The Nurse Novel

by Alice Brennan

  The nurse at Dr. Horne’s side reached up and wiped his forehead with a piece of cotton. The clamps and sutures were passed from the nurse’s hands to his. “They always wait too long,” he said, as he finished suturing and clamping the incision. “It’s spread to the lymph glands and the liver. Why do people have to bury their heads in the sand like an ostrich when they have symptoms that should be looked into?”

  “I could tell him the answer to that,” Merry thought. “Because we’re all afraid. Sometimes we think that if we don’t admit something is there, it’ll go away.”

  We all have to die. The words were said or thought by everyone in the room. They were meant as a comfort for the man on the table. “You’re not the only one; maybe next time it’ll be one of us.”

  “He’s not to know.” The surgeon peeled off his gloves, and flung the words over his shoulder as he walked out.

  The nurses and the doctors left in the room looked at each other and then turned away, almost as if they were embarrassed. Merry stepped aside as an orderly wheeled the stretcher on which Pierson Webb lay out the door and down to Recovery.

  She took off the green wrap-around and cap she’d worn in Surgery. Miracles happened every day, she told herself. You were always reading about them. Miracles that had nothing whatever to do with medical science. Hope wasn’t to be discarded yet.

  She walked down the corridor to the elevator. When it stopped two nurses got off. Tammy Moore broke off her chattering to the other nurse, to shoot Merry a glance. “Successful?”

  Merry said carefully, “He was just taken down to Recovery.”

  Tammy gave a sigh. “I’m glad,” she said. Her gaze swept the nurse with her and she grinned. “Over and above the usual human feeling,” she told her, “I have ulterior motives in wanting Pierson Webb to recover.”

  Merry stepped into the elevator and the doors slid shut behind her.

  When you’re rich and important, she thought, people always seemed to have ulterior motives in their feelings toward you.

  She sighed. Maybe, she thought, that was why men like Pierson Webb were rude and fierce and scornful in their dealings with other people, because they could never be sure what the other really wanted; because they were afraid to expose themselves.

  On impulse she went down to Recovery. The Recovery room was a well-lit, long emptiness. Only the sounds of breathing and of gathering progressive consciousness were heard.

  In the ten-bed room there were three patients in various stages of recovery. Merry moved down the aisle to stand beside the bed on which Pierson Webb lay.

  As she looked down on him, he moaned, a whimpering little cry from a wakening consciousness. The nurse sitting beside him, mindful of every sound or movement from her patient, glanced up at Merry. No word passed between them.

  Merry turned on her heel and went back into the corridor and towards the elevator. An intern wheeling a stretcher passed by her. And by the window that looked out over the green, well-kept lawns, a man and a woman waited.

  As Merry approached them, they turned, as if they were one, and looked towards her. Disappointment washed over their faces as they saw she wasn’t the one they’d hoped, or dreaded, to see.

  And under the disappointment, there was anxiety, heartbreak. Merry thought, with a tug at her heart, that she’d never seen either of those expressions on the faces of the bejeweled women and the men in their expensive custom-made suits who passed in and out of Pierson Webb’s room.

  Boredom, curiosity, impatience, but none of the softer, warmer emotions.

  She pushed the buzzer for the elevator. It was her job to prepare Pierson Webb’s room for his return, to do all that could be done for the comfort of her patient.

  She wondered if anyone would be waiting for him, and she was only mildly surprised to see Mai Hinge lounging just inside the door of Pierson’s room.

  She turned her dark, heavy-lidded eyes on Merry. “Well?” Her voice was cold and impatient.

  “He’s been taken down to Recovery, Miss Hinge.”

  “Was it cancer, or wasn’t it?” Mai ground out a cigarette in the tray beside her.

  Merry shook her head. “I’m not at liberty to discuss a patient.”

  “Oh, to hell with that,” Mai said. “I’m not interested in discussing your scruples.” Her eyes narrowed. “Pierson Webb is in the midst of directing the greatest picture of his career, with himself as lead…” she quoted. She gave her shoulders a jerk. “If only you’d play ball and give me a bite on his condition…” She sighed. “Where can one get a drink in this overgrown apartment house?”

