Comes The Blind Fury Part 3

"Hi!" The voice seemed friendly, and when he stood up, Mich.e.l.le saw that it was a boy, about her own age, with dark curly hair, startlingly blue eyes, and a wide smile. Tentatively, she waved back, and called out a h.e.l.lo.

The boy bounded across the rocks toward her.

"Are you the girl that moved into the Carson house?" he asked.

Mich.e.l.le nodded. "Only it's our house, now," she corrected him. "We bought it from Dr. Carson."

"Oh," the boy said. "I'm Jeff Benson. I live up there." He gestured vaguely toward the bluff, and Mich.e.l.le's eyes followed his gesture, though there was nothing to be seen.

"You can't see our house from here," Jeff explained. "It sits too far back from the cliff. Mom says the bluff's going to fall into the sea sooner or later anyway, but I don't think so. What's your name?"

"Mich.e.l.le."

"What do people call you?" Jeff asked.

Mich.e.l.le frowned, puzzled. "Mich.e.l.le," she repeated. "What else would they call me?"

Jeff shrugged. "I dunno. It just seems like kind of a fancy name, that's all. Sounds like you must be from Boston."

"I am," Mich.e.l.le replied.

Jeff regarded her curiously for a moment, then shrugged again, dismissing the matter. "Did you come down to look at the tidepools?"

"I just came down to look around," she said. "What's in them?"

"All kinds of things," Jeff told her eagerly. "And the tide's way out now, so you can get to the best ones. Haven't you ever seen a tidepool before?"

Mich.e.l.le shook her head. "Only the ones at the beach," she said. "We used to go there for picnics."

"Those aren't any good," Jeff scoffed. "All the good stuff got taken out of them ages ago, but hardly anybody ever comes down here. Come on-I'll show you."

He began leading Mich.e.l.le across the rocks, stopping every few minutes to wait for her to catch up. "You should wear tennis shoes," he suggested. "They don't slip on the rocks so much."

"I didn't know it would be this slippery," Mich.e.l.le said, suddenly feeling clumsy but unsure just why. A moment later they had come to the edge of a large pool, and Jeff was kneeling beside it. Mich.e.l.le crouched down beside him and stared into the shallow water.

The pool lay clear and still before her, and Mich.e.l.le realized that it was like looking through a window into another world. The bottom was alive with strange creatures-starfish and sea urchins, anemones waving softly in the currents, and hermit crabs scurrying around in their borrowed homes. On an impulse, Mich.e.l.le reached into the water and picked one up.

The crab's tiny claw snapped ineffectually at her finger, then the little animal retreated into its sh.e.l.l, only a whisker poking tentatively out.

"Hold your hand real flat, and turn him so he can't see you," Jeff told her. "Then just wait, and in a couple of minutes he'll come out."

Mich.e.l.le followed his instructions. A moment later the animal began emerging from its sh.e.l.l, legs first.

"It tickles," Mich.e.l.le said, her fist involuntarily closing. When she opened it again, the animal had retreated once more.

"Drop it into one of the sea anemones," Jeff told her.

Mich.e.l.le obeyed, and watched the strange plantlike animal tighten its tentacles around the panicked crab. A moment later the anemone was closed, and the crab had disappeared.

"What'll happen to it?" Mich.e.l.le asked.

"The anemone will eat it, then open up and dump out the sh.e.l.l," Jeff explained.

"You mean I killed it?" Mich.e.l.le asked, upset by the thought.

"Something would've eaten it anyway," Jeff said. "As long as you don't take anything away, or put in something that shouldn't be here, you aren't really hurting anything."

Mich.e.l.le had never thought of such a thing before, but Jeff's words made sense to her. Some things belong, and some things don't. And you have to be careful what you put with what. Yes, it made sense.

Together the two children began making their way around the tidepool, examining the strange world beneath the water. Jeff pried a starfish loose from its hold on the rocks, and showed Mich.e.l.le the thousands of tiny suction cups that formed its feet and the odd pentangular mouth in the middle of its stomach.

"How come you know so much about all this?" Mich.e.l.le finally asked.

"I grew up here," Jeff said. He hesitated a moment, then continued. "Besides, I want to be a marine biologist someday. What are you going to be?"

"I don't know," Mich.e.l.le said. "I never thought about it."

"Your dad's a doctor, isn't he?" Jeff asked. "How'd you know that?"

"Everybody knows," Jeff said amiably. "Paradise Point's a small town. Everybody knows everything."

"Boy, it sure wasn't like that in Boston," Mich.e.l.le replied. "n.o.body knew who anybody was. We hated it."

