The Doctor Takes a Wife (5 page)

Phil had been proud of saving that young mother, I knew.

“But, Larry, if I can discover some way to prevent or control blood clots, 1
I
’
ll
save
hundreds
of women.”

“Maybe. You know you saved that one. And why? Because you were here in Berilo, with the know-how. You
’
re not going to tell me, I hope, that these mountain women haven
’
t a right to good doctoring? We need these ranchers, and miners, and lumber men—the engineers
and
their wives. They won
’
t come here and stay without good doctors. We
’
re not doing pants-merchant doctoring here, Scoles. We
’
re contributing to the development of the resources of the west—a thing our country needs.”

“I
’
m still going to St. Louis,” he growled. “I feel I have to, Whitley! With things as clear as they were made to me that night on the mountain, I can
’
t ignore this call. I realized that a man has to do things
now
—if he
’
s going to get them done.”

“What if everybody decided that only research was worth while?”

“I don
’
t know. They won
’
t. Just as they don
’
t all decide to be butchers, or engineers. Besides, I don
’
t care about
‘
everybody.
’
I just know that Phil Scoles has to satisfy his dream of research.”

“You
’
ll study for a year. Then what?”

“Well—of course, money is an item in this world.”

“It is on the moon, too, I
’
ll bet.” I was angry, and worried. It was a shock to have old Phil go idealist on me.

“I
’
ve enough cash—or will have, with the house—to finance a year. Then if I find anything at all, I can get a fellowship and continue. I
’
m young enough to start over
—
and young enough to make some genuine contribution to medicine.”

I got to my feet. I
’
d go home to bed. I
’
d heard sick men vow to change their ways before. When Phil got on his feet, and was able to do his usual job—he
’
d do it. I wouldn
’
t set his determination by arguing with him. What he said sounded fine—but not for Phil. He was a practicing doctor, and a good one.

On Friday evening, Min came to see Phil. It was after visiting hours so I took her up to his room. Like all his women callers, she bent over and kissed him, and held his hand warmly for a minute before she took the armchair. I fussed around the room, straightening things. Phil was getting better fast, and the place looked like a mare
’
s nest.

I kept glancing at Min—she was looking the prettiest I
’
d ever seen her. She
’
d always been a casual sort of gal—but that night she was dressed carefully in a well-cut suit of dark gray. She
’
d had her soft brown hair cut so that it feathered out all around her little hat. It wasn
’
t much of a hat, but I do believe it was the first time I
’
d ever seen Min wear one. Phil said it was the first for him.

Min laughed and said everybody had to grow up. She touched the edge of pink which ran around the little black velvet cap. She had a matching pink scarf folded into the throat of her suit, and three fur-bearing animals draped about her shoulders. She was as pretty as a picture, but she didn
’
t look much like Min. She and Phil talked about this and that, obviously waiting for the help to leave—so I left. I told Min I
’
d meet her down in the office.

“You two got a date?” Phil asked her.

“He
’
s going to drive me to the train.”

“What train?”

“What train? You know we have only four trains a day in Berilo!”

“You going some place?”

She smiled and came over to stand beside the bed. “Yes. I came to tell you good-bye, big boy. I
’
m a-leavin
’
these here parts.”

Min is exactly five feet tall, so that her eyes were about on a level with Phil
’
s as he lay against the bed-rest. “Not for good, Min!” he said sharply.

She smoothed the stripe of the bedspread. “That
’
s my plan.”

“But, gosh, Berilo can
’
t get along without you.”

“Maybe not,” she laughed. “But I
’
m going to make a stab at getting along without Berilo.”

“Where
’
d you get this fool notion? When? And for gosh
sake, why?”

She patted his shoulder. “Don
’
t get yourself excited, Sugar. It isn
’
t a new thing. A whole month ago I applied for a job on a St. Louis paper—and I got it. I
’
ve known for two weeks that I was going to take off today. Job starts as of Monday.”

“You didn
’
t say anything—”

“Not to you.”

“Not to anybody.”