  “There’s a cafeteria in the lobby,” Merry said.

  Mai gave her a fierce glance. “I said a drink.” And then, “How long before they bring Pierson up here?”

  Merry shook her head. “Some come out of it quickly. With others it takes longer.”

  “I guess I’ve got time to find that drink,” Mai said. “My God, with what I’ve been through, I need one.”

  Merry watched her go. Was Mai really as heartless as her talk would indicate? She walked over to the window and stared out. It was barely noon, and the cloudy, heavy skies of the day before were gone as completely as if they’d never been. A lazy sun beat down, fierce and hot.

  Merry thought longingly of the beach. But it would take a bus ride out, and another bus ride back. And it wouldn’t be worth it, because by the time she got back to the apartment, she’d be hotter than when she’d started.

  She was turning away from the window when the man moving leisurely up the walk to the front entrance of the hospital caught her eye. “He walks like Tom,” she thought, and the pain was there, not as vivid as it had once been, but still too vivid for comfort.

  She brushed a hand across her forehead, between her eyes. Wasn’t it about time she realized Tom Harton was in the past? That he belonged there? That he’d never loved her? Wasn’t it about time she grew up and understood the score?

  Tom hadn’t wanted to marry her. “You’re a sweet kid, Merry, but I’m too old for you. Besides I’m already married. I thought you knew. That’s the truth. I’m sorry you understood differently.”

  Merry blinded at the tears. “I’m sorry too,” she thought. She’d met Tom at a party. They’d had some laughs together. That’s all he’d wanted from her…some laughs. Well, she thought thinly, he’d gotten them.

  The sound of movement in the corridor just outside the door caused her to turn her head.

  Pierson Webb was being brought back from Recovery.

  * * * *

  Tammy frowned at Merry over their lunch trays. “It seems to me,” she remarked coldly, “that it’s little enough, what I’m asking. If it were the other way around, I’d do it for you.”

  Merry looked at her unhappily. “It wouldn’t do any good, even if I did ask him,” she said. “He’d only laugh at me.”

  Tammy leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table. “How do you know what he’d do?” she asked. “He likes you. He must. Or why would he specifically ask that you be in surgery for his operation?”

  Merry said, “I was part of the familiar.” She put down her half-eaten sandwich. “Tammy…”

  Tammy said fiercely, “The worst he can say is ‘no,’ isn’t it?”

  Merry sighed. “I guess so,” she said. “Look, Tammy, what if a miracle happens and he says ‘yes’ to a screen test for you. What happens then?”

  Tammy stared at her as if she were an idiot. “What happens then?” she asked. “Why I get a break, that’s what happens. That’s all you need in this town—the right break.”

  Merry said gently, “A lot of girls have had screen tests, Tammy; they’ve won beauty contests; they come here all keyed up and excited. They have their screen tests and that’s the end of them. Some of them go back home, and the others who stay…what happens to them?”

&nbs
p; Tammy said defiantly, “A screen test requested by Pierson Webb, that’s different. He won’t even give the time of day to a girl unless he’s sure she’s star material. And if Pierson Webb takes hold of a girl, she’s made. That’s all there is to it.”

  Merry thought, “He isn’t going to live long enough to make a star out of anyone.” She finished her sandwich and stood up.

  “Will you ask him?” Tammy asked, her face tense as she watched Merry.

  It won’t do any good, Merry thought. But if it meant so much to Tammy…“All right,” she said, “I’ll ask him. But not tonight. He’s hardly out of the anesthetic.”

  “Tomorrow?” Tammy persisted.

  “Tomorrow.”

  She escaped the waiting reporters at the end of the day by going out the back entrance and walking two blocks to a bus line.

  “Well, here she is now,” Tammy said. “What took you so long? I’ve been dying of curiosity. A letter just came for you by special messenger. Who do you think it’s from?”

