Beloved Scoundrel (23 page)

And she did! He was seated on a wooden bench which ran along the open balcony. He sat by himself, apart from the several other patients out there, staring off into the distance at a forest of evergreens. His face was so thin and scarred and his body so emaciated in his hospital uniform that she had to fight back her tears.

The young doctor whispered, “I think it best if I remain in the background. I’ll be standing here if you need me.”

She nodded and took the several steps forward to bring her up beside the seated Peter who took no notice of her approach.

Smiling tenderly, she said in a soft voice, “Peter! Peter Cortez!”

He slowly turned and the pale face gazed up at her. He showed no change of expression. But after a moment he said in a dull voice, “Hello, Fanny!”

“Peter!” she exclaimed again and kissed him. Then she sat facing him and took his hands in hers. “How long it has been!”

“Yes,” he stared at her now, his blue eyes strangely vacant.

“So much has happened!”

“Yes,” he said in the same dull fashion.

“I only found out you were here. I came at once to see you!”

He stared at her. “Shouldn’t you be at the theatre?”

She said, “You don’t understand. I’m not on the stage these days. I’m working here as a volunteer.”

“Not on the stage?” he repeated.

“No,” she said. “It has been a terrible time, Peter. Many of the theatres have been closed.”

He seemed to consider this for a moment. “Because of Lincoln.”

“Because of what John did,” she said, looking down. “You and he were never good friends.”

Peter looked away at the trees again. “I was a fool!”

“Why do you say that?”

“I ran off and left you to him.”

“You were wrong to leave as you did,” she said. “But you were far from a fool. You have been a brave soldier. You deserve to be honored.”

Peter looked at her with scorn on his emaciated, scarred face, “Don’t you see it is over for me? I’m as good as dead!”

“That’s not true,” she protested. “You will recover.”

“I will die!”

“No!”

He looked away again and in a pained voice said,

“Whatever you may wish to think, Fanny, the past is dead. The Peter Cortez you knew is dead. I ask that you go now and leave me alone. I’m not feeling well and your being here only distresses me more.”

She listened to him, at the point of tears again. But she restrained her emotion and quietly said, “Very well, Peter. I will go. But I’ll come and see you again tomorrow. And every day.” And with that she left him and rejoined Frank Sargeant.

In the corridor the young doctor asked, “How did it go?”

“Not too well. He asked me to leave.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“What can I do for him?”

“Very little,” the young doctor said. “He is broken in mind and body. I’m amazed that he knew you and carried on so long a conversation. He talks to no one else.”

Fanny halted, her face brightening and she said, “Is it not possible then that I may be able to help him. That he may improve?”

“It is doubtful,” he said .

“But I can try!”

The young doctor smiled. “I admire your spirit.”

That night she barely slept. She was haunted by many memories of the past. And most of all she was tormented by visions of the emaciated Peter Cortez. In a way she felt responsible for the state he was in. He was just one of the many who had made a dreadful sacrifice for the peace they were all enjoying. She had to help him!

Next morning as the gaunt Edna Burchill served her toast and tea, she asked her, “What do you suppose I’m doing at the hospital?”

“I would have no idea,” the woman said in her cold fashion.

“I’m rolling bandages,” she said. “Something which any servant girl could be taught to do. And probably she would do it better than I.”

“Bandages are needed in a hospital,” the gaunt woman replied, unbending in her manner.

“But there are so many other things I’m trained to do. I read very well. I sing a little and even do some simple dances.”

The gaunt woman’s lips twisted in a sneer, “Stage tricks!” she said. “Not liable to be much use in curing the wounded!”

“I wonder,” Fanny said, over her teacup. But she made no attempt to discuss it further with the unhappy woman.

When she arrived at the hospital she went straight to see Major Furlong again. She waited until he was free and then burst into his office.

“Major, I propose to wind no more bandages,” she said.

He eyed her mildly. “So you have decided to resign?”

“Not at all! I hope to be busier than ever! But doing what I do best!”

“And pray what may that be?”

“Entertaining,” she said. “I am an actress. Why should I waste my time doing bandages when I could be making some of these men happier with my acting?”

The bearded major stared at her. ‘That is an excellent idea,” he said, rising. He came around his desk to her. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it.”

“You were trying to protect my identity,” she reminded him. “I don’t care a fig about that any more. I want to work up some readings from my plays and give these poor fellows something to enjoy.”

“I will back you up to the limit,” the major said. “What do you want?”

“A place to gather some of the men. The largest room possible. Later I can make the rounds of the wards for those unable to move about. And the services of a fiddler and an accordionist.”

“It can be arranged,” he promised. “Give me a couple of days.”

“I will need that to prepare my material,” she said.

“What gave you this idea?” he wanted to know.

“One of your patients, Peter Cortez, a former colleague of mine in the theatre,” she said.

“The young man you left my party to visit yesterday.”

“Yes. He doesn’t realize it but he inspired me to try this!” she said happily.

“I think it a most fortunate circumstance,” the Major said with good humor. “And may I assign Captain Frank Sargeant to act as liaison between you and the hospital authorities along with his other duties.”

“If he can manage the time.”

Major Furlong chuckled. “Be sure that he will. I don’t think I’m betraying any confidences if I tell you that young man is much attracted to you.”

She smiled, “He seems just a boy!”

