“Whenever a person is subjected to oxygen starvation,” he explained, “there’s a possibility of long-term neurological damage. I believe in your case the risk is remote, since you responded so promptly to treatment — but it makes no sense to take chances.”
Sharley couldn’t disagree with that, but by the time they brought her back to her room at lunch time she couldn’t help wishing he’d left her alone to recuperate. She was a great deal weaker than she had expected to be, and all she wanted was a few bites of soup, a drink of water, and a blissfully dark and quiet room for the rest of the day. “Now I know why he called it a battery of tests,” she told the nurse’s aide who helped her back into bed. “Except that assault and battery would have been a better description. My whole body feels as if it’s been beaten.”
The aide smiled. “That’s why he didn’t order all the tests for today.” She pushed the lunch tray into place and handed Sharley a spoon.
“There are more?” Sharley wailed.
The door opened and Charlotte Hudson swept in, her ebony walking stick clicking against the tile floor. “My dear, what a terrible fright you’ve given us!”
Sharley sighed and started to stir her chicken soup. “I know, Aunt Charlotte, and I’m sorry.”
“To find that you weren’t at the resort at all was a shock in itself. Fortunately, I hadn’t tried to call you earlier. I hate to think what state of mind I’d have been in when I found you missing. Then this happens…” She fanned herself with her gloves. “It was nearly too much for me. You look quite dreadful, dear.”
Libby said, “She looks better than she has any right to, everything considered.”
“The oxygen mask has left terrible red creases on your face,” Charlotte fretted.
“They’ll go away.” Libby took her hat off and draped her coat over the back of a chair. “If you’re only going to play with that soup, Sharley, I’ll feed you. I’ve done it a good many times before.”
“I can feed myself,” Sharley said. But she didn’t argue when Libby moved to the side of the bed and took the soup spoon. Obediently she opened her mouth for the first bite.
“And she doesn’t need any lectures just now, either,” Libby told Charlotte. “Let her get home at least, before you start in on her about being a thoughtless and ungrateful child.” She winked at Sharley.
Charlotte said, “I had no intention of telling her anything of the sort. I simply informed her of how terribly upset Martin and I were when we heard the news.”
“Same thing,” Libby said under her breath.
Between the two of them and the soup, Sharley knew she wouldn’t have a chance to speak, so she didn’t even try.
“But at least you won’t have lasting effects,” Charlotte announced.
Sharley frowned. Had she put just a tiny bit of emphasis on the pronoun? She shook her head at the next spoonful of soup. “What about Spence? Is he worse this morning?”
Charlotte’s carefully plucked eyebrows rose just a little. “I don’t know, and I don’t care to make any effort to find out.”
Martin tapped on the half-open door and came in. “He’s better. I just saw him.” There was a quiet note of authority in his voice, and Sharley relaxed a little.
“Before you even came to see Sharley?” Charlotte snapped.
Martin ignored her. He came up to the side of Sharley’s bed and clasped his hands on the rail. “How are you this morning?”
“So far it appears I still have a whole brain.” She saw the shadow in his eyes and regretted the flippant answer. “I’m fine, Uncle Martin.” She reached for his hand. “Is Spence really all right?”
“I think so. They’ve still got a no-visitors sign on the door, but the nurse let me go in for a minute.” Martin looked down at her slim fingers, pale against the brown of his skin. “I’ve talked to Joe Baxter, too. He went over to the cabin first thing this morning. The vent pipe on the water heater was blocked by a bunch of twigs. Some bird had worked awfully hard to push those sticks down into the pipe, trying to build a nest. Joe said the blockage was completely out of sight.”
“So the exhaust spilled back into the cabin,” Sharley said. To think she and Spence had both been so grateful to have hot water after the power went out — and it had almost killed them. “I’m glad to know what it was. Such a simple thing to cause all this trouble, isn’t it?”
Charlotte gave a ladylike snort. “Well, there won’t be any more trouble of that kind.”
“Of course not,” Martin said. He sounded surprised. “Joe took care of the nest before he even called me. But just in case it wasn’t the only problem, there will be a full inspection before anyone spends even an hour in that cabin again.”
“I was thinking more in terms of tearing the place down,” Charlotte said.
“Oh, Aunt Charlotte.”
“It’s an awful shack, filthy and smelly and unpleasant. I never understood your fondness for it, Martin. Besides, I can’t believe you could ever bring yourself to go up there again, knowing it almost cost Sharley’s life.”
“It’s not Uncle Martin’s fault,” Sharley protested. “It wouldn’t be fair to make him give up the cabin.”
“It’s ridiculous to keep it,” Charlotte said mulishly.
Martin squeezed Sharley’s hand. “Don’t fret,” he said softly. “That’s the least of my worries right now.” He turned to Charlotte. “You’re upsetting Sharley with this nonsense.”
