Nathaniel Read Online Free PDF Page B

first it had upset her, the casual reference to herself as if she were nothing more than her husband’s possession, but as the afternoon wore on she had grown used to it, discovering that the phrase wasn’t truly offensive; indeed, there was a strangely comforting quality to it. It wasn’t that she had been owned by Mark, it was simply that she was a part of him. To these people—so different from her New York friends—she and Mark had, upon their marriage, ceased to be individuals. Had these been her family instead of Mark’s, had Mark been here instead of herself, the words would simply have been reversed.
    This day, Janet was finding comfort in that lack of individuality. It meant that she did not have to put herself out to define herself to these people, did not have to expose herself to them or make them understand her. They already knew who she was.
    “Are you all right?”
    Startled, Janet looked up. She recognized the man as someone to whom she’d been introduced, but as with all the others, she could not put a name to the face.
    “Potter. Dr. Charles Potter.”
    He was, she judged, in his late fifties—maybe his early sixties—and he looked exactly like what he was, a country GP. His hair was white, and his manner was what would once have been described as courtly. And, though she could hardly believe it, he was wearing an ice-cream suit.
    “I beg your pardon?” Janet blurted.
    “Are you all right?” Potter repeated. “You look a mite peaked.”
    “I’m fine,” Janet assured him, and then realized that the room was much too warm, and she felt flushed. She tried to stand up, and discovered she couldn’t. “Well, I guess I’m not all right after all,” she said weakly. “How do I look?”
    Potter grinned, losing a bit of what Janet was certain was a carefully cultivated image. “As I said, a mite peaked. Which, around here, covers most conditions not covered by ‘right fit.’ And you certainly don’t look right fit.” Then, as he continued speaking, his voice turned serious. “Which isn’t remarkable, under the circumstances. I said it at the funeral, and I said it earlier this afternoon, but I’ll say it again. I’m sorry about Mark. He was a good man.”
    Janet nodded automatically, suddenly aware of a strange dizziness and a surge of nausea. “I wonder if maybe I ought to lie down,” she suggested, and Potter was immediately on his feet, signaling to Amos Hall, who hurried over.
    “I think we’d better get her upstairs,” Potter said. “It all seems to have been a bit too much for her.”
    Suddenly everyone in the room seemed to be staring at her. “No—please—I’ll be all right, really I will,” Janet protested, but Amos, still powerful despite his years, picked her up and carried her up the stairs, Dr. Potter following close behind.
    In her room, Amos laid her gently on the bed, then smiled at her. “Doc will have a look at you, and Mama and I’ll get rid of the mob downstairs. They all should have left hours ago anyway, but you know how these things are. Doesn’t matter that everyone sees everyone else every day of the year. You put them together for whatever reason, and they just keep on talkin’.” Then he was gone, and Potter was sitting on the edge of the bed, taking her pulse. A moment later a thermometer was in her mouth, and Potter was asking her what seemed to be an unending series of questions about the state of her health. Finally he got to his feet, pulled a blanket over her, and instructed her to get some sleep.
    Janet looked at him curiously. “But I’m not sleepy,” she protested. She paused, then: “I just had a bad moment, because of the heat downstairs.”
    Potter peered at her over the tops of his glasses, taking in her condition.
    “Are you sure?” he asked pointedly.
    Janet sighed. Though she was barely starting to show, the doctor seemed to have guessed the truth with one shrewd glance. Still, he seemed to be waiting for her to