by Helen Wells
Cherry regretted, however, that Wade could not meet Driver Smith. His play-acting at being pleasant had turned into the real thing.
“Glad to see ya!” he greeted Cherry. “Let the lady in! Ladies first! The war’s over.”
Cherry grinned and proffered her fare.
“Sorry I have t’ charge ya,” Smith told her.
As the bus rolled off, Driver Smith sang out, “We are now approachin’ Jefferson Park, to yer right. Temperature is now thirty degrees, more’r less, humidity nine’y-two. Ya wanna get off, mister? Sure. Call again!”
This went on continuously, without a lull. Between welcomes to passengers, Driver Smith sang. The bus-load of people were a little startled, some of them were convulsed, but everybody enjoyed the ride.
“G’bye, nurse! Sorry t’ see ya go. I thank ya for yer patronage!”
Cherry would have enjoyed all this a great deal more had not people begun to stop her on the street and ask questions. “Nurse, my neighbor saw you going into the Gregory house. Did she really let you in?” “Mr. Jonas told us Miss Gregory is sick and we should stay away from there, not bother her. But tell us, nurse, confidentially, what did you find out?” “I hear you’ve actually seen the poor soul. O’Brien won’t tell a thing. What’s she like?” Cherry wished she could say, “Mary Gregory is returning to the world.” But that was still only a wish.
Most concerned of all were the children of the neighborhood. Cherry had told them the real story behind the scary legend they had built up in this past year or two. “Then she’s really nice? After all?” “Poor thing, all alone.” “Is she going to get well?” And the children gave Cherry notes and homemade Christmas presents and a spray of red berries to deliver to Miss Gregory. Despite Officer O’Brien’s vigilance, people were beginning to stand beside the fence of the Victorian mansion and stare into its masked windows.
Cherry was afraid that this might cost Mary Gregory whatever small courage she was mustering. Cherry particularly dreaded the possibility of real crowds gathering, of reporters and photographers, if some newspaper got wind of the story.
Cherry discussed her fears with Wade that evening at dinner. The two of them dined together so often that the Spencer Club jokingly warned Cherry that they no longer considered her an active member. And with ponderous tact, the girls avoided the Jumble Shop, Wade’s favorite Village restaurant.
Wade and Cherry were squeezed in side by side on a banquette in the restaurant. Wade was “borrowing” bites of Cherry’s dessert, having finished his own.
“Wade—I mean Cap’n—you’ve flown planes around the world. Do you think you could meet Louise Carewe’s daughter at Grand Central Station and find the way out to the Gregory house, arriving in a nice, inconspicuous taxi?”
“I think so.”
“Tomorrow, then.” Cherry sat brooding. Tomorrow!
“You know what?” Wade remarked. “You’re the prettiest girl in the room.”
“You only think so. You’re prejudiced.”
“I certainly am, in your favor. Come on, let’s go some place and dance.”
They danced all evening, but Cherry’s heart was not in it. For once, Wade, too, was ready to go home early. When he left her at No. 9, he said comfortingly, “Don’t worry. Maybe tomorrow evening at this time we can celebrate about your Miss Gregory.”
“Maybe,” she murmured. “Maybe.”
Next day Cherry took out the door key Miss Gregory had trustfully given her, and let herself in. She left the door unlatched for young Louise. The doorbell had been disconnected, so Cherry called, “Hello!” and started upstairs. She left certain bundles on the stair landing where the portraits were.
“Hello, Miss Gregory!” she called, climbing the rest of the stairs. “It’s the nurse! How are you this fine day?”
Mary Gregory actually answered her. “Very well, thank you! Come in!”
Miss Gregory stood in the doorway of the upstairs sitting room. She was dressed in a modern frock but something about the cloudy lace scarf on her shoulders, and the timeless, madonna coiffure of her dark, silvered hair, gave her a remote look. Cherry glanced anxiously at her wrist watch, then said:
“This is a routine call. I hope you feel well enough to have visitors?”
