Beauty and the Brain (37 page)

After an eon or three, which could only have
been a few minutes, the doctor tied a white sling bandage around
George’s neck to hold the splint in place and said, “There you are,
young man. You two can release the patient now.”

Brenda complied, giving George a little pat
on the shoulder as she did so. So did Colin; then he sat with a
thump on a chair beside the chaise and buried his face in his
hands. Brenda feared he might faint.

“Are you all right, Colin?” she asked,
thinking she probably shouldn’t have. Men were so sensitive about
these things.

But Colin nodded and didn’t snap at her, so
she guessed he didn’t mind too much. Martin, she noticed, was as
white as a sheet and was tossing back a small brandy. She grinned.
Bless Martin’s heart. He wasn’t shy about showing emotion. Not like
some men she could name. She wanted to hug him, too, but didn’t
dare.

Instead, she asked quietly, “Would you like
a little brandy to steady your nerves?”

“No. Thank you.” Colin’s voice sounded very
strained and scratchy. Which Brenda understood. She felt as if
she’d been dragged through a thousand miles of barbed wire fencing
and then thrown into an alligator pit. And she couldn’t swim.

As for poor George, she could see that his
teeth were clamped tightly together. She feared he might break his
jaw if he kept that up. With his left hand, he had the edge of the
chaise in a death grip. He’d drawn his knees up, and she got the
feeling he’d have curled himself up in a fetal position and rolled
back and forth except that his right arm was in such mortal agony.
She glanced at the doctor and risked asking, “Can we give him some
laudanum or something else to deaden the pain now, Doctor?”

The doctor had been puttering about, putting
stuff back into his black bag. Brenda disapproved. While tidiness
was all well and good in its place, she considered George’s plight
of more importance at the moment. He looked up, frowning, which
didn’t surprise her. She frowned back to let him know what she
thought of doctors who cared more for their darned black bags than
they did for their patients.

“Yes, yes,” he said impatiently. “I’ll give
him a dose of morphia now and leave a prescription with
instructions. He shouldn’t take too much, as I’m sure you know. We
don’t want him to get addicted to the stuff.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about
that,” Brenda said in a voice as dry as dust. “He only needs it for
pain.”

“For heaven’s sake,” Colin said, suddenly
looking up from his cupped hands. “My brother is no drug addict! He
needs some relief from that pain, and he needs it now. Will you
snap it up a little? Please?”

Brenda gave Colin a big smile. He noticed
it, blinked at her, and looked confused, as if he didn’t understand
why she was smiling at him. But she heartily approved his eagerness
to end his brother’s suffering. He so seldom exhibited the
characteristics of a normal human being; the fact that he was doing
so now on behalf of his brother gave Brenda hope. For what, she
didn’t know, but his attitude encouraged her anyway.

“Very well. Here, young man, can you lift
your head?” The doctor had a teaspoon poised in the air over
George’s head. George couldn’t see it, since he had his eyes
shut.

Again suppressing an urge to sock the doctor
in the chops for being a coldblooded, coldhearted, not to mention
blind and deaf, son of a female dog, Brenda said. “I’ll help.”

Ignoring the doctor’s black look, she knelt
beside George and put her arms around him carefully, so as not to
jar his recently bandaged arm. “Here, George, let me help you lift
your head a little bit so the medicine won’t drip down your
chin.”

George opened his eyes, which were swimming
in tears of pain, and gave her a stiff nod. “Thanks, Brenda.” His
voice was a small, hoarse croak. “You’re a real pal.”

“Nuts. You’re a brave guy. I’d want to be
knocked clean out before anyone set any of my bones. Now drink this
stuff. It’ll probably taste nasty, but medicine always does.”

He gave a feeble chuckle, peered up at the
doctor, saw his sour expression, and frowned back. Brenda got the
impression he’d like to offer the doctor a few home truths but
didn’t have the energy. He drank his medicine with a grimace and a
cough, but he got it down.

Brenda gently helped him to lie back on the
chaise, making sure he didn’t do anything to jog his arm. “There.
Now you just sleep, George. I’ll get you a blanket.”

“Thanks, Brenda.”

She could scarcely hear his voice and said,
“Nuts,” again. She wanted to cry for the boy. He seemed so young
and so hurt.

