The Nurse Novel

by Alice Brennan

  “This is an outrageous scene, Nurse. I’m shocked. Where did you train? Or did you earn the right to wear that uniform in nurse’s training? I can’t believe any training school would turn out a nurse who would behave as you are doing,” the doctor said as he took the shaking old hands in both his own and looked accusingly across the bed at Lindsay, who was standing very still with her hands clenched into tight fists in her pockets.

  “I will be glad to show you my credentials, Doctor,” said Lindsay evenly. “I was merely trying to bathe her and change her bed, but she was not very co-operative.”

  “Which scarcely gave you the right to be brutal, did it?”

  “I wasn’t brutal, Doctor.”

  “She was, too, Doctor. Oh, she was. She hurt me!” wailed Miss Jennifer piteously.

  “That’s not true, Aunt Jennifer,” Lindsay flashed. “You’re a mean, cantankerous old woman, and we both know it.”

  “That’s enough, Nurse!” the doctor’s voice cracked like a whip. “The patient is your aunt, and yet you mistreat her? What kind of nurse are you, anyway?”

  Lindsay was seething inwardly, but she managed to regain her frail control on her temper and to say evenly, “Dr. Potter asked me to take charge of the case. And I understood he was the doctor in charge.”

  The young doctor straightened, and his brown eyes were cold.

  “Are you presuming to question my authority?” he demanded.

  Lindsay’s smile was so faint as to be almost nonexistent, and her eyes were lowered so that he could not see the derision in them.

  “I wouldn’t dare, Doctor. If Aunt Jennifer says you are her doctor, how would I dare question your authority? I’m only a nurse, a registered nurse!” Her tone was entirely without expression. “It’s just that when Dr. Potter brought me here last night, I got the impression the case was his.”

  “I’ve been associated with Dr. Potter for a year, doing some research in diseases peculiar to this bayou country. And of course I’m delighted to take as much of the burden of house calls off Dr. Potter as I can.”

  “And I’m sure he is delighted to have you do so, Doctor,” said Lindsay politely. “He’s been badly overworked for years, being the only doctor for miles around.”

  She met the hostile gaze of the man’s dark brown eyes, and then he turned from her, murmured some soothing words to a very gratified-looking Miss Jennifer and turned toward the door.

  Miss Jennifer watched him go, and then she looked at Lindsay with malicious satisfaction.

  “That’s probably the only eligible young man for miles around, and now he despises you,” she crowed triumphantly.

  “Who is he?” asked Lindsay.

  “Name’s Corbett. Marvin Corbett,” Miss Jennifer related. “Like he said, he’s been working with Doc Potter for a year, trying to find out something about the diseases here. I could tell him, of course, that aside from snake-bite and drowning, most of the diseases are the result of poor diet and heavy drinking. But then nobody asked me.”

  “And that bothers you, doesn’t it?” Lindsay’s tone was dry.

  “Bothers me? What’s that supposed to mean?” Miss Jennifer demanded suspiciously.

  “Only that as the Queen of the Bayou, it bothers you not to be asked your advice on everything that concerns the Bayou and its people.”

  “Well, who has lived here longer than I have? Who has more right to be consulted about the Bayou and its people than I have?”

  “And who is more responsible for the faulty diet of the people than you are?” Lindsay asked quietly.

  Miss Jennifer stared at her, wide-eyed, newly outraged.

  “I pay my people good wages,” she snapped. “I pay them all they’re entitled to. And I run a commissary at the village where they can buy their food at wholesale prices. I don’t make a penny on what they buy.”

  “Ha, ha, ha!” Lindsay’s tone was without mirth, frankly derisive, and Miss Jennifer’s ample face flushed and her eyes snapped.

  “Well, I don’t!” she snapped defiantly. “And if I did, it wouldn’t be any of your business, miss. Nothing I will leave is any concern of yours.”

  “That’s good,” said Lindsay, and added, “Now will you let me finish making your bed up fresh? Or is there somebody else coming that you’d like to impress with a tale of my brutality to you?”

  Miss Jennifer gave her a smile that was deep with satisfaction.

