Cherry Ames 09 Cruise Nurse (14 page)

That’s why I took him on this cruise. But it hasn’t worked out at all. I thought we would spend all our time around the pool. We’d have fun together.” She began to sob with self-pity. “I was going to teach him to swim and turn somersaults in the water. We’d get to know each other that way, and then he’d learn to love me.” Cherry felt a twinge of pity. She said more gently:

“The cruise has hardly begun. Timmy’s temperature was normal at four. If it stays that way we’ll take him off sulfa in another twenty-four hours. Then we can take him out on deck for sun baths. In another day or so he’ll be up and around. You’ll have plenty of time for fun with him at the pool.”

Mrs. Crane sniffl ed. “I know you think I’m a perfect moron, but really the whole blame rests on my mother-in-law’s shoulders. I wanted to take care of Timmy as a baby, but she wouldn’t hear of it. We live with her, you see. I wish we didn’t. My husband is her only child.

She arranges both of our lives to suit herself. Mine is just one social engagement after another. I hardly ever see Timmy.”

“Well, I certainly would change all that when you get home,” Cherry said fi rmly. “You can, you know. Your husband will back you up. In the meantime, you can 128
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start getting rid of Nanny by convincing Timmy that you can take better care of him than she can. I’ll teach you how to give him a bed bath, and how to change the sheets without moving him. He’ll love that.”

“Oh, would you, really?” Mrs. Crane was patheti-cally grateful. “Do you think I could learn? I’m so utterly helpless.”

Cherry chuckled. “You just think you are. Hundreds of so-called helpless society women work in hospitals as nurses’ aides. We couldn’t get along without them.” Timmy yelled impatiently then. Cherry hurried to him, hoping that at least she had impressed on his mother that he must not be left alone again. A docile Mrs. Crane followed on Cherry’s heels.

Timmy was demanding a toy parrot. He had seen one in the shop on A deck. “I’m Long John Silver,” he shouted. “I
have
to have a parrot. Pieces of eight.

Pieces of eight.” He let a handful of bottle tops cas-cade through his fat fi ngers. “Pieces of eight!”

“I’ll get you a parrot right away, honey.” Mrs. Crane snatched up her handbag and darted out into the corridor. She was in such a hurry she barely escaped collid-ing with Dr. Monroe who had just raised his knuckles to knock.

“Hello, Tim,” he said. “Has Cherry been taking good care of you?”

Timmy proudly pointed to his collection of bottle tops. “When are we going to play checkers?” Dr. Monroe glanced inquiringly at Cherry.

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PIRATE

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“Perfectly normal,” she said. “And he’s not nearly so hoarse as he was.”

The ship’s surgeon nodded. He strode across the room and fl ung open the French doors. “Let’s get a little of that good warm air in here. If it’s fair tomorrow and his temperature is still normal, we’ll wheel him out on deck. How about it, Tim?”

Timmy grinned. “Also, I’ve got to go swimming soon.

I’ve
got
to. For a very ’portant reason.” Cherry told Dr. Monroe, “He’s been a pirate all day, you see.”

The word “pirate” started Timmy off again. Dr. Monroe had to listen to a very Timmy-version of how the pirates divided the booty among themselves. He was very proud of one fact which he explained clearly. Before the loot was apportioned into shares, certain payments were always taken out. One of the fi rst payments was for medical care.

“Those buccaneers,” Timmy chuckled gleefully.

“They were always losing a hand or a leg or an eye.

Henry’s going to make me a patch so I can pe-tend I’ve only got one eye.”

Dr. Monroe joined in Cherry’s laughter. “He’s got the makings of a good surgeon, hasn’t he? Nothing squea-mish about Tim Crane.”

“I should say not,” Cherry agreed. “He’ll never go back to Mother Goose after this trip. Anything else but the stories in your book will be too tame for him now.”

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Mrs. Crane came back with the bright-feathered toy parrot then. Cherry and the doctor left, almost deaf-ened by cries of “Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!”

“He’s a cute kid,” Kirk Monroe said as they walked down toward the Paulding suite.

Cherry, though hating herself for it, had to report Timmy’s activity in the corridor to the young surgeon.

Dr. Monroe shook his head. “I don’t like to say this, Cherry, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to sleep in Timmy’s room tonight. I’m afraid his mother might not wake up and give him his midnight and four o’clock doses of sulfa. It’ll be much less of a chore for you if you’re sleeping in the other twin bed. Mrs. Crane can have the sofa-bed in the living room made up for herself.”

