The Strange Proposal (27 page)

But as the afternoon waned, the patient’s voice grew stronger, the accents more natural. She was coming more and more to herself, and the words she spoke were sane. It would not be long before she was back among them, if all went well, an individual again, understanding what was going on. Of course she was very weak, but she would presently be wondering who they all were who had arrived during her unconsciousness. There would be that to be reckoned with. And the father, too! Mary Elizabeth had not met him yet. They would wonder who she was. They would not understand her coming, perhaps!

Her cheeks burned at the thought. How could she explain herself? She could not pass for long as just another nurse. There would surely come a time of reckoning, and what was she to say, to do? She realized that she had not foreseen this side of the matter at all. And she furthermore realized that it mattered very much indeed to her what these two thought of her, these gentle people who were the parents of her beloved! So far, they probably knew nothing of her existence!

John Saxon didn’t know she was here, either. She was sure he didn’t. If he had caught a glimpse of her at all, he had probably just thought of her as another nurse whom they had brought along! Was there any way she could just keep out of it entirely? If she went to Cousin Richie, perhaps, and told him a little bit about things—could she bring herself to confide the preciousness of it all to him? Would he understand? Would he help her to get away into the village till the patient was well and they could go back north, and she could meet John Saxon’s parents in a regular way, as such matters should be conducted? Would it take away from the sacredness of what had happened if she told it to Cousin Richie?

She sat considering, weighing one situation over against the other. Whether it was better to do that and keep out of it all or just to face things as they might come. If she went away, how could she explain it to the doctor and that keen-eyed nurse?

And yet, how could she stay here and meet the questioning eyes of these dear people, the alien eyes, perhaps, of John Saxon, if he had already found out what a mistake he had made?

And then the little mother on the bed spoke out clearly in a new love-tone.

“John,” she said, looking up and away as if she saw him, “you’re not to worry. I’ll be all right. We’ll just stay here in Florida till you’re through with your studies. And when you’re married, Father and I will come to the wedding! Father’s promised me that! We’ll save up our money and come!”

Mary Elizabeth held her breath. Had John told them about her? Or could it be that there was another girl? Perhaps someone he was engaged to? Oh, not that, not that! God, don’t let him be unworthy, untrue! Don’t let it be that he gave his heart to me when he had no right!

Then instantly she knew that could not be. Of course there was no other girl! She would not harbor a thought unworthy of him! Whether she ever came to know him better or not, she would always trust him utterly!

But the gentle voice from the bed was speaking again.

“John, you’ll be careful to get the right girl! You won’t take up with anybody who isn’t worthy? I couldn’t bear that, dear! Father was afraid you might be dazzled by some modern girl!”

Mary Elizabeth sat petrified, feeling that she had no right to be hearing this, yet unable to move. And it was just then that she suddenly realized the presence of John Saxon in the doorway on the other side of the bed.

He was not looking at her. He was looking down at his mother tenderly, oh, so tenderly! Mary Elizabeth caught a glimpse of his face and lowered her lashes before that sacred look. He had not seen her. If he had, she realized that she was nothing but a nurse to him anyway. He came forward as silently as a shadow might have moved and bent over his mother.

“It’s all right, Mother dear!” he said as gently as she herself had spoken. “I’ll get the right girl, or I’ll get none! I promised you that long ago. Don’t you worry!”

The sick woman brought her wandering gaze to rest upon her boy’s beloved features, and she seemed to recognize him and smiled, such a radiant look, showing the precious relationship between the two.

She put up her frail little hands gropingly and caught his hands.

“Dear boy!” she said, and closing her eyes, slipped sweetly off to sleep again.

He stood there for some time holding her hands, not stirring, lest he disturb her. Then softly laying her hands down, he stepped back and lifted his head, a tenderness in his face, a light of hope in his eyes. He looked toward Mary Elizabeth then for the first time, a smile on his lips that asked her indulgence, her understanding.

But the smile stopped midway in a look of utter surprise as he met the eyes of Mary Elizabeth, and he just stood there gazing at her, amazement, wonder, and delight coming slowly into his face, yet with it a look of reserve that she could not quite understand.