  “Oh, sure, you can finish changing the bed. Dr. Corbett won’t be back before tomorrow; maybe not for a few days. He and Doc Potter know there’s nothing much can be done for me. I’m hopelessly paralyzed and just lucky that the paralysis hasn’t reached above my knees,” she said more cheerfully than she had spoken since Lindsay’s arrival.

  “So a wheel chair ought to be a very easy thing—” Lindsay began as she went back to the task of changing the bed linen.

  “I won’t have a wheel chair! I will not be wheeled around like a new-born infant,” she screamed furiously.

  “I was just thinking,” Lindsay’s smooth voice crossed and for a moment silenced the waspish scream, “that lying here in bed as you are, you have no way of knowing what’s going on in the house. Why, I’d think you’d want to check up on what’s happening in the kitchen, and outdoors in the garden. How do you know you aren’t being robbed or cheated?”

  Miss Jennifer was staring at her with wide eyes, beneath the impact of a thought that obviously had not occurred to her until then.

  “Amalie wouldn’t steal a pin,” she snapped.

  “Of course not,” Lindsay said pleasantly. “And I’m sure Lucy-Mae and Jasper wouldn’t, either. But I’m a little surprised that you are willing to trust strangers when you could easily as not be in a wheelchair and go all over the house; even sit out on the verandah and watch Jasper work in the garden.”

  Miss Jennifer glared at her suspiciously.

  “If this is some kind of a trick—” she began.

  “What kind of a trick could it be?” Lindsay wondered aloud.

  “Well, it would be less work for you to take care of me if I was up in a wheel chair,” Miss Jennifer pointed out.

  Lindsay laughed aloud.

  “Well, wouldn’t it?” demanded Miss Jennifer, obviously resenting the laugh.

  “It wouldn’t be at all, except that it would be easier to make your bed without you in it,” Lindsay replied. “But for the rest—well, if you’re here in bed, I know where you are all the time. If you’re scampering around the house in a wheel chair, you could pop up just about anywhere. That could be a bit disconcerting if Lucy-Mae, Jasper and I were trying to put something over on you.”

  Miss Jennifer considered that for a long, thoughtful moment, and then she gave a wicked little chuckle.

  “It would at that, wouldn’t it? Might be fun, too!” she mused aloud. And then briskly, “All right. Tell Doc Potter if he can find me a good used chair, real cheap, I’ll buy it.”

  Lindsay said dryly, “I’m sure you won’t regret it.”

  Miss Jennifer eyed her sharply. “I’d better not,” she warned ominously.

  Chapter Three

  The day dragged on. It was warmer now that the storm had blown itself out, and after supper, when she had gotten Miss Jennifer settled down for the night, Lindsay went out on the verandah, behind the vines that were beginning to show faint hints of green with the warming touch of spring. The old hammock-swing was comfortable, and she was tired from her depressing day, as she dropped down in it and leaned her head back.

  She sat erect suddenly, startled, as a car turned in at the long overgrown drive. A brilliant light fell-over the tangled lawn and picked her out where she sat in her white uniform, and for a moment she knew a touch of fear. For a moment, she realized anew the loneliness of this place, and the fact that Jasper and Lucy-Mae were not within sound of her voice if she shou
ld scream. And then the moment of fear was gone, for the man who had stepped out of the car walked deliberately across the headlights of the car, and she recognized Dr. Marvin Corbett.

  He came up the broken walk to the steps, and she stood up, her white uniform a glimmer in the darkness at the far end of the old porch.

  “Good evening, Dr. Corbett,” she said politely, and he turned toward the sound, startled.

  “Oh, it’s Miss Mallory, isn’t it?” He came toward her, and she stood waiting. “I came to offer my apologies.”

  Now it was Lindsay’s turn to be startled.

  “Apologies, Dr. Corbett? Why, whatever for?”

  In the darkness she could only guess at his expression, but his tone was rueful.

  “For the way I behaved this morning, of course. I should think you’d realize that.”

  “How long have you known my aunt, Doctor?” asked Lindsay.

  “About three weeks. This was my third call on her, subbing for Dr. Potter.”