  Merry laughed and shook her head. “There’s only one way to find out.” She walked over and tore open the letter. Who in the world would be sending her a letter by special messenger? Maybe it was a joke.

  She gave Tammy a thin glance. “Joke?”

  Tammy shook her dark head. “Not me,” she said. She shot Agnes a look. “And Agnes is not the joking kind.”

  “Correct,” Agnes said. She stood in the doorway stirring the mixings of a salad.

  Inside the envelope were two tickets and a note scribbled on what looked like a scratch pad. “I’ve given up elevator operating for a more lucrative profession. Use these two passes to hear me tomorrow night at the Alibi Club. If you’re not treated okay, I’ll punch the head waiter in the nose. P.S. I’m still the perfect gentleman. Unfortunately.” And it was signed Arch Heller.

  Tammy let out a squeal. “It was him, then,” she said. “Arch Heller. Of all the luck!”

  Merry stared at the two passes. “I don’t know,” she said. “About going to the Alibi Club, I mean…”

  “What do you mean you don’t know!” Tammy screamed. “Nobody in their right mind would pass up a chance to go to the Alibi Club. And when the asker is Arch Heller…!”

  Her eyes narrowed on Merry’s face. “The only question is…who’s going to go with you?”

  “Go with me?” Merry stared at Tammy as if the question had only just occurred to her. “You have only two tickets,” Tammy pointed out. “And there’re three of us.”

  Agnes shook her head. “Don’t worry about me,” she said. “Take Tammy. She’s the one who really goes for that stuff, bright lights and…”

  “And maybe producers who’ll turn around and look at me and wonder who I am…” Tammy interposed. She made a wry face. “One of these days I’m going to wake up and find out I’ve been dreaming my life instead of living it.”

  She shook her head at Agnes. “It would do you good to go with Merry,” she told her. “Besides, I couldn’t stand myself if I accepted your offer. Why don’t we draw straws on it? The one with the short one loses her chance to go.”

  “It’s too hot to worry about it tonight,” Merry said. “And besides, I’m too tired. We’ll think of something before tomorrow night.”

  She slipped out of her uniform and into a shift, then went into the kitchen to give Agnes a hand. There was a small spot of warmth glowing inside her. It had been nice of him to send the passes. Here she’d gone around thinking that everyone who’d made it in Hollywood considered everyone who hadn’t beneath his notice. And Arch Heller had shown her differently.

  She set the minute steaks on three plates and carried them into the living room.

  For a week when she first came to Hollywood General, she had lived by herself in one room and eaten at cafeterias and lunch counters. It had been a lonely, miserable existence, and she was fiercely glad she’d been introduced to Tammy who had just lost her roommate and Agnes who wanted to share an apartment. Living alone had nothing to offer anyone.

  She set the plates down and went back into the kitchen to carry in the coffee cups. “You look thoughtful,” Agnes said.

  Merry said lightly, “I was just thinking how very much I appreciate you and Tammy. When I think of that week when I had to live all by myself…” she shuddered.

  There was unusual gravity in Agnes’s voice. She said slowly, “We all live by ourselves. I mean, when you come right down to it.”

  Merry nodded soberly. “Yes, I guess you’re right.” She was thinking of Pierson Webb. He had so much…he need never be alone unless he chose to be. He could pay for the best of company, and yet, in reality, he was very much alone.

  Tammy said, “Why the serious faces?”

  “We were thinking,” Merry told her.

  “Let’s eat first and think afterwards,” Tammy suggested.

  “All right,” Merry said. She indicated a chair with an exaggerated wave of her hand. “Dinner awaits you.”

  For a few moments there was only the clatter of silverware and plates.

  Tammy said slowly, “I can just shut my eyes and know how it’ll be…all soft lights and that wonderful orchestra and then Arch Heller up there singing under the spot and maybe looking at us, and people wondering who we are to rate that. And the jewels and the minks and the…” She let out a gasp and turned an anguished face towards Merry. “If I’m the one who gets to go with you, what in the world will I wear?”

  “Not mink, at least,” Merry said.

