The Doctor Takes a Wife (28 page)

“Ken must be fifty,” Phil conceded, “and surely able to
do what he wants, even against three determined females.”

“Page wasn
’
t in it,” Min told him. “Those were the months when she was up-Jonah-ing. As for myself, I have no apologies. As you say, Ken
’
s of age. And Lois—if she gets him, she
’
s lucky. He
’
s a very swell guy. And the scheming didn
’
t hurt me, either. Because, in the process of defending my home, I found out exactly how much I loved Whit.”

“You always did love him,” Phil growled.

“I did not,” Min retorted. “Even I
’
m not fool enough to pull all the stunts I did while in love with a good man. I liked him, hut I treated him like a dog. When we were first married, I was happy and smugly content. But
now
—
well, I know the difference even if I can
’
t put it into words you
’
ll understand. You
’
re just going to have to take my word for it, Red. I love the man, with all the trimmings.”

“I know what you mean,” said Page softly, her own eyes shining. “That
’
s why I asked you yesterday if Whit knew about the baby—the whole truth about it.”

Phil choked on his last swallow of beer. “Honey
...”
he protested.

“She
’
s quite a gal, Dr. Scoles,” drawled Min.

“Yes,” he agreed dryly. “Isn
’
t she?”

“Maybe I should tell you what kind,” said Min brusquely.

“Oh, Min, no
...
” Page put in hurriedly.

Phil glanced at her.

“She
’
s just being modest,” Min assured
him.
“Here, there
’
s one more bottle of beer. Open it, and listen to me, big boy. This here is quite a story.”

He got up and opened the bottle, poured its contents into his glass, and leaned against the brick wall, looking down at Page and Min. He wore jeans, and a blue chambray shirt—regulation fatigues in Idaho.

Min settled down into her chair, obviously prepared to make a good thing of her story. “This is about Lois,” she told Phil, “but it
’
s a different narrative. Cast of characters different, motive—all that.” She took a minute to think. Then—“You know, of course, that the Little Theatre cousins are getting ready for their annual super-duper outdoor performance. It
’
s to be
as you like it,
and that means a lot of costume work. We women of leisure—you know, the housewives who do only washing and ironing and cooking and marketing—well, we
’
ve been meeting several days a week lately to sew. Page, as usual, has been running errands for all concerned. No
...
”
she answered Phil
’
s frown, “not as much of it as she used to do. That
’
s how she happened to be sitting down long enough to hear the women when they got to talking about Fern Lowe.” Phil
’
s hand jerked so that beer slopped out of his glass. “Ah-huh,” Min confirmed.
“
That
kind of gossip. Why, do you know, Red, they went clear back to Joan Norber
’
s death? Now, shut up till I get my story told. Then you can bluster and sputter all you want. I know how much you
’
ll do from Whit
’
s reaction when I told
him
!
”

“But, good Lord, Min, you dames have no business gossiping about the hospital. If you can
’
t stop—”

“You won
’
t let me and Page work with the Group. See, I told you I knew what you
’
d say. Well, you
’
ve said it, and now shut up, will you?”

Phil sat down on the step, his free hand gripped hard on the iron work. “Makes me damn mad
...
” he muttered.

“In the first place, Page and I didn
’
t say one word
—
we really didn
’
t. We sat there throwing warning looks at each other—but we let those females talk. Finally, Lois began on Fern—”

“She started with sulpha,” murmured Page.

“Yes, she did. She delivered quite a lecture on the subject of the new drugs. They were wonderful, she agreed, and more wonderful ones were being developed all the time. But—” Min looked sternly at Phil who was watching her as if she had taken on the diamond-backed skin and the rattled tail of his closest enemy.

“But—those same drugs were brand new. Many of them still in the process of experimentation and development.
And
doctors out of touch with the big medical centers, doctors in isolated districts
...
”

“Country doctors,” drawled Phil.

“Oh, yes, yes! She said you might think working in a small-city hospital made a difference, but you were too apt to lean on the fact that you had a little chrome and t
il
e and a few gadgets, and would be more ready to use these new drugs without correct knowledge of their purposes, their reactions, and their faults.”

“Well, what stops her from telling us all those things?”

“She was pretty sure you
’
d hear about her ideas,” said Min demurely, and Phil chuckled.

“Of course, her next step was the
now
,
I don
’
t want any feelings hurt
routine. She would cite as an example the heavy way you leaned on sedatives. She said you just let them solve everything—treated symptoms with them rather than hunting for causes.”

“She got that from somebody in the racket,” Phil drawled. He was not smiling.

“Yes, I thought so, too. Our D.O. competition, maybe?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. We
’
ve a few old-line g.p.
’
s in the state who resent our Clinic.”

“I suppose. Well, then—”

“You said she talked about Fern Lowe.”

“Oh, just let anyone try to build up to a climax with
you
around!” Min protested

“She said,” Page took over the story, “that you were giving Mrs. Lowe so much demarol for her headaches that she had become an addict.”

Phil braced his shoulders to make a comment on that! His face was green-white with anger.

“Hers was one of the instances she cited,” Min explained. “With side insinuations that feelings were naturally strained between you and that family.”