“The truth is he is one of my best doctors,” the major told her. “His youthful appearance belies his years and often acts against him. People like their doctors to be graybeards, that is why I’m so respected.”

They both laughed at his joke. And she left his office with her head filled with ideas of what she could do. She went upstairs to visit Peter for a moment. But when he saw her he spoke briefly to an orderly and moved into another room.

She waited for the orderly and said, “I would like to speak with Peter Cortez for a moment.”

The orderly looked uncomfortable and said, “I’m truly sorry, ma’am. But the captain says he doesn’t want to see you now or ever!”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, her spirits tumbling, as she walked back to take the stairs to the ground floor.

She returned to the supplies room and worked numbly at rolling bandages while she tried to straighten it all out in her mind. Peter’s rebuff had hurt her deeply and made her wonder about her entire plan. She was still at work when Captain Frank Sargeant in his white medical coat came in to join her.

“What are you doing here?” he wanted to know.

“Working.”

“Major Furlong told me about your idea,” the young doctor said. “I’ve been locating a fiddler and an accordion player from among the mobile patients. And I’ve found a quartet as well. I think you should congratulate me!”

She was touched by his enthusiasm and smiled at him. “Do you honestly think it is a good idea?”

“I’m sure of it,” he said. “What is wrong?”

She sighed. “I went up to see Peter Cortez this morning. He refused to come near me.”

“So that’s it!” the young doctor said. “I knew there had to be something. And it seems to me I warned you that Peter could not be counted on. That he is subject to strange moods.”

“I think he hates me,” she said unhappily.

“He hates the state he finds himself in and so he is taking it out on you,” the young doctor told her.

“What can I do?” she begged. “He’s making me so unhappy.”

“You must not try to force yourself on him,” Frank Sargeant said. “That is the wrong way.”

“What, then?”

“Go about this project you’ve decided on. Let yourself become known throughout the hospital. And I will occasionally mention you to him. In my opinion, he will eventually come to you.”

A small feeling of hope returned to her. “You think so? You think what I’m planning is worthwhile?”

“I wouldn’t help you if I didn’t,” he said.

Her first concert took place in the hospital’s largest ward a week later. All the mobile patients were there and a few who had to be wheeled in on beds. Fanny had carefully arranged the program which began with music by the violinist and the accordion player. Then she had the quartet sing some of the camping songs with “Tenting Tonight,” the easy favorite. After that she came on in a series of comic readings from the various plays she’d starred in.

She had never had a more appreciative audience. Then someone shouted out to her, “Some Shakespeare, Mrs. Cornish!”

She hadn’t guessed they would want anything serious. “Do you mean it?” she asked.

“Yes! Yes!” The shouts came from all sides. So she did Portia’s mercy speech from the
Merchant of Venice,
scenes from
Romeo and Juliet
and ended with the Duke’s famous lines from
As You Like It.
The attention was rapt and when she finished the applause was even louder than for her comedy material.

Frank Sargeant was waiting to greet her in the wings of the small stage which had been set up. In his delight he threw his arms around her and cried, “You really won them over, Fanny! You were wonderful.”

“Thank you!” she gasped, laughing. “But don’t break my ribs.”

“Sorry,” he said releasing her. “This is the best thing that has ever happened to the hospital.”

Fanny received praise from all sides. She next began to move from ward to ward with a shorter and more simple format of her readings. These were equally well received. She found herself continually busy. But she had not seen Peter since that first meeting. He had steadfastly refused to attend any of her shows.

Landlady Edna Burchill also showed her displeasure with the project by pointedly not making any reference to it. She still saw the theatre and the Devil as one. Fanny made no real attempt to change her mind.

Each week she offered a different program and she was even getting calls from some of the other veteran’s hospitals in the Washington area. She could not have asked for a more pleasant and rewarding work. The one disappointment was Peter turning his back on her.

Then one day while she was giving a concert in the large ward downstairs it happened! She considered it a minor miracle. She was doing her Shakespearean solo readings which had become extremely popular when Peter suddenly appeared in the doorway at the back of the room.

She became so nervous she almost lost her lines. But after a moment all her professional experience came to aid her. She continued on, aware that Peter had come several steps into the room and was watching her with rapt attention. The sight of him there filled her with elation.

When the concert ended and the applause had finished, he came slowly walking up to the stage towards her. A slender -figure in a blue hospital uniform. He came close to her and tears flowed down his cheeks.

“Fanny! You were wonderful!” he said, seeming more like his old self than she had ever hoped.

She ran to him and he took her in his arms. And she knew this was worth all the work and the temporary disappointment. She felt she had never been so happy.

In the days that followed she and Peter talked a great deal and their friendship was renewed. She became convinced that he had progressed far enough to leave the hospital and went to discuss this with Major Furlong.

The Major listened to her plea to discharge Peter and eyed her with sympathy. He said, “I agree with you. I think, in a large part due to you, his mental state has improved. But there is something else you should know.”

“What?” She leaned forward in her chair.

“Peter Cortez has advanced lung disease. He cannot have long to live. Six months or perhaps a year at most.”

“Oh, no!” she protested.

“We have not told him,” Major Furlong continued. “In his depressed mental state we felt it would only make him worse.”

“But it seems wrong to keep him here.”

“Not when you look to the future,” the surgeon said. “As his condition deteriorates he will need nursing and medical care. Where else can he get it?”