Mildred Pierce - James M. Cain [54]
She was sitting in the alcove again, but here it was Dr. Gale who broke down, not she. The cruel suddenness of it had left her numb, as though she had no capacity to feel, but as he approached, his stoop was a tottering slump. He dropped down beside her, took off his glasses, massaged his face to keep it from jerking. "I knew it. I knew it when I saw that orderly, running with the bottles. From then on there was no hope. But—we do everything we can. We can't give up."
Mildred stared straight ahead of her, and he went on: "I loved her like she was mine. And there's only one thing I can say. I did everything I could. If anything could have saved her, that transfusion would—and she had it. And you too, Mildred. We both did everything that could have been done."
They sat for a few minutes, both swallowing, both locking their teeth behind twitching lips. Then, in a different tone, he asked: "You got any choice on an undertaker, Mildred?" -
"I don't know any undertaker."
"I generally recommend Mr. Murock, out there in Glendale, just a few blocks from you. He's reasonable, and won't run up charges on you, and he'll attend to everything the way most people want it done."
"If you- recommend him, then it's all right."
"I'll call him."
"Is there a phone around?"
"I'll find you one."
He took her to a little office on the same floor, and she sat down and dialed Mrs. Biederhof. She asked for Bert, but he was out, and she said: "Mrs. Biederhof, this is Mildred Pierce. Will you tell Bert that Ray died a few minutes ago? At the hospital. I wanted him to know, right away."
There was a long, bellowing silence, and then: "Mrs. Pierce, I'll tell him. I'll tell him just as soon as I can find him, but I want to tell you that I'm sorry from the bottom of my heart. Now is there anything I can do?"
"No, thank you."
"Can I take Veda for a little while?"
"No, thanks ever so much."
"I'll tell him."
"Thank you, Mrs. Biederhof."
She drove home mechanically, but after a few blocks she began to dread the stop signals, for sitting there, waiting for the light to change, she would have time to think, and then her throat would clutch and the street begin to blur. When she got home, Bert came out to meet her, and took her into the den, where Letty was trying to quiet Veda. Lefty went back to the kitchen, and Veda broäke into loud sobs. Over and over, she kept saying: "I owed her a nickel! Oh, Mother, I cheated her out of it, and I meant to pay it back, but—I owed her a nickel!"
Soothingly, Mildred explained that if she really meant to pay it back, this was the main thing, and presently Veda was quiet. Then she began to fidget. Mildred kissed her and said: "Would you like to go over to your grandfather's, darling? You could practice your piano lessons, or play, or whatever you want to do."
"Oh Mother, do you think it would be right?"
"Ray wouldn't mind."
Veda trotted out of the house, and Bert looked a little shocked. "She's a child, Bert. They don't feel things the way we feel them. It's better that she not be here while— arrangements are being made."
Bert nodded, wandered about the room. A match in the fireplace caught his attention, and he stooped to pick it up. So doing, he bumped his head. If he had been hit with an axe he couldn't have collapsed more completely. Instinctively, Mildred knew why: poking into the fireplace had brought it all back, the game he used to play with Ray, all the gay nonsense between the elephant and the monk. Mildred led him to the sofa, took him in her arms. Then together, in