Rainwater (13 page)

Instead, she approached the bed. “Do you need me to call Dr. Kincaid?”

“I—” Before he could finish, he was gripped by what appeared to be an excruciating pain. He strained a groan through gritted teeth.

Ella spun around and ran from the room, shouting for Margaret as she raced down the hallway. By the time she had clattered down the stairs, Margaret was standing at the bottom of them, her eyes wide with alarm. “Is somethin’ the matter with Mr. Rainwater?”

“He’s sick. Call Dr. Kincaid. Tell him to come immediately.”

Ella actually gave Margaret a push toward the telephone as she brushed past her. She went into the formal parlor and unplugged the fan. On her way back to the staircase, she spotted the Dunne sisters standing together in the archway of the informal parlor, holding hands, looking both concerned and fearful. “Is there anything we can do?” asked Miss Pearl.

“No, but thank you.”

Ella could hear Margaret speaking to the telephone operator. Quickly she went back upstairs, taking the fan with her.

Mr. Rainwater was as she’d left him, but the spasm that had seized him seemed to have abated. He lowered his arm from his eyes when she came in. “Please, Mrs. Barron, don’t fret. Bad spells like this are to be expected. I’ll get through it.”

“In the meantime, this should make you more comfortable.” She set the fan on the table in front of the window and plugged it in. “How long have you been suffering like this?”

“Since last night.”

“Last night! Why didn’t you let me know so I could call Dr. Kincaid?”

“I thought it would pass. I’m sure it will.”

She didn’t share his optimism. His lips were rimmed white with agony, and his fist still had a damp grip on the cloth of his shirt. His eyes were sunk deeply into their sockets. “Dr. Kincaid will be here shortly. Do you want me to get you something to drink? Tea?”

He gave his head a small shake. “Water, maybe.”

She hesitated, then left him again, making her way hastily to the kitchen. The elderly sisters had disappeared, presumably back into the informal parlor. Margaret looked at her expectantly when she barged through the kitchen door.

“Is it the summer fever, Miss Ella?”

“I suppose, yes. Is Dr. Kincaid coming?”

“Right away, he said.”

“Good. Get the water pitcher from the icebox. And a drinking glass. Where’s that porcelain basin we wash vegetables in?”

“Same place it’s always at.”

Ella found the basin on its customary shelf in the pantry. She put it, the pitcher of cooled water, and the glass on a tray. “Stay with Solly.” He was sitting on the floor underneath the table, playing with empty spools. Ella put her back to the door and pushed it open. “Send the doctor up the moment he arrives.”

Upstairs in Mr. Rainwater’s room, she moved aside a book, his watch, and the small reading lamp in order to place the tray on his nightstand. She poured water from the pitcher into the glass, then slid her hand beneath his head and lifted it. He drank thirstily and signaled her when he’d had enough. She returned his head to the pillow, noting that it was soggy with perspiration.

“I’ll be right back.”

She left again, taking the basin with her. She half filled it with cold water from the bathroom faucet and took a clean washcloth from the cabinet. Being careful not to slosh the water out of the basin, she returned it to the nightstand and dipped the cloth in it. She wrung it out and used it to bathe his face. He watched her for a moment, then closed his eyes. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Did you tend your husband?”

“Pardon?”

“I assumed Mr. Barron died of an illness. Did you tend to him? Is that how you acquired your nurse’s touch?”

“He died suddenly.”

“Oh.” After a moment, he added, “Then your nursing skills come to you naturally.”

She dipped the cloth in the water again, wrung it out, applied it to his face and neck. “I think it’s part of the maternal instinct.”

Although his eyes remained closed, he smiled faintly. “A feminine skill, unique to your sex.”

She wet the cloth again and, after wringing it out, folded it into a rectangle and laid it on his forehead, pressing it into place. Then she withdrew and sat down in the chair near the window, clasping her hands in her lap. He said nothing more, and she would have thought that he was asleep except for the occasional contraction of his fingers and the tightening of his jaw, indications that he was experiencing gripping pains.

Through the open window she heard the arrival of Dr. Kincaid’s car, the closing of the car door, his hurried footsteps up the walkway and onto the porch. Moments later, he appeared in the open doorway, looking out of breath and anxious. “David?” With barely a glance toward Ella, he moved to the bed, set his black medical bag on the foot of it, and bent over his patient with obvious concern.

