“Tell that doctor you’re quitting.”
Harry dropped the words into the silence while his face was still behind the newspaper.
“What?” Dale was so startled that her hand shook as she returned her cup to the saucer.
“Have you lost your hearing, Dale?” He lowered the paper, frowned at Dale, then smiled pleasantly at his son. “Danny, if you’ve finished your breakfast, run get your coat, and I’ll give you a ride to school.”
“You wanted me to have this job, Harry.” Dale waited until the child left the room before she spoke. She did her best to keep her voice from quivering.
“That was then. This is now. Your place is here at home taking care of Danny.”
“He’s in school all day, Harry. He spends an hour after school with Mrs. Ramsey. I’m home and dinner is ready by the time you get here.”
“I’m not going to argue with you.” Harry gave a deep sigh and shook his head as if talking to a stubborn child. He moved his coffee cup aside, carefully folded the Gazette, and placed it on the table beside his plate.
Dale watched the action. During the six years of their marriage, she had cataloged in her mind every move he made leading up to one of his black moods. First his voice would soften, then he became overly neat and orderly; breaking a matchstick before he dropped it in the ashtray, dusting lint from his coat sleeve, smoothing the hair at his temples.
Next would come the questions. Don’t I provide for you? Don’t you have everything you need? Didn’t I take you off that dirt farm and put you in a house with a flush toilet?
Dale began to quake inside, but as usual she stood up against him as long as she could.
“They are short-handed at the clinic, Harry. A terminally ill patient was admitted yesterday. I should give a month’s notice so they can hire another nurse.”
“Jesus Christ, Dale. We both know that you’re not a nurse. Did you graduate from nursing school? Did you get your certificate? You empty bedpans and clean up vomit and shit. It doesn’t take brains to do that. Tell him that you’ll be gone in two weeks. That’s my limit.”
“No.” Dale stood. “They need me, and I need the job.”
“Why do you need the job? Don’t I provide for you?” Harry got slowly to his feet, his eyes boring into hers. “What’s got into you? You’re getting more difficult all the time.”
“I won’t give the doctor notice, Harry.” Dale hoped and prayed that Danny’s being in the house would keep Harry’s fists from lashing out.
“Then I guess I’ll have to do it myself.” He walked slowly around the table, then as fast as a striking snake, his hand was at her throat shoving her up against the wall. He knocked her head against it repeatedly until a plate on a plate holder bounced off the shelf and crashed to the floor.
“I’m tired of you defying me when I tell you to do something. Who pays for the roof over your head and food that goes into that fat belly? Huh? Who took you from that dirt farm and set you up in a decent house? Huh?”
Dale clawed at the hand squeezing her neck, closing off her windpipe. Over the ringing in her ears, she heard her son’s pleading voice.
“Daddy, Daddy. Stop …please stop—”
Dale gasped for breath when the hand left her throat, only vaguely aware that Harry was talking calmly to their son.
“Your mother and I were just having a little fun. She fell against the wall and knocked your grandmother’s plate off the shelf. You know how she is—not the most graceful mother in the world, huh? We’d better move, son, or both of us will be late.” With his hand at the back of Danny’s head, Harry urged him toward the door. The child resisted for just a moment, looking back at his mother.
Dale didn’t move until she heard the car start and was sure he was leaving. When she did, her foot crunched the broken glass. She stroked her throat gently and swallowed to be sure that she could.
Someday he will kill me.
Johnny was up at dawn after a sleepless night. Last night Sherm had finished boiling the sheets and had hung them on the line to dry. After making up the bed, Johnny had stripped and fallen into it. But sleep had not come as he had expected. He continued to feel Kathleen in his arms, warm and moving, to smell the scent of her hair when he buried his nose in it, and to see the curve of her lips when she smiled.
