Nurse in White (17 page)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

April brought sheets
of rain and boisterous winds. The hospital had calmed down after its hectic bout with influenza, and Ellen looked forward longingly to her week’s rest. At last it seemed likely she would get it. But she didn’t write Aunt Bess until the last minute. She had disappointed her twice already this spring.

“So you’re off for a whole week? Grand! And you certainly need it,” Marcella Harris said as she stopped in at Ellen’s room after chapel one Sunday morning. “Cy Dent’s off, too. Left this morning, I believe. Cy looks sort of worried lately. Noticed it? Maybe that Boston job isn’t panning out quite to his satisfaction. Heard anything?”

Ellen’s thoughts raced. Cy hadn’t mentioned going away when he waylaid her in the lower hall last night. Oh, well, it was his own business and none of hers. But it was queer, for he knew she was having a week—he had congratulated her on getting it and hoped she would have a good rest. His shoulder seemed to be all right now, and he had been working double duty ever since Dr. Braddock had fallen ill. He had asked again about Terry Morley and she had been tempted to tell him about his engagement to Violet but decided not to. Let him find it out for himself. And then he had said, “So your wonderful Terry Morley is to become an expatriate.”

“Oh, how do you know?” Ellen asked.

“I saw him over at the club a couple of days ago and he told me. Fine chap, Morley.”

“Exceptionally so, I think,” Ellen agreed. “Lady X is to be congratulated.”

“Ah, but one doesn’t congratulate the bride, Nightingale,” he teased.

“Just the same, I think she’s to be congratulated,” Ellen insisted, stubbornly. “Terry’s a darling—I like him a lot.”

“So I understand,” Cy said without enthusiasm. “He said the same about you. Too bad—”

“Don’t say it, Dr. Dent. You ought to know by this time that I am not interested in men,” Ellen reminded him.

“No? Well, as it happens, I had no intention of saying what you think I did. What a one you are to jump at conclusions! I intended saying, too bad! Couldn’t say the same about Lady X. There! See? You were miles off.”

Ellen’s smile was skeptical. Her look said plainly she didn’t believe him. She started on.

“Well, goodbye, Nightingale. Have a good rest and please do something about that disposition—it’s really growing worse. Sad, in one so young and so lovely!” He grinned after her, then shook his head.

Ellen’s back had stiffened and she held her head high as she mounted the stairs to the Male Surgical, where she was putting in her last night before her vacation. Well, thank goodness she wouldn’t have to encounter him for a whole week! What bliss! Disposition, indeed! What business was it of his, anyway? And she would give him to understand that there was not one thing wrong with her disposition—not one thing. The trouble was with his perverted sense of humor. She sighed, for she had to acknowledge that Cy Dent had the power to rouse every bit of temper and perversity she possessed. She hated to acknowledge it even to herself. But it was true, and what enjoyment he could possibly get from ragging her puzzled her.

Now she answered Marcella carelessly, “Not a thing. Oh, he’ll get the job all right with Dr. MacGowan’s backing.”

“Perhaps that’s where he’s gone now,” Marcella offered, her eyes inquisitive.

“Perhaps.” Ellen’s tone was quite indifferent and she yawned as she prepared for her warm bath. Marcella lingered for a moment, her face puzzled. Something was going on that she couldn’t fathom. Still, she had discovered it was not wise to persist on the subject of Cy Dent with Ellen, and reluctantly took her departure.

Ellen lay down for a while after her bath. She would leave on the ten o’clock bus. She would have to change to a small local bus ten miles from Deacon’s Landing, but she didn’t mind. She would reach Aunt Bess’s soon after two, in ample time for dinner. She didn’t mind the rain, either—rather liked it, in fact—sort of matched her mood. Disposition, indeed! Just what did he mean by doing something about her disposition? She would have Cy Dent know that her disposition was considered exceptional. She determinedly put him out of her mind and tried to sleep.

After tossing about for half an hour she got up and packed her suitcase, then decided she might as well wash her hair and give herself a manicure. She just couldn’t sleep. Reaction from so much night work, of course. She called a taxi and went back to her room to put on her coat. Josephine picked up her suitcase and carried it downstairs to the front porch.

“A turrible day. Miss Gaylord,” the maid said as she held open the hall door for her. “I never saw it rain any harder. Hope you don’t run into any floods or fogs, either—they’s plenty of ’em up no’th.”

“Not in my part of the state, Josephine,” Ellen reassured her. “Goodbye, be a good girl while I’m gone.”

Ellen always gave that parting bit of advice when she left and Josephine found it very comical. Now she grinned toothily, her black eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’ll try, Miss Gaylord, and you be one, too.”

The driver of the taxi stood at the foot of the steps waiting with an open umbrella. The rain splashed on his shining puttees and long gray slicker. He shut Ellen into the big car and she thought vaguely that the taxi company must have some new automobiles. This one was positively luxurious. She wished she could afford to have it take her the whole way to Deacon’s Landing—she would have a nap, then. She watched the rain run in little dancing rivers down Main Street Hill. The sky was a gray curtain, the trees with their young green leaves looked drowned, the hills beyond were a misty blur, and people hurrying along, to and from church, were giant mushrooms of varying colors. She closed her eyes for a moment. How delicious to glide smoothly and quietly like this! She must be nearly at the terminal. She sat up abruptly. They had passed Market Street where the bus terminal was. She rapped sharply on the glass. The driver lowered the window without turning his head.

