The Nurse Novel

by Alice Brennan

  “No? How did you mean it, then?”

  Merry flashed out in sudden, helpless anger, “Oh, for heaven’s sake! Stop nagging, will you?”

  He nodded. “That sounds much better.”

  * * * *

  “Here, catch,” Tammy said, flinging two letters at Agnes. “You’re late—We’ve been waiting almost an hour.”

  “I had something to do before I came home,” Agnes shrugged.

  She glanced at the two letters. One bore a San Francisco post mark and was addressed in her mother’s small, cramped handwriting.

  “Well, aren’t you going to open it?” Tammy asked impatiently. “That gold-bordered envelope holds an invitation to Pierson Webb’s cocktail party next Wednesday!”

  Agnes glanced at Tammy over the top of the envelope. She opened it slowly and looked at the invitation before she disinterestedly put it aside. She knew she wouldn’t be going.

  Tammy said, “You don’t look at all excited.”

  “Why should I be?” Agnes asked. “I have no intention of going. And don’t tell me that nobody refuses to go to one of Pierson Webb’s parties: I’m refusing.”

  Tammy shook her head and said slowly, “I hate to tell you, Agnes, but you’re crazy.”

  Agnes shrugged. “I’m going to stay that way.”

  Merry cut in quickly, “Hurry and change, will you, Agnes? We really have been waiting dinner,” she forced laughter into her voice, “and creamed dried beef can wait only so long. Besides, we have a guest.”

  Agnes glanced at Jeff coolly. “You shouldn’t have waited for me.”

  Merry said lightly, “And have you miss out on the specialty of the house, Jeff’s salad?”

  “Don’t make any remarks ’til you’ve tasted it,” Jeff said.

  Agnes didn’t smile. “I won’t be long.”

  Merry nodded. She stood for a moment gazing after her, wishing she knew some way to make her go to Pierson Webb’s party. All that froth and phoniness and glitter and brightness might be good for Agnes. She was much too serious about everything.

  Her frown deepened. Since the San Francisco trip, Agnes’ moodiness had seemed to be deeper and longer lasting. She sighed and turned towards the kitchen. She had no desire to pry into Agnes’ private life. Until Agnes wanted to talk, she was keeping strictly out of it: she still remembered the night Arch Heller had brought Harvey Miles to dinner too vividly.

  * * * *

  Agnes closed the bedroom door and leaned against it for a moment, staring at the letter from her mother. Holding it, she walked across to the window and looked out at the lights coming on, and struggled against a feeling of bitterness and envy.

  Merry and Tammy could be concerned with silly cocktail parties and dinner being spoiled. While she… Her hands trembled against her sides.

  She had phoned Harvey just before she’d left the hospital to tell him she had reconsidered, that perhaps he was right, that they should have that talk.

  They had met at a little place near Mt. Mercy and had sat in a booth across from one other, drinking coffee; she had watched him being awkwardly apologetic and earnest and sincere in turn, trying to bridge the years, trying to undo what never could be undone.

  And she’d listened, feeling nothing stir in her, not even the cold hatred that had plagued her for so long. There had been an emptiness in her, as if Harvey had never been, as if those few, brief months they had spent together had never occurred.

  But they had, and Ellen was the proof that they had. She had waited and listened for him to say something that would let her know he knew about Ellen.

  But when she had left him, it was with the certainty that he did not know about Ellen, and relief had surged in her. It was why she had come, to find out for herself, and she had found out that all Harvey had wanted was to ease his conscience.

  Her lips twisted in scorn. From the other room came Tammy’s mournful voice, “For Pete’s sake, Agnes, hurry up. We’re all starving.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” she called back. “The rest of you go on and sit down.”

  Moving hurriedly, she grabbed a dress off a hanger in the closet, unbuttoned her uniform and slipped it off. She propped both elbows on the dresser top and leaned forward to look at herself.

  Turning away, she smoothed her hair with one hand, and then, unable to help herself, picked up her mother’s letter from the bed.

  She knew it would be impossible to go out there, to sit down and eat, until she knew what was in the letter.