“I’ll get a blanket for him. You stay here
and watch him.”

Surprised by Colin’s sudden entry into their
conversation, she glanced up and saw him watching her with an odd
expression on his face. She didn’t argue, but nodded and said,
“Thanks.”

“Really, he doesn’t need anyone to watch him
He’ll be fine. It’s only a broken arm. It’s not as if he broke his
neck”

Furious at the doctor, Brenda said through
clenched teeth, “He got bashed by a huge piece of lumber. It’s not
just his arm, for the love of God. The poor boy’s a mess. And
you’re a stinking, lousy doctor.”

“Really, young woman, I don’t understand the
manners prevalent in today’s females.”

“And I don’t understand why you ever decided
to become a doctor. You’ve got about as much compassion as a hungry
crocodile.”

The doctor grabbed his black bag and
straightened up. Pointedly ignoring Brenda, he spoke to George.
“I’ll look in on you later in the day, young man.” Since George was
in too much agony to say anything, he turned to Martin and
continued in his most cold and doctorly tone. “In the meantime,
I’ll get a laudanum mixture prepared for him. He can take two
teaspoons every four hours, depending on his level of pain.”

“Good.” Brenda was generally more polite
than this, but she’d begun to hate this ill-natured doctor. She
didn’t even care that he was trying to disregard her presence.

“The laudanum is only for the first two or
three days,” the doctor went on, continuing to ignore Brenda and
her mood—unquestionably because he didn’t give a hang what she
thought of him, since she was a mere woman, and an actress at that,
and shouldn’t be allowed to hold opinions in the first place, much
less express them. “I’ll leave some salicylic powders, too. They
are excellent for fever and for pain, although the laudanum is much
stronger. The powders are less addictive and can be taken almost at
will.”

Martin, who had sunk onto the sofa after
downing his shot of brandy, nodded. “I know a couple of people who
take them for headaches.”

“I wish I had a headache instead of
this.”

Brenda forced a fairly natural-sounding
chuckle and patted George on the shoulder. “You’re doing fine,
George. You’re a bully patient!’ She looked up at the doctor and
made a face. “Even if you don’t exactly have a bully doctor.”

The doctor’s lips pursed; then he snorted
one last time and marched out of the room. Brenda stuck her tongue
out at his back. “What an icky man. I’m surprised the lodge doesn’t
hire a better-tempered doctor. After all, people pay a lot of money
to stay here.”

“I’ll talk to the management about him,”
Martin said. He still appeared shaken. “He really was a brute.”

Brenda appreciated his promise, which she
knew he’d carry out since Martin’s word was gold. “Thanks, Martin.
That’s good of you.”

He stood, hanging on to the arm of the sofa
until he was sure his legs would hold him. “It’s only fair. If I’d
hurt myself, I’d hate to have that troll working me over.”

George was beginning to look slightly
healthier. He even grinned a little. “At least he set the arm.”

“I still don’t think he had to do it while
you were awake and feeling it. I think he just likes to see people
suffer.”

George moaned softly. “If he does, I guess I
made him happy. It was awful.”

She patted his shoulder again. “But you’ll
be all right soon, George. I’m sure of it.”

“Me, too,” said Martin. Now that he was on
his feet, he was looking healthier, too, and was eager to leave the
sickroom. “Er, I’ll go talk to the management now. The sooner, the
better, and all that.”

Brenda nodded. She understood. Martin wasn’t
exactly cut out for life in the medical field. He was better at
making pretend stuff come to life on celluloid. “I’ll wait for
Colin.”

“Good. Good.” Martin fled.

“Poor Martin.” Brenda smiled fondly as the
door closed behind Martin’s hastily retreating form.

“Yeah. He’s a good guy. He gave me a job,
you know.”

“I’m awfully happy to hear it. Will you be
working in set design?”

“Yeah. I’ve started sketches for an Egyptian
epic.”

“Wonderful. It must be either
Cleopatra
or
Egyptian Idyll
. I know Martin is looking
forward to doing both of those, because he used to live in Egypt.”
Brenda was encouraged to note that George’s words were becoming
faintly slurry. “Are you in a little less pain now, George?”

