Free Bedelia by Vera Caspary Page B

CEASED. CHARLIE lay alone in the wide bed and wished that he had his wife beside him. Bedelia had moved into Charlie’s old bedroom. The nurse had ordered the change.p
    Since she had arrived that afternoon, held a conference with Doctor Meyers in the den, marched up the stairs and changed her drab dress for a blue-and-white striped uniform, this woman had ruled the household. Charlie and Bedelia had hated her on sight. Nevertheless, they let her intimidate them. She used her ugliness as other women use beauty to give her authority. If a country fair had offered prizes for the most unattractive female on exhibit, Miss Gordon would have captured first honors. Below dusty hair, tightly netted, bulged a forehead like a parenthesis. Between this bulge and the crag of her chin, her facecurved inward like a soup plate. Her nose was broad but so flat that it gave slight relief to the concavity. Her body was squat, her wrists red, and her disposition sour.
    By her order Charlie slept alone. The night was still. He heard only the chatter of the river, a sound so familiar that he could shut it out altogether, and give attention to whatever moanings and creakings there were within the house. By habit and profession he was able to locate every sound. He recognized a steely whine as the complaint of bedsprings in the room where Bedelia was spending the night.
    The floor creaked lightly under cautious footsteps. Charlie turned hopefully toward the door. The footsteps came closer. His heart began to pound in anticipation. The darkness was so solid that he could not see the door open when he heard its hinges creak. But he smelled the flowery perfume.
    Then a fresh sound smote his ears, and a hoarse voice croaked, “Is that you, Mrs. Horst?”
    â€œI was just going to get a drink of water,” he heard Bedelia say. “I thought I’d see if Mr. Horst wanted anything.”
    â€œI’m here to take care of that, Mrs. Horst.”
    â€œYes, but I was worried. On account of last night, you know.”
    â€œHe’s asleep. I wouldn’t disturb him if I were you. Go back to bed, Mrs. Horst. I’ll bring you a drink of water.”
    The hinges creaked, the door closed, the voices ceased. The down quilt and wool blankets could not warm Charlie’s cold flesh. Why had he allowed the nurse to send his wife away? Had he, in spite of all his logical excuses, been swayed by the doctor’s warning? “No! No!” he snarled at the blackness that surrounded him. It was a long time before he could fall asleep.
    In the morning as the nurse gave him a sponge bath, he said, “It’s kind of you to take such good care of my wife, Miss Gordon. I heard you last night.”
    â€œShe oughtn’t to wander around at night, not in her condition. She might catch cold or stumble over something in the dark.”
    As she bathed her patient, exertion and the heat of water caused her coarse skin to redden. Revolted, Charlie decided thathe would get rid of this witch as soon as he was strong enough to argue with the doctor.
    He did not wish to be discourteous and tried to make conversation.
    â€œYou’re not a native here, are you?”
    She shook her head.
    â€œI knew that at once. You see, I’ve lived here all my life and know nearly everyone in town.” This information had failed to interest her, but Charlie went on bravely. “Where do you come from?”
    â€œN’Yawk.” The accent made it authentic.
    â€œHave you been here long?”
    â€œCouple of months.”
    â€œWhat made you come here?”
    â€œIt’s no worse than any other place.”
    He heard Bedelia moving about in the other room and shouted to her impatiently. She hurried in to him, holding her challis robe about her shoulders like a shawl. Her eyes were heavy with sleep and her mouth round and pouting like a child’s.
    Miss Gordon looked on coldly while they kissed. “You’d better put your