Island Hospital (17 page)

Sheila was conscious of Alan right behind her. He made no move to touch her, but Sheila almost felt as if he had. She concentrated on following in the footsteps of the fisherman. Once she stumbled but recovered her balance quickly. She knew without turning that Alan’s hand had gone out to catch her, and didn’t know whether she was sorry or glad. A distant gleam of light shone through the trees and their leader quickened his pace.

“Not far now,” he said encouragingly.

Sheila could sense the tense anxiety beneath his words. They stumbled breathlessly into a small clearing and their guide forged ahead to throw wide the door.

Sheila caught a glimpse of a little group clustered around a double bed that seemed to take up most of the small room. In the light of the oil lamp, she could see the perspiration glistening on the old woman’s face and the sound of her labored breathing rasped through the room.

The fisherman pushed through the little group. “I’ve brought the doctor, Mother. Be you a mite better?”

The old woman’s eyes fastened on her son’s face and then went beyond to Alan’s figure in the doorway and some of the fear went out of them. She nodded dumbly, too exhausted for words.

Alan pushed forward and those around the bed fell back to give him room. His fingers closed on the old woman’s wrist and his very strength seemed to soothe her restlessness. His eyes met Sheila’s.

“Ask the relatives to wait in the other room and get that window open.”

As Sheila struggled with the window there was a murmur of startled protest.

“Be it too cold for Mother?” the son ventured softly.

Alan’s eyes raked his. “It’s air your mother needs. Shove a chair upside down under the mattress while the nurse and I lift your mother. That’s it.”

The old lady’s head rested comfortably against the freshly shaken pillows when Alan and Sheila stood back. Already her struggle for breath was easing now that she was sitting almost upright, well supported by the make-shift backrest. She managed a ghost of a smile. “Thanks, Doctor,” she whispered, too spent for more.

Alan bent over his emergency case. “We’ll just see that you get some sleep now, Grannie. We’ll give you something to pep up that old heart of yours, and by morning you’ll be as right as rain. Okay?”

Sheila sponged the old woman’s damp forehead and wrists with some lavender water she found on the table and discovered a light shawl to drape across her chest. She moved back as Alan approached with his syringe.

The old lady’s eyelids were already drooping in peaceful surrender by the time Alan had put away his things. He raised his eyes to meet the grateful ones of the fisherman and put a finger to his lips. At a gesture they followed him into the other room where the fisherman’s wife was filling large mugs with tea. The other relatives tiptoed to the connecting doorway to steal a look at the sleeping woman.

Sheila and Alan felt surrounded by a gratitude as sweet as the tea they were drinking. They stood up when they had finished and departed to a whispered chorus of thanks. They went back down the trail, treading it as if it was now familiar ground.

A rising moon dappled the ripples as the boat ran quietly through the night and a few ducks, disturbed by their wash, murmured sleepy protests as they passed. Sheila felt at peace with the world. Whatever differences existed between Alan and herself could rest for another day. They no longer seemed very important.

Sheila found herself dressing the next morning with more than her usual exacting care. She was pleased to notice that Mary had found time to starch her cap and cuffs. She paused in front of the mirror to tidy a stray lock of hair and was startled to see the warm glow of excitement in her eyes. But it didn’t last. Only George was at breakfast.

“Good morning, Sheila. Alan wants us to make a round of the home cases as soon as we’ve eaten.”

Sheila poured herself some coffee. “But what about the ward work?” She was surprised to find herself making excuses.

“Mother arranged for two part-timers before she went away. Alan says they can do the necessary jobs.”

“I see.” Sheila began to butter her toast.

George observed her reluctance with speculative eyes. “Must you make it so beastly obvious that you don’t want to come with me?”

Sheila had the grace to flush. “I’m sorry, George. I wasn’t thinking about you.”

George smiled ruefully. “I know.”

Jim was waiting for them at the landing. “Reckon we’d better take the
Queen Mary.
Doc might need the
Sea Witch.
You never know what’s cooking in a place like this.”

“In that case surely Sheila and I can manage on our own,” George suggested with a wary glance at Sheila.

“That you can’t. You won’t know the way for one thing. Besides, it’s Doc’s orders,” Jim said bluntly.

Sheila got in hastily. What on earth was getting into George? She glanced at him cautiously but there was no flush of temperature on his face. It was a brilliantly sunny morning and the breeze was warm as it flickered fitfully across the water. She made a picture sitting there in the sunlight, her fair hair smooth against her head, and her fresh white frills showing up the golden tan of her arms and contrasting vividly with the blue of her uniform.

George spoke after a pause. “Like it here, Sheila?”

Her face lit up. Already the warmth of the sun had brought a faint flush to her cheeks. “I love it so far ... every moment of it.”

George looked at her keenly. “Every moment?” he queried dryly.

Sheila nodded her head determinedly. “Every moment,” she repeated in a tone that refuted any argument.