“Oh yes I did. For instance, Marynelle knew it
.
”

“Marynelle!”

“I told her when I said I couldn
’
t be a bride
’
s maid” She dropped her eyes, and then raised them again to his face. “You see, Phil, I had to get away before the wedding. I
’
m not anything of a good sport
.
I knew I couldn
’
t stand and beam while she was marrying you.”

He stared at her. “Oh, Min
!
”

She bit her lip. “That
’
s the way it is, Red.”

“But I thought
—
What about you and Whitley?”

“Nothing about
him
—and me. He
’
s a grand guy, and I probably should many
him.
But you know how such things go, Red
...”
Ruefully she twisted her mouth to one side, and lit a cigarette.

Phil just leaned back and tried to digest what she
’
d told
him.
“I never dreamed
...”
he muttered.

“Maybe I should have told you,” said Min dryly.

He laughed, uncertainly.

“Everyone else knows,” she snapped at him. “Whit—and Marynelle—”

Yes, he supposed that was why
—
“Gee whiz, Min!”

She shrugged. “Don
’
t let it bother you, Red. You asked me why I was leaving, and I told you. I couldn
’
t have gone on in the crowd, seeing you and Marynelle together, so—”

“But now
.
..
”

“Yes, I know. But I took this job. I
’
ll go and try it
.
For all I know, I
’
ll like it
.
”

“I’ll
bet Whit doesn
’
t
.
”

“He
’
s one of the reasons I
’
m leaving, Red. I like the guy
—
but I can
’
t marry
him.
And if I
’
m gone, the chances are better that he
’
ll find another g
irl.
”

“What you should do...”

She put her cigarette into the tray on his table, stretched the hand a little farther to pat his forearm. “I know I should!” she said brashly, then she made an impudent face at him, and stepped to the door. “Bye, Red. I
’
ll send you a post card with a picture of the zoo.”

Phil just sat there, his brown eyes thoughtful. But one
thing was certain. If Min could step off into the unknown
—
a girl, and little—soft, too, for all her brightly pert manner—why certainly Phil could be as brave.

So Min was going to
St. Louis!
He turned his mind resolutely away from certain pictures that came dancing into it
.

CHAPTER 4

Phil
’
s
progress was good, but it was February before he was really on his feet again. He
’
d been back at the apartment for a week when I made the suggestion that he spend a little time down south in the desert sun before attempting to start back to work...

Our apartment was in one of the old gingerbread houses on Spring Avenue, and we had our own fireplace, complete with golden oak overmantel and Dutch tiles. It gave us a place to toast our toes, and it was cheerful. Our two
small
bedrooms opened off the big sitting room. We liked our quarters.

Now Phil gave the fender a kick to be sure he had my attention, and ran his hand back over his red hair. Except for a scar above his right temple where his hair line would always be interesting, he showed no evidence of his near
-
miss with death. Of course, after two months indoors, he was pale; usually Phil keeps his skin a nice shade of Cordova brown.

“I told you,” he said, “and I thought you believed me
—
that I was not going to work any more at the Clinic.”

“You told me,” I grumbled, feeling the skin on my forearms prickle, “but I thought you were crazy from that blow on your head.”

“I wasn
’
t crazy,” he said quietly.

“It sounded crazy to me.”

“You don
’
t try to see it from my point of view. You just think of the Clinic, and the fact that my going will leave you short-handed.”

“I wish you
’
d think about that.”

“I wish,” he countered, “I could make you understand what it was like up there on that mountainside when I was sure I was going to die at thirty-two, and never do any of the things a man dreams of doing.”

“I know, Phil, but—”

“I didn
’
t have any vision, or call,” he said soberly. “But I did see, and very clearly, that a man has to use his life for the things he wants to do. I saw that life is short, at best—and can be very short without half trying. If you learn a lesson in that particular way, Whit—well, you learn it.”

“I guess you
’
re right about that.”

“You bet. So—when I found I hadn
’
t died—it was more as if I
’
d been brought back to life—a reincarnation!” Little lines sprayed out around his eyes to show that he was half
-
laughing at his own intensity. “I was sure of just one thing. I had to use my second chance at living. I
’
d do the things I had always dreamed of doing.”