“Nonsense? Is that what you call my honest concern? And who, I ask you, is the cause of her being here in the first place?”
“Stop it,” Sharley said. Her voice was trembling. “Please, both of you. Go home. I just want to sleep.”
The silence which followed seemed to drag out for hours before Charlotte stood up. “Very well,” she said crisply. “Come along, Martin. I believe we’ve been dismissed.”
Martin clung to Sharley’s hand for an instant longer. “I’ll talk to you later, honey.”
She smiled at him, grateful that he, at least, seemed to understand.
Libby patted Sharley’s shoulder. “I’ll do my best to keep them away for a day or two,” she promised. “Though I don’t make any guarantees.”
But even in the peaceful quiet of Sharley’s room, sleep didn’t come easily. The soft hiss of the oxygen lines, and the small noises from the hallway — voices and soft-soled shoes and equipment carts going back and forth — reminded her that down the hall somewhere Spence was going through the same things she was.
Martin had told her that Spence was better today. But there had been something about the way he said it that made her wonder just a little. She wished she could go and see for herself.
It was wrong to keep her in the dark about his condition; if things had been oh-so-slightly different, the doctors would have been making special efforts to give her every detail. They wouldn’t have been able to keep her away from him, either; no matter how few visitors were allowed, wives were never turned away.
And that was what she wanted.
There are certain conditions, she reminded herself. Could she accept them?
Could she honestly tell herself she believed in Spence’s innocence? Despite the fact that there seemed to be no explanation on earth which made sense, could she take his word that nothing had happened in the gardener’s cottage?
And, no matter what had been between him and Wendy, or whether she ever knew — could she honestly put it behind her? Not only forgive, but forget?
If I only knew he loved me, I believe I could.
But she did know that. Surely he had proved it last night by what he had done. He had nearly sacrificed himself in an effort to save her life — and if that wasn’t love, what was?
As soon as she had the chance, she would tell him that explanations didn’t matter anymore, that his word was good enough. And she would ask him if they couldn’t start all over once more.
As soon as she had the strength.
*****
Two more
full days passed before her doctor agreed that it was safe for her to go home. “But no school for at least another week,” he decreed. “Get some exercise but take it easy — slow walks, I mean, not racquetball. I’ll want to see you again before I let you go back to full activity.”
Sharley nodded.
“Don’t worry, Doctor,” Charlotte said. “We’ll watch our little invalid very closely. I know the danger involved in doing too much too soon.” She patted Sharley’s arm. “Get your coat on now, dear, and Libby and I will take you home.”
Sharley obediently slipped her down-filled coat over the elegant trouser suit Charlotte had brought. What was the woman thinking of, when she had picked out that particular outfit? Jeans would have been much more comfortable on the long ride ahead. “I wish Martin could have come with you.”
Charlotte said briskly, “He wanted to, but he had business to attend to. With Spence unavailable, everything has fallen back on Martin’s shoulders.”
“Of course I understand.” But Sharley missed him nevertheless. Martin had come back to visit her only once, and even then Charlotte had been with him. She hadn’t had another chance to ask about the cabin, her car — or Spence.
Sharley looked down the hall toward Spence’s room. The door was shut, and the sign still warned that no visitors were welcome. Sharley was certain it no longer meant guests weren’t allowed for medical reasons, but that they weren’t wanted at all, and yesterday she had walked up and down this hall a half-dozen times, trying to find the courage to violate that order and knock on the door.
One of the nurses approached. “It’s awfully nice to see you up and dressed and ready to leave us,” she said. “We’ll miss you — and Mr. Greenfield too.”
“Is he going home today too?” Sharley tried to keep her voice casual.
“Another day or two, probably. Why don’t you step in and say goodbye? I’m sure he’d like to see you.”
“But the sign…?-”
“Oh, that. He said it can come down today.”
She was referring to Spence, Sharley thought, not to his doctor. And he meant the sign to stay up until Sharley had gone, no doubt. She started to shake her head.
But the nurse had already crossed the hall to tap on the door. “There’s a young lady here to see you,” she said cheerfully, and gestured to Sharley.
She wet her lips nervously. “I’ll be just a minute, Aunt Charlotte.”
All she could see at first was a silhouette; Spence was sitting in an armchair with his back to the window. Then, as Sharley’s eyes adjusted, she drank in the sight of him — clean-shaven again, wearing hospital-issue pajamas and a bright plaid bathrobe. He seemed a little pale, and his mouth was set tightly. But on the whole, he looked wonderful.
What would happen if I ran to him, Sharley wondered. If I threw myself in his arms, or knelt beside his chair?
“I’ll leave you,” a woman’s voice said.
A nurse, Sharley thought. But she knew better, even before she turned around. There was no mistaking that soft voice. What was Wendy Taylor doing here today? If Spence wasn’t being released for a day or two, she hadn’t come to drive him back to Hammond’s Point.
