Debbie Hayes stopped short in alarm as a big white truck, bearing the words WILSON’S DAIRY, roared past her in the street, far too close for comfort. She backed hastily to the curb but the truck was so near she could feel the rush of air from its passing, as the indignant, flushed face of the driver scowled from the cab window.
Debbie knew she had been inexcusably stupid in not paying attention to the traffic lights on this busy city thoroughfare. If the driver had not shouted — Just then she saw that the milk truck had drawn up to the curb a few yards down the street and the driver was striding toward her. He was a gangling young man in a white suit with WILSON’S DAIRY printed in green letters on the jacket. His round face was still red, his blue eyes blazed and his white cap seemed to be rising in fury above a mop of copper-colored hair.
“Sister, haven’t you ever heard of traffic lights? I honked and honked, but you kept right on coming against the red light.” He was close to her now, scanning her with curiosity. Then his tone changed to gentleness. “Gee, you’re a nurse and look at your shoes! I’m sorry. I couldn’t help hitting that puddle.”
Debbie looked down at her white oxfords and nylon hose. They were spattered with dirty water. Only her full length rain-or-shine coat had protected her clean uniform.
Lark Tamany, R.N., faces the biggest challenge of her life when she becomes a private nurse to Timothy, a nine-year-old musical prodigy who bears emotional scars from the tragic auto accident that robbed him of his parents. Guilt feelings now prevent Timothy from playing the piano, and no one seems able to help him. Because Lark accepts the assignment quickly, she does not realize until it’s too late that Timothy is the brother of Revel Thorne, who jilted her at the altar several years ago — but who still claims to love her today. With much skill and warmth and understanding, Lark heals Timothy’s mental scars.
Will she ever be able to heal her own?
Love and hatred confront a young nurse on her first private duty case. One would win out…
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Is Anne making passes at your young man?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Nurse Linette Stokes stammered. “Besides, he’s not my young man.”
“But you like him, don’t you?” she was accused.
“Certainly I like him. He’s — he’s a fine young doctor,” she flushed.
But her heart was heavy and her thoughts kept returning to the picture of Anne’s lovely, laughing face lifted to Dr. Powell’s admiring eyes.