina a shining testimony to the years of care at the hands of their beauty-loving owners, the lustrous walnut a charming setting for Sheila’s exquisite fairness. Now, as she slowly disrobed she found herself thinking of how Nicoli would have reveled in its old-fashioned beauty. How different things would be if she were here! Sheila’s thoughts were interrupted by a light knock.

  “Who is it?” she called quickly, fearing that perhaps Allison had become suddenly worse.

  “Jo Trent, Miss Case. May I come in?”

  “Of course, Miss Trent,” answered Sheila, opening the door in welcome.

  On the threshold stood Jo, a steaming cup in hand. “I took the liberty of bringing you some tea. Mrs. Mason will bring your dinner tray shortly, but I think it will be good for you to drink this now.”

  “Thank you, Jo; you’re a darling,” said Sheila warmly as she took the proffered cup; and walking over to a big chintz-covered chair, she sat down and started to drink the soothing beverage.

  Jo turned at the door. “If you need me, Miss Case, I’ll be in the room next to Mr. Graham’s. Just call—any time. I do hope you rest well—and remember, no worrying! That’s what I’m here for.”

  Life in the house where Allison was to wage his battle against the ravishing effects of the powerful drug had really begun.

  Sheila slept late the following morning, and it was not until Mrs. Mason’s kindly voice awakened her that she opened her eyes, to find her standing beside the bed with her breakfast tray. She had opened the curtains which Sheila had partially drawn the night before, and the sunlight drifted in, warming the room with its glow. Spring, which had hardly made itself manifest in the city, was perceptibly quickening and stirring in the deep woods outside, although snow was still gleaming in patches which the sun had not yet caught.

  Sheila ran her long fingers through her hair, brushing it back from her forehead. Looking at Mrs. Mason, she laughingly said, “I did sleep—it must be frightfully late, but I do feel better. I was dead tired last night.”

  “Well, now you’ll feel fit as a fiddle, as soon as you’ve eaten your breakfast and had your bath,” the housekeeper said, her face expressing motherly tenderness for the young woman before her.

  Sheila leisurely finished her breakfast; then slipping into a becoming morning frock, she crossed the hall to Allison’s room, where she found him propped up in bed drinking his coffee, while Jo sat in a chair nearby.

  She smiled and nodded to Jo as she entered. Then, walking over to the bed, she gently placed her hands on Allison’s colorless face and kissed him. “Good morning, darling! Did you rest well?”

  Allison gripped her wrist fiercely, and with an angry gesture pushed her away.

  “Look here, Sheila,” he cried in a tone entirely new; “simply because I’ve been unable to help myself is no reason for your taking advantage of the fact and bringing me up here. I don’t need your help, or any damned nurse to look after me, and regardless of anything or anybody I am going back to New York. I am sick and tired of you and your interference—do you hear? Tired of it! Now get out and stay out.”

  With lips trembling, Sheila left the room. There was no doubt in her mind that the trapped animal in Allison’s body was beginning to bare its teeth.

  When Sheila left the room, she walked thoughtfully downstairs and out of the house. Mechanically she lighted a cigarette, then strolled out of the gate and into the woods beyond. Ring, upon seeing her approach, rose, stretched lazily, and followed.

  The woods were beautiful at this season, when winter slowly retreated before spring. It was Nature’s seed time and everywhere were signs of the new life to come. The maples were spreading their tiny green wings, and the willows were whispering in glee to the brook as they trailed green fingers in the sun-dappled water. Somewhere close at hand the liquid tones of a bird proclaimed his welcome to the new season, his lilting song breaking through the stillness of the morning. Occasionally a gentle breeze caressed the bud-laden boughs of the majestic trees, causing them to stir as in delicate ecstasy.

  It was under one of the broad maples that Jo found Sheila an hour later, crying bitterly. She dropped to the ground beside her, and gently folded her into her arms, stroking Sheila’s blonde head as it lay on her shoulder.

  All of the sorrow and worry over Nicoli and Allison had finally broken and crushed the once indomitable spirit of Sheila Case. Jo thought how like a child she w
as as she lay in her arms sobbing out, in a voice filled with the longing of the empty years, all of the loneliness of her heart… telling Jo how she longed to go away, yet knowing that she could not desert Allison even though he thought he no longer wanted her. Some day she would be released… but until that time came, she could not, would not, shirk the responsibility nor fail to pay the debt she felt she owed him.

