Cherry Ames 21 Island Nurse (3 page)

She was a part of the wonder of healing.

That was the way Dr. Joe had always felt too. He had given his whole life to medicine. A small, friendly man who spoke slowly and haltingly—who would think of him as a hero? He was a modern-day hero, nevertheless.

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CHERRY

AMES,

ISLAND

NURSE

She saw Dr. Joe put his hand on Sir Ian’s forehead.

Then he listened again to the patient’s heartbeat.

“Looks as if we’ll bring him through,” Dr. Joe said, straightening up.

He pulled up a chair beside the bed and nodded to one near Cherry. “Might as well sit as stand at this point,” he said.

They sat in silence. Cherry knew that Dr. Joe would add nothing to what he had told her before. That much information he had given her because she needed to be oriented to the case. Sir Ian Barclay at the moment was not a personality to the doctor, but a sick human being who must be made well again.

As Cherry sat beside Sir Ian, the lean, powerful fi gure, with its strong, bony face and gray-streaked black hair, began to pique her curiosity. “Here is a man,” she thought, “who looks as if he had great strength of character. He is a wealthy mine owner. A Canadian with a title. He is on a tour of mines in the United States. He calls home, hears bad news, collapses shortly afterward.”

“Sudden hemorrhage of a peptic ulcer,” Dr. Joe had said. People with ulcers had sudden fl are-ups—that Cherry knew. Bad news could cause an attack. What had been the nature of the bad news that had caused this wealthy man, with the sturdy look of an eagle, to collapse, she wondered.

A mumbling came suddenly from the bed.

Both Cherry and Dr. Joe jumped.

Sir Ian Barclay had opened his gray eyes and was staring at them.

THE THREE FROM THE PLANE

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Dr. Joe removed the oxygen mask. When the man tried to raise his head, the doctor bent over and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Sir Ian, you’re coming along all right,” he said. “Just take it easy now.”

Sir Ian lay back quietly. His eyes searched the doctor’s face for a moment, then he spoke slowly, but Cherry caught the odd lilt to his voice and a Scottish twist to his words.

“I’d recognize you anywhere,” Sir Ian said. “You’ve not changed in ten years, Dr. Joseph Fortune.” He made an attempt at a smile.

The way he spoke immediately enchanted Cherry.

Later—but that was after she had come to know the sounds so well—she always thought of the lilt of a Scottish tongue as a kind of spoken music.

“Now, Doctor, you can’t keep me here,” Sir Ian was saying worriedly. “It’s most important. I must go home.”

“Now, now,” Dr. Joe soothed him. “You are not to worry about anything. Nothing is important at all but getting well.” It took a bit before Dr. Joe’s confi dent manner calmed him. He kept insisting that Dr. Joe tell him exactly when he could go home, which, of course, the doctor could not tell because he could not know.

Finally, Sir Ian dozed off, murmuring, “I shouldn’t have left Jock to manage alone … too much for him.

I must get back and straighten things out.”
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c h a p t e r i i i

Sir Ian Barclay

after that first day, sir ian’s “when can i go home?” was to ring daily in Cherry’s ears. At fi rst it was pleading and sounded strange, coming from a man six feet tall. A man who had ruled thirty years over the island of Balfour, off the coast of Newfoundland, and the famous Balfour Iron Mines, as though he were a king.

But the plea in his voice was because he was physically weak. The moment he began to get better, his usual commanding tone returned and he demanded to know rather than asked. And he tried to bully Dr. Joe into releasing him, and failing that, he tried playing on Cherry’s sympathies.

She always answered primly, “Dr. Joe will tell you when he thinks you’re well enough to make the trip to Balfour Island.”

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AMES,

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NURSE

Sir Ian would fi rst glare at her, then smile ruefully.

“Remind me of my Meg—warmhearted, strongheaded, and high-spirited,” he would say.

And he would talk to Cherry about his daughter Meg, who was twenty and the apple of his eye. She was abroad, visiting relatives in Scotland and England.

And he forbid anyone to write Meg about his illness and “ruin her holiday.” He had set his mind on getting well.

“Take it easy,” Dr. Joe kept cautioning him. “To worry or fret is the worst thing you can do. Forget about business.” Then, with a grin, he would add, “Enjoy ill health and get a good rest for three or four weeks.” Sir Ian had followed the doctor’s orders to the letter.

