The Five Arrows. Chase Allan
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her hair, they stood up and he took her hand and they walked back along the graveled path.
"Can we phone to town from here?" she asked. "Doctor wanted me to check in at about five."
"Going to work?"
"Don't know yet."
They had their punch. The light danced in Jerry's hair, gave it the same orange tint which dominated the flower beds. "I forgot to tell you," Hall said. "You're beautiful."
Jerry swirled the scarlet drops on the bottom of her glass. "You don't know a thing about me," she said.
"What should I know?"
"Nothing. But can I tell you, anyway? I want to, Matt."
"I want to know."
Jerry sighed. "I told you I was married before, didn't I? It didn't take."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I'm not really from Columbus. That is, my home town is nearer Columbus than to any other city, but it's just a hick village in the sticks." She told her story in very few words. High school, and then three years at the State University, and then marriage to a small-town high-school principal some years older than herself. After five years of small-town married life, Jerry came into a small inheritance, left the schoolmaster, and went back to get her degree. "I wanted to study medicine," she said, "but I didn't have enough money, so I took up nursing instead. The idea was to earn enough as a nurse to go back to medical school."
"What happened?"
"New York happened. I couldn't take hospital regimentation, and some of the doctors were so anxious to sleep with me that they got me some snap jobs. You know, sitting up with rich lushes and hanging onto the girdles of deserted dowagers who wanted to jump out of windows and handing the right scalpel to society surgeons while they carved out a million-dollar gut."
"It must have paid well."
"Too well."
"And so you became a glamour girl."
"That's a pretty cruel way to put it, Matt. I'm not really a dope, you know."
"I know."
"I guess I just stopped thinking because I was afraid to think."
"Where does Ansaldo fit into the picture?"
"I came with him because I admire his skill as a doctor. I can learn things by working with him. He's fantastically good, Matt."
"How long do you know him?"
"Not long. He came to New York about six months ago to operate on a drunk who'd been my patient for months. The patient had fallen down a flight of stairs on my day off. Ansaldo invited me to be one of the nurses when he operated on the patient's spine. Are you interested in operations?"
"A little. Why?"
"It was amazing. I thought I had seen some good surgeons at work. But Ansaldo is more than good, Matt. He's great. After that first operation, I was his nurse for all of his New York operations. And naturally, I jumped at the chance to come along. I'm a perfectionist, Matt. Some day, some day soon I hope, I'm going to go back to medical school. I've been saving every spare penny I could. And what I'm learning from Ansaldo couldn't be taught in any school."
"You amaze me," he said, honestly. It was hard to doubt her. He prodded her for details of Ansaldo's skill. She answered him earnestly, and with increased enthusiasm.
"But wait," she protested, finally. "I don't see why I should be telling all about myself. I haven't talked like this to any man for years."
"I haven't listened like this for just as long," he laughed.
"But it's not good, I know," she said, her voice abruptly breaking. There were tears in her eyes, and she turned away. "I've gone and made a fool of myself."
"Why?"
"I know," she said. "You probably have a wife and nine kids in New York. I bet you carry their pictures in your wallet."
"Do I?" Hall handed his wallet to Jerry. "Look for yourself. Take out every picture."
There were three photos in all. The first was of Bird, his wife and their baby. "My publisher," he explained.
There was a sepia photo of Hall pointing the lens of a camera at a bomb crater in Madrid. "London?" Jerry asked.
"Yeah," he said. "London."
The remaining photo showed Hall talking to an aged couple on a road packed with refugees. "France?" Jerry asked.
Hall shook his head. "No. Belgium." Again he lied. The picture had been taken in Spain.
"Don't hurt me, Matt," the girl said. She was dry-eyed now, but saddened. "Don't hurt me later."
"I won't hurt you," he said. He wondered at that moment if he would be able to avoid hurting her.
"Are you really alone?"
"Alone?" He did not laugh. "God! I'm the loneliest sonofabitch in the whole world."
The girl smiled again. "I have half a mind to believe you," she said. "Shall we get started back?"
"O.K. It's getting late. Have dinner with me?"
"I don't know, yet. Would you call the hotel and ask if there are any messages for me?"
"There's a phone in the souvenir stand."
The girl bought a batch of picture sets while Hall was on the phone. "Do we eat?" she asked when he came out of the booth.
"No. They want you in the Marti Memorial Lab at the University at seven."
"Shucks."
"I phoned for a driver to meet us at the bottom in twenty minutes. We still have time for a drive around the nicer parts of New San Hermano."
They went to the terminal to wait for their car. The ticket agent glanced at Jerry and then he reached under his counter and brought up a large envelope. "Señor," he said, "the painter left this for the lady." It was the sketch of Jerry, wide-eyed and happy as the car climbed Monte Azul. In the lower right-hand corner was an inscription Hall translated for her. "To a charming visitor—a memento of her visit to our free city. Horacio."
"It was sweet of the old man," Jerry said. "Tell the guy to thank him for me, will you?"
"I already did. But this is fantastic. An original Horacio water color is worth a baby fortune. This sketch is valuable, Jerry."
"Didn't you recognize him?"
"Never saw him before in my life."
Big Pepe was waiting for them with his LaSalle when they reached the bottom of Monte Azul. "How good are you with tourists?" Hall asked. "I want to show the señorita New San Hermano."
"I can drive you with my eyes closed," Pepe said.
Hall laughed. "Keep your eyes open. And your four wheels on the pavement," he said. "Or I'll kill you with your own gun."
"I have no fears of you," Pepe said. "Get in."
Hall held onto Jerry's hand as he described the sights that rolled by their window. Big Pepe handled the car like a model tourists' chauffeur. It rolled along smoothly, not too quickly, and when Hall tapped him on the shoulder he would stop, the motor running softly while Hall made his explanations to Jerry.
At six, Hall and Jerry agreed to have one last drink before parting for the night. "Let's ask the driver, too," he suggested. "He's a nice guy."
"Sure. So are you."
"Pepe, how about joining us for a drink at that bar near the Libro del Mundo?"
Pepe turned around and grinned at them. "With many thanks," he said. "I will join you."
"If we don't all join our ancestors first. Watch the road, you