  After dinner the three girls cleared the table and did the dishes, and then Tammy disappeared into the bedroom. “I’m going to look through my clothes,” she informed the other two, “and see if I have anything…anything…that could be worn to the Alibi Club.”

  Merry curled up on the couch with a new magazine, and Agnes sat in the chair by the window, staring outside.

  She said slowly, “It doesn’t begin to live until after dark, does it? The city, I mean. It’s as if all day it waits for night to come, so it can bloom…like a night-blooming jasmine.”

  Merry nodded. “I feel it too,” she said. “During the day time, it’s like any other city, squalid in spots, and ugly and cramped, but at night, after the lights come on, everything suddenly changes…”

  She turned her head suddenly as the telephone rang. But before she could reach it, Agnes was there. It was almost as if Agnes had been waiting for the call.

  Chapter Four

  Agnes’ small, tanned hands gripped the telephone with fierce intensity. Behind her she could hear Tammy humming in the bedroom as she sorted through the dresses.

  What would it be like to have no more on your mind than the right dress to wear to a certain place, Agnes wondered. It had been such a long time since she’d been young and carefree that she’d forgotten what it was like. “Agnes?” Her mother always sounded too loud and shrill over the phone, as if she thought she had to scream in order to be heard.

  Agnes said, “Did you take her? What did he say?”

  Her mother started to cry. “He said… Agnes…he said Ellen’s heart is getting worse. He said if she didn’t have an operation she was going to die.”

  “That isn’t true,” Agnes thought defiantly. “The doctor made a mistake. Doctors are always making mistakes. I’ll have Ellen taken to another doctor, one who’ll really examine her this time.”

  “Agnes?” her mother said.

  “I’m still here. I’m thinking. What was his name…the one you took Ellen to?”

  “A Dr. Bronley. He’s a fine doctor, Agnes. He’s supposed to be really good on heart cases. He made all the tests you said you wanted.”

  “That doesn’t make any difference,” Agnes said. “No one has to take one doctor’s diagnosis, Mother. There’s nothing seriously wrong with Ellen. I’m sure of it. We’ll get another doctor’s advice.”

&
nbsp; “But Agnes, he said the tests showed…” her mother protested.

  “I’ll fly up tomorrow after I’m through at the hospital,” Agnes said. “And don’t worry about Ellen. She’s going to be all right.”

  She replaced the phone slowly, and sat for a moment, her head bowed. She had to admit Ellen had been very listless and pale the last time she’d visited her. That was the reason she’d told her mother to take her in for an examination.

  But there was nothing wrong with Ellen’s heart. She’d always been pale and thin, and easily tired, and susceptible to so many things. She was only five years old; she had plenty of time to grow big and husky. And who wanted a big, husky girl anyway? Not men, surely.

  Merry asked hesitantly, “Agnes, is something wrong? Could I help?”

  Agnes shook her head. “A…good friend of mine is ill,” she said. “My mother’s worried about her, so I’m going to fly up to San Francisco tomorrow. Mother’s the worrying kind.” She flashed a smile that was supposed to suggest that people who worried were jokes.

  But it didn’t quite come off. And Merry kept staring at her, and repeated anxiously, “Agnes, are you sure there isn’t anything?”

  “I’m sure,” Agnes said. She isn’t my best friend, she wanted to tell Merry. She’s my heart. She’s my little girl She’s five years old and the doctor says she’s going to die.

  She remembered the prayer of her childhood. There was one part of it she’d never wanted to say. The part that said “and if I die before I wake.”

  Her mother had always made her say the complete prayer, and some nights Agnes could remember lying in bed afraid to close her eyes for fear she’d die while she was asleep.

  Pain tangled in her throat. She’d always been afraid of death. She was afraid of it now. It wasn’t going to happen to Ellen.

  Tammy came waltzing out of the bedroom, a bright red sheath hugged up against her. Her eyes were excited. “Well?” she asked. “Do you think it will do?”

  Merry nodded. “Mai Hinge said in her column that red is a real ‘in’ color this year,” she assured Tammy.