In return for his obedience, however, he expected to see such great improvement every twenty-four hours that he would be told he could return to Balfour Island.

Lloyd Barclay and the pilot, Jerry Ives, were as much in the dark as Cherry and Dr. Joe as to exactly why Sir Ian was insistent upon returning home. They all knew by now that Sir Ian’s news over the telephone concerned closing a mine.

“But that’s no reason for Uncle Ian to go home,” Lloyd said. “Number 2 mine, which has not been worked for years, was reopened shortly before we left. When Uncle Ian called our Mine Offi ce, he learned that the walls of one tunnel were too weak for the miners’ safety. Mining had been stopped until the walls could be reinforced.

A thing like that can happen when an unworked mine

SIR IAN BARCLAY

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is reopened. Of course Uncle Ian was terribly upset to have it happen so soon after starting out on a long tour.

But he’s building a mountain out of a molehill, if he thinks he must go back to see to things.”

“People who worry sometimes build mountains out of molehills,” Dr. Joe pointed out. “Your uncle told me that he had not been away from Balfour for any length of time in many years. Obviously he feels, whether it is true or not, that without him there to run the mines, they won’t run properly.”

“But he seemed to be fi ne when we started on the tour,” Lloyd said. “He even joked with Jock Cameron about coming back to fi nd himself out of a job. Mr.

Cameron has been superintendent of Balfour Mines for over thirty years. Uncle Ian left Jock Cameron in charge while he was away.”

“I remember Sir Ian joking with Mr. Cameron just before we took off in the plane,” agreed Jerry Ives. “Sir Ian was in good spirits.”

“But then later on,” Lloyd said thoughtfully, “Uncle Ian seemed—well, detached, I suppose you’d call it. It was as though something worried him and he was trying not to let it bother him. For instance, he would sit lost in thought. I would have to repeat a question a couple of times before he heard me. Then he would rouse himself, so to speak, and answer. Once in a while we might even talk for a time. But it was not until we made our fi rst stop at some iron mines in the upper peninsula of Michigan that he became enthusiastic about anything.

There he saw some methods being used in the mines 22
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AMES,

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NURSE

that he wanted to try out in our Balfour Mines. He was as excited as a boy over the idea.”

“But later in the plane,” Jerry added, “Sir Ian began to brood again. It was not until he had seen the mines here in Illinois that he was in fi ne fettle. You remember, Lloyd, your uncle remarked what a lot he got out of seeing how effi ciently mines could be operated.

Then, of course, he made that telephone call to Balfour Island.”

“When the three of us got into the plane and took off,” Lloyd said, “I noticed Uncle was, as Jerry called it, brooding again. When he told me the bad news, I tried to cheer him up, but with no success. In a little while, he was in pain and—well, we all know the rest.” They were all four—Cherry, Dr. Joe, Lloyd Barclay, and Jerry Ives—in the sitting room of the suite. It was almost a week since Sir Ian had been admitted to Hilton Hospital, but it was the fi rst time they had talked informally. Lloyd had visited his uncle as often as he was allowed. The pilot had come at least once a day, but they had both been under too much strain to want to chat. Today Sir Ian was defi nitely showing improvement and they all felt somewhat relaxed.

Perhaps it would be fairer to say that Jerry Ives was trying to give the appearance of being at ease.

“I wonder what he’s so nervous about?” Cherry thought, as she watched him shifting from side to side and drumming his fi ngers on the chair arm. “Probably has a date with one of the nurses and is trying to think of a graceful exit line.”

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He had a pleasant, engaging manner that was very attractive and went well with his red hair and impudent grin. He had met some of the girls and dated a couple for dinner and the movies. He had taken one date for a ride in the private plane and given her the thrill of her life. They thought the Canadian pilot was “wonderful.” Midge, Dr. Joe’s daughter, who was a junior volunteer nurse’s aide at Hilton Hospital, came in as usual after school one afternoon. Jerry was just leaving the hospital, “looking so absolutely marvelous, it took my breath away,” Midge told the Ames family with whom she was having dinner that same night. “And he said

‘hallo’ in that marvelous English accent.” Charlie, Cherry’s twin brother, gave a most ungentlemanly snort. “A fellow says hello and you are swept off your feet,” he commented. “You surprise me, Midge.