“Wait un
til
winter comes,” George said warningly. “The clouds hang on the mountain tops day after day and drip cold wet rain whenever you look at them, and the sea is a nasty gray color and always seems to be blowing in the wrong direction.”

Sheila looked at him curiously. “How do you know?”

George smiled wryly. “I was up here last winter when Mother was ill, waiting until she was well enough to be moved to Vancouver.”

Jim chuckled suddenly. “I wouldn’t be wanting that to be happening again. What with you prowling up and down like a half-wild cougar and the matron shouting orders from her bed whenever she could raise enough breath!” He glanced at Sheila. “The winter’s never as bad as he makes out. Come some years and the roses are blooming at Christmas and some of the little coves past the cut, when they be out of the wind, are as warm as a summer’s day. Can be mighty cold when you get a sou’easter driving up the Straits of Georgia and the wind will snatch the crests off the waves and toss them in the hospital garden. Them’s the days for a right cosy fire. You stoke it up with chunks of driftwood until the flames roar up the chimney ... pretty flames too, all sorts of
colors
...
Reckon it’s the salt in the wood and such-like.”

Sheila watched the old man’s face and was surer than ever that she had been right to come to Canada. This new life had a richness and a freshness that had been lacking at home. Here people could still be doing things for the first time. Tradition wasn’t everything, and it could stifle new growth.

Jim slowed the engine. “This be the place, lassie.”

Sheila recognized the looming piles, but the tide was low. She stepped out on to the seaweed-covered rocks and cautiously made her way up the beach. Her nose twitched as she smelled the pungent odor of seaweed drying in the hot sun. George stumbled clumsily at her heels while Jim pushed the boat offshore to drift and await their return.

The old lady was pleased to see them, but a trifle peeved to find that Alan hadn’t come. “What have you done with my nice doctor, young lady?”

Sheila introduced George and tried to soothe the old woman. The old eyes looked George over from head to toe. "Be as it may, young man, if the nurse says you’re a doctor. But give that red headed doctor my compliments and request him to step in
the next time he’s by. Tell him an old woman’s wanting to thank him.”

She reluctantly allowed George to listen to her heart and dutifully promised to take the cough mixture since the other doctor had sent it. She allowed them to go with a parting shot.

“Take good care of my doctor, Nurse. Seems to me feelings weren’t as sweet as they might be between the pair of you last night.”

Sheila departed hurriedly, her cheeks flaming. George followed her down the trail, unrepentantly chuckling.

“So you and Alan were squabbling, eh?”

Sheila turned and faced him with flashing eyes. “We weren’t! We never got the chance, so there!”

George eyed her ruefully. “But you would have, eh?”

Sheila hastened her footsteps and was more than thankful to be safely back in the boat under Jim’s protective eyes.

He glanced at her flushed face. “Better watch that sun, lassie. Glare off the water can catch you when you’re not looking.”

George heard him. “It’s a different kind of sun, Jim ... the internal kind.”

Jim grunted. “You can keep your fancy explanations for someone else. I know sunburn when I sees it.” He rummaged in the locker. “Here, put on some of this suntan stuff. They say it does the trick.”

Sheila obediently dabbed the cream on her face, fully conscious of George’s sceptical eyes on her, but he spared her the embarrassment of further comment. He seemed to be pondering over something that worried him.

At last he came out with it. “Sheila, will you come to Vancouver with me on my next weekend?”

Sheila stared at him in surprise. “Whatever for?” she demanded.

He looked a trifle sheepish. “I thought you might like to see the sights, and we could have fun. It must be pretty dull for you stuck in a hole like this.”

“It isn’t a hole! And I never have time to find it dull. It’s nice of you to ask me, but I don’t fancy staying with my cousins again quite so soon.”

George scratched his head. “You could stay with Judy. I’ll ask her.” He sounded a little doubtful.

Sheila relaxed a shade. “And who is Judy? Your sister?” There was a suggestion of a smile touching her eyes.

George turned a little pink. “Just a girl I know,” he said rather off-handedly. “She’s a good
sort
...
mends my socks and asks me home to dinner when she thinks I look a bit lean.”

Sheila chuckled at George’s discomfiture. “She sounds very nice. Are you sure she isn’t eating her heart out in secret?”

George’s surprise was too obvious to be forced. “I never thought of her in that way,” he admitted. “She did seem a bit cut up when I came up here and her last letter sounded a wee bit lonely. I told her I was enjoying it up here and how nice you and Clare were ... and so on,” he ended lamely.

There was a dry laugh from Jim. “Ain’t you the innocent born lamb to beat all! Bet you she takes the next boat to come and see what you’re up to.”

George joined a trifle belatedly in the laughter. “I don’t think Judy’s the type,” he said defensively.

Sheila watched the fast-approaching landing with something like relief. George’s attentions had been worrying her in case he was serious. No doubt he was only filling in his spare time. All she had to do was convince herself that George and Alan were amusing themselves in off-duty moments. She could concentrate on her work and try to take their behavior as lightly as they no doubt intended it. It was all her own
fault
...
nearly all her own fault, she amended silently ... that it had never threatened to become more than that. Alan couldn’t have put it more plainly when he said he wanted to be free of all emotional entanglements unt
il
he had finished his pet project.

