Beauty and the Brain (36 page)

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine now. Thanks. I guess
seeing George walk helped my tummy.”

“Good. Can you walk? I’ve got to see
George.”

“Yes. I think so.”

She took a step, and her knees seemed to
give out. She looked up at him plaintively. “Listen, Colin, I’m
still a little shaky. You go on to help with George. I’ll follow
you when I can.”

He wouldn’t allow such a thing. She’d saved
the entire day, for the love of God. With a short, “Nonsense,”
Colin lifted Brenda right off the ground. She responded with a tiny
squeal.

Then she sighed, her bones seemed to melt,
and she relaxed into his arms. She was light as the proverbial
feather as Colin ran with her into the lodge.

The doctor and Martin had led George into
the small parlor, where he now lay on a chaise longue. The doctor
said that was the best place, because the chaise had no sides and
he could work on the boy from all angles.

Martin had placed a sentry at the door, the
big cameraman, Ben. Ben eyed them doubtfully “Something wrong with
Brenda?” he asked. “The doc’s busy with George right now.”

“I’m fine,” Brenda said, although her voice
sounded weak. She felt weak, for that matter. This had been a truly
dreadful morning. Although it did feel rather nice to be in Colin’s
arms. She wished he weren’t such a worm. It was very discouraging
to know how deeply she cared for him. She’d always assumed she had
better taste than to fall for a worm.

“Are you sure?”

It took her a second to realize it was Colin
who had spoken, and that he’d been asking about her fitness to
stand on her own. With a big sigh, she said, “Yes. Thank you.” In
truth, she wanted to stay right where she was, which would be a
disaster. It was too easy, while in his arms, to pretend that he
cared for her.

But he didn’t. All he wanted was a brief
sexual liaison with her.

It was all too disheartening to think about
at the moment. Colin set her gently on her feet and didn’t release
her until he was sure she wasn’t still wobbly. That was nice of
him. She guessed he wasn’t a total worm.

Colin opened the door as quietly as he could
and entered before her. Brenda glared at his back until she
realized he was too worried about his brother to remember proper
courtesy. So she followed him into the room.

George’s back was to them, but Brenda was
encouraged to see him sitting on the chaise in his underwear. Colin
hurried over and stood behind the doctor, who was bending over
George.

“How is he?” Colin asked breathlessly.

“I only broke an arm, Colin. I’m not deaf,”
George said, in a tone that sounded remarkably good-humored, all
things considered.

Brenda honored him for trying to joke under
the circumstances. She hurried over, too, no longer feeling light
headed and with her balance finally restored. George’s face was as
pallid as a winter moon, and the grimace on his face, which she
imagined was supposed to be a smile, looked only pained. He was
really trying hard to be brave through his ordeal. He didn’t notice
her, but was squinting up at Colin, who was also pale.

It seemed to Brenda that Colin appeared
nervous and didn’t know what to do with his hands. She wouldn’t
have been surprised to learn that he wanted to hug his brother, but
he couldn’t very well do so with the doctor hovering over George’s
shoulder and arm. Gently, he felt for damage. Every time he did,
George winced. Brenda noticed him gripping the chaise with his
undamaged hand, and his knuckles were dead white with the pressure
he had to expend not to cry out or jerk away from the source of
pain.

Clasping her hands to her bosom, she cried.
“Oh, George! I’m so sorry you had to have that awful thing fall on
you, but I’m so glad you weren’t hurt worse?” A tear leaked out of
her right eye, and she clashed it away, irked with herself for
succumbing to emotion when George needed everyone’s strength.

“Brenda!”

She squinted at him, wondering why he didn’t
sound happier to see her. They were friends, weren’t they? She
noticed his pallor suffuse with a deep crimson, and she understood.
He was embarrassed to be seen in his undies. Only with effort did
she refrain from rolling her eyes. As if she hadn’t seen men in
their underwear millions of times.

“Don’t be shy, George. I’m an actress,
remember? I’ve seen everything.” She winked at him to keep the
atmosphere light.

It was an exaggeration, but George seemed to
relax, which made it worthwhile. The doctor shot her a frown over
his shoulder but didn’t complain about her presence, which was a
darned good thing, because she wasn’t about to be ousted from this
room by some old-maid doctor.