“I told you the bus terminal,” she reminded him, hoping she had not missed that ten o’clock bus.

“I have orders to drive you to Deacon’s Landing, miss,” the driver said civilly. Ellen sank back. Dr. MacGowan, of course. He knew how very tired she was and knew of that change to the local bus ten miles from her destination. How very thoughtful of him! She wished she could rid herself of the feeling that someday she would have to hurt him. How had she ever gotten the idea that he was particularly interested in her? Ann, of course. He had been grand to her and it did seem to her that he liked her.

Oh, dear! Life was so complicated at times! Dear Dr. MacGowan—how could she hurt him? But maybe it was only a fatherly interest. She smiled dubiously. He wasn’t old enough for that. She wondered if Dr. Dent had really gone to Boston. She had heard that his home was somewhere in this state.

They reached open country. How dreary it all looked! A man sloshed to a bat
h
through rivers of mud. Cows huddled together in a barnyard, their hides sleek with wet. Bedraggled chickens pecked halfheartedly and optimistically shook themselves from time to time. Only the ducks seemed to enjoy the day as they waddled along in the mire, stopping occasionally to scoop into a particularly murky puddle. A gray, depressing day—a day to fit her mood!

She looked at her watch. Eleven o’clock. About a third of the way there. Drowsiness overcame her and she slept. Her dreams were fantastic. In them Dr. Dent sang a lullaby as he gently rocked her to sleep.

Sleep, dear Nightingale, sleep as we sail,

Sleep, sleep, s-l-e-e-p-p—

“Stop it!” she said aloud, and awoke. She looked around with puzzled eyes. Oh, yes. She was on her way to Deacon’s Landing to stay with Aunt Bess. Dr. MacGowan had arranged for her to be driven the whole way. Good, kind, Dr. MacGowan!

The man in front had removed his cap. Ellen was startled at the resemblance to Cy Dent. Blond head, broad shoulders—she raised her eyes and encountered quizzical blue ones in the little mirror. She gasped and cried aloud, “You? What—how—”

The car stopped. He turned to grin at her.

“Hello, Nightingale! Have a pleasant forty winks? I hoped you would sleep the entire two hundred miles. I was held up back there by a long freight—that’s probably what wakened you.”

“But—but—” she stammered in bewilderment.

“Why not come up front so we can talk easily?” he invited.

“Just tell me—just explain—”

“Okay. So you refuse my invitation? Very well. I’m on my way home—it’s only about fifty miles from your stop—south. I knew you were planning on going to your aunt’s and knew also that if I offered you a lift you would refuse me, and as I thoroughly dislike riding alone, especially on a day like this, I worked out this grand little scheme.”

“But this isn’t your car.”

“Of course it isn’t. It belongs to Sam Hartley. If you had taken the time to notice, you’d have seen it bears Missouri license plates. It’s mine for a week, however. Sam’s a good scout in spite of his Oxford accent and his taste in wives. Isn’t this better than a bus, Nightingale? Tell the truth, now.”

“Of course it’s far more comfortable,” Ellen acknowledged, “but I wish you hadn’t bothered.”

“No bother at all, lady. It’s a pleasure, only I’m afraid I’m going to get a crick in my neck—”

“Oh, close the window and drive on. I’m not in the mood for conversation.” Ellen spoke crossly. Why did he always put her in embarrassing situations? If Miss Forsyth or Dr. MacGowan knew of this there would be a lot of explaining to do. Darn him! Why couldn’t he mind his own business? Well, it wasn’t necessary to slam that window. It’s a wonder it didn’t break. Cy was mad, she could tell from the set of his chin. Well, she didn’t care. She hadn’t asked him to do this. It was another of his brilliant ideas.

The car gathered speed. The wet countryside was now a long gray smear. Up hill and down, through village and hamlet, past dense dripping woods and misty, pale green meadows. A smile touched the corners of Ellen’s mouth. Cy was like that. Rouse him and he did things. She rapped on the glass as they neared Deacon’s Landing. Without turning his head, he again lowered the window between them.

“Turn to your right at this next corner, and if you want to deliver me in one unbroken piece, you’d better drive a little slower. This road isn’t any too good along here after heavy rains.”

Up went the window with a bang. Ellen giggled. He stopped the car so suddenly that she slid forward to the edge of the seat and her new spring hat shifted to a position over one ear.

“So you find the situation amusing, do you?” he shouted through the glass. “For two cents I’d take you across my knee and give you a demonstration that would be even more amusing—to me.”

Ellen gasped again, her brown eyes enormous in her tired face. “You wouldn’t dare!” she shrieked.