He came swiftly round the bed and stood beside her. She rose hastily, catching her breath in apprehension for what might be coming, longing for his nearness, yet fearing to meet all the questions and his possible disapproval. Fearing it even more after the dialogue between himself and his mother to which she had just been a forced listener.

He reached down and took her two fluttering hands that were clasped on their way up to her heart, and he held them together in both of his, tenderly, like something precious, yet he did not take her in his arms.

“You!” he whispered, looking down into her eyes with an unfathomable look. “So it was you all the while! You did this lovely thing! Oh, my dear!”

And then he suddenly dropped his head down upon her shoulder and stood so, his face against her soft neck. She could feel his eyelashes, and they were wet with sudden tears.

Then, without premeditation, just as a flower turns to the sun, just as a mother comforts her child, she bent her own head and touched her warm lips to his wet eyelids. There was something so precious about it that Mary Elizabeth felt almost as if it were a holy sacrament. It seemed entirely apart from the flesh, a thing of the spirit, and it seemed as if God was there, standing just a little apart from them.

Into the hush of that precious moment came the subdued sound of footsteps outside on the grassy velvet of the path. They entered the front room quietly and were coming straight toward the sickroom.

John Saxon lifted his head, looked deep into her eyes, then with a quick pressure, released her hands and was on the other side of the bed looking down on his mother sleeping there so peacefully, when the doctor and Nurse Noble entered the room.

M
ary Elizabeth sped out of that room like a wraith, her cheeks fairly blazing, her eyes so bright that they would have blinded the eyes of any but a casual observer, though no one was looking at her. She fled to the kitchen, glad that Mr. Saxon senior was sitting with his back toward the bedroom door, reading.

She was tidying up Father Saxon’s tray that had been brought out after his noon meal when Nurse Noble came out to prepare a little cracked ice in a linen cloth for the patient to suck when she moaned for water.

“You’re to go over to the plane and get something to eat,” said the nurse. “Mr. Wainwright has it all ready waiting for you. The doctor and I have eaten. You’d better stay there and take a good long nap now. You seem to be a pretty good nurse. We’ll likely need you in the night, so you had better be prepared by some really refreshing sleep.”

“How do you think Mrs. Saxon looks?” asked Mary Elizabeth.

“Why, she seems to be holding her own pretty well!” said the nurse briskly. “Of course, I haven’t talked with the doctor yet since he came back, but I could tell pretty well by his expression he felt well satisfied. Now you run along!”

Mary Elizabeth ran along. In fact, she went out the back door, not to encounter anyone, and literally ran all the way to the plane with a happy little song in her heart.

All through the ensuing hours and, in fact, the first two days after the operation, the little party of rescuers waited, tense and anxious, watching the fight between life and death. Hoping, praying, fearing, and hoping again. But at last the doctor came out of the sickroom and told them he thought the worst danger was over, and a great burden was lifted from their hearts. Later that morning Mary Elizabeth went over to the plane for something, and Cousin Richie looked up with a smile.

“Pretty well satisfied with what you’ve done, aren’t you?” he said with a grin. “Your doctor says he thinks the patient is going to pull through after all. He says when he got here he didn’t think it was possible she would live through the operation, but she seems to have marvelous vitality.”

“Oh, isn’t that wonderful?”

“Yes,” said Richie Wainwright, “it is! There’s some satisfaction in having things turn out right. I’m glad you let me in on this.”

“Oh, but, Cousin Richie, I think it is so wonderful that you were willing. I was so afraid to ask. I thought everybody would think me crazy. And I think it’s great of you to hang around this way and help. I was afraid you’d have to go right back and take the doctor with you, and then what would we do if anything went wrong?”

“What do you think I am, a quitter? No, I intend to see this thing through. And I guess the doctor does, too. He talked that way. You see, it’s fortunate that this is his vacation time and he doesn’t have to hurry back to his classes. His patients, too, are mostly away on vacations, and he’s got a young graduate doctor or something in the city taking his place. He means to see the little lady through to safety, I think. He told me he would do it if for no other reason than it was for John Saxon. He thinks John Saxon is great. Says he’s going to be a famous man, is as brilliant as they make ’em and good as gold into the bargain, and you don’t get that combination in the medical profession any too often.”

