A Century of Progress Read Free Page A

did not appear surprised or angered. “No, that isn’t it. Have you seen me talking to relatives of any other patients? And I haven’t asked you for money; I’ll turn down money if you offer it. I say again, I’m asking only for a small amount of your time. Perhaps two days.”
    “My time, doing what, driving an old truck? You could hire a lot better drivers than I am.”
    The young lady leaned forward a little on the bench, eagerly, as if she felt that she was starting to get somewhere. “Driving a truck is only part of it. But nothing about it will be very hard for you. You have all the qualifications that we want.”
    “Such as what?”
    “We’ll discuss the details when you’ve told me that in principle you agree. Two days of your time?”
    Norlund thought that he would eventually say that he agreed, just to see what came next. But not yet. “No, lady, I just don’t buy it. You really claim that this mysterious group of yours is responsible for Sandy’s getting well?”
    “Yes, I do.” “
    “And how did they work this miracle cure?”
    “When you’ve agreed to give us two days, a lot of things will be explained to you.”
    “And so I should go and drive your antique truck. And stand on streetcorners and hand out pamphlets for your cult.”
    It was Ginny Butler’s turn to sigh; it was a sound that spoke of disappointment, but not surprise. And now she surprised Norlund. “All right, Alan, I see we can’t get anywhere just yet. You’ll be able to meet me here.” And she stood up quickly from the bench. Again her dark curls bounced as she walked away, not looking back. This time she left the park in a different direction.
    If she was expecting Norlund to come chasing after her, she was disappointed.
    That afternoon Norlund went to see Sandy again. They discussed her hopeful plans of being able to go home soon, and tried to figure out how many doctors might have to give their approval. Norlund also had to come up with an opinion as to which of Sandy’s girlfriends she ought to telephone first upon her release; this subject took up more time than the question of the doctors, as there were social intricacies involved. Then, with her grandfather’s prodding, the patient even summoned up strength enough to write two brief notes in reply to get-well cards.
    On Saturday morning Norlund, for some reason feeling newly edgy, was back in Sandy’s room. He was early, but the oncologist had been in already, and had ordered another scan. Sandy was once again experiencing some pain and swelling.
    Norlund, looking closely into his granddaughter’s face, made sure to keep an encouraging smile on his own. Even when he saw signs that the bad days had come again. There was a change around the eyes, the reappearance and waxing of the evil shadow.
    He phoned Marge from the hospital, and talked to his daughter gently, trying to prepare her for the setback when she came in later. He repeated the latest hopeful words of one of the doctors about chemotherapy.
    And once again, at one thirty in the afternoon, having just seen Sandy ask for and receive her first pain-reliever in almost a week, Norlund was back on the park bench. He waited there through a mild shower, hardly aware that he was getting wet.
    This time he didn’t notice from which direction Ginny Butler came, but here she was again. Today she had on a translucent plastic raincoat, over jeans and a dark sweater. It was colder again today, but Norlund hadn’t noticed it till now.
    He found himself standing. “What have you done to her?”
    A momentary flash of triumph showed in the woman’s eyes. She flinched a little from Norlund’s anger, but continued to confront him. She said: “We’ve done nothing to harm her. Nothing at all.”
    “She’s had a turn for the—”
    “Refusal to help someone is not necessarily a crime.”
    “Oh no?” His throat felt tight.
    “Mr. Norlund. If you were to walk off in that direction, in maybe half a mile you’d come