Sheila became gloomy. It would probably take years to organize, and anyway Alan didn’t really like women. At least he said they were a
nuisance
...
especially English women with no practical nursing training in the wilds. Alan had told her in several different ways that she annoyed him, but he hadn’t seemed particularly unhappy about it ... just resigned. She
came to with a start as the
Queen Mary
bumped gently into the landing stage.

Sheila stepped ashore reluctantly and was so engrossed in her thoughts that she paid no attention where she was going. She heard a shout of laughter from Alan and looked up.

“Flower gardens are for flowers, not for nurses to take root in! Come on, make it snappy
.
I want you. We’ve just had a message that a climbing party has met with an accident and they need a doctor before they try to bring the chap down.”

“What about Clare?” The words came out before she could stop them.

He glanced at her sharply. “Clare’s got no head for heights, and anyway I’m asking you.”

Was he asking her because he had to have a nurse ... because Clare couldn’t come? “If you’re sure you need me,” she said slowly. “I did do some rock climbing in Wales.”

“That should be good enough for this job. I don’t fancy you’ll be called on to shin up a rope. Get your stuff together and for the love of Mike put on sensible shoes.” He went off down the path to have a word with Jim.

Rather disconsolately Sheila went and changed. Had Alan been treating her like a schoolgirl or was he only teasing her?

The door opened and Clare stood there. “Going mountaineering, eh? If you had any sense you’d stay put. You’ll only be a drag on them, and I don’t see what Alan wants with a nurse anyway. He should know by now that
you
’ll
never last out,” she concluded nastily.

Sheila stared at her. “I thought you didn’t want to go.”

“I don’t.”

“In that case, clear out and let me get ready,” Sheila said with a firmness that startled herself even more than it did Clare.

“Wel
l
, if that’s the way you feel
...”
Clare flounced out. For a moment Sheila stood still, then with a shrug of her shoulders she collected her things and went along to the sitting room.

Mary was busy packing sandwiches and a thermos of coffee into a small haversack. “I think I put everything the doctor says, Miss Griffiths.” Mary’s stolid body moved away slowly. “Be careful, Miss Griffiths. Sometimes the mountains be not kind to people.” She spoke as if the mountains possessed some baneful personality.

Sheila smiled a little. “Thanks, Mary. I’ll remember.”

It took some time to load their equipment on to the boat. They had to be prepared for any possibility because the message had been passed through so many people before it got to the hospital that Alan couldn’t be sure of what he might find.

Jim looked doubtfully at the lightweight stretcher. “You’re taking a lot of stuff, Doc.”

Alan nodded. “I know, but a two-handed carry might prove impossible.”

“You’re giving the lass a lot to handle.”

Alan looked from Jim to Sheila. “She’ll have to manage, that’s all.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t do better without me?” Sheila asked timidly.

“Possibly, but I’
ll
need a nurse ... unless you want to cry off?”

She was very much aware of the contempt in his eyes. “I didn’t mean that.”

He turned toward the
Sea Witch.
“Let’s get aboard, then. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

During the run up the inlet Sheila took the wheel while Alan and Jim split up and packed the loads. Jim grumbled a little at the division, but subsided at a curt nod from Alan. Sheila was too busy taking in the glorious vistas that opened out in front of them as the boat rounded each fresh headland.

Sometimes it was a valley between two mountain peaks that twisted and wound its way toward distant snowfields. Sheila could see splashes of white through the green of the trees where mountain torrents tumbled swiftly toward the sea. Then it would be a wide barren gash where a rock slide had swept all before it and only the gaunt upturned trunks of trees stood as memorials to the forest that had been. Cliffs reared sharply upward, their steep slopes, climbing precipitously hundreds ... thousands ... of feet.

Occasionally the shoreline flattened out into wide beaches and a river would carve its tortuous way through the highflung shingle, and scrubby alder and willow would replace the dark green of the firs.

He looked back over his shoulder at Jim. “Where’s the best place to leave the boat?”

Jim scratched his head thoughtfully. “Maybe up the river a piece in the first deep place. It will fetch the weed off at the same tim
e
. It’s safe enough there and the bank’ll make a good loading place when we get back.”

Sheila stood beside Jim and watched as he eased the
Sea Witch
into the river mouth. There was just enough current to ripple past the bows without really hindering them.

Jim shoved his head around the windscreen. “Okay?”

After a moment of indecision, Alan nodded. “All clear.”

Jim advanced the throttle cautiously and the
Sea Witch
went forward smoothly. Sheila noticed that he kept one ear cocked, but there was no grating sound as they went over the shingle bar. It was green and cool as they slipped into the big pool. Tall clumps of bushes edged the banks and overhead the trees flung their branches across the water. Jim fussed over his mooring lines until they were secured to his liking. A fallen log made a good ga
n
gplank and they soon had their stuff ashore.