  “Don’t you see, Jo, I can’t leave him now? He needs me. He has no one but me. If I were to go now, I would hate myself always for having left him, perhaps to die. There can be no happiness founded on the pain and heartaches of others. No, Jo—I am tied, as securely as if I were behind prison bars. This is my life for the present, and here I must live it.”

  “I understand perfectly how you feel, but there aren’t many women who would stay on when the person in question had given them the opportunity to leave. Your decision is simply another proof of the character that makes you so… unusual a woman … so splendid.”

  Sheila loosed herself from Jo’s encircling arms and leaning back against the tree, looked steadfastly at her companion.

  “Your faith in me gives me strength to go on, and I want you to know how much I appreciate it, how much it means to me to have you to talk to. I’ve been so alone, Jo—so pitifully alone, in a world filled with people.”

  “I know, Sheila,”—the name flowed from Jo’s lips unconsciously—“I know only too well. You see, I’ve been lonely, too, tremendously so.”

  The uncharacteristic emotion in the nurse’s voice caused Sheila to wonder what the deep soul of the woman beside her could reveal. What hidden longings were there in its innermost recesses? Then like a flash of light came the answer. Jo, like herself, belonged to another world; that was the reason she had felt close to her from their first meeting, had somehow felt that their minds were attuned one to the other—that was the reason Jo knew her heart and its sufferings so well. Fate had been good, for it had sent her a soul like unto her own to help her in the trying days to come.

  “Jo, is it because your heart has known the same love that you seem to understand mine so perfectly?” Sheila asked the question hesitantly.

  “Yes, it is. I’ve known for years of your great love for Nicoli, and when you left her and disappeared I guessed the reason. When you came back and I saw you again on the stage I saw the results of the battle I felt sure you had been fighting in your heart while you were away. That is why, when Dr. Harkness needed a nurse on this case, I felt that God in His strange workings had brought it to my knowledge, and I asked to be sent to you.”

  “Then that is why from the moment of your coming I felt no longer alone. Somehow, I knew you understood, even though outwardly things appeared so… different.”

  Together they walked back to the house, Sheila’s heart lighter for the knowledge that beside her walked another woman who, like herself again, was one of the alien threads of Life’s pattern.

  In the days that followed, Sheila had little opportunity for conversation alone with Jo. Allison’s condition now demanded the nurse’s almost constant attention. The nerves that cried for the stimulant to which they had become so accustomed had broken under the strain.

  Allison lay weak and exhausted except when, galvanized by his maddened brain, he fought to leave the place he hated. At such times Sheila could hear his voice raised in unreasoning anger—later his agonized pleas to Jo to give him the relief he craved. Sheila tried to comfort him, but always he vented upon her all of the fury that possessed him, cursing her for having brought him there, vowing to escape. The nurse redoubled her vigilance when he gave indication of one of these violent moods, warning Sheila against entering his room and calling on Mrs. Mason whenever she found it necessary to leave him.

  As time went on it became apparent to Jo that all of the love in Allison’s heart for Sheila was slowly turning to hatred. He blamed her alone for his isolation, telling Jo that he would some day make her pay for his suffering. Jo tried to reason with him, telling him that it was better so—that had he been allowed to go on he would not be alive; telling him that soon he would be well again, and then would thank Sheila for what she had done. Yet in her heart she knew that even though the struggle with the drug might end, the fight to save the remnants of his health had only begun.

  These were lonely days for Sheila—days when, reading or lounging in her room, her thoughts turned back to Nicoli. Why should she go on without Nicoli? Why not defy the world and its stupid conventions and take their happiness while there was yet time? Then the doubts that crushed her heart would creep in and she would wonder if Nicoli still remembered and wanted her. Perhaps she had successfully placed her out of her life, had found that Sheila was not necessary to her after all.

  Unless she wrote Nicoli, there could be no answer to her questions, and write her she dared not, tied as she was to Allison. Perhaps Nicoli knew of him and believed she no longer cared. When thoughts like these crowded her mind, Sheila would close her eyes and pray that somehow Nicoli would know that their love was not dead, but alive and blooming in her arid heart, watered by the many tears she shed crying out for it.

