I Will Fear No Evil (17 page)

The door snapped open. “
Miss Smith!
”

Johann started with surprise, then answered savagely, “Miss Gersten, what the devil do you mean by bursting into my bath without knocking?”

The nurse ignored the outburst, hurried to her patient, put an arm around her. “Lean on my shoulder, let’s get you back into bed. Oh, dear, I don’t know what Dr. Garcia will say! He’ll kill me—are you all right?” Johann saw that the little nurse was about to cry.

“Of course I’m all right.” Johann tried to shrug off the arm, found that the girl was stronger than she looked. “You didn’t answer.”

The nurse did cry then. “Oh, please, dear, don’t argue with me! Let’s get you into bed before you hurt yourself. Maybe Dr. Garcia won’t be quite so angry.”

Seeing that the younger woman was most unprofessionally disturbed, Johann let herself be urged out into the bedroom and to the bed. The little redhead caught her breath. “There! Now if you’ll hold tight around my neck, I can get your legs up—you bad, bad girl! To worry me so!”

Johann did not cooperate. “Winnie.”

“Yes, dear? Oh, do let me get you into bed! Doctor will be terribly angry.”

“Not so fast. If you’re planning on telling teacher, go do it. I can hang onto the bed, I won’t fall.”

The nurse looked desperate. “Are you trying to get me fired, Miss? Maybe blacklisted? What have I ever done to you?”

“Winnie dear.”

“Yes?”

“You aren’t going to say a word to Dr. Garcia.” Johann slid an arm around the redhead’s waist. “Are you?”

The nurse looked flustered but did not pull away. “Well, I should. I’m supposed to report everything.”

“But you aren’t going to. And I’m not going to tell him, either. Tight secret, just you and me. And no huhu for anyone.”

“Well . . . I won’t if you won’t.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Johann kissed her. Winnie did not dodge but seemed startled and somewhat timid. Then she caught her breath and her lips opened and the kiss progressed rapidly.

The nurse pulled her mouth free and said huskily, “I could get fired almost as quickly for
this.
” She did not say what “this” was. She ignored the fact that Johann’s free hand was cupping one of her breasts.

“So we’ll stop and I’ll get into bed—no, don’t help me; I don’t need it.”

Johann proved it by doing it. The nurse pulled the sheet over her, at once resumed her professional
persona
. “Now let’s put our clothes back on, shall we?” She stooped to retrieve them. “What a naughty girl, throwing her clothes on the floor. And giving me such a fright.”

“Stuff ’em in the hamper. I’m not going to wear them.”

“Now, now, dear. You needn’t wear the jacket. Just the gown. Or do you want a fresh one?”

“Winnie, I’m not going to wear those silly angel robes ever again, so chuck it. You can hang up the jacket. But I won’t wear a hospital gown. I’ll stay raw.”

“Dr. Garcia—”

“Quit threatening me with Dr. Garcia. We’re past that. Aren’t we?”

The nurse bit her lip. “Well . . . yes.”

“It’s none of his business if I sleep raw. And I shall, until something more appropriate can be bought for me. Or—Do you sleep in the house? Maybe you could lend me a nightie. A girl-type nightgown.”

“Well, yes, I sleep here. But I can’t lend you a gown because, well—I sleep raw myself.”

“Sensible.”

“But there are nightgowns and negligees and things right here. In your dressing room.”

“Be damned. Who ordered them?”

“I don’t know, Miss Smith. They were brought in and stored there when, well, when it became clear that you were going to need them.”

“Good planning. Uh, do you know if they’re my size? Whatever that size is, I don’t know myself.”

“Oh, yes! I helped measure you.”

“More good planning. Find me the most feminine nightgown in there—I might as well practice.”

“Glad to.” The nurse left the bedroom.

(Butch.) (Oh, nonsense, Eunice. Sure, she’s a cute little trick . . . but I simply suddenly realized what treatment she would respond to. Had to dig back into my memory; I’m out of practice.) (‘Butch’ I said. You enjoyed it.) (Didn’t
you
enjoy it?) (Sure I did. She kisses like don’t-stop. But I’m not a hypocrite about it.
Who
was shocked when I said girls could be a blast? You, you dirty old hypocrite. And butch.)

(Eunice, you are out of your frimping mind. I’ve had most of a century to appreciate girls; do you expect me to change overnight? The time I’ll feel like a queer is the first time some
man
kisses us. I’ll probably faint.) (Poor Boss. Doesn’t know whether he’s A.C. or D.C. Never mind, dear, Eunice will coach you—as I
do
know how to kiss a man.)

