Part 3 (2/2)
He stirred his coffee. ”Samaritan, eh?”
”I suppose so.”
”Her family should be notified.”
”Suppose there isn't any?”
”Then she should be inst.i.tutionalized. What's the financial situation?”
”I haven't any idea.”
”Nice house. Nice car.”
”Doctor, what's her condition?”
”Several things. Malnutrition. That plus a degree of saturation with alcohol so she's been having auditory hallucinations. But severe emotional shock is the background for both the other manifestations.”
”Prognosis?”
He gave me a shrewd glance. ”Fair. A little bit of nerve, a tiny bit of pride, that's all she has left. Keep her tranquilized. Build her up with foods as rich as she can take. Lots of sleep. And keep her away from whomever got her into such a condition.”
”A man could do that to a woman?”
”Given a certain type of man and that type of woman, yes. A man like the man who was living with her.”
”Did you know him?”
”No. I heard about him. First he was with Catherine Kerr, then with this one. A different social level, eh?”
”Should she talk about Allen?”
”If she's willing to. If she can trust anybody enough, it might be good for her.”
”I wonder what happened.”
”Things she could not accept. Things she could not live with.”
”Not live with?”
”McGee, I do not think it is too dramatic to say you saved her life.”
”But she might not trust me.”
”Or anyone, ever. That too is a mental disorder. I don't think it's good for her to stay here.”
”When can she leave?”
”I will stop by the same time tomorrow. I can tell you then. Give her one of these every four hours. You can stay here?”
”Yes.”
”Eggnogs, rich soups, a little at a time, as much as she can hold down. If she gets very agitated, give her one of these. Encourage her to sleep. And talk. Tomorrow we will talk about a nurse. I think she has been physically abused, but I think she has a good const.i.tution.”
”Will anybody make any trouble about my staying here?”
”You are adults. You don't look like a fool, McGee. You don't have the look of the kind of murderous fool who'd try to make love to her in her condition. I take you on faith. It saves time. And if anybody does not like this temporary arrangement, I recommended it.”
”I'll be too busy with the housework.”
”She is exhausted. I think she will sleep a long time now. But it would be nice to be there when she wakes up.”
While she was in deep sleep, I collected all the soiled clothing and bedding. I took it into town and dropped it off. I bought supplies. When I got back she was still in almost the same position, making small snores, evenly s.p.a.ced, barely audible. It took me until dusk to polish the big house. I kept looking in at her.
Then I went in and she made a sound like a whispered scream. She was sitting up. I turned the lights on. Her eyes were huge and vague.
I stayed a cautious ten feet from her and said, ”I am Trav McGee. You've been sick. Dr. Ramirez was here. He'll be back tomorrow. I'll stay in the house, so you'll be completely safe.”
”I feel so far away. I didn't have any dreams. Unless... unless this is one.”
”I'm going to go fix you some soup. And bring you a pill.”
”I don't want anything.”
I arranged more agreeable lighting. She watched me. I had checked where things were kept. I found a sedate nightgown, a robe of Hong Kong silk, tossed them on the foot of the bed.
”If you're strong enough, Lois, get ready for bed while I fix the soup. The bathroom is clean now.”
”What is going on? Who are you?”
”Mother McGee. Don't ask questions. Just accept.”
I heated the canned soup, strengthened it with cream, fixed her one slice of toast with b.u.t.ter. When I came back she was propped up in bed. She was wearing the nightgown and a bed jacket. She had tied her tousled dark hair back, rubbed away the last trace of lipstick.
”I'm wobbly” she said in a small shy voice. ”Can I have a drink?”
”That depends on how you do with the soup and toast.”
”Soup maybe. Toast no.”
”Can you feed yourself'?”
”Of course.”
”Take the pill.”
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