“Oh, Lord,” groaned Phil. “Why, Fern knows
...
”

“Yes, Red, of course!”

“With all those females listening, I could have a good case of libel and defamation against Thornhill!”

“She got cared for,” Min assured him. “Remember? I started this tale to show you what a wonderful wife you have
...
”

Phil glanced fearfully toward Page. “Honey
...
?” he asked.

She tossed her yellow head. “Of course, I told her off! I set her right about that country-doctor business, and I went on to clear up the drug item.”

Phil
’
s apprehension visibly increased until his hands were shaking and perspiration beaded his lip and brow.

“Simmer down, Red, simmer down,” Min urged him. “Even Whit thinks she did just the right thing.”

Phil got up and walked a few feet away, leaned weakly against a supporting pole. “Tell me—”

So they told him how Page had risen up among that group of sewing women, a small, erect figure in white blouse and tie-around denim skirt. She held a pair of shears in her hand and gestured with them as she talked, her audience
’
s eyes held to the flash of light upon steel.

“I told them,” she now reported to her anxious husband, “that you were doing a wonderful work here. That you
’
d chosen to do it as being important. That you
’
d given up valuable research to do
this
work.”

Phil choked.

“But you did, Red,” Min seconded Page.

“Did I?” he asked in an odd tone. He turned and faced the girls now, but still leaned against the pole. His face looked as if he were braced against lightning, at least.

“I pointed out,” said Page, reaching over to pull out a weed growing in the pot of philodendron on the table, “that you cared for the women of this whole district.” Weed in hand, her arm waved to indicate the circling mountains. Phil
’
s eyes began to shine. “I reminded her that no pioneering project could be started or carried through without women. That engineers and miners and farmers went where they could take their women-folk, and stayed only where their wives would be somewhat safe. So! Your work was basic in the development of the Northwest!

“I told her that you were not a country doctor. That your hospital was not small, in any sense. I told her that you took care of a hundred women a day who had things wrong with them.
And I
told her that you saw another hundred—the hospital did—and talked them out of, or eased them over, their
thinking
something was wrong!”

Phil again was eying her warily. If she
’
d cited instances...

She didn
’
t say that she had. “I told her about the trips you took into isolated areas—the nurses you had established at mining camps and so on
—
I
’
d seen those things for myself, I knew what you did, and I could tell her. And I suggested that if
she
ever got anything wrong with
her
...”

“God forbid!” moaned Phil.

“Don
’
t worry. They
’
d call in a carpenter,” said Min. “She
’
s a pine board, not a woman.”

Phil managed not to smile. “What did she say to all this lecture? She couldn
’
t have just sat there dumb
...”

“No, she went back to the demarol-thing, and insisted that she had the facts there,” Page told him.

“Page asked her if she could prove it, and she said, no, she couldn
’
t of course, but
—
And Page said that
she
could prove it was
not
true!”

“I did try demarol on Fern,” Phil said quietly.

“And had tapered off,” said Page. “I knew that. I heard you talk about it to Whit.”

“So
...
”

“So I told her I could prove you were not using it to excess, if at all.”

“She ask you how?”

“She did. I said we
’
d go out there, see Mrs. Lowe, take blood samples, make tests and repeat them for several days.”

“What
’
d she say to that? That she wouldn
’
t trust your report?”

“I anticipated that. I offered to have the samples tested at the state lab.”

Phil
’
s eyes twinkled. “I see. How
’
d she get out of that?”

“
Told me I couldn
’
t do such a thing. I had no license.”

“And
...
”

Page
’
s smile was fringed with canary feathers. “I convinced her that I was qualified to do any sort of lab work.”

“Then?”

“She began to hedge. Reminded me that I
’
d said we
’
d go out to Mrs. Lowe
’
s house—and things would certainly not be sanitary there. She meant aseptic
...
And I told her that, while I preferred to work in a sterile lab, I could work anywhere, and had done so. Down in the Missouri hillbilly country, and all sorts of places.”

Phil laughed, and Min asked him if he didn
’
t
think
Page was wonderful.

“I guess she is,” he agreed. “Was there any more?”

“Oh, yes. A little. She asked me if I was not afraid that the results of these tests might hurt my husband? For all I knew, she might be telling the truth.”

“She was right, there!”

“Yes. And then, too, I didn
’
t really know if demarol would show up in a blood test.”

“Good Lord!” gasped Phil.

“The point is, Philip,” said Page spunkily, “I felt I had to do something drastic. You had to be protected from that sort of witch hunt!”

Phil reached for his bandanna and wiped his face. “Thank you, my darling,” he said faintly. “You, too, Min.”

“It was a pleasure,” she assured him. “And when Page pointed out what witch hunts could do to hamper a doctor
’
s work—destroy patient-confidence and so on—why, the whole thing collapsed. Most of the women there had reason to know that you helped rather than hurt your patients. Someone—Ann Nevin—said Lois owed both you and Page an apology.”

“Did she get one?” asked Phil, his eyes shining.

“No. Because Page said, very sweetly, that she thought it would be best to drop the whole matter, not to discuss it further. To ignore the error of Mrs. Thornhill
’
s delusions.”