Yankee Surgeon (20 page)

“I have not!” Sally ground out the words.

“Your aunt playing fairy godmother then?”

“She isn
’
t, so there! I
’
m hoping to get a traveling scholarship. I
’
m going to America
to work ...
not play!” Sally finished furiously.

“Okay, okay. I get it. Maybe I was just minding your going or something stupid. Looks as if I
’
ll have to get me another girl.”

That pricked Sally
’
s pride and she hit back with a viciousness that astonished herself. “Why don
’
t you take Claris? She
’
s eager
enough. Maybe if you hadn
’
t been saddled with me tonight you
’
d be having fun with her right now!”

“You got shares in Claris
’
s stakes or something? This is the second time you
’
ve chucked me into her clutches or at least tried to!” He had begun calmly enough and now his voice roughened. “Get one thing into your head. I took you tonight because I wanted to and because I guess I fancied showing off a mighty pretty girl. I reckon I didn
’
t allow that it might be duller than a P.T. A. meeting. Go off to your American tour and I
’
ll even hope you like it because it happens to be my own country and a mighty fine one at that, and I
’
ll even be dope enough to ask you to remember me now and again and take this as a sample with you.”

At that he snatched her to him and kissed her until the blood sang in her ears and then he released her and opened the door and pushed her none too gently out on to the path. Sally swayed for a moment and then steadied herself and she saw the front door open and her father standing there. She started running toward him and dimly heard the roar of John
’
s car starting up and tear off into the night with a savage grinding of gears.

Sally
’
s pride saved her in time and if her father guessed her feelings he gave no sign.

“Off you go to bed, Sally. There
’
s some hot milk in the thermos by your bed and a tin of biscuits.”

“Good night, Daddy, and thank you for everything,” Sally said inconsequently and clung to him for a brief instant before running swiftly up the stairs.

She was beyond tears and beyond regret, and sleep swept her off before she had time to wonder why she could say the wrong thing so often where John was concerned.

CHAPTER
TEN

Sally peered excitedly out of the train window. White Plains was the next stop and she wondered if she would be able to pick out her aunt on the platform. She got her case down from the rack and joined the throng of passengers also wanting to get off. They were mostly women who had gone into New York City for a day
’
s shopping. She wondered if they too had learned to avoid the business rush. What a life the commuters lived ... getting up at
dawn ...
snatching a
breakfast ...
fighting for a place on the train that was taking them to work in one of the warren of skyscrapers that was New York ... struggling to get home again! No wonder they either ended up with ulcers and coronaries or on the psychiatrist
’
s couch. Sally wondered a little grimly how many years had been snatched from her life since she had joined the rat race in January.

The train jerked to a stop and Sally walked down the stairs into her aunt
’
s hug.

“Gosh, you have got thin, Sally! Have they been working you to death or what?”

Sally pushed back the hair from her forehead. “It
’
s this sticky heat you call summer over here. New York
’
s like a Turkish bath and. the thunderstorms may make it a bit cooler, but it only increases the humidity.”

“Let
’
s get into the car and we
’
ll try to find you a breeze. Haven
’
t you got air-conditioning?”

Sally picked up her case and followed her aunt. “The hospital has and the main nurses
’
residence, but not our annex. But it
’
s not too bad as it
’
s old and has high ceilings and thick walls and tall windows. I thought the English weather was bad enough but I think the American climate is worse—you either freeze or roast.”

Agnes Raynor laughed. “But at least the houses are comfortable over here, you must admit.”

Sally lifted her case into her aunt
’
s sports car. “But I like to be out of doors when I
’
m off duty,” she protested.

“Never mind, honey. September
’
s coming and that
’
s a lovely month over here and often well into October. And the leaves turn the most gorgeous colors.”

Sally leaned back against the seat. She was more tired than she was prepared to admit. The heat left her limp and irritable and her feet felt too big for her shoes. It had been a very busy seven months and getting used to new ways of doing things hadn
’
t been all of it. This was the first proper break apart from weekends since she had arrived. The thought of nearly three weeks in which she wouldn
’
t have to fight against the heat was sheer bliss.

Agnes Raynor came through the French doors that led out from the living room and the tray she was carrying made a nice tinkling sound. “Glad you came?”