Mary Elizabeth’s cheeks flamed annoyingly, and Cousin Richie watched her lovely face furtively, quite confirmed in his own surmises.

“How long have you known John Saxon, Bess?”

Mary Elizabeth dropped her eyes and busied herself with a handful of wild pea blossoms she had picked on her way over to the plane, picked them just out of sheer relief and gladness.

“Why, not so long,” she said in a steady tone, aware that Cousin Richie was watching her searchingly. “He’s a friend of Jeff’s, you know.”

“Yes, I know, but I was wondering. How about the old lady? Know her well?”

“No,” said Mary Elizabeth, letting her voice trail off. “No, but I’ve heard a lot about her. Sam has been here before. He liked her a lot, and he told me what a wonderful old couple they were.”

“I see! Well, Bess, it was a good thought. It certainly was a good thought, and I’m glad you let me in on it.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Cousin Richie, and I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough.”

“I’ll tell you,” said the man of the world, “ask me again when you have some more angels’ work to do. I’m no angel, but I can fly a plane, and sometimes that’ll be worthwhile.”

“I should say!” said Mary Elizabeth. “And I certainly will ask you again. I’ll know who to depend upon. Oh, it’s so wonderful that the doctor thinks she may get well!”

“Yes, it is! He says the only thing that’s really against her is staying down here in the heat. He says if he could get her north, into more bracing air, it would do wonders. He says if she were up north in the right place, we’d see a difference in her in a few days.”

Mary Elizabeth turned a thoughtful look at him.

“I suppose it would be a long time before he would dare move her,” she said speculatively.

“No, he seemed to think not,” said Cousin Richie. “He seemed to think it might be only a matter of a few days before it would be safe to move her, provided we’d fly carefully and avoid rough weather. The trouble is, though, he thinks they haven’t much money, and there seems to be no place where they could afford to take her. The doctor felt it out with young Saxon this afternoon, I believe. And then he says, too, she wouldn’t go and leave her old husband behind.”

“But why couldn’t I take them all down to Seacrest?” said Mary Elizabeth breathlessly, her eyes shining. “Why that would be wonderful! I’m sure Dad would like it. He’s always willing for anything I want, and the house is big enough to make two or three private hospitals out of it. There’s a great big room on the first floor opening off at the left of the front door. Do you remember? And there’s a bath connected with it, and then a little room back of it that we used to call the library. That would make a splendid suite for them. The back room would do for Mr. Saxon, or the nurse, if she didn’t have to sleep in the room with Mrs. Saxon when she got better. And there are rooms and rooms upstairs. Don’t you think that would do?”

Cousin Richie did. He smiled. His words were having exactly the effect on Mary Elizabeth that he had hoped they would have.

“Go talk to the doctor, Bess, and then get the consent of that big bronze giant that rules things around here. If you can, I’ll stick around till your party’s ready to return.”

“Oh, Cousin Richie! You certainly are a peach!”

“He’s a whole basket of fruit!” said Sam, suddenly appearing on the scene. “Got any food, Mary Beth? I’m starved!”

But that was not the last time they talked over a possible transfer of the patient to a cooler climate for the summer. Mary Elizabeth met the doctor as she started back to the house a couple of hours later. He wheeled in the path and walked back with her.

“Your cousin Mr. Wainwright says you’ve got a house by the sea,” he said. “Tell me about it.”

Mary Elizabeth told, not forgetting the whispering pines and the rhythmic waves. The doctor listened, and his eyes took on a faraway look.

“That sounds good,” he said. “Where is this?”

Mary Elizabeth told him.

“I could come down there and look her over now and then,” he said meditatively. “That sounds good to me. We’ll see how things go the next few days. I’d like to take her up north with us. I don’t see leaving her down here any longer than we have to. She needs a change of climate at once. She’s as frail as a breath of air, although she must have a marvelous constitution or she never would have got through the operation. But I have great hopes now.”