Read Online Bedelia by Vera Caspary - Free Book Online Page B

in her hand as if smoking were her daily habit. The cigarette was not so much a symbol of defiance as proof that she had rejected the harem.
    As she dressed to return to the office, she decided to quit thinking about Charlie, and to get rid of the souvenirs which cluttered her room. There was not only the picture of Charlie in tennis flannels, there were old cotillion favors and faded dance programs, and all of the presents he had ever given her, starting with the copy of Elsie Dinsmore he had brought to the party celebrating her ninth birthday.
    NOW THAT HE was comfortable and free of pain, Charlie was less concerned with his own condition than with its effect upon Bedelia. The trick which Fate had played upon her was in bad taste, Charlie thought. How ironic, after the sudden death of her first husband, for her to see her second in the throes of an almost fatal attack.
    â€œYou’re sure you feel all right, dear?” he asked for the twentieth time. “You’re a bit pale. What a brute I was to give you such a shock.”
    â€œDon’t be silly, Charlie. It wasn’t your fault.”
    â€œWhose fault was it? Do you by any chance blame yourself?”
    Bedelia’s eyes wore the blank look. She stood at the foot of the bed, her hands tight on the rail.
    â€œI’ve been careless,” Charlie went on. “I’ve worked too hard, enjoyed the holidays too much, not rested enough, and have been careless about eating. I was most inconsiderate. For your sake, sweetheart, I should have been more careful.”
    Bedelia’s eyes filled. She rubbed them with her knuckles. Charlie saw in her movements the pathos and helplessness of childhood. He was deeply moved.
    â€œCome here, Biddy.”
    She waited, then took an irresolute step toward him.
    â€œMy goodness, are you afraid of me?” teased Charlie.
    She went to him and he took her hand. He felt closer than he had ever been to her guarded and delicate spirit, as if he saw through walls of tissue and bone and concealment, as if there had never been any Cochran nor any past he could not share, nor any blank, remote looks to protect her from curiosity. She pressed his hand and looked into his eyes, searching, too, Charlie thought, for the part of him that she knew not.
    The sound of the doorbell caused her to start and shrink, and when she heard Doctor Meyers’s voice, her nostrils quivered and her cheeks seemed to become hollow. Terror possessed her. She seated herself on the edge of the bed, clutched the post as if for support.
    â€œMary, I’m making you responsible for Mrs. Horst’s health,” they heard the doctor say. “She’s not feeling too well, and Idon’t want her to do any work in the kitchen. You must do all the cooking without any help from her.”
    â€œYes, sir.” Mary’s voice rang with pride.
    â€œHas he had lunch?”
    â€œYes, sir. Mrs. Horst fixed him the gruel like you told her.”
    The doctor bounded up the stairs. “How are you, Charlie?” he called from the hall.
    â€œFeeling fine.”
    As he entered the bedroom, the doctor looked at the tray and the empty bowl. “How’d the lunch agree with you? Any pains? Nausea?”
    â€œWhy did you come back?” Bedelia asked, her voice unsteady. “You said you wouldn’t come until tomorrow. Have you found out something . . . about Charlie?”
    The doctor answered her with his eyes on Charlie. He seemed withdrawn, as if he were determined to have no contact with her. “I stopped to say I’d changed my mind about a trained nurse. I’ve called the registry and they’re sending a woman this afternoon.”
    Bedelia stood up. Her skirt caught in the bed and she jerked it free with a graceless movement which made her for the moment a stranger to Charlie.
    â€œBut you said I could take care of him. Why have you changed your mind?” She waited impatiently for the doctor’s