You really do. I thought you were beginning to grow up and be sensible.”

Charlie and Midge would have wound up in a good-natured but noisy discussion of Jerry Ives, if Mrs. Ames had not switched the conversation to Lloyd Barclay.

Cherry, in talking about Lloyd Barclay, had to admit that the nurses did not think he was “wonderful.”

“I should say not,” Midge piped up. “He never has more than two words to say to anyone: ‘Good morning,’

‘Good afternoon,’ ‘Good evening.’ The nurses think he’s just a snob. Even Millie Reynolds, who, when she fi rst saw him thought he was a real dreamboat, decided he’s too standoffi sh for her.” Midge shrugged and added,

“Of course, he does have the most beautiful manners.” 24
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AMES,

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NURSE

Cherry had thought Lloyd was a little snobbish too at the beginning, but having seen him every day, she knew better. He was a kind, warm person, but very sensitive and shy. “The nurses ought to see him now,” Cherry thought, as she, Dr. Joe, Jerry Ives, and Lloyd sat talking in Sir Ian’s sitting room. “They would get a very different impression.”

His manner was alive and his voice friendly as he talked with Dr. Joe about the hazards and diseases of miners.

“My uncle will never forget how you saved Mr. Cameron’s life that time you were up in Canada,” Lloyd said suddenly when they came to a pause.

“And don’t think I will forget it, either,” declared Dr.

Joe. Turning to Cherry, he explained in a hurt tone,

“Cost me several sleepless nights and almost cost me my fi shing trip.” Then he went on to relate how he was on his way to meet some friends in Canada to go fi shing. His plane had run into fog, got off course, and had to come down at St. John’s, Newfoundland. At the same time, a little mail plane from Balfour Island landed with Sir Ian and a man dying of pneumonia.

“Always carry my case with me,” said the doctor,

“and it came in handy that night. Managed to keep the old man—he must have been very near eighty—alive until we could get him to the hospital. The fog was so thick, it was a wonder that the ambulance could get from the hospital and back again.”

“That old man you saved,” Lloyd said, “died years later. Lived to the ripe old age of ninety-fi ve. He was

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Jock Cameron’s father; the Camerons have been superintendents of our mines ever since there were any Barclays on the island. Uncle Ian always remembered how you pulled old John through and stayed with him until he was out of danger. And he has kept up with your work, Dr. Fortune. Every time your name is mentioned in the news—maybe you’ve read a paper before some medical society—Uncle Ian always takes note of it.

As a matter of fact, just before he collapsed, he asked Jerry the name of the nearest town. Jerry told him Hilton and that it had a private landing fi eld. Then Uncle told Jerry to land and me to call Dr. Joseph Fortune.” Jerry Ives had begun to fi dget with his hat, then asked abruptly, “Doctor, now frankly, it’s going to be some time before Sir Ian will be out of here, isn’t it?” Seeing the puzzled look on Dr. Joe’s face, he hastened to explain, “Well, you see, there’s no need for me to wait around to fl y him back. At least that’s what I told Mr. Broderick. And he said for me to get back to Montreal right away.”

Cherry saw Lloyd Barclay’s face fl ush with quick anger.

“Jerry, I told you I would call Mr. Broderick at the end of the week,” Lloyd said acidly. “By then I hoped we’d have a clear idea of just what my uncle’s condition was. Besides, I just might want to continue the tour of mines alone. So by what right . . .”

“I don’t know what your uncle may have told you, Lloyd, but Mr. James Broderick’s my boss. He gives the orders so far as I am concerned,” Ives said, shrugging.

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AMES,

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NURSE

“If Mr. Broderick wants you back in Montreal, then you’d better go,” said Lloyd.

As Ives rose, he glanced rather sheepishly at Cherry and Dr. Joe. “I don’t want you to feel I am running out on Sir Ian,” he apologized, fl ashing them a boyish grin,

“but as I told Mr. Broderick when I called him, there doesn’t seem to be much point in my hanging around here, so . . .” His voice trailed off.

“I’m sure there’s none,” Dr. Fortune said, getting up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go have a look at my patient.” He nodded to the pilot and left.

“I have a bag to pack,” Jerry said, “so I’d better get going.” He started across the room, then stopped and turned around. “Say good-bye to Sir Ian for me. Hope he gets well soon, I honestly do.”