The Roswell Legacy by Frances Statham (parable of the sower read online .TXT) 📗

lay exposed, Edward nodded as he saw the irreparable tear in the highly vascular organ.

The operation continued; the spleen was removed. A spurt of blood was quickly stopped with clamps until Charles could suture the gape at the cardiac end of the duodenum. Then sponge and clamps were removed and the outside sutures closed the initial incision. The operation was over.

In the gallery above, the medical students applauded. But Charles did not look up or acknowledge their adulation. His mind was still on his patient.

Charles walked beside the rolling stretcher that took Rad into recovery. And he remained at his side for the next half hour until his patient came out from under the anesthesia.

As the man struggled to open his eyes, Charles smiled at him. “You’re going to be fine, Rad. The operation is over.”

It was now midnight. Charles scrubbed up again, putting on a fresh surgical gown, for it would not do to greet the family with the bloodstains visible on his operating gown. With the surgical mask still hanging to the side, he walked into the waiting room.

“The operation is over,” he announced. “I’ve done all I can. Now it’s up to Rad.”

He wanted no thanks, no reward, but the relief showing in Allison’s eyes.

“How can we ever repay you?” Morrow asked.

“There’s no need even to think of that. I was glad I could help.”

“When will I be able to see him?” Allison inquired.

“Give him another twenty minutes or so. Then you can sit with him for a few minutes. He’ll more than likely be a little ill, Allison, from the anesthesia. But the nurses can handle that.”

Charles slept the rest of the night in Meeks’s apartment, only a telephone call away, should anything go wrong with Rad. And early in the morning, as the carriage waited with his luggage, Charles went back to the hospital to check on Rad before he left for the train station.

“How was his night?” Charles asked the special-duty nurse.

“A little rough,” she admitted. “But his nausea has subsided now.”

“Good. And his temperature?”

“Normal.”

Charles walked inside the room. Rad’s eyes were still closed, but his color was better than it had been the previous day. “Good morning, Rad. How are you feeling?”

The man opened his eyes and looked up. “I feel as if a herd of Jonathan’s steers has just galloped over me.”

“You’re bound to be sore for the next week at least. And, of course, it’s going to take you six months before you can walk without a cane. But you’re well on the road to recovery.”

“I hope you’re right, Charles. But whatever happens, remember that I’m still holding you to your promise.”

“You’ll outlast me, old chap,” Charles said, momentarily reverting to his English speech. “So forget that little scene. You just make sure you take darn good care of Allison from now on.”

He laid his hand on Rad’s shoulder, smiled at him, and then left the hospital room.

Several hours later, when Allison returned to the hospital, she saw only Edward Meeks. “Has Dr. Forsyte been here this morning?” she asked.

“Yes, he came by to check on your husband before he left for the train station. That was a brilliant operation, Mrs. Meadors, I can assure you.”

“Do you mean he’s already left to go back to Washington?”

“Yes. But you needn’t worry. His job was over last night. We’ll be able to care for your husband through his recuperation.”

“But I never got to thank him properly. Or even to pay him …”

“I understand his daughter is married to your son, so I’m sure he considers it all in the family. And I have a feeling that he would be offended if you offered him money.”

“Then we’ll have to think of some other way to pay him.”

“Why don’t you go on in to see your husband? He was asking for you earlier.”

A week went by, with Rad growing gradually stronger each day. And none was more surprised than Rad himself. He had assumed that, with the arrival of Jonathan, the entire family had gathered to be with him in his last hours.

At first, he had been too ill to care whether he lived or died. But once the nausea had subsided and the draining tube had been removed from his side, he began to feel human again. And on the eighth day, a regular breakfast—the first since the operation—had done wonders for his morale.

Gingerly propping himself on his elbows, he gazed at Allison, who was sitting quietly in the chair near the hospital bed. She looked up when he cleared his throat.

“Allison, I think we need to talk.”

“Yes, Rad?”

“In the last day or so, I’ve had plenty of time to lie here and think. Some hard decisions concerning our future will have to be faced.”

A wary Allison waited for his next words.

“You remember my mentioning that I wasn’t planning to run again for the Senate? Well, now that I’m laid up, with a long recovery period facing me, I think it would be better for me to resign immediately. That way, the governor could appoint Edgar to fill my unexpired term, which would make it a heck of a lot easier for him to win the next election.”

“Is that what you really want to do, Rad? Resign from the Senate?”

“Yes. But I rather hate to think that it’s time for me to be put out to pasture, like Standing Tall and old Bourbon Red.…”

At that moment, Morrow and Jonathan entered the room. And Jonathan, overhearing his father’s last sentence, came over and patted him on the shoulder.

“You could be in a lot worse shape, Papa. Remember, we had to shoot Silver Dawn when he broke his leg.” He nodded toward the heavy cast supported by pulleys.

“Jonathan,” Morrow admonished. “That’s not funny. Here Papa almost died, and you’re making jokes about his condition.”

Rad smiled. “Actually, Morrow, it makes me feel better to hear such remarks. It’s a lot more encouraging than all those hushed tones and whisperings that went on for the first few