“Oh, yes, I am fully recovered now. And I—I am glad to have a visitor, Miss Ames,” she said with an effort. With innate courtesy, Mary Gregory was trying to put Cherry at ease—which Cherry intended her to do.
“Then maybe you wouldn’t mind having other visitors soon?” Cherry hinted. Mary Gregory’s lips parted to protest. But Cherry, having planted the idea of visitors, gave her no chance to protest. She immediately went on talking casually of the children who had been asking for Miss Gregory, of their excitement at Christmas coming, of anything. More, Cherry got Mary Gregory to talking. “By the way, Miss Gregory, I want to return your door key. Here you are.”
A low, sharp whistle sounded from downstairs. It was Wade. Miss Gregory turned, startled.
“That’s for me,” Cherry said, reassuring but not explaining. “Will you excuse me for a few moments?”
Now came the test! Cherry raced downstairs and met Wade and Louise Carewe in the kitchen. The young girl, in her hat and coat, carrying flowers, looked anxious and excited. Wade was distinctly uncomfortable. They conversed in whispers.
“Right on time! Wade, you stay down here. Miss Carewe, come with me.” On the stair landing, Cherry piled young Louise Carewe’s arms with bundles, again whispering. She called cheerfully, “Miss Gregory! Here are Christmas gifts for you!”
She urged the girl forward. Louise’s eyes were apprehensive but she was smiling. Cherry followed a few paces behind.
“Gifts for me? From whom?” came Mary Gregory’s astonished voice. Then Cherry heard her gasp: “Louise!”
“Gifts from”—the girl’s voice broke and went on—“the neighborhood children. A few flowers. Oh, Aunt Mary!”
“Louise!” Mary Gregory was standing there, too shocked to move. Cherry, at young Louise Carewe’s elbow, kept gently urging her forward. “Louise! It is the daughter, young Louise, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Oh, Aunt Mary, Aunt Mary. I am so happy finally to see you! Mother couldn’t come because she has fractured her leg—she is so sorry she cannot come, she longs to see you. But if you will accept me in her place temporarily—She and Brother send you all their love.”
“I—I don’t know what to say—I—” Mary Gregory burst into tears and hid her face in her hands. The young girl, too, had tears on her cheeks, but she smiled.
“No need to say anything.” Cherry stepped in. “Here, let’s go into the sitting room.” She engineered the two tense women into the pleasant room.
“Why, Miss Gregory, aren’t you going to open the children’s gifts?” Cherry went on to fill the gap. “Come now, the youngsters are so eager to know if you like them.”
Miss Gregory with shaking fingers began to untie the homemade presents. The young girl helped her. Having something to do together bridged the first embarrassment, and gave them something to talk about. After admiring the little gifts, Mary Gregory was able to look full at young Louise and managed to say:
“You look just as your mother did, when I last saw her. How is she?” Without waiting for an answer, she murmured, “So you are the little girl in the photographs, grown up now.” Miss-Gregory smiled at the girl beside her.
“Aunt Mary, your letters have been wonderful. You’ve been so good to me and Mother and John. There is no way for us to thank you for your years and years of kindness.”
Mary Gregory shrank back. Cherry quickly broke into the dangerous pause. “With Christmas and New Year’s coming, this is really a good time for a family reunion, isn’t it?”
Louise caught the cue. “Come and spend the holidays with us, Aunt Mary. Mother can’t leave the house and she does so want to see you. Please, Aunt Mary?”
Mary Gregory hesitated, her whole figure taut.
“Of cours
e she will,” said Cherry, smiling encouragement at her.
“Of course I will,” Mary Gregory echoed breathlessly. She sat up straighter and asked: “What ever became of Edward and Julia Weeks? Do you know, child?”
“They are living in New York. They write to Mother regularly and often mention you. They would love to see you.”
“And—and do you ever go to the theater, Louise? I have missed the theater.”
“You and Mother and I shall see whatever plays you like.”