  Daily Sheila grew more and more morose, walking for hours in the woods nearby, losing all track of time, until Jo, anxious for her safety, would send Mrs. Mason to find her. She was like a drowning swimmer as she fought the tide of desolation that engulfed her.

  After weeks of watching Sheila’s listlessness, Jo made a decision. Unless something could be done, Sheila was going to be ill. She must have someone with whom to spend her time, someone who understood her.

  After dinner, Jo, rising from the table, proposed: “Let’s walk outside for a breath of air and a cigarette while Mrs. Mason is with Mr. Graham.”

  Sheila smiled agreement, and stopping only to pick up her inevitable cigarettes from a small table in the hall, followed Jo outside.

  “It is beautiful tonight, Jo, isn’t it? So quiet and peaceful—and the sky is simply glorious with its millions of stars. I wish you didn’t have to go back inside. I’d love to walk for miles—it’s heavenly!”

  “Sheila, I’ve been watching you steadily for weeks now, walking about not caring whether you lived or died. Something has to be done about it—you can’t be allowed to go on in such fashion.”

  “What difference does it make, Jo?” countered Sheila with a shrug. “Suppose I were to die; who is there to care deeply if I am gone?”

  Jo put out her hands and taking Sheila firmly by the shoulders said in her deep voice, “I would, Sheila. I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you—in The Woman Alone. You asked me once why I saw it so often. Well, now I can tell you: because your face haunted me and your voice made me remember all of the things I had tried so long to forget. Oh, Sheila—can’t we go on together? I too am so alone. Don’t we need each other in order to… live?”

  Without answering, Sheila folded Jo in her arms and kissed her, then lifting her eyes, she looked up at Jo’s face which was dimly visible in the starlight.

  “You know how I love Nicoli, Jo. Can you accept what I have to offer?”

  “Yes! Anything… so long as I can be with you—to love and care for you, to watch over you when you need me.”

  “I’ve been so alone, so horribly alone. If only I had you, Jo, to spend these long days driving with me, or roaming through the country around us! Don’t you think we might bring another nurse up for Allison so that you could have more time?”

  “Frankly, Sheila, I am glad you mentioned Mr. Graham, for I believe I should tell you what I have been forced to admit to myself,” Jo replied.

  “What is it, Jo? Is he worse?”

  “As far as the drug is concerned, no. I honestly feel that in these weeks we have beaten its hold on him, but dear Sheila, you must be brave—I am afraid that it has had a devastating effect not only on his body but on his mind as well. I haven’t wanted to tell you until I was sure, but now I am sure. Sheila, he’s losing his sanity.”

  “No—no! Not th
at, Jo! Surely you’re mistaken,” cried Sheila as she clung to the girl beside her. “That can’t be—it just can’t be!”

  “I am not mistaken, darling. I’ve seen too many cases of this sort to fail entirely in my judgment. You see, the strain on both mind and body has been too much for him, and he has slipped over the tiny barrier that separates sanity from insanity.”

  “We must have a specialist come up at once, Jo. I must know for a certainty. Oh, it’s too awful,” sobbed Sheila. “Poor dear Allison!”

  “At times,” Jo continued, “he is like a baby—so easy to control; then come tempestuous moments when I can scarcely handle him, and now with his returning strength it will be impossible for me to do it. He seems always at such times to vent his emotions on you for bringing him up here, and I am afraid for you. I am sure the doctor will agree with me that he must either have a male attendant or be sent to a… sanitarium. You must be protected,” Jo finished, determination crowding her voice.

  “Surely you don’t think Allison capable of harming me— do you ?”

  “No, not Allison as you know him. But I can’t say what he would do under present conditions, and I couldn’t bear anything to happen to you, loving you as I do.” Jo’s fingers caressed Sheila’s hair; then lifting her face, she kissed the lovely full mouth.

  Sheila refused to consider sending Allison away as long as there was the faintest doubt about his mental condition being temporary. After consultation, Doctor Harkness and the alienist both agreed that he might be allowed to remain there at least for a while, under the care of a man who would be sent up immediately from New York. There was a chance that Allison might improve, but they advised Sheila not to see him, as the sight of her under existing circumstances might retard his recovery, by causing him to become excited at the reminder of his grievance against her.

  Later Doctor Harkness took Jo aside and told her, “I consider it extremely unsafe for Miss Case to be left alone at any time with Mr. Graham. Please see that this does not happen.” Jo promised.