She had not been outraged, as he had expected, when he kissed her. Lord, how many nights had he crouched down in his foxhole while the Japs strafed and bombed their building site, thinking of kissing her and more— burying himself in her soft body? He relived in detail the hours, during the dark of night, that they had spent making love, whispering, teasing, making plans. At other times, dark times, he had remembered her turning away from him after they had buried their baby, refusing to understand his determination never again to father a child.
Five years had dimmed the pain he had felt on seeing the small piece of deformed humanity he and Kathleen had brought into the world. It had not, however, dimmed his resolve never again to put her through the agony of giving birth to a child of his. But would he be able to endure seeing her stomach swell with another man’s child. Good Lord! He should have taken that job in Central America when it was offered.
When morning came, Johnny put the coffeepot on, then began clearing the house of Isabel’s belongings. He piled her clothes in the yard, poured gasoline on them, and set them ablaze. Thanks to his navy training he had already been careful with the cups, glasses, and eating utensils she had used, washing them separately and letting them sit in the boiling water.
He told Sherm when he came in for breakfast that Isabel wasn’t coming back.
“I knowed she warn’t well but didn’t figure it was so bad.”
“I’ve got to go back to town this morning. When I get back, I’ll scrub this place down with lye soap. I don’t think she ever went to the outhouse.”
“I ain’t never seen her go there.”
“That’s one less thing we have to worry about. I set the chamber pot on the porch. I’ll build a fire under the wash pot and scald it good. I never use it, but I don’t want it sitting around here with germs on it.”
“I can do it while yo’re gone. Is that feller comin’ back to help drive up the horses?”
“I don’t know. Pete seems to be the only one who can do anything with Isabel. She’s so ornery, the doctor is afraid his nurses will quit.”
“Hit’s a pity, is what it is. Her bein’ young and all.”
Johnny drove slowly into town. After he tended to the business with Gabe, he would go to the telephone office and call Henry Ann to tell her about Isabel. He believed that she would come to Rawlings. She would think it the decent thing to do. He would have to watch Pete when she got here. Johnny wasn’t sure whether Pete still had strong feelings for Henry Ann, and he didn’t want his sister to have to deal with that on top of everything else.
When he rounded the corner to drive into Eddie’s station, Johnny could tell that something out of the ordinary had happened. Several cars were parked in the alley and along the street, one of them a hearse. Jude, wearing his overcoat over his white jacket and holding his black bag, was talking to the undertaker. Johnny parked and crossed the street.
“Morning. Has something happened to Eddie?”
“No, to Gabe Thomas.” Douglas Klein, the undertaker and owner of the furniture store, answered. He was a friendly man with a husky body, dark hair, and a small mustache.
“What happened?”
“The old wreck he had up on blocks fell and crushed him flat as a fritter.”
“Not quite that flat,” Jude said. “But he died instantly.”
“Too bad. Where’s Eddie?”
“He went to find a jack to lift the wreck so that we can get the body out. He said Gabe was usually pretty careful about blocking up those old wrecks.”
“He must have slipped up this time. Are you through here, Jude?” Johnny asked.
“Just about. As coroner, I’ve got to sign the death certificate. The sheriff and I can’t see it as anything but an accident. What are you doing in town so early?”
“I was going to speak to Eddie. Guess I have no reason to do that now.” Johnny put a cigarette in his mouth, struck a match on the sole of his boot, and held the flame to the tip. “I plan to call Henry Ann this morning. She has a right to know about Isabel. How was she this morning?”
“About the same. She won’t let us check her vitals. We have to do it when she’s sedated. We’re trying to keep her quiet. She wastes a lot of her strength yelling and thrashing around. Miss Pauley, the night nurse, said she made so much noise she woke everyone in the clinic.”
Eddie returned with the jack and several men went with him into the shed to help the undertaker recover the body.
“Jude, I don’t have much, but I’ll pay for Isabel’s keep somehow. Just give me a little time.”
“You’ll not owe me a thing for my services, Johnny. The clinic is another matter. The board of trustees will give you as much time as you need to pay them. So don’t worry about it.”