Cherry advised softly, “Set a date. Right now.” The girl nodded. The older woman talked on, eagerly, of old times, old friends, while young Louise nodded that she understood. Cherry rose and tiptoed out of the room. She was at the door when Miss Gregory broke off to say:
“Miss Ames. Will you thank the children for me for their gifts?”
“Wouldn’t you rather thank them yourself? They want to see you, they won’t be satisfied with my word.”
“Then”—Mary Gregory lifted her head and swallowed—“ask the children to a tea party, here. Sometime.”
Cherry had to restrain a shout of joy. Mary Gregory was opening her doors at last! “Say this Saturday afternoon at three?” Cherry pinned her down.
“And I’ll come down to help and keep order,” Louise quickly put in.
“A tea party Saturday afternoon at three,” Mary Gregory confirmed wonderingly. All at once she had become radiant. “Louise, bring your brother John—I want to see him. Give your mother my love and we will meet at Christmas, in—in Thornwood. And here is my door key, Louise, for you to—keep.”
Cherry ran joyously downstairs. She found Wade striding stiffly around the hall.
“Wade! It worked! It worked!”
“Praise be! I sure have been sweating it out!”
From the kitchen Officer O’Brien and Mr. Jonas peered in excitedly. “It’s all right? She’s going to be all right?”
“Mary Gregory is going to lead a normal life from now on!” Cherry told them fervently. They mopped their brows in unison.
Cherry glowed. Her work and idealism as a nurse had truly served another human being. Her nurse’s training had led her to this lonely soul, and had equipped her to save her.
She stood for a moment in the hall, gazing in at the three, silent, Victorian rooms. Then she turned to look at the grandfather’s clock with its hands stopped at quarter to three.
“Wade, what time is it?”
“Twenty minutes past five.”
Cherry stepped over to the tall clock and very deliberately opened its glass door. She urged the hands around to five-twenty, then gently started the pendulum swinging. Its cheerful ticking filled the hallway.
“Now my work here is done.”
CHAPTER XIV
Christmas Party
THE CHRISTMAS PARTY WAS IN FULL SWING WHEN THE six nurses, Wade, and Dr. Johnny arrived at Laurel House, the Sunday before Christmas. The gymnasium had been transformed with fir boughs, and red and green decorations. In the center of the floor a Christmas tree towered almost to the ceiling, laden with dolls and toys from the workshops, with more dolls and toys spread under its sweeping branches. At one end of the crowded gym was the longest table Cherry had even seen, crammed with delicious foods and presided over by beaming, neighborhood hosts and hostesses. At the far end of the room, an orchestra of young people played at intervals. Evelyn Stanley, in her emerald-green dress and a glittering star in her hair, seemed to be everywhere at once.
She ran over to welcome the nurses and their visitors.
“We’ve been waiting for you! Miss Ames, the international food table is a wild success! And you’ll never guess who’s here! Mary Gregory.”
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not joking. Look over there, in that crowd of children.”
Cherry and Wade, the entire interested Spencer Club, turned. Across the room sat Mary Gregory, with young Louise Carewe at her side. Playing with the other children was Jimmy Terrell, now as good as new. Emily Culver, followed by Mr. Long’s approving glance, was showing the Sergeyevskys the paintings that filled one big wall.
It seemed to Cherry that her entire district had come to the party—and many more, besides. Cherry spoke to the people she knew, sampled the goodies, with Wade attended a boxing contest between “under-weights,” helped run a game of musical chairs.
Then Cherry and Wade and the nurses adjourned with the others to the auditorium. There were so many guests that Mr. Twiddy’s play had to be performed twice this afternoon, for two audiences. It was hilariously funny and the amateur players acted it with dash—except when a prop, a pretended wall safe, refused to open and deadpan Mr. Twiddy accidentally popped out from the wings clutching a hammer.
“It was a fine party,” everybody agreed. “Let’s have more parties at Laurel House. Especially with those delicious foods!” Cherry saw neighborhood people scribbling recipes and writing down one another’s addresses, new acquaintances arranging to meet again. She felt warmly satisfied.