  “Then no apologies are necessary,” Lindsay told him firmly. “You had a perfect right to jump to the conclusion she wanted you to accept: that I was mistreating her, treating her brutally. I didn’t have a chance to explain, and it probably wouldn’t have done any good if I had, because you might not have believed me.”

  “I should have, but you’re probably right: I might not,” he agreed in the tone of one who wished to be perfectly fair. “Dr. Potter gave me a very genuine dressing-down when I suggested that another nurse was needed for the patient here. By the time he finished giving me the details of the case, I knew I had to come back out here and offer my apologies.”

  “I’m glad, Doctor, I don’t like to be considered a poor nurse. I’ve worked very hard and—well, I don’t want to sound childish, but I guess we all like to feel we have certain skills for which we are appreciated.”

  “And from what Dr. Potter tells me, you have a great many, and coming here to look after your aunt was a real sacrifice.”

  “If I hadn’t come, I’d never have been able to live with myself,” Lindsay admitted frankly. “A sense of duty Aunt Jennifer drilled into me, if nothing else.”

  “So Dr. Potter told me.” Dr. Corbett had installed himself in one of the battered old porch chairs, and Lindsay was once more in the swing.

  He seemed in no hurry to depart, and Lindsay was grateful for his presence.

  “I should have known from the first that Miss Jennifer was a malingerer,” he said after a moment. “I did a year as resident in a hospital for old people, and some of the things the old dears got into their heads were truly fantastic.”

  “I know,” Lindsay told him eagerly. “We had some patients in their ‘sunset years’, and while some of them were sweet and gentle and lovable, there were others—well, more like Aunt Jennifer.”

  “Quite!” he agreed, and though she could not see his grin she knew from the sound of his voice that one was quirking his lips. “It’s a fascinating problem, isn’t it?”

  “It is. But then there are so many fascinating problems in medical science. I feel I’m very lucky to be even a small part of the profession,” Lindsay answered.

  “R.N.s are not a small part of the profession, Lindsay!” he protested, and added swiftly, “I hope you don’t mind my calling you Lindsay.”

  “Why should I?” she answered. “I’m sure Uncle Doc calls me that in your presence all the time. And ‘Miss Mallory,’ since that’s Aunt Jennifer’s name, too, could create a certain amount of confusion.”

  He laughed, and once more the tone of his laugh told her that his expression was rueful.

  “That seems highly unlikely,” he answered, and went back to what he had been saying. “About being a small part of the medical profession, Lindsay, R.N.s never are! They are a very vitally important part without which doctors would be helpless. They are the extra hands, the extra brain that we all depend on; more, I think, than some of us actually realize until one day a nurse with whom we’ve worked for a considerable time is unavailable.”

  “That’s kind of you, Doctor,” said Lindsay gratefully.

  He mentioned the hospital where she had trained, mentioned some doctors he knew who had worked there; and their conversation rapidly absorbed them, until suddenly from inside the house there came the harsh clamor of an old brass dinner bell with which Miss Jennifer was wont to summon help.

  Lindsay rose swiftly. “That’s Aunt Jennifer,” she said quickly. “We must have disturbed her. Will you excuse me, please?”

  “Shall I come with you? Do you think she needs me?” he asked.

  “Please come. I know she will be glad to see you,” said Lindsay, and led the way into the house.

  As she opened the door of Miss Jennifer’s room, the old voice rasped, “Who’s that out there with you, Lindsay? You’re making such a racket I can’t sleep.”

  “It’s Dr. Corbett, Aunt Jennifer,” said Lindsay sweetly, as she struck a match and touched it to the wick of the big old oil lamp with its flowered china shade that stood on the table.

  “Dr. Corbett? What’s he doing here? I didn’t send for him,” said Miss Jennifer, staring with wide, hostile eyes at the man in the doorway.

  “He’s making a social visit, Aunt Jennifer,” said Lindsay gently. “He’s calling on me.”

  The old woman jerked erect.

  “Calling on you, is he? Then he’s a bigger fool than I thought he was,” she snarled. “I thought I made it clear to him that you were a mean, spiteful creature—”

  Lindsay managed a mirthless laugh.

