"My car is across tike street." She was silent almost the whole way to the hospital. 'Something bothering you, Doc?" he asked.
"Now you're doing it," she said. "Everybody calls me Doc. I liked it better when you called me Rosa."
He smiled.
"What's on your mind, Rosa?"
She looked down at the dashboard of the car.
"We came all the way to America to get away from them."
"Them?" David asked.
"The same as in Germany," she said tersely. "The Nazis.
The gangsters.
They're the same, really. They both say the same things.
Take us or you'll get the communists.
And we'll be easier to get along with, you can deal with us."
She looked up at him. "But what do you say when you find they've taken everything away from you?
That was the gimmick they used to take over Germany. To save it from the communists."
"You're intimating my friend Irving Schwartz is a Nazi?"
She stared at him.
"No, your friend is not a Nazi," she said seriously. "But the same insanity for power motivates him.
Your friend is a very dangerous man.
He carries a gun, did you know that?"
David nodded. "I saw it."
"I wonder what he would have done it you'd refused him," she said softly.
"Nothing.
Needlenose wouldn't harm me."
Again her gray eyes flashed at him.
"No, not with a gun," she said quickly. "Against you, he has other weapons. Economic weapons that could bankrupt your business.
But a man does not carry a gun if he does not intend to use it, sooner or later."
David stopped the car in front of the hospital.
"What do you think I should have done?
Refuse to make a deal with Irving and let everything I've worked for all these years go to pot?
Ruin every lousy investor who has put his faith and money in the company?
Put our employees out on the streets looking for jobs?
Is that what I should have done?
Is it my fault that my employees haven't brains enough to choose decent representatives and see to it that they have an honest union?"
Without realizing it, his voice had risen in anger. Suddenly, she leaned over and put her hand on his where it rested on the wheel.
Her hand was warm and firm.
"No, of course it's not your fault," she said quickly. "You did what you thought was right."
A doorman came down the long steps and opened the car door.
"Good evening, Dr. Strassmer."
"Good evening, Porter," she said. She straightened up and looked at David. "Would you like to come in and see where I work?"
"I don't want to get in your way.
I don't mind waiting here if you'd rather."
She smiled and pressed his hand suddenly.
"Please come," she said. "It would make me feel happier.
Then, at least, I’d know you weren't angry at me for putting my – how do you say it – two cents into your business."
He laughed, and still holding his hand, she got out of the car and led him up the steps to the hospital.
He stood in the doorway and watched as she gently lifted the bandage from the child's face. She held out her hand silently and the nurse took a swab from a bottle and handed it to her.
"This may hurt a little, Mary," she said. "But you won't move or talk, will you?"
The girl shook her head. "All right, then," Rosa said. "Now we’ll be still, very still." Her voice murmured, low and soothing, as her hand quickly traced the edge of the girl's lips with the swab.
David saw the child's eyes fill with sudden tears. For a moment, he thought she was going to move her head but she didn't.
"That's fine," Rosa said softly as the nurse took the swab from her hand. "You're a brave girl." The nurse efficiently replaced the bandage across the girl's mouth. "Tomorrow morning, we'll take off the bandage and you'll be able to go home."