Don’t be stupid, Sharley told herself. She’s visiting him, of course. I was right about that sign on the door — it didn’t mean no visitors at all, just selected ones.
“Don’t go, Wendy,” she said. “Charlotte’s waiting to take me home. I just came in to say goodbye.”
Spence stood up. “It’s none of my business, of course, but is she going to make you into an invalid now, too?”
“Spence!” Wendy protested.
Sharley thought the woman sounded as if she was correcting an erring child. What she couldn’t believe was the way Spence reacted to the rebuke — with a slight flush and a sidelong glance at Wendy.
He’s acting as if he’s given her that power over him, Sharley thought incredulously, and her last whisper of hope died painfully. There was nothing else to do but make as graceful an exit as possible.
She tipped her chin up to look at Spence. “You’re right,” she said coolly. “It’s none of your business.”
Wendy stirred nervously.
Don’t worry, Sharley almost said. I can’t get out of here soon enough.
But there were a couple of things which still had to be said, no matter how badly her dreams had been smashed. “I never had a chance to thank you, Spence, and tell you that I appreciate everything you did for me. I hope you’ll soon be better.”
And that was all. She thought she heard him call her name, but the whoosh of the door closing behind her drowned it out. Or perhaps it had only been imagination.
In any case, it didn’t matter anymore.
CHAPTER NINE
Sharley stirred restlessly on the chaise longue in the sun room at the back of the Hudson house. It was two o’clock on Friday afternoon; right about now, she thought, the substitute teacher should be handing out the math review worksheet Sharley had left. Then there would be recess, and social studies, and the end of another week.
With spring break over, school had started again yesterday, without Sharley. Of course, she reminded herself, if she had to take a few days of sick leave, this was the best possible time, since she had left everything ready for a substitute anyway. But that didn’t make it any easier to sit idly at home. She felt fine now, after a couple of days out of the hospital. Perhaps she could go back earlier than the doctor had expected.
But, if she was being honest with herself, she had to admit that missing school wasn’t the only thing that was on her mind. She looked down at the textbook which lay open on her knee. She had been staring at the same two pages for almost an hour now and thinking about Spence.
She should be glad she hadn’t made a fool of herself in his hospital room. How embarrassing it would have been if she had declared her belief that Wendy meant nothing to him, and then he had to tell her how wrong she was.
For she had been wrong about Wendy, that was apparent. The woman was important to him, or she wouldn’t have spoken in that scolding way to him, as if she had every right to correct his failings. Spence wouldn’t have allowed it.
No, if Wendy wasn’t important she wouldn’t even have been there in his room at all.
The doorbell chimed and Sharley closed the textbook on her lap and started to get up. From a deep chair across the sun room, Charlotte said, “Libby will get it.”
“Libby has plenty to do. I’m perfectly capable.” But before she was on her feet, Sharley heard the housekeeper’s footsteps on the slate of the entrance hall. She sank back onto the chaise as Libby ushered three of Charlotte’s friends into the room.
Just what I need, Sharley thought. A restful afternoon’s visit with the bridge ladies.
“Charlotte, what a shock this must have been for you!” one of them twittered as she rushed across the room. “We just had to come and support you.”
Charlotte sat up straighter. “That’s very thoughtful of you. It has been a trial, I must admit. Of course now that Sharley’s safely home…”
“I’ll leave you to chat,” Sharley murmured. She stacked her textbooks and note pads. “I have some studying to do.”
“Good heavens,” Charlotte said, “that’s all you’ve been doing for two days. You need a change of pace. Libby, bring in the tea tray.”
“Oh, yes, do stay, Sharley,” another of the ladies said. “Such a dreadful accident. You’re awfully lucky to have no lasting effects from it.” She gave a little shiver. “You don’t — do you?”
“My cousin William had carbon monoxide once,” the first woman recalled. “He had a heart attack shortly afterward, poor man. He was very young, too — quite young for a heart attack at least. His doctor always said it was because of that poison weakening his system.”
Thanks a lot, Sharley thought. That kind of cheerfully-told horror story was the last thing she needed to hear. Spence was a young man, too — far too young for heart attacks, in th
e ordinary course of events...
The third woman, who hadn’t said a word till then, settled herself in a chair beside Charlotte’s. “Personally, I find the whole episode distinctly odd.”
Sharley raised her eyebrows in what she intended to be a blighting look. “I can’t imagine what you mean.”
“Well, it seems quite strange that Spence was even there at the cabin with you. After the very public way you two split up, it is unusual.”
Don’t say anything, Sharley warned herself. You’ll only make it worse if you try to explain.
“Oh, I think it’s so romantic.” The woman who had asked about aftereffects patted Sharley’s hand. “Is it true that Spence rescued you?”
A Singular Honeymoon Page 14