He nodded. “I think so. Can’t really
tell.”

“Good. I hope you’ll be able to sleep for a
long time.”

The door opened once more. When Brenda
glanced up, she beheld Colin coming in. It looked to her as if he
were holding at least two blankets, four pillows, a dressing robe,
and some slippers. She could hardly see his face for all the stuff
piled up in his arms.

“Here,” he said. “I wasn’t sure what was
needed, but I didn’t want to forget anything.”

She rose and hurried to help him. “I don’t
think you forgot a thing, Colin. Thank you.”

George managed to slew his head around so
he, too, could see his brother. “Yeah. Thanks, Colin.”

Colin’s eyebrows rose. “The laudanum’s
working, I deduce.”

With a grin, George nodded.

“Good. Here, let’s get you covered up.”

“I’ll lift your head, George,” Brenda said
“And Colin can place a pillow under your neck. That might make you
feel more comfortable.”

Without answering, George nevertheless got
his appreciation across; Brenda read it in his warm brown
eyes—about as brown, but much warmer, than those of his brother.
Acting the good nurse, she tucked him in as if he were a baby.
Which was fine. She figured people in pain who’d undergone
procedures perpetrated by evil witch doctors who didn’t believe in
anesthetics deserved to be pampered.

By the time she was through fussing, George
was fast asleep. She stood back, put her hands on her hips, and
gazed down on him with a good deal of affection. “There. He’s all
set for a little while, at least.”

“Thank you very much Brenda. You’re a
wonderful nurse.”

Shocked, she jerked her head up so fast to
stare at Colin, she nearly broke her neck. She couldn’t believe
he’d said that—and in such a sincere voice. “You’re very welcome. I
only did what anyone would have done.”

He shook his head. “No, you didn’t. I
honestly believe you could have set that arm as well as that dashed
sawbones, and with less pain to George.”

She licked her lips. She couldn’t believe
Colin was actually complimenting her and meaning it. Fearing it
some kind of joke or another ploy to get her into bed, she said
hesitantly, “I didn’t care for the doctor myself.”

He smiled at her. “No, I could tell you
didn’t.”

They stood there, staring at each other over
the blanketed, pillowed, and exhausted form of the sleeping George,
until Brenda couldn’t stand it anymore. The longer they stared, the
more she wanted to leap over George’s chaise and beg Colin to make
love to her. The notion of them parting and never seeing each other
again—and of never experiencing the kind of passion Colin had
offered, even if it didn’t include love and commitment—made her
heart shrivel up.

She made a decision then. She feared she’d
regret it one day, but at the moment, it seemed only rational.

As Colin gazed at Brenda, he suddenly found
it difficult to imagine her as a bit of fluff. He’d been trying to
do that, he realized now. He’d been attempting with all of his
resources to think of her as just another woman, more lovely than
most, to be sure, but that was all.

He’d pretended to ignore all of the evidence
singling her out as a unique person, one with intelligence,
integrity, spunk, honor, and huge capabilities. There was no way,
in the face of her service to his brother, that he could keep the
pretense alive any longer.

Brenda was about as far from being ordinary
as a woodpecker was from an eagle. She was special. She was
wonderful.

He was in love with her.

And, what’s more, he feared this new
understanding had killed off any possibility of their ever getting
together. He supposed they could still be friends. That thought
made his heart scrunch up into a little aching lump and his head
pound.

She broke the silence, which had become
thick with unspoken emotions. “Um, I think I’ll stay in here with
George for a while. I’m sure he won’t need me, but you never know.
Something might go wrong, and I don’t trust that doctor to come
back any time soon.” She frowned and it was a second before Colin
realized her frown wasn’t meant for him “He ought to have secured a
nurse to watch him, at least for a day or two.”

“A nurse?”

“Yes.” She cast him a quick, enigmatic gaze.
“If you didn’t have the money for it, I’d have been happy to pay
for her.

“I don’t need your money, Brenda.” He knew
his hot reaction to her offer was unreasonable. There was, after
all, no law of nature or of God that dictated men should have more
money than women. He, being a typical American male—although he’d
have denied it unconditionally until this morning if anyone had
accused him of such a thing—was offended by her offer anyway.