the girl lounging against the rickety table, “Make them stop! Don’t let them fight like that!”
The woman shrugged heavy shoulders. ‘Oh, don’t mind them; they always fight. They’ll stop after while.”
Arleen looked helplessly toward the girl. There was bitter mockery on the young lips as she stared back at Arleen. “What’s wrong? Haven’t you ever seen kids fight over something they want? How much candy do you think they get? Of course they’d fight over who was going to get it. You should have known that!”
Arleen said unhappily, “I didn’t realize. . .
The dark head cocked to one side. “No, I guess you wouldn’t. I guess you never had to fight over a piece of candy. I guess you had all the candy you wanted.” The dark eyes slid over Arleen in envious scorn. “All of everything!”
Guilt stabbed Arleen and she could no longer look at this bitter child. It was true. Her parents had provided her with all of the necessities and a lot of the luxuries. There’d always been enough money. She had never known what it was to be without money.
The guilt stabbed harder. “It’s not my fault,” she told herself. “I’m not to blame!” Nevertheless she felt the need to make amends because she’d never known what it was to have to fight over a bar of candy.
There was the five dollars in her purse she’d been saving to put down as a deposit on that green dress she so liked in Arden’s window. She didn’t need the dress, and five dollars would provide the Luigui children with a generous supply of treats.
Impulsively she got out the five-dollar bill and handed it to Anna Luigui. The woman’s head jerked up. She looked at Arleen with real interest for the first time since she had come into the apartment.
Arleen said, looking at the mother, but in reality speaking to the girl by the table, “Use it to buy some treat for the children.” With sudden firmness she added, “It will also give you bus fare to the clinic.”
Anna Luigui was turning the bill over and over in her hand. Her head jerked up when Arleen spoke. “Yeah, I be there.” Suddenly there was a shining ring to her voice. “Maybe I do better with things if I had a better daughter. But that Rose—” shooting an angry glance at the girl by the table—“she don’t lift one finger to help. Not one finger. All she thinks about is telling me how much smarter she is than I am. And dolling herself up so boys will look at her!”
Arleen said firmly, “Be at the clinic at two on Wednesday, Mrs. Luigui.” She directed a hesitant smile around the room, but the children didn’t smile back; they stood in little huddles, regarding her mutely.
Arleen let herself out. As she stood ready to turn the door-knob, she looked back into the room and saw that Rose Luigui was regarding her, the dark eyes made even darker by. anger.
Arleen stepped out into the hall, closing the door quietly behind her. “I should have realized,” she thought, “that one candy bar wouldn’t near go around for that many children.”
The five dollars, she knew, was not going to make up for what she had not known. And to Rose Luigui’s way of thinking, Arleen realized that what she had not known was the ugliness of Rose’s kind of poverty.
She was surprised to find the young doctor who had bumped into her earlier waiting in the lower hall.
“I have the time to apologize for bumping into you,” he said. “I do apologize.” He had a most engaging grin, Arleen thought.
“I have a patient on the top floor,” he explained. “Usually she sends for me once a week, saying she’s dying. She has a bad heart, so I can’t be certain that she isn’t.”
“He not only has a very nice smile,” Arleen found herself thinking, “he also has the nicest eyes. I like that shade of gray.”
“I was rushing up to see her when I bumped into you,” he went on. The light brows drew slightly together. “You looked upset just now.”
“Upset?” Arleen gave a rueful laugh. “I just left the Luigui apartment. How can people. . . .”
He cut in, his voice gentle, “Live like that? People live in all sorts of ways. They bring up defenses to allow themselves to live that way. You’ll have to get used to people like the Luiguis.” His eyes scanned the uniform. “A visiting nurse has to accustom herself to the kind of special ugliness that lives here alongside the people.” Abruptly he added, “I’m Dr. Mark Wynter. Now that I’ve introduced myself, why not tell me your name, and then I think we should be properly introduced.”
Arleen laughed. “Arleen Anderson.”
He slanted a grin at her. “Called Arleen for short, I presume?” He stopped laughing, and in repose Arleen thought his face looked very sad. “Now, Miss Arleen Anderson, could I buy you a cup of coffee at Barney’s? It’s a very unclassy place, but he makes fairly good coffee, and he’s fairly clean. I must warn you, only fairly clean.”
“I could use a cup of coffee,” Arleen told him. She hesitated. “But I’ll accept your offer only if you’ll let it be dutch.”
He shook his head. “I see you’ve already heard about my poverty. But I assure you I can afford to buy two cups of coffee. I’m a special customer of Barney’s. He never charges me more than five cents a cup.”
Seeming to take her consent for granted, he stepped ahead of her, opening the door, holding it until she stepped out onto the cracked and littered sidewalk. A vagrant April breeze seized bits of paper from the gutter and sent them sailing gaily through the air like miniature kites.
Arleen looked at her car, and let out a gasp. Garbage had been flung at her windshield, and bits of orange and tomato littered the hood.
Behind her, Mark Wynter heard her gasp, stopped for a second to survey the car, said quickly, “Wait here. I won’t be but a moment,” and disappeared with long-legged strides down the street and around a corner.
When he reappeared he had three small boys in tow. He marched them up to the car and said sternly, “Miss Anderson is a friend of mine. I don’t like you playing such tricks on friends of mine. I want you to have her car cleaned by the time we get back. Understand?”
Still frowning fiercely, he let go of the boys, dug a hand into a pocket and came up with some change, which he distributed evenly among the three. “That’s for candy for each of you. But first the car has to be cleaned.”
As she and Mark walked away, Arleen asked curiously, “Will they do what you told them to?”
Mark gave a wry grin. “It’s a gamble,” he told her. “I don’t always win.”
CHAPTER 3
MAY IN SALTBORO differed from April only in that it was hotter and drier. Litter from the city streets, swept by the occasional gusts of fierce wind, choked the nostrils and the throat with dust. The factories belched smoke and grime into the air until it seemed to rest like a heavy load across Arleen’s chest.
As her eyes stung and her throat ached from the smog-laden air, she would think, with a pang of homesickness, of the fresh green lawns and the clean air, scented with fresh-cut clover, that characterized her home.
Not