Sally
’
s face came alive. “Oh yes! It
’
s all been so different from what I expected—exciting and wonderful and even disappointing at times, but I wouldn
’
t have missed it for anything, and I can
’
t thank you enough for helping to make it possible and if it weren
’
t so hot I
’
d get up and hug you!”

“I
’
ll take it done, honey. I am glad you
’
re happy over here. Any hope of your staying on when you
’
ve finished your course?” Her voice was carefully casual.

“I don
’
t know. I might stay for a bit but I mustn
’
t be away from England
too long,”
Sally said slowly.

“Why, honey? Got a special reason for returning?”

Sally smiled. “Not the sort of reason you
’
re meaning. My nursing might get too Americanized, you know, and of course I want to see Mummy and Daddy.”

“But they might come over, don
’
t forget. Your mother said in the last letter I had that she
’
d got your father to the point of reading the
steamer brochures.”

Sally laughed at that. “That could mean something or merely that he
’
s doing it for the sake of peace!”

“Are you going back to work at St. Bride
’
s then?”

Sally moved restlessly. “I know Matron arranged for my traveling scholarship, but I wasn
’
t seconded by St. Bride
’
s. I don
’
t have to go back unless I want to, and I
’
m not so sure that I do.”

“What about all your friends there?”

“There aren
’
t so many left now. Most of my set have gone on to other jobs.”

“What about that nice American I met?”

Sally looked at her aunt sharply but the older woman
’
s expression didn
’
t suggest that the question was other than a casual one.

“I expect he
’
s still there. I don
’
t suppose his year is up yet.”

“What about George? I forget his other name. I think you said he worked in Casualty or something.”

Sally began to laugh. “You should make out a questionnaire and I
’
ll tick off the right answers. George does write sometimes and when I have time I answer his letters. We
’
re just good friends and no matter how hard you try you can
’
t make more of it than that.”

“And would you say the same about John Tremayne?”

Sally looked at her aunt in some surprise. “I don
’
t know. I just don
’
t know. Perhaps now that I know more Americans I might understand him better.”

Agnes Raynor stood up. “You stay put, Sally. There are one or two things I
’
ve got to see to. I hope you don
’
t mind but I
’
ve asked a couple of friends to drop over for supper. The mother
’
s been ill and I think the change might cheer her up.”

Sally smiled up at her aunt. “Of course I don
’
t mind. Are you sure I can
’
t help you with anything?”

The older woman smiled back. “You
can ...
by staying right where you are, honey.”

Left alone Sally settled herself more comfortably. She allowed her thoughts to drift but not altogether happily. Her aunt
’
s questions had stirred up things she had tried to forget. She knew that if she were honest she
’
d have to confess that a certain feeling was still there. If only ambitions and dreams hadn
’
t clashed at that particular
moment...

Sally got stiffly to her feet. She must have been sitting there much longer than she realized.

She went through to the kitchen. “Anything I can do to help?”

Agnes Raynor switched off the electric mixer and put the bowl of whipped cream in the refrigerator.

“Not a thing, thanks. It
’
s a cold supper and I believe in doing things the easy way. Same room as last time and I
’
ve taken your suitcase up. You
’
ve time for a quick shower if you like.”

Sally put an arm around her aunt and gave her a little hug. “You shouldn
’
t spoil me like this! I won
’
t want to go back to work.”

“Well, you don
’
t need to think about that for days and days yet. Relax!”

Sally laughed. “You should try your own medicine first. If you
’
re sure there
’
s nothing I can do, I
’
ll have that shower.”

Agnes Raynor glanced out the back door. “It
’
s gone a mite cooler. Bet there
’
s been a thunderstorm somewhere.”

Sally ran upstairs and slipped out of her clothes. She let the shower run tepid streams over her sticky body and finished up with a dash of cold. She remembered to move leisurely about while she dressed so as not to get all hot again. This time it was a strawberry pink ensemble. Her shower had dampened her hair into soft curls around her face which still wore a slightly dewy look from the cool water.

She h
e
ard a car stop in front of the house but she couldn
’
t see the driveway from her window even if she stood on tiptoe. Odd that her aunt hadn
’
t told her any details of the two people expected
to supper...