“Martin said you’re the one who helped me
the most when I was knocked out, Brenda. Thanks. Thanks a lot.”

How sweet of him. “It was nothing, George.
Anyone would have done the same.”

“Maybe, but nobody else did.” George managed
a fairly substantial grin that faded into a moan as the doctor
pressed a particularly tender spot.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to hurt you,
young man,” the doctor said in a voice that tended toward a false
heartiness.

Brenda supposed doctors had to be that way
or their patients would object. Personally, she preferred plain
speaking. “Is there anything I can do to help, Doctor?”

The doctor’s eyes squinched up as he peered
at her. He looked doubtful. “I don’t believe this is a job for a
lady, ma’am.”

If there was anything guaranteed to
infuriate Brenda, it was even the slightest indication that some
man considered her beneath him because of her gender. “I’ve helped
during bone-settings before, sir. I’m stronger than I look.”

“I’m sure that true,” the doctor said in a
tone that clearly conveyed his doubt. He sounded, in fact, as if he
were only humoring her. He glanced at Colin. “You’re this young
man’s brother, aren’t you, sir? Perhaps you’ll be willing to assist
in this next phase of our work here.”

She didn’t want to do it, but Brenda stepped
aside. This wasn’t the time to argue with the obnoxious medical
man. It helped her emotional state some when Colin glanced at her,
almost spoke, then pressed his lips together as if he, too,
believed the doctor was wrong in his assessment of her prowess as a
medical assistant.

“Maybe I can do something to help?”

They all turned to gaze at Martin, who
appeared fairly shaky and definitely pale. He shrugged
uncomfortably. “I, er, guess I can hold him down. Or something.” As
if he couldn’t help himself, he added, “Although I’ve never been
very good with these types of things.”

Brenda put a hand on Martin’s arm. “I’ll do
it, Martin. Don’t worry.”

“Really, ma’am, I—”

Colin cut the doctor off before he could
finish his objection. “She’ll do fine.” Glancing at Martin, he
said, “Why don’t you get poor George something to drink, Martin?
Maybe brandy or something to help the pain.”

“I’ll give him a dose of morphia after I set
the bone,” the doctor said, sounding a bit grumpy. “But I suppose a
sip of brandy won’t hurt. It’s not the wonder drug everyone seems
to believe it to be, you know. Not nowadays when we have anesthesia
other than alcohol to assist.”

“Get some brandy anyway, Martin,” Colin said
in a chilly tone. “I’ll drink it if George doesn’t want it.”

George chuckled weakly.

Martin’s spine straightened, and he grinned
at George. “Right-o. I’m much better at fetching drinks than at
setting bones, believe me” With a. quick salute, he was off to the
bar, looking much relieved.

The doctor grunted. He eyed Brenda with
distaste when she stepped up to help him. She smiled serenely back
at him “And what would you like me to do, Doctor?”

What he wanted her to do was go away and she
knew it, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Very well,” he said after a second or two,
during which he was obviously stewing. “If you will hold his left
shoulder down. He will probably jerk when I pull the bone back in
place.” He frowned at George. “Please lie flat on your back, young
man. Here, I’ll help you.”

“Oh, jeeze,” George whispered. He’d gone
pale again. Brenda understood completely.

The doctor assisted George to lie on his
back, and George only offered up a couple of groans. Sweat beaded
on his forehead, and he looked more scared than hurt.

“You may hold down his legs, if you will
please,” the doctor said to Colin. “Be sure he doesn’t move too
much. Neither of us will want to have to do this again.”

“God, no,” muttered George. The perspiration
had started to drip from his face.

Brenda gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Buck
up, George. You’ll be fine in a little while. I wish I could do
something to deaden the pain.”

“Shoot me?”

Brenda smiled at him She loved a big spirit,
and George had one.

The doctor, she noticed, didn’t even crack a
grin. “We’ll take care of his pain afterwards.” The words were
clipped and cold.

Brenda, feeling a trifle cold herself,
snapped, “Yes, but that doesn’t help poor George at the moment,
does it?”

