I suppose I should have known that there would be friction between any woman as stubbornly sloppy as Mrs. Olmstead and one who was not only red-haired but as patently hygienic and scrubbed-looking as Kay Nolton. I suppose that I should also have known that I would be caught in the middle of the dispute, since, like the legendary hapless Pierre, unpleasantness was always catching me in the middle of it. What I should not have supposed, I suppose, was that I would have known what the crud to do about it. Because about all I ever had known to do about something inevitably turned out to be the wrong thing.
So there you were, and here I was, and the air did smell pretty foul, but then it never did smell very good. And I was rather worn out from too much exercise, following no exercise at all, so I went to sleep.
I went to work on a pamphlet the next morning. I kept at it, at first turning out nothing but pointless drivel. But, then, inspiration came to me, and my interest rose higher and higher, and the pages flowed from my typewriter.
It was a day over two weeks before I saw Manny. It was a Friday, her first day out of the hospital, and she came out to the house as soon as she had gone to Mass. She had lost weight, and it had been taken from her face. But she had a good color, having sunned frequently in the hospital’s solarium, and the thinning of her face gave a quality of spirituality to her beauty it had lacked before.
She—
But hold it! Hold it right there! I have gone way ahead of myself, skimming over events which should certainly deserve telling.
To take things in reasonably proper order (or as much as their frequent impropriety will allow):
I worked. I badly wanted to work, and I am a very hard guy to distract when I am that way. When I was distracted, as, of course, I soon was, I dealt with the distraction — Kay and Mrs. Olmstead — with exceptional shrewdness and diplomacy, thus keeping my time-waste minimal.
I explained to Mrs. Olmstead that it was only fair that Kay should take over the cooking and certain other chores since she, Mrs. Olmstead, was terribly overworked, and certain changes in household routine were necessary due to my illness.
“The doctors have forbidden me to leave the house, and Miss Nolton is required to stay in the house with me at all times. She can’t order up a taxi, as you can, and go shopping and buy ice cream sodas and, oh, a lot of things, like you’ll be doing for me. I doubt if she could do it, even if she was allowed to leave the house. But I trust you, Mrs. Olmstead. I know you’ll do the job right. So I’m putting a supply of money in the telephone-stand drawer, and you can help yourself to whatever you need. And if any problems do arise, I know you’ll know how to handle them, without any advice from me.”
That disposed of Mrs. Olmstead — almost. She could not quite accept what was a very good thing for her without a grumbled recital of complaints against me — principally, my occasional failure to mail her letters, or to “do something” about a possible invasion by rats. Still, I was sure she would cooperate, since she had no good reason to do otherwise, and I said as much to Kay.
She said flatly that I didn’t know what I was talking about, then hastily apologized for the statement.
“I’m here to help you, Britt, To make things as easy for you as possible. And I’m afraid I’ve added to the strain you’ve been under by letting Mrs. Olmstead provoke me into quarreling with her. I — No, wait now, please!” She held up a hand as I started to interrupt. “I’ve been at least partly at fault, and I’m sorry, and I’ll try to do better from now on. I’ll humor Mrs. Olmstead. I’ll consult her. I’ll do what has to be done without being obtrusive about it — making it seem like a rebuke to her. But I don’t think it’ll do any good. I’ve seen too many other people like her. They have a very keen sense of their privileges and rights, but they’re blind to their obligations. They’re constantly criticizing others, but they never do anything wrong themselves. Not to hear them tell it. I think she spells trouble, Britt, regardless of what you do or I do. For your own good, I think you should fire her.”
“But I need her,” I said. “She has to do the shopping for us.”
“You can order whatever we need. Have it delivered.”
“Well, uh, there are other things besides shopping. Anyway… anyway…”
“Yes?”
“Well, it wouldn’t seem quite right for us to be alone in the house. Just the two of us, I mean. It just wouldn’t be right, now, would it?”
“Why not?” said Kay; and as I hesitated, fumbling for words, she said curtly, “All right, Britt. You’re too softhearted to get rid of her, and I probably wouldn’t like you as much as I do if you weren’t that way. So I’ll say no more about it. Mrs. Olmstead stays, and I just hope you’re not sorry.”
She left my office, leaving me greatly relieved as I returned to my work. Glad that I had not had to explain why I did not want to live alone in the house with her. I had no concrete reason to suspect her, or, rather, to be afraid of her. Nothing at all but the uneasy doubts planted in mind by Claggett and Pat Aloe. Still, I knew I would be more comfortable with a third person present. And I was very happy to have managed it without a lot of fussing and fuming.
The pamphlet I was doing was on soil erosion, a subject I had shied away from in the past. I was afraid I would be inadequate to such an important topic with so many facets; i.e., flood, drouth, wand, and irresponsible agricultural practices. Somehow, however, I had found the courage to plunge into the job and persist at it, meeting its challenges instead of veering or backing away — my customary reaction when confronted with the difficult. And I had advanced to its approximate halfway point when I looked up one afternoon to find Kay smiling at me from the doorway.
I stood up automatically, and started to unbuckle my belt. But she laughed and said we could dispense with the vitamin shot today.
“Just let me get your pulse and your temperature,” she said, and proceeded to get them. “You’re doing very well, Britt. Working hard and apparently enjoying it.”
I agreed that I was doing both, adding that I was going to be very irritated if I was finished off before the job was finished.
“Well, then, I do solemnly swear to keep you alive,” she said piously. “Not that I know why it’s so important, but…”
I told her to sit down, and I would give her a hint of its importance. Which she did, and I did.
It was as important as life itself, I said. In fact, it was life. Yet we sat around on our butts, uncaring, while it was slowly being stolen from us.
“Do you know that three-fourths of this state’s top-soil has been washed away, blown away, or just by-God pooped away? Do you know that an immeasurable but dangerously tragic amount of its subsoil has gone the same route? Given a millennium and enough million millions, you can replace the topsoil, but once the subsoil’s gone, it’s gone forever. In other words, you’ve got nothing to grow crops on, and nothing—” I broke off, paused a moment. “In other words,” I said, “it stinks. Thanks for being so graphic.”
She looked at me absently, nose crinkled with distaste. Then, she suddenly came alive, stammering embarrassed apologies.
“Please forgive me, Britt. It sounds terribly interesting, and you must tell me more. But what is that awful smell? It stinks like, well, I don’t know what! It’s worse than anything I’ve smelled before in this house, and that’s really saying something!”
I said I had noticed nothing much worse than usual. I also said I had a lot of work to do, and that I was anxious to get back to it.
“Now, Britt—” She got to her feet. “I’m sorry, and I’ll run right along. Can I do anything for you before I go?”