“I’ll worry about it. There’s just not much I can do about it right now.”
“I’ll keep her as comfortable as I can until the end. There will be an end, Johnny, and soon.”
“Does she know?”
“I’m not sure. I think she has brain damage. That’s not my line, so I can’t be absolutely sure. A completely sane person would understand the seriousness of her condition.”
The stretcher bearing Gabe Thomas’s body was placed on the cart from the hearse, and Mr. Klein came to speak with Jude.
“If you’ve seen enough, Dr. Perry, I’d better get him on down to the parlor. He’s going to take a lot of fixin’ before his folks see him.”
“I have. I’ll finish up at the clinic and give the death certificate to the sheriff.” Jude and Johnny crossed the street to their cars. “After you talk to Henry Ann, come by the clinic. We need to get some background information on Isabel.”
“You know as much about her as I do. All I know is that she was born in Oklahoma City. Dorene listed the father as unknown. The only reason I know that is when Isabel tried to get part of Ed Henry’s farm, the lawyer Henry Ann hired got a copy of the birth certificate.”
“I don’t suppose it matters all that much,” Jude said, getting into his car. “I hope Henry Ann comes. It’ll be good to see her.”
Jude parked his car at the clinic and went into the side door to his office. He removed his overcoat and sat down in the chair behind his desk to complete his paperwork.
Would his damn leg ever stop aching?
He was a little puzzled as to why a man who had worked on cars for most of his life would crawl under a wreck without making sure it was up on solid blocks. Judging by the congealed blood, he presumed the accident had happened around midnight. The body hadn’t been found until early this morning. It wouldn’t have mattered if it had been discovered minutes after the accident. The man had died instantly. Jude filled out the death certificate and left it on his desk for delivery to the sheriff.
“You were out early, Doctor.” Theresa Frank came in as he was preparing to make his rounds.
“Yes. An accident.”
“I heard about it.”
“Sheriff Carroll will be by for the death certificate. I was about to make my rounds. Anything you need to tell me?”
“Mr. Case is better. You may want to consider dismissing him. He’s worried about the cost of being here.” Theresa consulted her chart. “Mrs. Warren has developed large welts on her body and her lips are swollen. We should check and see if she’s allergic to some of the medication.”
“Check to see if the medication she’s been taking has codeine in it.”
“I did that, and it does.”
“That could be the cause. Take her off it.”
“I told Dale to hold off giving it to her until I talked to you.” Theresa continued with her report. “Mrs. Smothers is in the reception room, insisting on seeing you right away. She says that her legs are swelling. We have a patient with an infected toenail and a six-year-old girl with tonsillitis. Marie Fleming is here with her brother, who poked a nail in his hand. She thinks he needs a tetanus shot.”
“He won’t need me for that. You give better shots than I do.”
“I don’t know about that, but I’ll give it.”
Theresa was certain that Marie Fleming would be disappointed at not seeing the doctor. She had noticed how the girl had looked at him during the open house. She was young, pretty, and her daddy was rich—surely Jude had been aware.
“How about Miss Henry?”
“She refused to eat the oatmeal, but drank the coffee. She’s fussing for a cigarette and calling for your brother to come get her out of here.”
“Pete will be along soon. He sat up with her half the night.”
“She’s taking the oral sedatives, but soon she’ll need something stronger. Her breast is swollen and draining. She did let me put a pad over it.” Theresa folded her arms over the charts and held them against her. “If we have a few minutes, I’d like to talk to you about something.”
Jude saw the concerned look on Theresa’s face and backed up to sit down on the edge of the desk. He rubbed his aching thigh.
“What is it? You’re not going to quit, are you?”
Theresa smiled. “No, I’m not going to quit.”
“That’s a relief. You scared me for a minute. How’s Ryan? I’ve not seen him for a while.”