  She opened it slowly. It was brief, like all her mother’s letters.

  Ellen was no better, she had written. And when she’d talked to the doctor about her, he’d repeated what he’d said the other time…that without an operation, Ellen was going to die, maybe within months.

  The letter ended on a note of recrimination. If Agnes continued to deny the truth about Ellen’s condition, she was going to be the cause of her daughter’s death.

  Agnes crumpled the letter in her fist, then tore it into minute pieces and dropped it in the wastebasket.

  There was a dryness in her throat and a knot of pain in her chest. That her mother could think that she would deliberately…deliberately…

  She managed to stop the trembling of her chin before she went into the other room. Everyone was sitting at the table except Merry, who came from the kitchen with a steaming bowl.

  “I kept everything hot for you, Agnes.”

  “Thanks,” Agnes said. She looked at the food on her plate and nausea ripped through her. “I can’t eat,” she thought. “I can’t possibly.”

  But she tried frantically, forcing the food past the lump that tightened her throat making it so hard to swallow.

  Her mother was wrong. She was wrong. She wasn’t deliberately refusing to face the truth. She wasn’t!

  When she glanced up suddenly she saw Merry watching her. Merry turned her head quickly away.

  Agnes continued to stir the bits of toast around on her plate. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I guess I’m not very hungry. I had two cups of coffee after I left the hospital: I guess they took away my appetite. I wish you hadn’t waited dinner for me.”

  Tammy, having finished, said cheerfully, “There was one big advantage in waiting, Agnes. I was hungry enough so that even creamed dried beef…ugh…tasted delicious.”

  Her eyes narrowed suddenly on Agnes’ face. Maybe she’d never really noticed her before, but Agnes had something, lines, expression, shape, something. She didn’t look like everyone else. She was different.

  A numbing coldness gripped Tammy’s stomach. Was she different? Or was she merely another beautiful girl in a city where beautiful girls, all looking like one another, were a glut on the market?

  What if she got her chance and then discovered she had nothing to give?

  She denied the thought vigorously. She had as much to give as Natalie Pries. She had more!

  Agnes pushed her plate away and got to her feet. She looked at Merry unhappily. “I’m sorry, Merry, but I can’t eat anymore. I’m really sorry.”

  Merry shrugged and said kindly, “If you aren’t hungry, you aren’t hungry. Don’t feel badly about it.”

  Jeff said smugly, “You ate your salad, and that was the main part of the meal.”

  Agnes ignored the attempt at lightness. She went into the bedroom and came out wearing a sweater. “Think I’ll take a short walk,” she said, “I feel a bit sluggish.”

  When Agnes had gone, Tammy said, “I wonder what goes with her? She’s getting harder and harder to live with.”

  Jeff said cheerfully, “I’d say a man.”

  Tammy looked interested. “Maybe she and Harvey Miles have started seeing each other; maybe they’ll go back to being married.”

  Merry shook her head. Harvey Miles? She shrugged. Possible, but hardly probable. />
  Jeff gave her a look. He said, “The trouble with you, my dear Miss Neil, is that you don’t think in romantic terms.”

  Merry, beginning to clear the table, thought with sudden venom that thinking in a romantic way was what had gotten her into trouble in the first place. Tom had wanted none of it.

  Chapter Twelve

  Pierson had strung a canopy above the patio. The blue-black canvas top, dotted with small, glittering lights was, Merry decided, supposed to resemble a night sky. There was even an orange colored globe meant to be the moon.

  Beyond the patio was the oval pool, with a statue of a naked reclining woman catching sprays of water in her mouth.

  People stood in small groups or milled around near the pool. The women all wore elaborate hairdos, and waved half-empty glasses as they talked. The men in too-carefully tailored suits usually stood talking to one woman while their eyes followed another one.

  Jeff threaded the way for them through the crowd. The men turned to nod vaguely; the women, most of them, reached out their hands as if they had to touch him: “Jeff, sweetie.”

  “Baby, where are you going in such a hurry?” Glistening, painted lips; eyes beginning to sparkle a bit too brightly.

