The covenant - James A. Michener [629]
The kick to the head had temporarily deranged the mechanisms which enable a human being to maintain equilibrium; it was as if someone had set in motion a gyroscope which held to one course, no matter what the lateral pressures. Frikkie would start walking in a given direction, and when the time came to make a turn, he would continue straight ahead, sometimes going right into a wall.
The doctors were more alarmed than he. 'I'll get it back into control,' he said, and added that he fully intended to play in Saturday's fixture against a team from the Orange Free State, but by midweek it was quite clear that he would not even be out of the hospital. It was then that Sannie began attending him regularly, and as she observed the straightforward manner in which he accepted his punishment, and the determined way he went about recovering, she felt increasingly that he represented the best in South Africa. Was there a job to do on the Mocambique border? He would go do it. Was there a tackle to be made? He would make it. Did the government require some new approach to old problems? He was the man to effectuate it. He was direct, uncomplicated and trustworthy.
She was at his side when Spyker Swanepoel came to visit, his jaw wired back into place. 'That was a strong tackle, Spyker' was all Frik said.
'You still got ringing in your ears?'
'Something's out of balance. It'll fall into place.'
'What you need, Frikkie, I've seen it a dozen times. A little sharp exercise and a dop of brandy.'
'I think so, too,' and he allowed big Spyker to pull him to his feet, steady him, give him a drink, and then run him right at the farthest wall.
'Whoa!' Spyker cried, and back they came the other way.
'That feels great!' Frikkie said. 'Let's go out in the hall.'
'Frikkie!' Sannie protested, but she could not stop these two great hulks, and out into the hall they went. She watched as they started down the long passageway, running and dodging as if they were on a rugby field. 'Hey! Hey!' Spyker grunted, shouting encouragement, and soon he was in the lead, allowing Frikkie to run by himself, but as before, the internal gyroscope prevented Frik from making a turn and he ran right into the end wall.
'Jesus Christ!' Spyker bellowed through wired teeth. 'Don't run into the goddamned wall.'
'What in the world?' the matron in charge of the floor cried as she saw two huge men coming back down the hall, Spyker in front, Frikkie dodging along behind and going great until he again plowed into the wall.
'We've got to work on it,' Spyker said as he led Frikkie back to bed. 'How do you feel?'
'That damned wall . . .'
By now the hospital staff had crowded into the room, and the head doctor was upbraiding Sannie for allowing such a dangerous situation. 'You should have stopped them,' he blustered.
'Have you ever tried to stop them?' and when Spyker was led away, and she was alone with Frikkie, she went to the door and locked it. 'You're all right,' she said, returning to the bed, where she took his hands and pulled him to her. 'You're a little weak on turns to the left, but who cares?'
And as she slipped into bed with him she whispered, 'As soon as you can walk straight, we're getting married.'
'I'm playing next Saturday,' he announced, and it must have been the therapy she provided, because on Friday morning he left the hospital, on Saturday he sat with her watching his team play, and the next Saturday he was on the field against Natal. It was during the celebration following that game, which he played like a ghost looking for a lost glen, that Sannie announced that she was going to marry him.
Jopie poured champagne over his rival, then kissed the bride-to-be and said, 'I always suspected he'd be the one.' But when Philip Saltwood heard the news, he dashed in from the diggings to beg Sannie to reconsider.
'I did,' she said. 'In the hospital. I love you, Philip, and will never forget how good life with you could have been. But Frikkie is South Africa. And so am I.'
When Sannie van Doorn, firmly and finally, rejected Philip