“He’s fine. He likes going to Mrs. Ramsey’s and says he’s going to marry Emily when he grows up.” Theresa’s eyes brightened when she talked about her son.
Theresa Frank had had a hopeless crush on Dr. Jude Perry since the day she met him. He was the kindest, most thoughtful man she had ever known besides being so darn handsome it almost hurt her eyes to look at him. She was realistic enough to know that when he took a wife, it wouldn’t be a dumpy nurse with a four-year-old child. But she daydreamed, and went on crash diets trying to look thin and desirable. In the meanwhile, she helped him in the only way she knew, by being the best nurse possible.
“Now, what is it that you wanted to talk about?”
Jude studied the woman who stood a short distance from him. He liked what he saw. She was pretty, quiet, and dependable. He wondered how many hours she spent washing and ironing her uniforms. They were always fresh. The starched cap was carefully perched on top of her soft brown hair, and she had a complexion some women would give five years of their lives for.
Most of all Jude liked who Theresa was: her attitude toward life, her compassion for the ill, her dedication to service, and her love for her child. She was just what he thought a woman should be—far from the sluts he had grown up with down on Mud Creek.
“It’s about Dale Cole.” Theresa’s voice broke into Jude’s thoughts. “I’m sure she had been crying when she came in this morning. I asked her what was wrong and she tried to assure me that nothing was wrong, that she just had a headache.”
“Maybe that was true. Did she take some medication?”
“She took some because I was watching her. That’s not all, Doctor—”
“Can’t you call me Jude when we’re alone? I call you Theresa.”
“Yes, but you’re—the doctor. I’m only the—”
“—Very important part of my practice. I want us to be friends as well as associates.”
“I—want that too.” Theresa’s cheeks turned rosy red.
Jude laughed. “You’re blushing, Theresa.”
“I am not!” she insisted, but knew that she was. “Sometimes you get me so—flustered.”
“I do?” He looked surprised. “I thought that you were—unfluster—able.” They both laughed at his difficulty in pronouncing the word. “I’ll not interrupt again. Tell me about Mrs. Cole.”
“She has bruises on her neck. She tried to keep them covered just as in the past she has tried to keep me from seeing the bruises on her arms.”
“We can’t draw any conclusions from that,” Jude said slowly.
“You may not be able to, but I can. I think that coldeyed husband of hers is mean to her.”
“Has she ever said anything?”
“No. She talks about him as if he was the most wonderful man in the world.”
“Humm— What do you think we should do?”
“There probably isn’t anything we can do as long as she keeps denying it. There’s one more thing that has caused me to come to the conclusion that her husband abuses her.”
“All right, Sherlock Holmes, what is it?” Jude enjoyed teasing her.
“Dale’s son, Danny, stays with Mrs. Ramsey after school until Dale gets home. He was playing with Ryan and got pretty rough. He put his arm across his neck and held him against the wall. When Mrs. Ramsey got after him, he said he wasn’t hurting Ryan, his daddy did it all the time.”
“Did Mrs. Ramsey tell you this?”
“Yes, but she assumed Mr. Cole did this while playing with Danny. She didn’t think it was the thing for a father to do even in play.”
“I agree there. A little too much pressure could crush a windpipe.”
“Dale is a natural-born nurse. She’s dedicated, efficient, and soaks up knowledge like a sponge. I’m sure that with just a little study she could pass the nurses’ exam. She was just a few months from graduation when she married Mr. Cole.”
“Does she know that she’s got such a good friend?”
“Now, there you go again.” Theresa feigned annoyance.
“I like to tease you, Theresa. You’re so pretty when you blush.”
Theresa opened her mouth, then closed it. Her heart had jumped in her throat, making speech impossible. He was looking at her with warm, smiling eyes. He looked younger and less tired when he smiled. Determined to make light of the situation, she shoved the stack of patient charts in his hands.
“Go tell that to Mrs. Smothers. You may get her out of here in less than two hours.”