  Jeff stood Merry near the pool. “This is the most advantageous spot from which to view the statue,” he quipped. His eyes said he admired her, that she looked absolutely lovely.

  “Don’t move from here,” he whispered, his hands pressing gently, for just a moment, against her shoulders. “And don’t let anyone steal you. Someone’s apt to, you know.”

  Merry laughed up at him. She felt light-headed, and airy and gay—whether from the evening or the glitter of the crowd, or the excitement, she didn’t know.

  “I promise.”

  After Jeff left, Merry’s eyes searched the crowd unsuccessfully for Tammy. She and Arch had left early, since Arch had to stop at the Alibi Club on his way to Pierson’s party.

  Tammy had been resplendent in shimmering green that hugged her lovely figure. Arch’s eyes had lit up at sight of her.

  “Hey, man,” he said, “you’re gonna make them all take a second look, you sweet, sexy-looking child, you.”

  Tammy had laughed at him, complimented and loving it. She had sailed out of the room looking elegant and self-assured and feeling almost as self-assured as she looked.

  Agnes, in a loose, unbelted shift, had stared after Tammy. She’d said slowly, “Anyone with Tammy’s self-confidence should have no trouble whatever getting what she wants out of life.”

  Merry wasn’t so sure. “Maybe,” she’d said, “most of her self-confidence is on the outside.”

  Agnes had shrugged. “Maybe. But knowing Tammy, I don’t believe it.”

  Now Jeff came towards her, a drink in each hand. She saw Mai Hinge, flamboyant in orange, put out a hand to stop him, laugh and shake her head, and then swivel around to stare, still laughing, in Merry’s direction.

  Merry gave her a level look, smiled, and then turned her head slowly, not wanting Mai to know how tensely aware she was of her mocking appraisal.

  She saw Tammy moving towards her, looking like a young queen. She could have hugged her for putting in an appearance at so appropriate a moment.

  When Tammy reached Merry, she said with childlike delight. “Everyone’s noticing me. They really are.”

  Arch, behind her, squeezed her arm. “Yeah,” he said, “and is she ever loving it.”

  “Of course I am,” she cooed. “If you want to get any place in this town you have to be looked at.”

  Merry laughed. “Well, you’re getting what you came for, aren’t you, Tammy?”

  Tammy shook her head. “Not quite yet,” she said, turning to look at Arch. “Arch promised we’d see Pierson Webb and so far he hasn’t kept that promise. We’ve seen just everybody except Pierson.”

  “Now sweet love,” Arch told her, “something like that takes time. For instance, I need a drink before I tackle Pierson.” He glanced wryly at Merry. “I rarely drink,” he said. “And never just before I have to give a performance. So Tammy ought to appreciate what I’m doing for her, oughtn’t she?”

  Merry grinned at him. “She ought to.” She gave Tammy an affectionate look. “But knowing Tammy, I don’t think she feels at all appreciative.”

  She had meant it jestingly, but Arch suddenly grew serious. “I know,” he said. “Tammy thinks everyone was created for her special use. Take me, for example: I’m merely an opener of doors.”

  Tammy said tightly, “Arch Heller, that isn’t true at all! How can you say a thing like that?”

  Merry saw that Arch was once again his usual easy-going self. “Of course it’s true,” he said. “But don’t count on Pierson’s listening to me. He never listens to anyone.”

  “Why, you’re afraid of him, aren’t you?” Tammy said accusingly.

  He didn’t deny it. “Most people are a bit afraid of Pierson. He’s a very powerful man in this town, baby. And most of us in the business aren’t about to forget it.”

  Tammy said, “Well, anyway, let’s go find him and see how bad an ogre he is.”

  As she walked away with Arch, she mused, “He’s right about me. I am just using him. The way I tried to use Merry to get to Pierson for me. The way I’d use anyone I thought could help me get where I want to go.”

  She shivered and Arch asked solicitously, “Cold, baby?” And when she shook her head, he said, his voice full of mocking amusement, “That’s nervousness, baby. We all get to sweating when we contemplate approaching the big man face to face.”