“You dreamed of fishing; why don
’
t you do that?”

“I
’
ll do it. But I learned that one must do the most important things first, Whit
.
And with me, that is medical research.”

“What if you
’
re no good at it? What if you don
’
t like it?”

“That
’
s possible—and
I
’
ll
be the first to know it
.
”

“I wouldn
’
t bet on it.”

“Oh, now see here, Whit! I
’
d like to make you see my position—but it really doesn
’
t make a damn bit of difference whether you see it or not. I
’
m leaving just as soon as I get my affairs here in shape.”

I leaned over to tap my pipe on the fender. “You
’
re not leaving because you have a sense of guilt over Marynelle
’
s death?”

I saw his leg jerk, but he answered in a calm-enough voice, “I do feel guilty for her death,” he admitted. “But that
’
s not my reason for leaving town. At the risk of boring you, I
’
ll repeat—”

I growled in my throat, and he chuckled. He
’
s a swell guy.

“I know it sounds feathery coming from me,” he conceded, “but my real reason
is
that I realize that I
’
ve been given a second chance to live. To do the things I
’
d dreamed of doing
‘
some day.
’
I
’
ve had it demonstrated that
‘
some day
’
doesn
’
t always come to a
guy...”

“But,” I protested, “you talk as if you
’
d been doing
—
well—pill-rolling, or maybe society-big-specialist medicine. You haven
’
t, Phil. You
’
re doing good work here; you
’
ve had a varied amount of surgery in your field—and no forcing of cases, or anything like that. I can
’
t see how you can condemn your work here as not being worth your while! You
’
ve nothing to apologize for.”

He drew his brows together in a frown of consideration. “It isn
’
t that I apologize
...”

“Then what in hell are you doing?” I demanded hotly. I got to my feet, leaned an arm on the mantel, and gestured at him with my pipe. “You keep saying you had this vision on the hillside—or whatever—and it showed you the error of your ways
...”

He opened his mouth like a fish—couldn
’
t find an answer—and closed it again. As for me, I knew I was arguing for two reasons. One was to keep Phil at the Clinic. The other reason was—Min. I sure as hell didn
’
t want Phil in St. Louis.

“Look at it this way, Scoles,” I pursued my point. “Suppose all of us—Forrestal, and Reeder, and Cobb and me
—
suppose we
’
d been conked on the head, in various ways, and had seen that light you saw, had sold out and taken ourselves elsewhere. What would have happened to you that night when we found you up there in the snow, half
-
dead from shock and exposure, not to mention loss of blood?”

“Oh, Whit—”

“I know. We did find you. And our Clinic was close enough for you to get expert care; your concussion was taken care of, your broken ribs—we had blood for you
—
and, for all your revelations, you still should be ready to admit that it was a break for you that our Clinic hospital was available with several good doctors at your disposal, ready to put on gowns and rubber gloves and
work
at doctoring!”

I was mad, and I guess it showed. Afraid I
’
d say too much, I took off my glasses and polished them busily.

Phil looked up at me, and pounded his heels on the rug. “I guess you
’
re right, Whit,” he said gruffly. “You
’
d know how much chance I had that night—and perhaps I do owe it to all of you—”

“You don
’
t owe us one thing except an appreciation
of
the service available at Berry and Chappell!” I snapped at him. “All I
’
m tellin
’
you is that you were lucky all doctors don
’
t think research is the end and aim of true medical service.”

I slapped my glasses back on my face and stomped off to our bathroom to get some beer out of the little refrigerator we keep there. Phil sat on in his chair, looking mighty thoughtful.

“You and your revelations,” I growled, when I gave him his mug.

“It may be just an idea,” he agreed, his tone grave. “But it seems to me, Whit, that I have to find out how much of an idea it is.”

“Nobody
’
s stopping you!” I saw that I was licked.

