Arthur Hailey - Strong Medicine

In a remarkably short time six rabbits had been injected with the oily solution--one injection going into each toe pad. Though distracted by the closeness of those breasts, and though at moments Martin found himself wishing his own head were there instead of a rabbit's, he worked carefully and in unison with Yvonne. The animals were clearly soothed by her loving care, but there was some suffering, and after a while she asked, "Does it have to be the toe pads?" Martin grimaced.”I don't like it either, but that's a good site for making antibodies. Though the injection's painful, and it continues to irritate, the irritation attracts antibody-producing cells.”

The explanation seemed to satisfy Yvonne. When they had finished he said, "You care about animals.”

She looked at him in surprise.”Of course.”

"Not everyone does.”

"You mean Tilly?" A frown crossed Yvonne's face.”She doesn't even like herself.”

"Miss Tilwick doesn't work here anymore.”

"I know. Mr. Bentley told me. He also said to tell you that my qualifications are okay, and if you like me I can do the supervisor's job.,, "I like you," Martin said, then surprised himself by adding, "I like you very much.”

Yvonne giggled.”Goes both ways, Doctor.”

Although, after their first encounter, others took over the animal injections, Mar-tin continued to see Yvonne around the labs. Once, with his mind more on her than on the question, he asked, "If you love animals so much, why didn't you go to veterinary college?" She hesitated, then with unusual terseness said, "I wanted to.”

"What happened?" "I failed an exam.”

"Just one?" "Yes.,, "Couldn't you take the exam again?" "I couldn't afford the waiting time.”

She looked at him directly and he had no choice but to move his eyes upward, meeting hers. Yvonne continued, "My parents didn't have money to support me and I had to start earning. So I became an animal technician the next best thing.”

Then she smiled softly and he knew she was aware of where his eyes had been lingering. That was several weeks ago, and in between, Martin had become preoccupied with other matters. One was a computer analysis of continued tests in the rat maze; it showed that the earlier performances were no fluke and had remained consistent over intervening months. That alone was excellent news but, to top it, there had been a successful refinement of the peptide mix, eventually allowing isolation of a single active peptide. This-the much-sought-after peptide-proved to be the seventh band on the original chromatogram films and was immediately referred to as Peptide 7. Both successes were reported by telex to New Jersey and a congratulatory message came back promptly from Sam Hawthorne. Martin wished he could have communicated also with Celia, but news of her resignation from Felding-Roth had reached him a short time earlier. Though he had no idea what prompted her departure, the fact of it saddened him. Celia had been so much a part of the research project and the Harlow institute, it seemed unfair she would not share in the fruits of what she helped to begin. He knew, too, that he had lost a friend and an ally and wondered if the two of them would ever meet again. It seemed unlikely. Scientifically, only one factor troubled Martin as he lay in bed reviewing these events. It concerned the older rats that had been receiving regular peptide injections over several months. While the rats' memories had improved, their general health had apparently deteriorated. The animals had lost weight noticeably, becoming lean, almost emaciated. After so much recent success, certain newer possibilities were alarming. Could it be that Peptide 7, while beneficial to the mind, was harmful to the body? Would the peptide-treated rats continue to suffer weight loss, become enfeebled, and fade away? If so, Peptide 7 would be unusable, either by animals or humans, and all the scientific work so far-four years of it at Harlow, plus Martin's earlier labors at Cambridge-were tragically in vain. While the specter haunted Martin, he had tried to put it from his mind, at least for a few hours over the weekend. Now, on this Saturday night... No! It had just become Sunday morning... he shifted his thoughts back to Yvonne, returning to the question he had asked a short time earlier: So why haven't you done something? He could telephone her, he supposed, and wished he had considered it sooner. It was too late now. Or was it? Hell! "y not? To his surprise, the call was answered on the first ring. "Hello.”

"Yvonne?" "Yes.”

"This is "I know who it is.”

"Well," he said, "I was lying here, couldn't sleep, and just thought...”

"I couldn't sleep either.”

"I wondered if we might meet tomorrow.”

She pointed out, "Tomorrow's Monday.”

"So it is. Then how about today?" "All right.”

"What time would be best?" "Why not now?" He could hardly believe his good luck as he asked, "Shall I drive over to get you?" "I know where you live. I'll come to you.”

"You're sure?" "Of course.”

He felt he had to say something else. "Yvonne.”

"Yes?" "I'm glad you're coming.”

"So am U' He heard her soft laugh.”I thought you'd never get around to asking.”

In the words of a book title Martin recalled, it was a night to remember. Yvonne's arrival was at once delightful and uncomplicated. After she and Martin kissed warmly, and she had petted the several animals surrounding them in the hallway, she asked, "Where's your bedroom?" "I'll show you," he said, and she followed him upstairs, bringing with her a small overnight bag. In the softly lighted bedroom, Yvonne quickly removed all her clothing, revealing her nakedness while Martin watched, his pulse racing, admiring what he saw--especially those marvelous breasts. When she joined him in bed, they came to each other uninhibitedly, joyously, lovingly. Martin sensed within Yvonne a guileless and generous physical love, seeming to arise from some wellspring of her nature. Perhaps it was a love of life itself, and -of all living creatures, but it expressed itself now in her warm tongue, which seemed everywhere, and in her soft, moving lips which ceaselessly explored him, and in pressures and rhythms of her body, prompting him to respond in kind and in ways which had been alien until this night, but were suddenly instinctive. She murmured, "Don't hurry! Make it last.”

He whispered back, "I'll try.,, Despite the wish, before too long their mutual hunger swept them to a climax. Then the urgency receded, and a sense of peace and comfort came to Martin such as he had seldom known before. Even then his questioning, scientist's mind sought causes for the exceptional serenity. Perhaps, he reasoned, what he felt was simply a relief from built-up tensions. Yet instincts which were non-scientific told him it was something more: that Yvonne was a rare woman blessed with inner peace transmittable to others and with that thought, soon afterward, he fell asleep. He slept deeply and awoke to the sight of daylight and sounds of activity from his kitchen below. Moments later Yvonne appeared, wearing a dressing gown of Martin's and carrying a tray with a teapot, cups and saucers, and toasted crumpets with honey. Surrounding her was the house collection of two dogs and three cats, who seemed to recognize a newfound friend. Yvonne put the tray on the bed where Martin had just sat up. Smiling, she touched the dressing gown.”I hope you don't mind.”

"It looks better on you than me.”

She sat on the bed and began pouring.”You like milk in your tea, but no sugar.”

"Yes, but how did you-" "I asked at the lab. In case I needed to know. By the way, your kitchen is a mess.”

She passed him the tea. "Thank you. Sorry about the kitchen. It's because I live alone.”

"Before I go today, I'll clean it.”