“I know you aren’t versed in medical
science, Miss Fitzpatrick, but for your information, we need Mr.
Peters’s cooperation in the setting of this bone. If we knock him
out with opium before we set it, we might not do it properly.”

Not only didn’t Brenda believe him for a
second, but she also wanted to kick him in the hind end and tell
him she knew animal doctors with nicer bedside manners than he
possessed. What possible harm could it do to ease poor George’s
pain before the doctor set the bone? She held her tongue for
George’s sake, but she detested the doctor.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

That, from Colin, who was nearly as pale as
George and was perspiring, too. Brenda felt sorry for both Peters
brothers and wished she could do more to help than just hold a
shoulder. “It’ll be all right, George,” she whispered softly.
“We’ll give you some painkiller as soon as this is over, and then
you can sleep.”

She noticed the doctor, who had been digging
around in his black bag, glaring at her, and deduced he didn’t
approve of lay people speaking to his patients about medical
procedures, even those as humane as promising relief from pain. She
glared back at him and pressed gently on George’s left
shoulder.

The doctor snapped his bag shut with more
force than seemed necessary. “Very well. Mr. Peters, please hold
your brother’s legs tightly. We don’t want him moving.”

Brenda wanted to ask if it wouldn’t be
better to drug the poor patient if he really wanted him to be still
but didn’t. She’d only aggravate the fool further, and that
wouldn’t do George any good.

“Here’s the brandy!”

They all glanced up to see Martin standing
in the door, holding up a brandy bottle in one hand and a glass in
the other.

“God, I could really use a drink,” muttered
Colin.

Brenda couldn’t help it; she laughed. So did
George, thus astonishing everyone in the room. The doctor,
exasperated, snapped, “Give the patient a small drink if you must,
Mr. Tafft.”

Plainly cowed by the doctor’s crisp manner,
Martin glanced from Brenda to Colin to George and shrugged.
Following the doctor’s instructions, he uncorked the bottle and
poured out a finger of brandy.

Brenda knew that one was supposed to savor
brandy; to swirl it and sniff it and make a big production of
drinking it. She’d never understood the mystique surrounding the
drink and was glad when Martin eschewed such traditions in favor of
speed. George, whom she’d never seen take a drink of alcohol
before, sniffed the glass and wrinkled his nose.

“I think I’d prefer opium.”

The doctor snorted again. Brenda grinned.
Colin said, “Drink it, George. It might help.”

“If I don’t choke to death.” He drank it,
though, and then coughed, which hurt his arm and made him
groan.

Brenda could hardly wait to get this over
with and get the poor boy sedated.

“Are we quite ready?” the doctor asked
snappishly.

George, whose eyes were watering, and who
didn’t seem able to talk, nodded.

Colin said, “Yes. Please. Let’s get this
ordeal done.”

Brenda didn’t speak, figuring silence on her
part couldn’t hurt and might keep the doctor from being any more
aggravated than he already was.

“All right. Hold tight.”

Brenda pressed down hard on George’s left
shoulder. She saw Colin gulp hard and do the same with George’s
legs. Martin shut his eyes and turned his head so he couldn’t see
the operation progress. The doctor positioned one hand on George’s
right shoulder and the other on his wrist. Then he pulled. George
cried out and his body jerked, but neither Brenda nor Colin let
go.

It seemed like forever that the doctor
pulled that poor arm, but it could have been only seconds. There
was a terrible grinding noise, George whimpered pathetically, and
that was it. Almost as soon as he’d begun, the doctor grabbed the
splint he’d set by and began bandaging,

“Keep holding him,” he said crisply.

Brenda and Colin, exchanging a glance of
anguish, did as bidden. George had his eyes shut so tightly, Brenda
couldn’t even see his eyelashes. Tears squeezed out from under his
closed eyelids and sweat poured from his body. He seemed so young
and so vulnerable, and he was in such dreadful pain, that she
wished she could hug him to her bosom and comfort him as his mother
might have done in these circumstances, had she been here.

Which would never do. George was, to all
effects, an adult man, and she was a woman, and nobody in the whole
world would understand. Indeed, George’s brother would probably
accuse her of trying to seduce the boy.