Sally tucked a wisp of a kerchief in her belt and started down the stairs. Funny how her aunt insisted on calling her house a bungalow. Perhaps it was really only one story technically, but because of its hill site the bedrooms were on a different level and a curved flight of stairs led into a corner of the living room. As she came around the curve she could hear voices and one was a man
’
s. She smiled a little at her feeling of surprise. After all, her aunt hadn
’
t said she was expecting two women guests. Sally could see the little group now. They were standing over by the French doors with their backs to her. Her heart did a silly little flip-flop as she saw the man
’
s short fair hair and heard him say something to his hostess. All Americans with fair hair and crisp voices didn
’
t have to remind her of John Tremayne, did they?

They heard her footsteps and turned to face her and the man took a few strides forward.

“Gosh, honey, you do look sensational!”

Absurdly it was John and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to walk into his arms and be hugged. After a breathless moment he released her and glanced down at her searchingly.

“You haven
’
t changed
much ...
a mite thinner maybe but you
’
re a sight for lonesome eyes.”

Sally recovered enough to ask, “But how come you
’
re here? Why didn
’
t you tell me you were coming?”

“Easy with the questions, honey. It
’
s a long story and remind me to tell you sometime. But now come and meet my mother. She
’
s been ill, which is the main reason I
’
m home.”

Sally was a little shy as John led her forward to meet a small white-haired edition of himself, but she needn
’
t have worried.

Mrs. Tremayne kissed her gently and then held her by the hands. “So you
’
re the Sally my John
’
s been telling me so much about. Fancy you meeting over there—and now you
’
re working in New York, Agnes tells me.”

Supper was a happy meal with the two older people talking away together and not taking much notice of John and Sally who were busily catching up on a lot of things.

“Have you been back in the States long?” Sally remembered to ask.

“About ten days maybe. Mother gave us a nasty fright but she
’
s much better and I
’
m taking her down to Cape Cod next week to see what some sea breezes will do for her.”

“When do you have to go back ... to England, I mean?” Sally decided she had better know the worst news first.

“Don
’
t rush me away when I
’
ve just found you, sweetie!” He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Missed me?”

Sally was too pleased to see him to hedge. “Yes, I have,” she admitted.

“I
’
m not going back until later in September, depending on how Mother gets on. And I
’
m planning to see a lot of one black-haired, blue-eyed witch who
’
s been haunting my dreams lately. How about it?”

“But you said you were going to Cape Cod,” Sally objected.

“That I am, but you and your aunt are coming too. We
’
ve got a cottage at Nauset Beach. You
’
ll love it. When there
’
s a storm the spray from the Atlantic rollers dashes against the sun-porch windows.” He grinned at her astonishment. “Didn
’
t your aunt tell you then? We fixed it all up last week.”

Sally shook her head. “No, not a word.”

“Guess she wanted to surprise you.” He looked a trifle anxious. “You do want to come, don
’
t you, honey? I
’
ve been looking forward to showing you all my favorite spots. You needn
’
t worry that I
’
ll bother you or anything. Friends?”

“Friends,” Sally echoed slowly.

She couldn
’
t very well burst out and tell him that the situation had changed since she had exacted that from him. Then America and all her dreams lay ahead. Now America was a fact and her dreams had altered ... at least
one had...

Supper was over, and now Agnes Raynor glanced across at John and Sally.

“John, how about showing Sally something of these parts? Then your mother and I can have time for a nice cozy chat.”

John smiled down at Sally. “Looks as though they want to get rid of us so they can talk scandal to their hearts
’
content. How about it?”

Sally smiled back. “I
’
d love to.”

John led her out to the car and laughed as he saw her questioning look. “It
’
s Mother
’
s. There wasn
’
t room for both me and my car on the plane.”

John was driving smoothly along a country road. The air was still warm but it wasn
’
t as close and humid and Sally felt the breeze on her face like a blissful kiss. The twilight was deepening into dusk and through a tracery of trees Sally could see an August moon climb slowly skyward. John parked the car beside a millpond where sleepy ducks chattered at the intrusion.

He slid an arm along the back of the seat and rested it on Sally
’
s shoulders. “Know something? It
’
s nice to see you again ... mighty nice.”

Sally felt suddenly shy at the suggestion of warmth in his voice. “It
’
s nice seeing you
...
almost like having a visitor from home even if
you are an American. How
’
s everyone at St. Bride
’
s?”

“Aren
’
t I enough?” he teased her. He began to fumble in his breast pocket. “I
’
ve got a letter from Claris somewhere and we can see what she says if you
’
re really that interested.”

Sally
’
s lips felt stiff as she got out the words. “Do you hear often ... from Claris I mean?”