(I imagine you do.) (Was there salt in that one? Never mind, I know how.
He
faints. Boss, you claimed you had done everything.
Everything
?) (See here, little snoopy, I am not going to give you any excuse to call me both ‘butch’ and ‘pansy’ in the same sentence. You can have my memoirs later. But, Eunice, speaking of ‘butch,’ is that what Winnie is? She certainly responded.) (More ‘sweetheart’ than ‘butch’ is my guess, though she may stroll both sides of Gay Street. But if you were asking ‘Is she a Lez?’ then I would bet anything she’s not. Ambi, sure, but
much
more interested in men. Haven’t you watched her? Sparks.)

Winnie returned with a nightgown in each hand. “I think these two are the prettiest, Miss Smith. I thought—”

“Winnie.”

“Yes, Miss Smith?”

“No ‘Miss Smith.’ I mean you are not to call me ‘Miss Smith.’ Not after kissing me. Or did I get the message wrong?” (Butch.) (Shut up, Eunice. She’s going to help us.)

The nurse said nothing, blushed.

Johann said gently, “That’s answer enough, dear. So call me—no, damn it, I don’t want you to call me ‘Johann.’ I need a new name. Winnie dear, what girl’s name is closest to ‘Johann’?”

“Uh, ‘Johanna.’ ”

“Mmmm, yes. But there is already a ‘Johanna’ in my family. Got another?”

“Well . . . if you called yourself ‘Joan’ and gave it the two-syllable pronunciation. it would be almost like ‘Johann’ except for the ‘J’ instead of the ‘Y’ sound.”

“Perfect! You’ve named me. I think that makes you my godmother. Do you mind being godmother to an old, old man who has just been reborn as a woman?”

Winnie smiled. “I’m flattered.”

“So call me ‘Joan,’ not ‘Miss Smith.’ Uh, I need middle name. ‘Eunice.’ ” (Why, Boss, now
I’m
flattered.) (Yes, beloved. Now shut up.) “ ‘Joan Eunice Smith.’ Winnie, do you know why that’s my middle name?”

The nurse said slowly, “I’m not supposed to know.”

“Then you do know. It’s for the sweet and gracious lady who gave me this wonderful body—and I hope she can hear me wherever she is.” (I
can
, Boss!) “Put down those gowns and come here and name me with my new name. Name me formally, for it’s all the christening I will ever have. Then seal it.”

Almost timidly the little redhead came close to the bed, bent over her patient. She said softly, “I name thee ‘Joan Eunice’ ”—and kissed her.

Perhaps Winnie intended to make it a formal peck; Joan Eunice did not let it be. Both women were leaking tears before it was over.

Joan patted the nurse’s cheek and let her straighten up. “Thank you, dear. I’m Joan now. Joan Eunice. Hand me a tissue and you need one, too.” (How was that one, Eunice?) (Butch, your technique is improving. I felt that one clear down in our toes.) (Who the hell are you calling ‘Butch,’ Butch? My name is Joan Eunice.) (No, you’re Joan and
I
am Eunice and collectively we’re Joan Eunice . . . and I’ve never had a nicer present, Boss. Joan. And I know you’re not a butch but you had better cool it with our godmother. Unless you mean business.)

“Which gown do you like . . . Joan?”

“Winnie, I don’t know first verse about women’s clothes. What do you think?”

“Well . . . this Cretan design is rather extreme. But you have the figure to justify it.” (No, Boss! Take the one with the high neckline.) (Eunice, I thought you were proud of our bumps? They don’t really sag.) (It’s not that at all. Trust me, Joan; I know what I’m doing.)

“You may be right, Winnie. But it may not be the right gown for doctors and lawyers. I had better start easy, with the high neckline. Help me, please.”

While they were getting Joan into a nightgown she asked, “Winnie? How did you happen to burst in on me?”

“What? Why, the displays of course. Both your heart rate and respiration were way up. Exercise. So I rushed in to check—and sure enough, my bad girl had managed to get out of bed. Oh, how you frightened me, dear!”

“Winnie, there’s a hole in that story I could throw a dog through.”

The nurse stiffened. “What do you mean—Joan?”

“My heart rate and respiration must have climbed a good ten minutes before you came in.”

“Oh, dear! You won’t tell on me? You promised.”

“I did and so did you. Winnie with the sweet mouth, from now on neither of us is ever going to tell Dr. Garcia a durn thing unless we think he needs to know it. You and I, dear. Solid. Now tell me what happened.”