Mr. Rainwater opened his eyes. “Hello, Murdy. Don’t look so scared. I’m still alive.”

Ella stood. “I’ll leave you. If you need anything …”

“Of course, Mrs. Barron. Thank you,” the doctor said absently.

She went out, pulling the door closed behind her.

TEN

It was almost half an hour before Dr. Kincaid came downstairs. The Dunne sisters had gone to visit a friend. Margaret was cooking dinner while keeping an eye on Solly. The doctor found Ella in the informal parlor, where she was using a dust mop on the hardwood floor.

“How is he?”

Dr. Kincaid removed a handkerchief from his pants pocket and wiped his face and bald head. Ella wondered if this habit was merely to blot up perspiration, or if he used it to delay imparting bad news. “I gave him something. The crisis is past.”

“He was in terrible pain.”

“The worst he’s experienced so far.”

His inflection implied that today’s pain was only a harbinger of what was to come.

“I’ve left him something to give himself. He says he won’t use it unless the pain becomes unbearable. He’s stubborn on that point. For now,” he added grimly. “He’ll change his mind.”

Ella looked away. After a moment, she asked, “Isn’t there anything that could be done? Surgery? A treatment of some kind?”

“If there was, he’d already have had it, Mrs. Barron. I would have seen to it.”

“Of course. I didn’t mean to imply any negligence on your part.”

“I know you didn’t, and I didn’t take it that way. Believe me, I share your frustration. I’ve researched every outlet I know of. I’ve written to doctors who have a lot more experience and knowledge. Specialists as far away as Boston and New York. They all arrive at the same sad prognosis. It started in his bones and went undetected until it metastasized to vital organs.”

Ella brushed a stray curl off her forehead. “Do you have any instructions for me?”

“He’s not your patient.”

“But he lives under my roof. I can’t simply ignore him if he’s in agony.”

“Call me at the first sign of discomfort. Any time of the day or night, don’t hesitate to send for me, no matter how loudly David protests.”

“I will.”

“He’ll always say it isn’t necessary.”

“His objections will fall on deaf ears.”

“Good.”

She walked the doctor to the front door and unlatched the screen. He hesitated on the threshold and looked at her remorsefully. “You didn’t need this additional strain, Mrs. Barron. I shouldn’t have brought David to you. I regret now that I did.”

The doctor’s house was overcrowded with his two active, noisy sons. His patients called on him at all hours of the night. Coming into the clinic on a daily basis was a constant stream of people with bleeding wounds and broken bones, women in labor, children with ailments ranging from minor sore throats to life-threatening illnesses. She believed he’d brought Mr. Rainwater to her not to shirk his responsibility but so Mr. Rainwater would have a more peaceful place in which to live.

Hoping to alleviate his guilt, she told him that Mr. Rainwater was an ideal boarder. “He’s considerate and well liked by the others. He’s exceptionally patient with Solly. Even helpful.” She was about to expound on that, but changed her mind. “Mr. Rainwater goes out of his way not to be a burden.”

“I hope he doesn’t become one to you.” The doctor put on his hat and started down the steps, then halted and turned back. “On the other hand, Mrs. Barron, I wouldn’t trust anyone else to take such good care of him.”

She tapped on his door. “May I come in?”

“Please.”

He was seated in the chair at the window. Through it, he watched the doctor drive away. “What did Murdy tell you?”

“He suggested I come up and change your bedding.”

He turned his head and saw that she was carrying fresh, folded bedsheets. “I doubt that’s what you two talked about.”

“I noticed you could use fresh linens.”

“Do they smell that bad? Murdy helped me wash and change into a clean shirt, but I should have known my sickbed wouldn’t comply with your standards.”

She was about to smile at the gentle gibe when she spotted the wicked-looking syringe. It was lying on the top of the bureau alongside a small black leather pouch, which she assumed contained vials of medication.

He followed her gaze. “Murdy’s trying to turn me into a dope fiend.”

“He doesn’t want you to suffer needlessly.”

