Bread Upon the Waters Read Online Free PDF Page A

“Go and get some warm water and a washcloth.” She looked at the blood-covered face. The blood was still dripping onto the living room carpet. “A towel. Two towels. You’ll find some bandages and adhesive tape in the medicine chest. And bring in the ice bucket.”
    “No need to bother,” the man said. “It’s hardly more than a scratch.”
    “Caroline,” Leslie said, “you look as though you’ve been through a war. Are you sure there’s nothing the matter with you? Don’t be foolishly brave now.”
    “I told you,” Caroline said, her voice suddenly trembling. “I’m fine.” She was still holding the tennis racquet, as though she would need it for some new and important game in the next few seconds. The steel frame of the racquet, Strand saw, was bloody, too.
    “What happened?” he asked. He had been standing to one side, feeling awkward. He had never seen that much blood before and it made him squeamish.
    “He was mugged and…” Caroline began.
    Eleanor came in. “Dr. Prinz isn’t in. His answering service said he’d call back within the hour.”
    Leslie groaned.
    Eleanor put her arms around Caroline and cradled her. “Baby,” she said, “it’s all right now, it’s all right. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
    Caroline began to sob, her shoulders quivering. “I’m ff—ff—fine,” she cried. “I just have to wash my face and change my clothes, that’s all. Oh, I’m so glad everybody’s home.”
    Jimmy came in with the bowl of hot water and the towels and bandages and the ice bucket. As Leslie soaked a towel and began gently to clean the wound on the man’s scalp, he said, “You’re all too kind. I apologize for making such a mess and being so much trouble.” His voice was surprisingly calm now, as though he were excusing himself for ringing the wrong doorbell by mistake. His speech had the accent of good Eastern schools. He didn’t move or wince as Leslie wiped the blood away, then worked on the raw flesh of the wounded hand, the towel becoming a sullen rusty iron color. She worked swiftly, without fuss, as though caring for damaged strangers were a commonplace event in her home. “I’m afraid there will have to be some stitches,” she said matter-of-factly, “when the doctor comes. I hope I’m not hurting you.”
    “Not at all,” the man said. “I trust my appearance doesn’t shock you. Things always look worse than they actually are.” He managed a smile, meant to reassure her.
    “Caroline,” Strand said, “how did all this happen?”
    “If I may,” the man said, “I’d like to explain. My dear young lady,” he said to Caroline, “I’m sure you want to get out of those gory clothes.”
    “Eleanor,” Leslie said, “take her into the bathroom and put her under a warm shower.” Leslie was a firm believer in the efficacy of warm showers in all emergencies. “And tell Mrs. Curtis to hold dinner.”
    “Oh, dear,” the man said, “I’m spoiling your dinner. Do forgive me. I really can get up and go home, you know.” He made a move to stand.
    “Sit still,” Leslie said briskly, as Eleanor led Caroline, still gripping her racquet, toward the bathroom. Leslie began wrapping lengths of bandage around the man’s head, her hands moving deftly and efficiently.
    “Allen,” she said, “put a lot of ice in the clean towel and make a compress of it.”
    As Strand followed her instructions she said to the man, “There’s going to be some swelling on your cheek. Hold the ice to it and press. It’ll help keep it down.”
    Docilely, the man put the towel-wrapped ice to his cheek. To Strand he looked absurdly like a small boy who had been in a fight and now was allowing his mother to repair the damages.
    Jimmy peered curiously at the man. “Somebody gave you an awfully good whack, mister,” he said.
    “It’s not the first time,” the man said. “It could have been worse. Much worse. If it hadn’t been for the young lady charging to my rescue. The avenging