“Better not dare me, Nightingale,” he warned. “I’ve stood just about all your whimsies I’m going to. Do you hear? You’ve badgered, abused, teased and irritated me almost beyond endurance. You’ve gloried in snubbing me. You’ve made my life miserable. You’ve—you’ve—”

“I? I’ve done all that? You’re crazy! It’s you—you, Cy Dent, who have kept me on thorns these months and months! You’ve pestered the life out of me. You’ve hounded me and harassed me and all the time just—just amused yourself at my expense. You’ve—you’ve made my life miserable just to indulge your perverted sense of humor. It’s useless to deny it. You—you know it’s true. What are you going to do?” she gasped as he slid out from beneath the wheel and swung open the door beside her.

“Do? What do you suppose I’m going to do? I’m going to get this thing straightened out once and for all. I’m sick and tired of having you make a complete monkey out of me. Now you listen to me, Ellen Gaylord. You have known for months that I’m crazy in love with you—”

“What?” Ellen whispered. “You’re what?”

“In love—love—love! Don’t you know what that means?” he asked as she stared at him in unbelief. He lurched forward, slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “I’ll show you what I mean, you little idiot—you little icicle—you little witch!” His lips clung to hers for a long moment. Her head fell back against his shoulder and her brown eyes searched his. A wave of color chased the tiredness from her face and she stammered after a moment when her eyes fell from the look of adoration in his blue ones.

“Why—you do, don’t you?”

He laughed joyously and drew her to him again.

“I’ll tell the world! And—now you say it, Nightingale. You do, don’t you?”

“Do what?” she asked dreamily. So this is what had ailed her! Ann had been right all the time. What a little sap she was! How was it possible for a girl to reach the age of twenty-one and not recognize love when it came to her? Women were supposed to be so clever that way, far cleverer than mere males. So it had been love that had made her edgy and short-tempered and moody, she mused, while Cy searched her face with loving yet anxious eyes. His arms tightened around her and he bent his face again to hers.

“Tell me, darling. You do love me, don’t you? Not as much as I love you, of course—you couldn’t, but enough to marry me?”

Ellen sat up. She drew back from his encircling arms.
“But—but I intended being a doctor, Cy. I told Mac that, and he was all for it.”

“I know, and Mac told you that being a doctor’s wife wasn’t so bad—that a man could go far if he had a lass like you at home keeping his hearthstone warm.”

“How did you know?”

“Oh, Uncle Mac told me. He’s been plugging for me all year—in fact, before that. He’s been worried I’d follow in his footsteps and pick the wrong girl, sweetheart. He’s all for this match, Nightingale. If you don’t marry me I—I’ve a notion he’ll disown me.”

“Uncle? Is Dr. MacGowan really your uncle?”

“Sure. My mother’s younger brother. We’ve kept, it dark of course. Ethics—rot! It wouldn’t have been just the thing for me to intern at Anthony Ware if it were known—not while Uncle Mac was chief of staff. The old boy’s such a stickler for form. But I held out for it and I’m glad.”

Ellen experienced a letdown feeling and yet it was one of relief, too. So she wouldn’t have to hurt Angus MacGowan, after all. Ann again. How silly she had been. As if a man like Dr. MacGowan could ever stoop to a chit like her! She blushed and Cy kissed her again, then drew back.

“How stubborn you are! Do you or don’t you love me, Ellen Gaylord?” Cy’s arms were close to his sides now. His voice was no longer fond but clear and crisp.

“Why, of course I do. You’ve told me a dozen times that I did, haven’t you? But—”

“We have all our lives to ask and answer questions darling. Just now I’m going to make up for all the times you’ve held me off when I’ve wanted to take you in my arms.”

The rain fell in sheets and the trees dripped soddenly, but the two were quite oblivious. Inside the car it was dry and warm
and there was so much to talk about! Ellen was the first to realize the passing of time.

“Aunt Bess will be frantic and imagine all sorts of things have happened, Cy. We must go right on this minute. Why can’t you stay on a few days at Deacon’s Landing? Aunt Bess can put you up.”

“I was going to ask you to come home with me. Mother will want to meet you—she ought to know you already, I’ve talked enough about you. Why not do that? Explain it to Aunt Bess, she’ll understand. I want you to meet doc, too. And we might look for a house while we’re about it. There’ll be no delay, Nightingale. Understand that.”

“A house, Cy, in Wyckham? But I thought—you said—what about—”

“Boston?” he laughed. “I never had any intention of accepting that Boston job, in fact it’s already filled. No, darling, you’re going to be the wife of a general practitioner. Are you terribly disappointed?”

Ellen gave him a little push.

“Hypothetical case!” she jeered, then drew his head down to hers. “I’d have gone to Boston with you, of course, but deep down in my heart I should have been unhappy. I think I’ve always wanted to be a doctor’s wife, A real, honest-to-goodness, heart-and-soul-as-well-as-head doctor, like—”

“Uncle John. I know,” said Cy.

“What a lot you know about me!” Ellen demurred. “And I—”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’ll soon know all the horrible truth about me—after you’ve met mother and doc. What the one doesn’t tell, the other will; but they’re grand people! You’ll adore them.”