He looked at the syringe with distaste, then turned his head away to look out the window again. Taking that as her cue to drop the subject, Ella moved to the bed and began stripping off the damp, wrinkled sheets.

“I would offer to help, but Murdy’s pain reliever has left me feeling a little woozy.”

“I’ll be quick and then you can return to bed.”

“Take your time. I spent all night and all day in bed. I’m not anxious to return to it. I enjoy the view from here.” After a moment, he said, “I’ve been looking at the cottonwood tree across the street. When I was a boy, I climbed one that was as tall. One day, I was about a third of the way up when I came across a raccoon that was foaming at the mouth. I had to drop to the ground or get bit. I broke my arm.”

“Better than getting rabies.”

He gave a soft laugh. “It wasn’t quick thinking on my part. The thing was hissing, scared the daylights out of me. My folks commended me for exercising good judgment by jumping, when in truth, I was so frightened I actually fell out of the tree. It’s a wonder I didn’t break my neck.”

She smiled across at him. “Did you ever climb that tree again?”

“Soon as my arm was healed. I had to in order to restore my pride.”

Turning back to the bed, she spread the bottom sheet over the mattress, then went around the bed, pulling the sheet tightly and tucking it in. “Mr. Rainwater?”

“Hmm?”

“I must apologize to you. For yesterday.” She could feel his gaze on her back as she picked up the folded top sheet, unfurled it, let it settle over the bed. “The incident with the toothpicks. The things I said to you. I didn’t mean them. It’s not like me to fly off the handle like that. I don’t know what came over me.”

“You were upset about what happened to your friends.”

She finished tucking the sheet into the foot of the bed, then straightened up and turned to face him. “Yes. But it wasn’t only that.” She bowed her head briefly, then raised it to look directly at him. “I was jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Of the progress you’re making with Solly. And despite what I said yesterday, it is progress.” Feeling the heat in her cheeks and knowing it must show, she turned her back to him again and picked up a pillow. Holding it between chin and chest, she pulled on the pillowcase, then placed the pillow precisely in the center of the headboard. “I don’t know how far it will go, but your progress with him underscores my failure to reach him on any level.”

She smoothed the bedspread over the bed, then folded it and the top sheet back at a perfect ninety-degree angle. After making one last adjustment to the counterpane, she turned. Astonishingly, he was standing directly in front of her. He was still in stocking feet, so she hadn’t known he’d left the chair and moved up behind her, until now that they were face-to-face. And close.

“You have no reason to feel jealous. If I’ve made what you perceive to be progress with Solly, it’s because I have idle time to devote to him. You don’t. You’re too busy doing what you must to provide for him.” He paused for a beat, then added, “At tremendous sacrifice to yourself.”

That was a presumptuous statement. She could have taken issue with it, but she was afraid to have him expand upon what aspects of life he thought she was sacrificing. It seemed like a dangerous conversation to enter into, especially with him, especially in this room at this moment.

She had to swallow before she could speak. “It’s very generous of you to think so.”

“I’m not being generous. I’m stating the way things are.”

Averting her head, she asked, “Do you accept my apology?”

“Even though it’s unnecessary, yes.”

“Thank you.”

She stepped past him and was about to bend down to pick up the dirty sheets from the floor when he shocked her further by reaching for her hand. She was so startled by the unexpected contact that she looked at their hands to confirm it. And then she continued looking at them for a long time, noting the difference in size, in the texture of skin, in the pressure his fingers applied to hers. Finally she tilted her head up and looked into his face.

He said, “I hate that you saw me like that today.”

“You were in pain.”

“You were very calm.”

“I only appeared to be.”

“You bathed my face.”

“It was the least I could do.”

“It helped.”

“I’m glad.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

For several seconds more, they remained connected by their hands and stares, then she pulled her hand from his and hastily gathered up the sheets. At the door, she said, “I’ll have Margaret bring up your dinner on a tray.”

“I’ll be down for dinner.”

“You should rest, Mr. Rainwater.”

“I’ll be down.”

He was.

He seemed to suffer no lasting ill effects from the bad spell. Whether or not he was injecting the painkiller—Ella presumed it was morphine—she didn’t know. But he definitely took a turn for the better. The very next day, he resumed working with Solly, but only after he had cleared it with her first.