Stella Bain Read Online Free PDF Page A

spectacles. She is a puzzle to him, one he thinks he ought to be able to solve. She is a puzzle to herself.
    “I thought you went deaf in the garden.”
    “Yes.”
    The doctor appears to ponder that episode. His roving eyes convey his desire to understand. “Have these occurrences increased in frequency?”
    She thinks a minute. “Yes, I suppose they have.”
    He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Think back to the moment when you first had the pains in your legs or felt yourself going deaf.”
    Stella does not like the memory. “I was driving an ambulance from near the front to the hospital camp. I had a sudden and severe pain in my legs, so much so that I had to stop the ambulance, which I had been told never to do. Getting the wounded to the camp was urgent. I didn’t know what had happened or how long the duration of the pain would be. At first, I thought I had been hit.”
    “With a bullet or shrapnel.”
    “Yes. But when I finally made it back to our camp, I examined myself and could find no blood or wound.”
    Dr. Bridge considers her answer. “Did you tell anyone about the pain?”
    “No.”
    “No physician examined you? Looked at your legs or feet?”
    “No. My only examination happened shortly after I arrived at the camp.”
    “And the deafness?”
    “It happened simultaneously with the legs. It also occurs by itself, though, as it did today in the garden.”
    Aware that they have been talking in somewhat modulated tones, Stella sits back. Whether consciously or not, Dr. Bridge mimics her posture.
    “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” he asks. “I assume there were good doctors in Marne.”
    “I would have been sent to England or back to America,” she explains. “Or worse, I would have been stripped of my duties as an ambulance driver. One couldn’t have a driver who might at any moment become disabled.”
    “How did you become an ambulance driver?” he asks.
    “Though I worked as a nurse’s aide, I was asked to drive an ambulance. I told them I’d done it before.”
    “Truly?” he says, surprised.
    Why has she added that bit of information? To impress him? To show him she is no ordinary VAD?
    “Highly unusual, I should think, Miss Bain,” he adds.
    Stella remains silent.
    “Are you all right?” he asks.
    For one dizzying moment, Stella thinks the honorific incorrect.
     
    After a pause, Dr. Bridge asks, “May I ask you what drew you to Bryanston Square?”
    “Is that where I am?” Stella gazes through the window at the green-gold oasis. She wonders once again how much to tell him. “I need to go to the Admiralty. It feels urgent.”
    “You’re about an hour away on foot. You must have been in great distress to have come straight from the hospital ship and not bother to first find a place to sleep for the night.”
    Heat rises to her face.
    Streeter enters and sets down plates. The fish does not look appetizing, and she doubts that it will be warm.
    “In the course of my practice of cranial surgery,” Dr. Bridge begins, “I have come upon a number of bizarre physical phenomena. Though I’m a surgeon, I’m intrigued by these odd occurrences and have often sought the advice of other doctors whose knowledge has helped to illuminate a thorny problem of my own.”
    “Hence your interest in me?”
    “My interest in you is humanitarian. If I may, I should like to make a suggestion.”
    She meets his gaze.
    “Even though you have improved tremendously, I think you know you are not entirely well. Do you understand that you cannot go back to France until your symptoms subside?”
    “I must go back,” she explains. “Otherwise I’ll be written down as absent without leave.”
    “I doubt the penalties for American volunteers are as severe as for the English or French soldier, but I’ll investigate.”
    “No, please don’t,” she says, then stands. “Thank you for your concern.”
    “You must finish your lunch,” the doctor says. “I believe Mrs. Ryan has