After that, it seemed to Cherry, Village characters, Wade, Christmas shopping, the Jenkinses, her packed suitcase, kaleidoscoped and whirled about her. She never quite understood how she managed to get safely to Grand Central Station. But here she was on the platform, heading midwest for her Christmas holiday, and Wade with his suitcase heading southwest. Their trains waited on either side of the long platform.
“Good-bye, honey,” Wade said, surrounded by the Spencer Club. “Have a good birthday and Christmas. We’ll get together soon again.”
“Good luck, Wade!” Cherry glowed. “Thanks for the most wonderful time! So long, Gwen, Vivi. Mai Lee, make Vivian eat enough. Josie, Bertha, so long. Merry Christmas. Have fun!”
Wade put her aboard, finding her seat for her. She stood at the train window, looking out at the girls, and then at Wade waving and making faces from his window. The girls were motioning, trying to tell her something through the window, laughing helplessly. Then, simultaneously, the trains were moving.
Wade and Cherry waved to each other from their windows. The trains were slowly sliding along. The girls ran alongside, waving, slipping away one by one as the train picked up speed. Cherry waved frantically. Then Wade’s train branched away, and he, too, was gone.
Cherry sat down in her Pullman seat and had to blow her nose, to her own surprise.
“I don’t like saying good-bye, even for a little while.” She tossed back her black curls. “But it’ll be wonderful to see Mother and Dad and Charlie and home and everyone. And anyhow, I have lots and lots more nursing ahead of me!”
CHERRY AMES, VETERANS’ NURSE
CHERRY AMES NURSE STORIES
CHERRY AMES VETERANS’ NURSE
By
HELEN WELLS
Copyright © 1946 by Grosset & Dunlap, Inc.
Copyright © renewed 2007 by Harriet Schulman Forman
Springer Publishing Company, LLC
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of Springer Publishing Company, LLC.
Springer Publishing Company, LLC
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Production Editor: Matthew Byrd
Cover design by Takeout Graphics, Inc.
Composition: Techbooks
07 08 09 10/5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Wells, Helen, 1910-
Cherry Ames, veterans’ nurse / by Helen Wells.
p. cm. — (Cherry Ames nurse stories)
Summary: When the war is over, Cherry comes home to Hilton, Illinois, and faces the challenge of caring for wounded veterans.
ISBN 0-8261-0400-2
[1. Nurses–Fiction. 2. Hospitals–Fiction. 3. Veterans–
Fiction. 4. Illinois–Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.W4644Cl 2006
[Fic]—dc22
2006022324
Printed in the United States of America by Bang Printing
Contents
FOREWORD
I
HOME-COMING
II
SURPRISES
III
JIM
IV
APRIL FOOL
V
A LITTLE BOY
VI
MIDGE’S BIG ROMANCE
VII
FIRST TEST
VIII
WEEK END
IX
CLUES
X
A TURN FOR THE BETTER
XI
WADE COMES TO TOWN
XII
STRANGE STORY
XIII
MIDNIGHT DISCOVERY
XIV
THE HAPPIEST DAY
XV
END AND BEGINNING
Foreword
Helen Wells, the author of the Cherry Ames stories, said, “I’ve always thought of nursing, and perhaps you have, too, as just about the most exciting, important, and rewarding, profession there is. Can you think of any other skill that is always needed by everybody, everywhere?”
I was and still am a fan of Cherry Ames. Her courageous dedication to her patients; her exciting escapades; her thirst for knowledge; her intelligent application of her nursing skills; and the respect she achieved as a registered nurse (RN) all made it clear to me, I was going to follow in her footsteps and become a nurse—nothing else would do. Thousands of other young people were motivated by Cherry Ames to become RNs as well. Cherry Ames motivated young people on into the 1970s, when the series ended. Readers who remember reading these books in the past will enjoy rereading them now—whether or not they chose nursing as a career—and perhaps sharing them with others.