“I don’t mind at all, Dr. Monroe,” Cherry said.

He stopped outside Stateroom 125. “Oh, let’s cut out this doctor and nurse stuff. We’re on a pleasure cruise; let’s get some fun out of it.” He grinned boy-ishly. “Unless you object, I’d like you to call me Kirk.

We were both on duty in the Pacifi c so that makes us old friends, doesn’t it?”

Cherry said happily, “Yes, doctor!
Kirk!”
She knew, of course, that it would still be “Doctor” and “Nurse” when they made professional calls on patients. But in-between times it would be Cherry and Kirk. Thank goodness. The ship’s surgeon must like her, must think they were making a good team.

c h a p t e r x i i

Caught Off Bounds!

when they knocked on the door of stateroom 125
,
Jan opened it. She looked relieved at the sight of the doctor and his nurse.

“Oh, I’m so glad you came. Mother’s awake,” she whispered. “And, oh, so cross. She always is after she’s had morphine.”

Mrs. Paulding called out fretfully from her bed, “Is that you, Doctor?”

Kirk Monroe, with Cherry at his side, strode into the room. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Paulding. Are you feeling better?”

Mrs. Paulding screwed her fat, pasty face into a frown. “I feel simply ghastly,” she moaned. “I shouldn’t have let you give me that morphine. I’m allergic to it.

My system just won’t tolerate it.”

Kirk’s cool fi ngers were on her wrist. He smiled briefl y. “I think it would do you good to get out of bed 131

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and perhaps sit out on deck for a while. You are no longer suffering any pain, are you, Mrs. Paulding?” She pursed her pale lips into a pout. “I’m not in
pain,
but I am certainly far too weak to promenade the deck.

I don’t know how you can suggest such a thing!” Kirk nodded coldly. “You know best. We’ll look in on you again this evening.”

He turned and walked into the other room with Cherry and Jan right on his heels. Jan closed the living-room door:

“Well, Doctor?” she demanded. “Mother’s not really sick, is she?”

Kirk shrugged. “Not being her private physician I wouldn’t want to make such a defi nite statement.

However, I will go so far as to say I believe there is a psychological factor in the frequency of her headaches.

I imagine they often follow emotional upsets. Right?”

“Right. Oh, so right,” Jan said. “This last attack, for instance, was brought on because I refused to go swimming with a young man we met in the club at tea yesterday.”

Kirk’s eyebrows shot up in amusement. “Why wouldn’t you go swimming with him?”

“Simply because Mother wanted me to,” Jan said fl atly.

Kirk laughed outright then. “You remind me of a little boy we had in the children’s ward when I was an intern. The only way we could get him to eat his oatmeal was to stand around his crib and forbid him to take a mouthful.”

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Cherry giggled, and fi nally Jan relaxed into a sheep-ish grin. “I know I’m silly. I should give in to Mother on the simple things and save my strength for times when it’s really important.”

“It’s worth trying,” Cherry said emphatically. She added to Kirk: “Jan’s a very intelligent young woman—

except
in her relationship with her mother.” Cherry and Dr. Monroe said good-bye to Jan. “You’re a real nurse,” he said, smiling. “And you certainly have a way with people. Tim adores you. And as for Bill, you’re his pin-up girl. You should see the portrait he’s sketching of you. Glamour plus, Cherry. To pun—a left-handed compliment.”

Cherry blushed. “What about Bill? He’s getting awfully bored in sick bay.”

“That’s right,” Kirk agreed. “I’m sending him back to his own quarters tonight. After Christmas he can be given easy jobs, although he’ll wear the cast for several weeks.”

“Then after his eight-o’clock checkup I can consider him as discharged?”

“I’ll check him at eight myself,” Kirk said. “And then discharge him from sick bay. You’ll be busy with Timmy anyway. Sure you don’t mind bunking in his room tonight? It doesn’t exactly come under the heading of one of your duties, you know.”

“It’ll be fun,” Cherry said. “He’s a lamb.” Dr. Monroe glanced at his watch. “We may as well have dinner now. It’s almost time. If we go early we can get a table together.”

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Dinner was a pleasant interlude in Cherry’s busy day.

It was “Kirk” and “Cherry” from the crab-meat cock-tails right down through lobster Newburg and cheese and crackers.