"Is that why you moved here?"

"I guess," Mich.e.l.le said slowly. "That was part of the reason, anyway." Suddenly she wanted to change the subject. "Did somebody get murdered in our house?"

Jeff looked at her sharply, as if he hadn't heard her quite right. Then, almost too quickly, he stood up and shook his head. "Not that I ever heard of," he said. Turning, he started picking his way back across the rocky beach. When Mich.e.l.le made no move to follow him, he called out to her.

"Come on! The tide's coming in. It's getting dangerous!"

As Mich.e.l.le stood up, an odd sensation swept over her. She was suddenly dizzy, and her vision seemed to be fading. It was as if a heavy fog was settling over her. Quickly, she dropped back to her knees.

Ahead, Jeff turned and stared at her.

"Are you all right?" he called back.

Mich.e.l.le nodded, then stood up again, more slowly this time. "I guess I just stood up too fast. I got dizzy, and it seemed like it was getting dark."

"Well, it's going going to get dark pretty soon," Jeff said. to get dark pretty soon," Jeff said.

"We'd better get back up to the top." He started north, and Mich.e.l.le asked him where he was going.

"Home," Jeff replied. "We have a path up to our house just like you do." He paused a moment, then asked her if she wanted to come with him.

"I'd better not," Mich.e.l.le replied. "I told my parents I wouldn't be gone long."

"Okay," Jeff said. "See you."

"See you," Mich.e.l.le echoed. She turned away from Jeff and started up the beach. When she was at the foot of the trail that would take her home, she stopped and looked back the way she had come. Jeff Benson was no longer in sight. The beach was empty, and fog was closing in.

CHAPTER 3.

"Next week we convert the butler's pantry."

June's voice contained a note of determination that let Cal know that his grace period was over. And yet, during the two weeks they had been in the house, he had come to love it the way it was, and found himself less and less willing to change it at all. He had even come to appreciate the cavernous dining room, though there was something impersonal about the huge table that made their small family gather together at the end nearest the kitchen door. Mich.e.l.le seemed totally unaffected by the size of the room. Indeed, as her mother spoke, she looked around appreciatively.

"I like it," she declared. "I pretend we're in the hall of a castle, and the servants are coming in to wait on us."

"That'll be the day," Cal said. "At the rate we're going, I'm going to have to start hiring you you out as a maid." He winked at his daughter, who winked back. out as a maid." He winked at his daughter, who winked back.

"Things will get better," June said, though the strain in her voice belied the optimistic words. "You can't expect everybody in town to start coming to you." Her voice bitter, she faced her husband. "Not as long as Carson's still around." She put her fork down. "I "I wish he'd just give up and go away. How long will it be before he turns the whole practice over to you?" wish he'd just give up and go away. How long will it be before he turns the whole practice over to you?"

"A long time, I hope," Cal replied. Then, reading June's face, he tried to rea.s.sure her. "Don't look like that-he's not taking any of the money anymore. He says I own the practice now, and he's officially retired. Says he's just 'Keeping his hand in.' And thank G.o.d he is. Without him, I'd probably have been run out of town by now!"

"Oh, come on-" June protested, but Cal held up his hand to stop her.

"It's true. You should have seen me yesterday. Mrs. Parsons came in, and I, being a doctor, was all set to examine her. If Josiah hadn't stopped me, I'd have had her in a gown in nothing flat. But it seems she didn't want to be examined-all she wanted to do was to have a little 'chat.' Josiah listened to her, clucked sympathetically, and told her that if her symptoms persisted, he'd take a look at her next week."

"What was wrong with her?" Mich.e.l.le asked.

"Nothing. It turns out that her hobby is reading up on various ailments, and she likes to talk about them, but she doesn't think it's right to come into the office just to talk, so she claims she has the symptoms."

"Sounds like a hypochondriac," June commented.

"That's what I thought, too, but Josiah says she isn't It isn't that she really feels feels the symptoms. She just says she does. And," Cal continued, "it seems Mrs. Parsons not only talks about her own symptoms, she talks about other people's as well. Josiah says that there are at least three people in town who are alive today only because Mrs. Parsons told him things that they wouldn't tell him themselves." the symptoms. She just says she does. And," Cal continued, "it seems Mrs. Parsons not only talks about her own symptoms, she talks about other people's as well. Josiah says that there are at least three people in town who are alive today only because Mrs. Parsons told him things that they wouldn't tell him themselves."

"What does he do?" Mich.e.l.le interrupted. "Go out and drag them into the office?"