  Tammy thought, “Why don’t I tell him he doesn’t have to do this for me?”

  She mulled it over. She knew she wasn’t going to say it. There was a feeling of mild panic in her. She thought, “Was I always like this? Selfish and greedy and grasping, and not caring?”

  * * * *

  Merry stared down at the drink Jeff brought her. “What is it?”

  He laughed at her. “Vodka,” he told her. “No like?”

  Merry shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said, “I’ve never tasted it before.”

  “Well, it’ll be a new experience.” There was a subtle undertone to his voice suddenly. “And I’m a fervent believer in new experiences for people. Aren’t you?”

  Merry suddenly felt cold. “Like what?” she shouted inwardly. “Like falling in love with you, for instance? Or isn’t that what you’re after. Maybe it’s the other…maybe you’re like Tom, in reality, and what’s on your mind is an affair: all laughter and a barrel of fun, and no tears when it’s over.”

  Aloud she said, “I’m not so sure.” She glanced down at her drink and sipped it slowly.

  She felt Jeff’s eyes on her, and he said, “Mai’s been admiring you.”

  Merry burst out laughing. “I’m sure of it. She probably asked you why I didn’t come wearing my uniform.”

  He laughed back at her. “Practically her exact words.” His face became tender. “When you laugh like that,” he said, “you look like a little girl, all shy and sweet and bubbling.”

  As she clutched her drink she vowed, “I’m not going to let him get through to me.” She smiled up at him and said carefully, “And now who’s sounding phony?”

  He shrugged lightly. “Do you always take offense at compliments?” He touched her elbow. “Let’s move; I’m afraid if we stay here Mai will be over.”

  Merry nodded, and holding their drinks, they threaded their way through the crowd once again.

  Jeff nodded vaguely, and sometimes ignored, those who called and waved to him as they passed. “The thing is,” he told her, “the men, for the most part, are wondering do you or don’t you. And the women are hating you like hell because you look the way they’d like to look, fresh and young.”

  Before Merry could think up the proper reply, he said, “I though
t I saw you talking to Tammy and Arch before I came up.”

  Merry nodded, glad she didn’t have to reply to the other. “Arch was on his way to get a drink, and then they were going to see the lion in his den.”

  “Meaning Pierson,” Jeff said. He shook his head. “He isn’t going to be in his most receptive mood. He’s been drinking, and when he’s drinking, he gets insulting.”

  “He shouldn’t be drinking.” And then realizing what she’d said, looked helplessly at Jeff.

  “Don’t look like that,” he said. “No confidences have been broken. I’ve already forgotten you’ve said it. You’d be surprised at how many things a lawyer hears that he has to forget.”

  Merry was stunned that she’d come so close to admitting what she shouldn’t admit…that Pierson Webb was not nearly the well man he was alleged to be. She faltered, “It was just that I thought he shouldn’t…”

  “We aren’t going to talk about it,” he said firmly.

  They moved leisurely, stopping occasionally to chat with those who were too insistent to be ignored, and circulating so that Merry could see the assembled VIP’s.

  “It reminds me of a mob scene in a big spectacular,” she remarked.

  Jeff nodded. “Pierson loves spectaculars. In his movies and in his private life.”

  Merry said, “He’s a very lonely man. I feel sorry for him.”

  Jeff shuddered. “Don’t ever let Pierson hear you say a thing like that.”

  “I said it one day at the hospital, and he ordered me out of his room.”

  Jeff laughed. “You’re lucky he went no farther than that. One thing Pierson Webb can’t abide is anyone’s thinking he needs pity. He’d be the first one to tell you that he has everything, everything any man needs in life.”

  Merry said softly, “He told me.”

  Jeff stared at her. “And you don’t believe him.”

  “No.”

  Jeff took their empty glasses and put them on the tray of a passing waiter. Looking down at her with somber eyes, he said, “What if Pierson offered you what Tammy aches to have. Would you accept it?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” his eyes challenged her.