He took a swig of his beer and didn
’
t say anything for a long minute. Then, “I
’
m starting on the basis of a year,” he said slowly. “Maybe at the end of this time I
’
ll find that I want to return to the Clinic. I
’
m not going to sell my interest
...”

I was relieved to hear that. It would be a tie.

“Of course,” he went on, “if the man you get to replace me wants an ownership
...”

“That would have to be taken up by the Board. I
’
m only one member.”

“Sure. But my thought is, to give this thing a whirl. After I see how the work at Boone goes, I
’
ll be in a better position to say
...”

Boone. St. Louis.

I sat up straight in my chair, and let my jealousy speak out loud. “You
’
re following Min, aren
’
t you?”

He turned his head, then his whole body, to look at me.

I suppose all my dumb devotion to that girl showed in my homely face—and my suspicions—and my misery.

Phil looked uncomfortable, and equally miserable.

“If Min Brady had a lick of sense,” he said angrily, "she
’
d have stayed here and married you. She
’
ll not find a better man in any city
!
”

I buried my nose in my beer. That, instead of weeping into it
.

“Marynelle used to have such ideas, tool” Phil went on crossly. “That anything in a city on Eastern time—or even Central—was better than the same thing here in Idaho. Silliest reasoning I ever heard.”

I was able to grin at him. “It sounds silly when you put it to medical matters, too, old boy!” I drawled.

He stared at me.

“Why, sure,” I pointed out. “Haven
’
t you been yelling that a lab job in the East beats a busy surgical schedule in Berilo?”

“Now look,
Whit...”

“I
’
m looking. You
’
re the one wearing blinders, Phi
l.
Stop and think a bit. Aren
’
t you taking off because the grass looks greener way off yonder?”

“Not at all, and you know it
.
”

“
You could do some of that-there research right here in Berilo if you really wanted to. We got rats and all that-such here.”

“There isn
’
t a medical school in the whole state.”

“And do you know what? Well never get one with the attitude you
’
re taking.”

“If I had more vanity, I
’
d take that charge seriously.”

“You
’
ve got all the vanity you need,” I assured him. We were closer to quarreling than Phil and I had ever come. “Dr. Pasteur,” I added nastily.

“If I were Pasteur,” he informed me, “I could work here in Idaho. But since I am green at research, I
’
m going to have to work under direction, and to
do that...”

“You have to go East
.
”

“I don
’
t know whether I
’
d have to, but I am going. As far as St Louis, at least
.
”

I thought about Min, and something turned over inside of me.

“How long will it take you to win the Nobel prize?” I inquired nastily.

“Whit...
”
He had paled.

“I
’
m sorry. I
’
m a bear with a sore paw. Two sore paws. I don
’
t want you to walk out on the Clinic, and I don
’
t want you following my girl.”

“You damned fool! I
’
m not following Min!” he spoke hotly. And loud.

“Min
’
s in St Louis,” I told
him
coldly.

“That
’
s not why I
’
m going there.”

I didn
’
t believe him, and said so.

“I don
’
t care what you believe. It
’
s the truth. I
’
m going there because my father had friends in St. Louis. I wrote to one—he used to be Chief Surgeon of the Boone Group
—
and I got a berth there. Lab space, and I
’
ll serve in the urology and pre-natal clinic. I won
’
t be much above a clerk, so I don
’
t think the reporters will hunt me out, including Min Brady.”

“I find myself unconvinced,” I said.

“And unless I sell my Clinic stock,
I’ll
be too poor to hunt out any girls,” he assured me. “Besides, Whit—Min is your girl and I know it. I
’
m not the sort of heel to—I
’
m going to be busy. Min doesn
’
t need to know I
’
m in town
—
unless you write and tell her.”

“I won
’
t,” I promised him.

I let the whole matter drop for that evening, but I found a chance mighty soon to bring the subject up in the presence of Dr. Chappell. Phil was not working but, from boredom and habit, he hung around the Clinic a good deal, especially my office.

I encouraged this, thinking that the firebell might ring loudly enough to get him back in the operating room. It rang all right, but he was plenty stubborn.