  “Oh, he’s been talking to Dr. Potter, Aunt Jennifer,” she drawled sweetly. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “No!” snapped Miss Jennifer. “Just get out and keep quiet and let me get some sleep.”

  “Of course, Aunt Jennifer,” said Lindsay gently. “Would you like a sleeping tablet?”

  “I would not!” answered Miss Jennifer angrily. “All I ask is a little quiet and a little consideration. That shouldn’t be too much for me to ask for in my own home should it?”

  “Of course not, Aunt Jennifer,” said Lindsay soothingly, and put out the light. “Good night and pleasant dreams.”

  Miss Jennifer snorted indignantly, and Lindsay closed the door.

  In the big old hall with its low-burning lamp on an ancient table Dr. Corbett looked down at Lindsay and said softly, “She’s really a tartar, isn’t she?”

  “She just likes a good fight, and the only way I can keep her happy is by being her favorite whipping boy,” Lindsay told him dryly.

  “I’m beginning to understand why it was impossible for Dr. Potter to get anybody locally to stay with her while her housekeeper is in the hospital,” Dr. Corbett admitted.

  “I’m sure you do,” Lindsay said wryly, and managed a smile. “But after all, I owe her a lot, and it’s only fair that I should do what I can for her when she needs me.”

  She looked up at him and added impulsively, “I’m not going to pretend I liked coming back here. I love the hospital, and I had a lot of friends there, and it’s very lonely here at Bayou House.”

  “I can certainly agree with you on that,” Dr. Corbett answered as they walked back to the verandah and stood at the top of the shallow steps leading down to the weed-grown drive. “I haven’t found it exactly exciting myself, although I’m grateful for the opportunity to work with Dr. Potter. He’s really a very great man, isn’t he? What a shame that he has buried himself all these years in this wilderness.”

  “I don’t think Uncle Doc looks on it as being buried,” Lindsay protested. “I think he’s really happy here, and he is doing a lot for the people who live here. Isn’t that what all doctors and nurses want—to be of service to humanity?”

  He looked down at her, and in the dimness of the overhanging roof that cut off the light of the rising moon, hi
s face was once more a pallid blur whose expression she could not read.

  “I grant you that,” he admitted. “But doesn’t a doctor or a nurse have the right to a decent living? Doctors would like to get married, to have homes and families, like men in other professions. And a doctor certainly could not manage that on the income from the Bayou and its people. Not even with the hospital, which, after all is fourteen miles and a ferry trip away.”

  “Dr. Potter was married, but his wife died,” Lindsay pointed out.

  “Yes, I know. Of some virus bred in the swamps, no doubt.”

  Lindsay grinned, knowing he could not see her expression any more than she could see his.

  “Mrs. Potter died in childbirth, Doctor,” she told him. “That’s scarcely a virus bred in the swamps, is it?”

  “Well, no, of course not,” he agreed. “I’d forgotten the cause of her death. But perhaps if they had been in a city somewhere, closer to a decent hospital, things might have been different. So I still feel a doctor has a right to build himself a practice that will make it possible for him to take adequate, decent care of a wife and a family before he acquires one.”

  Lindsay laughed softly.

  “Don’t think I’m arguing the point, Doctor. I agree with you implicitly. It’s only that I believe Uncle Doc has been happier here among the people he has known and served for more than forty years than he would have been in some big city practice where his patients might have been in a higher economic bracket.”

  “You know him much better than I do,” Dr. Corbett yielded the point gracefully. “I’d better be running along now. I only came to offer my apologies and didn’t mean to stay so long. But you are a very interesting young woman, Nurse Mallory! I hope I may call again?”

  Lindsay laughed. “Oh, pray do, Doctor.” Her lightly mocking tone matched his own. “But of course, my calendar is so full. Perhaps you’d better call beforehand so I can be sure I am not busy!”

  Dr. Corbett rose to the levity in her tone.

  “Since I happen to know you don’t have a telephone here, what shall I use—a carrier pigeon?” he asked.

  “No! Just drop in when you feel the urge. I’ll be here, and there won’t be any previous engagements, I feel quite sure.”