Brownie, from the table behind Kirk’s back, went through all sorts of motions signifying jealousy and a broken heart. Cherry could hardly keep a straight face.

After dinner she went to her cabin and packed a little overnight kit. Timmy was ecstatic when he heard Cherry was going to sleep in the other twin bed.

“We’ll play guessing games all night long,” he announced.
“First!”

“All right,” Cherry said as she plugged in the vaporizer kettle. “You go fi rst.”

Wriggling, but speaking slowly and carefully, as though he had just learned the question by heart, Timmy asked:

“Why did the pirate bring his cutlass and pistol to the corner?”

“I give up,” Cherry said after a moment. “Why?”

“Cause he didn’t know whether to cut across the street or shoot down the alley!” Timmy announced triumphantly.

Cherry laughed and came back with: “Why did the moron go to the zoo on the night before Christmas?”

“That’s too easy,” Timmy chortled. “To buy some Christmas seals, ‘course!”

Mrs. Crane came in then and watched interestedly while Cherry gave Tim a bed bath and changed the sheets.

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“It looks so easy when you do it,” she admitted. “But I will try tomorrow if you’ll let me.”

Timmy looked up, wide-eyed. “Is Mummy going to give me a bath?”

Cherry nodded. “She certainly is. And she’s going to rub your back with some nice, sweet-smelling powder too. Then, if it’s a nice day, she’s going to help you get dressed and take you out on deck for a while.” Timmy looked doubtful. “Can
she
tie shoelaces?”

“Of course,” Cherry assured him.

“That’s good,” Timmy said, relieved. “Cause Nanny can’t. They always come undone.”

“Your mummy,” Cherry went on quickly, “will teach you how to tie your own shoelaces so they won’t come undone any more.”

“I’ll show you how to tie them in double knots the way my mother showed me, Timmy,” Mrs. Crane said bravely.

Timmy went off on another tangent. “Henry’s going to show me how to tie a bowline. That’s the kind of knot you use when you want to hang somebody from the mast.” He grinned impishly up at Cherry as Mrs. Crane hurried away to dinner. “Say, Cherry, did you hear about the sailor who climbed the fi fty-foot mast and fell bang!

down on the deck? ”

“Oh, my goodness,” Cherry gasped. “How awful.

The poor man!”

“Poor man nothin’,” Timmy sniffed. “He didn’t even get hurt.”

“ Timmy Crane,” Cherry said. “You’re fi bbing.” 136
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Timmy bounced in glee. “’Course he didn’t get hurt, silly. He only climbed up two feet.”

“Who’s been telling you all these jokes, Tim?” Cherry asked suspiciously.

“Henry,” Timmy said. “He’s still looking for my Fuzzy-Wuzzy, you know. He came knocking on the door while you were gone, pe-tending he came to see Mummy.

But course he really came to see me.
Also,
Mummy told him she wanted to see how Jan’s mummy was feeling so Henry said he’d play games with me until she came back.
Also,
he didn’t fi nd Fuzzy-Wuzzy,” he fi nished, exulting.

As Cherry took Timmy’s temperature she said quietly,

“May Jan and I look for Fuzzy-Wuzzy sometime too?”

“Jan,”
Tim said in disgust. “She couldn’t fi nd
anything
.
But you can play, Cherry.” Cherry saw that his temperature had gone up, as was to be expected at that hour, to 101°. “What is Fuzzy-Wuzzy, anyway?” she asked, mildly curious. “Another duck?”

“Duck?” Tim fell back on the pillows. “Course not!

He’s my black-and-white bear. Nanny says he’s a panda, but
I
know he’s a bear.”

“Didn’t you ever see the pandas at the zoo, Timmy?” Cherry asked.

“Sure. But they’re bears too.”

Cherry corrected him gently. “They’re not, Timmy.

They don’t even belong to the bear family.”

“So what?” Timmy said airily. “I asked Granny to give me a Teddy bear for my birthday. And she gave me Fuzzy-Wuzzy. So I pe-tend he’s a bear.”

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Cherry wondered about Granny, pretty little Mrs.

Crane’s mother-in-law. Why couldn’t she have given the child what he asked for? Cherry shrugged. Probably because she considered a panda more modern. Would the domineering grandmother try to run Timmy’s life too? Cherry hoped not. There was still time for young Mrs. Crane to take matters in her own hands.