'Very neat job, Wells,' Dr. Harlow said. Homer observed the injection of the 0.5 percent Procaine into the wound and the subsequent probing of Dr. Harlow. The knife had entered on the palmar side of the hand, observed Homer Wells. He remembered his Gray's, and he remembered the movie he had seen with Debra Pettigrew: the cavalry officer with the arrow in his hand, the arrow that fortunately missed the branch of the median {467} nerve that goes to the muscles of the thumb. He watched the sailor move his thumb.

Dr. Harlow was looking. There's a rather important branch of the median nerve,' Dr. Harlow said slowly, to the cut-up sailor. 'You're lucky if that's not cut.'

'The knife missed it,' said Homer Wells.

'Yes, it did,' said Dr. Harlow, looking up from the wound. 'How do you know?' he asked Homer Wells, who held up the thumb of his right hand and wiggled it.

'Not only an ether expert, I see,' said Dr. Harlow, still snidely. 'Knows all about muscles, too!'

'Just about that one,' said Homer Wells. 'I used to read Gray's Anatomy-for fun,' he added.

'For fun?' said Dr. Harlow. 'I suppose you know all about blood vessels, then. Why not tell me where all this blood is coming from.'

Homer Wells felt Nurse Caroline brush his hand with her hip; it was surely sympathetic contact-Nurse Caroline didn't care for Dr. Harlow, either. Despite Candy's certain disapproval, Homer couldn't help himself. The blood vessel is a branch of the palmar arch,' he said.

'Very good,' said Dr. Harlow, disappointed. 'And what would you recommend I do about it?'

'Tie it,' said Homer Wells. Three-o chromic.'

'Precisely,' said Dr. Harlow. 'You didn't get that from Gray's.' He pointed out to Homer Wells that the knife had also cut the tendons of the flexor digitorum profundus and the flexor digitorum sublimis. 'And where might they go?' he asked Homer Wells.

'To the index finger,' Homer said.

'Is it necessary to repair both tendons?' asked Dr. Harlow.

'I don't know,' said Homer Wells. 'I don't know a lot about tendons,' he added.

'How surprising!' said Dr. Harlow. 'It is only necessary to repair the profundus,' he explained. 'I'm going to use {468} two-o silk. I'll need something finer to bring the edges of the tendon together.'

'Four-o silk,' recommended Homer Wells.

'Very good,' said Dr. Harlow. 'And something to close the palmar fascia?'

'Three-o chromic,' said Homer Wells.

'This boy knows his stitches!' Dr. Harlow said to Nurse Caroline, who was staring intently at Homer Wells.

'Close the skin with four-o silk,' Homer said. 'And then I'd recommend a pressure dressing on the palm-you'll want to curve the fingers a little bit around the dressing.'

'That's called “the position of function,”' Dr. Harlow said.

'I don't know what it's called,' Homer said.

'Were you ever in medical school, Wells?' Dr. Harlow asked him.

'Not exactly,' said Homer Wells.

'Do you plan to go?' Dr. Harlow asked.

'It's not likely,' Homer said. He tried to leave the operating room then, but Dr. Harlow called after him.

'Why aren't you in the service?' he called.

'I've got a heart problem,' Homer said.

'I don't suppose you know what it's called,' said Dr. Harlow.

'Right,' said Homer Wells.

He might have found out about his pulmonary valve stenosis on the spot, if he had only asked; he might have had an X-ray, and an expert reading-he could have learned the truth. But who seeks the truth from unlikable sources?

He went and read some stories to the tonsillectomy patients. They were all dumb stories-children's books didn't impress Homer Wells. But the tonsillectomy patients were not likely to be around long enough to hear David Copperfield or Great Expectations.

Nurse Caroline asked him if he would give a bath and a back rub to the large man recovering from the prostate operation. {469}

'Don't ever underestimate the pleasure of pissing,' the big man told Homer Wells.

'No, sir,' Homer said, rubbing the mountain of flesh until the big man shone a healthy pink.

Olive was not home when Homer returned to Ocean View; it was her time for plane spotting. They used what was called the yacht-watching tower at the Haven Club, but Homer didn't think any planes had been spotted. All the men spotters-most of them Senior's former drinking companions-had the silhouettes of the enemy planes tacked on their lockers; the women brought: the silhouettes home and stuck them on places like the refrigerator door. Olive was a plane spotter for two hours every day.

Homer studied the silhouettes that Olive had on the refrigerator.

I could learn all those, he was thinking. And I can learn everything there is to know about apple farming. But what he already knew, he knew, was near-perfect obstetrical procedure and the far easier procedure-the one that was against the rules.

He thought about rules. That sailor with the slashed hand had not been in a knife fight that was according to anyone's rules. In a fight with Mr. Rose, there would be Mr. Rose's own rules, whatever they were. A knife fight with Mr. Rose would be like being pecked to death by a small bird, thought Homer Wells. Mr. Rose was an artist -he would take just the tip of a nose, just a button or a nipple. The real cider house rules were Mr. Rose's.

And what were the rules at St. Cloud's? What were Larch's rules? Which rules did Dr. Larch observe, which ones did he break, or replace-and with what confidence? Clearly Candy was observing some rules, but whose? And did Wally know what the rules were? And Melony-did Melony obey any rules? wondered Homer Wells.

'Look,' said Lorna. 'There's a war, have you noticed?' {470}

'So what?' said Melony.

'Because he's probably in it, that's so what!' Lorna said. 'Because he either enlisted or he's gonna get drafted.'

Melony shook her head. 'I can't see him in a war, not him. He just doesn't belong there.'

'For Christ's sake,' Lorna said. 'You think everyone in a war belongs there?'

'If he goes, then he'll come back,' Melony said. The ice on the Kennebec in December was not secure; it was a tidal river, it was brackish, and there was open water, gray and choppy, in the middle. But not even Melony could throw a beer bottle as far as the middle of that river in Bath. Her bottle, bouncing off the creaky ice, made a hollow sound and rolled toward the open water it couldn't reach. It disturbed a gull, who got up and walked a short way along the ice, like an old woman holding up a number of cumbersome petticoats above a puddle.

'Not everyone's comin' back from this war-that's all I'm sayin',' Lorna replied.

Wally had trouble coming back from Texas. There were a series of delays, and bad weather; the landing field was closed-when Homer and Candy picked him up in Boston, the first thing he told them was that he had only forty-eight hours. He was still happy, however-'He was still Wally,' Candy would say later-and especially pleased that he'd received his commission.

'Second Lieutenant Worthington!' Wally announced to Olive. Everyone cried, even Ray.

With the gas rationing, they couldn't manage the usual driving around and around. Homer wondered when Wally would want to be alone with Candy and how they would manage it. Surely he wants to manage it, Homer thought. Does she want to, too? he wondered.

For Christmas Eve everyone was together. And Christmas Day there was nowhere to go; Olive was {471} home, and Ray wasn't building torpedoes or pulling lobster traps. And the day after Christmas, Candy and Homer would have to take Wally back to Boston.

Oh, Candy and Wally did plenty of hugging and kissing -everyone could see that. On Christmas night, in Wally's bedroom, Homer realized that he'd been so glad to see Wally that he'd forgotten to notice very much about his second Christmas away from St. Cloud's. He also realized he'd forgotten to send Dr. Larch anything -not even a Christmas card.