do you mean?” Sheila whispered.
“The Doc. He was fair demented about you. Then having to go off to Vancouver with that logger fellow ... leaving you half dead ... he didn’t like it one bit, I tell you. ”
There were footsteps and Jim made a beeline for the door. “I better be going.”
It was Alan, and he came in on cautious tiptoe, ignoring Jim’s: “She’s all right, Doc.”
He bent over Sheila and his hand closed over hers. She could feel his strength flowing into her battered, weary body.
Somehow she found the strength to speak. “Alan ... don’t worry ... I’m better.”
“Well, I should hope so! Turning this place upside down the way you have ... I’m beginning to think I live in a madhouse instead of a hospital.”
Sheila’s eyes flew open as if he had flung cold water in her face. “I’m sorry to be such a nuisance. I’m sorry I make a mess of everything I try to do. Perhaps if you were more reasonable in your demands I’d do better, so there!”
Alan laughed heartlessly. “That’s right! Blame it all on me if it makes you feel any better. You’ll live. Go on, shut your eyes. If you knock your head on hard timber again you’ll know what to expect next time.” He released her hands and put cool fingers on her eyelids. “Shut them tight. That’s an order.”
Sheila closed them quickly. She couldn’t bear to have him see the tears that were threatening. If only he’d go away and leave her in peace. Where on earth had Jim got the idea that Alan had been upset by her accident? How tired she was ... She began to drift away into sleep and it could only be a dream that Alan’s lips had touched her forehead before she slept.
The next time Sheila wakened. Clare was making her bed. The green eyes were somber.
“About time you made an effort, honey. This sleeping around the clock is getting to be a bad habit. How’s the head?”
Sheila moved cautiously as Clare adjusted the single pillow. “It’s beginning to belong to me.” Talking was easier and she didn’t have to search for the words so much. “What day is it?”
Clare chuckled, “It’s Friday, if you really want to know. You’ve been lying like a blinking log long enough. Things might improve if you came back on duty... they can’t get worse. Alan isn’t fit to speak to and Matron refuses to, and for some reason they seem to think it’s all my fault. I can’t think why ... I only work here. I don’t whistle up guide boats on to rocks, but I might as well.”
Sheila moved restlessly. “Why won’t they let me up? What’s wrong with me anyway? Alan seems to think I’ve committed a crime to be lying here at all.”
Clare tucked in the blankets briskly. “That isn’t the way it looks to me, but you could be right. Your injuries have been diagnosed as concussion and bruises and after-effects of exposure ... no bones broken. Comfy?”
Sheila wriggled her toes experimentally. “Yes, thanks. Do you think I could have something to eat? I think I’m hungry.”
Clare laughed. “I do believe you’re better. Flap officially over, I think. What would you fancy? Scrambled egg? Soup?”
Sheila thought it over. Her brain still felt fuzzy around the edges. “Both, please, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Not at all.” Clare paused as she went toward the door. “I hear voices. You’re about to be officially visited, I surmise.”
She was gone before Sheila could question her. Matron came in, followed by Alan. They looked as if they had been arguing and Sheila watched Alan’s face for reassurance. There was nothing in his manner to suggest that he might have kissed her or even that he had been annoyed enough to scold her.
Matron drew the curtains and handed Alan the ophthalmoscope. His touch was curiously gentle as he examined her eyes. She winced a little at the beam of light.
“That’s it. Another day and we can think about getting you up. Headache?”
Sheila shook her head and then frowned. “Only when
“The Doc. He was fair demented about you. Then having to go off to Vancouver with that logger fellow ... leaving you half dead ... he didn’t like it one bit, I tell you. ”
There were footsteps and Jim made a beeline for the door. “I better be going.”
It was Alan, and he came in on cautious tiptoe, ignoring Jim’s: “She’s all right, Doc.”
He bent over Sheila and his hand closed over hers. She could feel his strength flowing into her battered, weary body.
Somehow she found the strength to speak. “Alan ... don’t worry ... I’m better.”
“Well, I should hope so! Turning this place upside down the way you have ... I’m beginning to think I live in a madhouse instead of a hospital.”
Sheila’s eyes flew open as if he had flung cold water in her face. “I’m sorry to be such a nuisance. I’m sorry I make a mess of everything I try to do. Perhaps if you were more reasonable in your demands I’d do better, so there!”
Alan laughed heartlessly. “That’s right! Blame it all on me if it makes you feel any better. You’ll live. Go on, shut your eyes. If you knock your head on hard timber again you’ll know what to expect next time.” He released her hands and put cool fingers on her eyelids. “Shut them tight. That’s an order.”
Sheila closed them quickly. She couldn’t bear to have him see the tears that were threatening. If only he’d go away and leave her in peace. Where on earth had Jim got the idea that Alan had been upset by her accident? How tired she was ... She began to drift away into sleep and it could only be a dream that Alan’s lips had touched her forehead before she slept.
The next time Sheila wakened. Clare was making her bed. The green eyes were somber.
“About time you made an effort, honey. This sleeping around the clock is getting to be a bad habit. How’s the head?”
Sheila moved cautiously as Clare adjusted the single pillow. “It’s beginning to belong to me.” Talking was easier and she didn’t have to search for the words so much. “What day is it?”
Clare chuckled, “It’s Friday, if you really want to know. You’ve been lying like a blinking log long enough. Things might improve if you came back on duty... they can’t get worse. Alan isn’t fit to speak to and Matron refuses to, and for some reason they seem to think it’s all my fault. I can’t think why ... I only work here. I don’t whistle up guide boats on to rocks, but I might as well.”
Sheila moved restlessly. “Why won’t they let me up? What’s wrong with me anyway? Alan seems to think I’ve committed a crime to be lying here at all.”
Clare tucked in the blankets briskly. “That isn’t the way it looks to me, but you could be right. Your injuries have been diagnosed as concussion and bruises and after-effects of exposure ... no bones broken. Comfy?”
Sheila wriggled her toes experimentally. “Yes, thanks. Do you think I could have something to eat? I think I’m hungry.”
Clare laughed. “I do believe you’re better. Flap officially over, I think. What would you fancy? Scrambled egg? Soup?”
Sheila thought it over. Her brain still felt fuzzy around the edges. “Both, please, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Not at all.” Clare paused as she went toward the door. “I hear voices. You’re about to be officially visited, I surmise.”
She was gone before Sheila could question her. Matron came in, followed by Alan. They looked as if they had been arguing and Sheila watched Alan’s face for reassurance. There was nothing in his manner to suggest that he might have kissed her or even that he had been annoyed enough to scold her.
Matron drew the curtains and handed Alan the ophthalmoscope. His touch was curiously gentle as he examined her eyes. She winced a little at the beam of light.
“That’s it. Another day and we can think about getting you up. Headache?”
Sheila shook her head and then frowned. “Only when
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