Eagle in the Sky - Smith Wilbur (бесплатные версии книг .txt) 📗
I would like to have my hair set, and although I know we don't really
need them, David, my darling, we should keep in touch with people, like
once a month, don't you think? Has it been that long? David asked
innocently, although each day had been carefully weighed and tallied,
the actuality savoured and the memory stored for the lean times ahead.
David left Debra at the beauty salon, and as he went out he could hear
her pleading with the girl not to put it up into those tight little
curls and plaster it with lacquer and even in the anxiety of the moment,
David grinned for he had always thought of the hairstyle she was
describing as Modem Cape Dutch or Randburg Renaissance.
The postbox was crammed full and David sorted quickly through the junk
mail and picked out the letters from Debra's American agent, and two
envelopes with Israeli stamps. Of these one was addressed in a doctor's
prescription scrawl, and David was surprised that it had found its
destination. The writing on the second envelope was unmistakable, it
marched in martial ranks, each letter in step with the next, and the
high strokes were like the weapons of a company of pike men, spiky and
abrupt.
David found a bench in the park under the purple jacaranda trees, and he
opened Edelman's letter first.
It was in Hebrew, which made deciphering even more difficult.
Dear David, Your letter came as a surprise, and I have since studied the
X-ray plates once more. They seem unequivocal, and upon an
interpretation of them I would not hesitate to confirm my original
prognosis Despite himself, David felt the small stirrings of relief.
However, if I have learned anything in twenty-five years of practice, it
is humility. I can only accept that your observations of
light-sensitivity are correct.
Having done so, then I must also accept that there is at least partial
function of the optic nerves. This presupposes that the nerve was not
completely divided, and it seems reasonable to believe now that it was
only partially severed, and that now, possibly due to the head blows
that Debra received, it has regained some function.
The crucial question is just how great that recovery is, and again I
must warn you that it may be as minimal as it is at the present time,
when it amounts to nothing more than light sensitivity without any
increase to the amount of vision. It may, however, be greater, and it
is within the realms of possibility that with treatment some portion of
sight may be regained.
I do not expect, however, that this will ever amount to more than a
vague definition of light or shape, and a decision would have to be made
as to whether any possible benefit might not be outweighed by the
undesirability of surgery within such a vulnerable area.
I would, of course, be all too willing to examine Debra myself. However,
it will probably be incan venient for you to journey to Jerusalem, and I
have therefore taken the liberty of writing to a colleague of mine in
Cape Town who is one of the leading world authorities on optical trauma.
He is Dr. Ruben Friedman and I enclose a copy of my letter to him.
You will see that I have also despatched to him Debra's original X-ray
plates and a clinical history of her case.
I would recommend most strongly that you take the first opportunity of
presenting Debra to Dr. Friedman, and that you place in him your
complete confidence. I might add that the optical unit of Groote Schuur
Hospital is rightly world-renowned and fully equipped to provide any
treatment necessary
, they do not restrict their activities to heart transplants!
I have taken the liberty of showing your letter to General Mordecai, and
of discussing the case with him David folded the letter the carefully.
Why the hell did he have to bring the Brig into it, talk about a war
horse in a rose garden, and he opened the Brig's letter.
Dear David, Dr. Edelman has spoken with me. I have telephoned Friedman
in Cape Town, and he has agreed to see Debra.
For some years I have been postponing a lecture tour to South Africa
which the S. A. Zionist Council has been urging upon me. I have today
written to them and asked them to make the arrangements.
This will give us the excuse to bring Debra to Cape Town. Tell her I
have insufficient time to visit you on your farm but insist upon seeing
her.
I will give you my dates later, and expect to see you then It was in
typical style, brusque and commanding, presupposing aquiescence. It was
out of David's hands now.
There was no turning back, but there was still the chance that it would
not work. He found himself hoping for that, and his own selfishness
sickened him a little.
He turned over the letter and on the reverse he drafted a dummy letter
from the Brig setting out his plans for the forthcoming tour. This was
for Debra, and he found faint amusement in aping the Brig's style, so
that he might read it aloud to Debra convincingly.
Debra was ecstatic when he read it to her and he experienced a twinge of
conscience at his deceit.
It will be wonderful seeing him again, I wonder if Mother will be coming
out with him -? He didn't say, but I doubt it. 'David sorted the
American mail into chronological order from the post marks, and read
them to her. The first two were editorial comment on Burning Bright and
were set aside for detailed reply, but the third letter was another with
hard news.
United Artists wanted to film A Place of our Owen and were talking
impressively heavy figures for the twelve-month option against an
outright purchase of the property and a small percentage of the profits.
However, if Debra would go to California and write the screenplay, Bobby
Dugan felt sure he could roll it all into a quartermillion-dollar
package. He wanted her to weigh the fact that even established
novelists were seldom asked to write their own screenplays- this was an
offer not to be lightly spurned, and he urged Debra to accept.
Who needs people? Debra laughed it away quickly, too quickly, and David
caught the wistful expression before she turned her head away and asked
brighty, Have you got any of that champagne left, Morgan? I think we
can celebrate, don't you?
The way you're going, Morgan, I'd best lay in a store of the stuff, he
replied, and went to the gas refrigerator.
It foamed to the rim of the glass as he poured the wine, and before it
subsided and he had carried the glass to her, he had made his decision.
Let's take his advice seriously, and think about you going to Hollywood,
he said, and put the glass in her hand.
What's to think about? she asked. This is where we belong. 'No, let's
wait a while before replying What do you mean? She lowered the glass
without tasting the wine.
We will wait until, let's say, until after we have seen the Brig in Cape
Town. Why? She looked puzzled. Why should it be different then?
No reason. It's just that it is an important decision the choice of
time is arbitrary, however. Beseder! she agreed readily, and raised
the glass to toast him. I love you. I love you, he said, and as he
drank he was glad that she had so many roads to choose from.
The Brig's arrangements allowed them three more weeks before the
rendezvous in Cape Town, and David drew upon each hour to the full,
anticipating his chances of expulsion from their private Eden.
They were happy days and it seemed that nature had conspired to give