"Not exactly," Cal said, chuckling. "But he does drop in on them and check them out. Apparently Mrs. P. has a particularly good eye for potential heart attacks."

"It doesn't sound very professional," June muttered.

Cal shrugged. "Until a week ago, I'd have agreed with you. But now I'm not so sure." He picked up his winegla.s.s, sipped at the Chablis, then spoke again. "I've been wondering how many people would still be alive if we'd had a Mrs. Parsons at Boston General, where we only had time to look after specific complaints. Josiah says there are lots of things that people don't complain about-instead they just die, thinking things will get better."

"That's creepy," Mich.e.l.le said, shuddering.

"It is," Cal agreed. "But it doesn't happen so much out here, because Josiah's always had the time to get to know his patients and find out what's wrong with them before it goes too far. He's a great believer in preventive medicine."

"What is he, a witch doctor?" Though she tried to keep her tone light, June was growing tired of Cal's paean to the older doctor. Josiah says! Josiah says! Cal seemed to hang on every word Carson uttered. Now, he ignored June's question and turned to Mich.e.l.le, but before he could go on, the doorbell rang. June, grateful for the chance to end the talk of Josiah Carson, quickly got up to answer it. But when she opened the front door, framed in the entryway was the tall, spare figure of Josiah Carson, his mane of nearly white hair glowing in the gathering darkness of the evening. June felt herself gasp slightly, then quickly recovered. "Well, speak of the devil..." Cal seemed to hang on every word Carson uttered. Now, he ignored June's question and turned to Mich.e.l.le, but before he could go on, the doorbell rang. June, grateful for the chance to end the talk of Josiah Carson, quickly got up to answer it. But when she opened the front door, framed in the entryway was the tall, spare figure of Josiah Carson, his mane of nearly white hair glowing in the gathering darkness of the evening. June felt herself gasp slightly, then quickly recovered. "Well, speak of the devil..."

Carson smiled slightly. "I hope I'm not interrupting your dinner. I'm afraid it really couldn't wait." He stepped into the foyer and closed the door behind him.

Before June could make any reply, Cal appeared in the hall. "Josiah! What are doing out here?"

"Going on a housecall. I'd have phoned, but I was already in the car before I thought of you. Want to come along?"

"I gather it's not an emergency," June observed.

"Well, certainly nothing that would require an ambulance. In fact, I doubt that it's anything much at all. It's Sally Carstairs. She's complaining about a sore arm, and her mother asked me to have a look. And then I had a thought." He paused, and glanced toward the dining room. "Is Mich.e.l.le here?"

Cal's voice betrayed his curiosity as he repeated his daughter's name. "Mich.e.l.le?"

"Sally Carstairs is the same age as Mich.e.l.le, and it occurred to me that your daughter might do her more good than either you or I. Making a new friend often takes a child's mind off the pain."

A look pa.s.sed between the two doctors, a look that June almost missed. It was as if Carson had asked her husband a question, and Cal had answered. Yet, there was something more, a silent communion between them that worried June. And then Mich.e.l.le appeared in the foyer, and suddenly everything was settled.

"Want to go on a housecall?" she heard Carson asking her daughter.

"Really?" Mich.e.l.le glanced at her mother, then turned to her father, her eyes glistening.

"It seems Dr. Carson thinks you might be therapeutic to one of our patients."

"Who?" Mich.e.l.le asked eagerly.

"Sally Carstairs. She's about your age, and her arm hurts. Dr. Carson wants to use you for a painkiller."

Mich.e.l.le looked to her mother for permission, but June hesitated for a moment.

"She isn't sick?"

"Sally?" Carson said. "Good Lord, no. Just hurt her arm. But if you want Mich.e.l.le to stay here-"

"No-take her, by all means. It's time she met a girl her age. In the last two weeks, the only person she's seen is Jeff Benson."

"Who's a very nice boy," Cal pointed out.

"I didn't say he wasn't. But a girl needs girl friends, too."

Mich.e.l.le started toward the stairs. "I'll be right back." She disappeared up the stairs, and a moment later reappeared with her green bookbag tucked under her arm.

"What's that?" Josiah Carson asked.

"A doll," Mich.e.l.le explained. "I found it upstairs-in my closet. I thought maybe Sally might like to see it."

"Here?" Carson asked. "You found it here?"

"Uh-huh. It's really old." Suddenly Mich.e.l.le's face clouded, and she looked up at Carson worriedly. "I guess it must belong to your family, huh?"

"Well, I don't know," Carson replied. "Why don't you let me see it?"

Mich.e.l.le opened the bookbag and took out the doll. She offered it to Carson, who glanced at it, but didn't take it.