“Uh . . . oh, this is silly. Whoever is on watch at the remotes isn’t supposed to take his eyes off the displays even a moment. But you were doing so nicely . . . and Mrs. Sloan was taking a nap—which she needed, poor dear—and Dr. Garcia had gone to check on Mr. Salomon . . . and he takes a grim view of being sent for unless the patient needs him . . . and the washroom is just down the hall from the displays—”

“I get it. We had the same urge at the same time. Right?”

Winnie blushed again. “I deserve to be fired. I know better than to take any chance with a patient. Patients do the darnedest things.”

“You aren’t ever going to be fired, you’re going to be here long after Dr. Garcia leaves. If you’ll stay. How do I look?”

“Simply lovely. I wouldn’t have guessed it but I do think this gown does more for you than that Cretan number.” (What did I tell you, Boss?) “But I’m going to put more lipstick on you. It’s all gone.”

“Now how in the world did
that
happen?”

Winnie giggled. “Don’t ask
me.
But guess maybe I’ll put on some myself before Doctor sees us. Joan? Is it all right for me to call you ‘Miss Joan’ when Dr. Garcia is around? He’s terribly strict.”

“Tell him to go soak his head. Sho’, sho’, honey, if it makes you feel easier. But I’m ‘Joan’ when he’s not around. You’re my coach. You’re going to make a lady out of me.” (That’s
my
job, Boss. And a tough one, I can see.) (So you need help with it. Don’t joggle my elbow; Winnie is our secret weapon.) (Okay. But this weapon might explode.) (Look, infant, I learned to cope with women long before your grandmother was born.)

“I’ll be glad to help, any way I can . . . Joan dear.”

“Then you can start by convincing dear Doctor that I’m well enough for a tub bath. I stink. Ladies ought not to stink.”

“Why, you had a bed bath not two hours ago!”

“I need more than a bed bath and you know it. Sell him the idea that you can help me into and out of the tub and keep me from falling. If you have trouble with him, fetch him in and I’ll throw a tantrum. If he gives us grief, I’ll make him scrub my back.” Joan grinned. “So get lipstick on us; then go find him.”

(Joan Boss honey, see what I mean about the high neckline job? See what it does for us?) (I know that I feel somewhat more covered up. But only somewhat. Eunice, those breast panels are wicked.) (Oh, fuff, they’re not even transparent, just translucent. But that’s why this nightgown is so much sexier than the Cretan one. Men always mistake bare skin for sexiness. A typical male mistake.) (Maybe so, but I have never in my long life complained about bare skin.) (I won’t argue, Joan, but I’m going to pick out our clothes. Until you start thinking like a woman. But I had a specific reason for picking the gown which is —superficially—more modest. So that we will have it on when Jake comes in.)

(Eunice, Jake has probably gone home. He’s had a rough time.)

(So he has and what do you think I’m talking about? He’s still in the house; he would not leave without saying goodbye.)

(Oh, nonsense, Jake and I aren’t that formal.)

(Boss, Jake is a gentleman to his fingertips. He might feel free to duck out without formality in dealing with his old friend Johann Smith—but
not
with a lady. ‘Johann’ is one thing, ‘Joan Eunice’ is another matter.)

(But he
knows
I’m Johann.)

(So? Then
why
did he kiss our hand? Joan, I’m going to have to watch you every second; you don’t know
anything
about men.)

(I spent almost a century
being
one.)

(Irrelevant. Hush up; he may be here any time, I’ve got to tell this bang. Joan, the last few months before I was killed I was Jake’s mistress.)

(How was the old goat?)

(Is
that
all you have to say?)

(Eunice, you think I know nothing about men. Possibly true, in one sense. But
I
can teach
you
about men—from the inside—the way you can teach me about men from the outside. Jake is tough. Yet I saw him collapse twice in grief over you. Understandable that your death would upset him some. Understandable that it was a strain on him to help out in the masquerade of not letting me know that I had inherited your lovely body. Nevertheless you were just a girl he had known through business, one who helped him with my affairs. Not one he knew intimately. Yet this tough old lawyer collapsed twice. Over you. So he
must
have known you far better than anyone guessed. How? And
where
? Only one answer. In bed.)

(Not always in bed, you dirty old man with a girl’s name. In bed, certainly. But lots of other places, too. In his car. In
your
car. Several times in this house—)

(Be damned! Then all my servants know it, too.)

(I doubt if they suspect. We used your study to work—and did work—and Cunningham didn’t let us be disturbed any more than he would have disturbed you and me. You asked a rude question, you’ll get a blunt answer. The old goat was
good
. And quite daring in grabbing every chance. We hardly missed a day up to the time I was killed.)