The Way of Love

by Tracie Peterson

  She all but ran for the car and, once aboard, turned back to find Berkshire hadn’t moved an inch. She wanted to roar in laughter but knew it wasn’t compassionate to make fun of someone about to lose the contents of his stomach.

  Perhaps her love of medicine and all its idiosyncrasies would be enough to drive him away from her without Faith having to be forceful and harsh. She thought of Nancy and Seth’s concerns about Berkshire acting as a spy for the government. It was clear even to her that people like Berkshire served only themselves. Men like him never had any other loyalty. Faith had known a lot of Berkshires in her thirty years of life. So many people pretended interest in one thing while truly seeking to benefit their own desires. She was thankful she’d learned early on about the games people played and the falsehoods of fools.

  Her first mama, as she used to call Eletta Browning, had taught her to give everyone a chance but to guard her heart and mind at the same time. If what others said or did lined up with God’s Word, then that was the first test. The second was in motives. Watching a person’s actions and seeing what was most important to them and their desired end result would help her judge their motives. People who were truly determined to give of themselves and be servants of God would always do so in such a way that was never to their own glory.

  Her second mama, who was in truth the woman who gave her life, reflected that same thought. When Eletta died, Faith had found her journal. Eletta had detailed Faith’s violent conception and birth. Her mother, Hope Flanagan, had been raped and impregnated by the Cayuse brave who’d held her hostage. Hope was only one of many other women. Aunt Mercy had been there too, but she was so small that Hope convinced everyone that Mercy was years younger than her true age. It worked, by some miracle, and Mercy never had to endure the horrors that Faith’s mother had gone through.

  Even thinking of such things now made Faith sad. She hated to see her mother pained and thus seldom brought up her many questions about that time in Hope’s life. She definitely never asked about her biological father.

  Faith had never blamed Hope for giving her to the Brownings. In fact, she seemed to have an innate understanding of it, as well as a great sympathy for her mother. As Faith grew up with Hope and Lance Kenner after the Brownings died, she came to love them both and felt blessed to have had two sets of parents who cared for her. They were the best of people, and she had learned so much from them.

  But there were times she would have liked to know more about her biological father, although the word father seemed like the wrong word entirely. She knew he had been hanged after a trial in Oregon City. She’d later read in the archives of the newspaper that the trial hadn’t really been fair. The government had chosen the Indians to stand trial based on the assurance of some of the women who’d been at the mission. Most felt the men chosen were guilty—after all, they were Indians and in the area at the time of the attack. Some were less convinced. Nevertheless, they were found guilty and hanged. After this event, however, nothing more was mentioned about the guilty, and Faith had no way to learn anything about her history. At first she was frustrated by this, but as time went on, she found God had given her a sense of peace. Isaac Browning had been a blessing in her life. And the only father who really mattered was the one who had taken her in as his own, and Lance Kenner was a wonderful man.

  Faith smiled as the trolley neared her stop. Lance had always encouraged her, even in her endeavor to become a certified doctor and surgeon. There had never been the slightest bit of condemnation in his demeanor that she wasn’t seeking a more feminine path. He knew what she was up against with the laws and her heritage, but Faith knew that if she sought to become a wife and mother, her father and family would support those efforts as well. They would always encourage her, no matter the path, as long as it was one that honored God first.

  As Captain Gratton’s smile flashed through her mind yet again, she reminded herself that the love and support of her parents was all the family she needed.

  CHAPTER 5

  Mrs. Weaver joined the boardinghouse residents for breakfast the next morning. It was Faith’s first real opportunity to meet the older woman, and she found her quite charming. Virginia Weaver’s appearance suggested frailty and shyness, but once she joined the conversation, Faith quickly saw that she was neither frail nor shy.

  “I do love your fried potatoes and gravy,” the older woman declared in her Southern drawl. “It reminds me of home. Mother loved fried potatoes.”

  “I thought Southerners were more given to grits and hominy,” Clementine said, scooping out a portion of sausage gravy.

  “Oh, there is a love for those foods as well,” Mrs. Weaver said, smiling. “As a small child, I used to sneak out to the slave quarters to sample grits and gravy. They were a favorite of mine, but my mother refused to serve them, declaring grits to be slave food.”

  “How sad.” Faith thought of her own upbringing, which encouraged sampling all types of foods. “I mean, if something is good to eat, should it matter where it’s from or who has suggested it?”

  “I’ve dealt with people like that as well,” Nancy joined in. “We once had a summer picnic at church. Quite a few wealthy people attend our church, and when I revealed that I had brought corn bread, you would have thought I’d committed a crime.”

  “Corn bread is a staple for most homes,” Mimi said, shaking her head. “Why be offended?”

  “It’s my experience that the wealthy, more snobbish folk are always offended by something. My corn bread was a success, however, and I had no reason to hold their thoughts against them. If they wanted only white bread, then that just left more corn bread for those who preferred it.”

  Clementine laughed. “Those people only deny themselves. I’ve seen such behavior in their children as well, but I’ve always tried to broaden their experiences. We’ve studied various cultures this year. Nancy got me thinking about it when we went to the Fourth of July celebration last summer. I now keep track of my children’s cultural backgrounds, and we have a special unit on each one. Their mothers often make food for us or even bring in traditional clothing.”

  “Good for you.” Faith speared another piece of sausage. “Education is the way to lessen prejudice. Let folks see that just because we have differences doesn’t mean we are bad or unacceptable. The sooner people put aside prejudices, the sooner we’ll have peace in our country.”

  “It makes me sad to suggest that will never come,” Mrs. Weaver murmured.

  “It is hard to imagine the possibility,” Nancy agreed, “but it must surely be what we strive for in our daily living. If we ignore the problem, it’s not going to diminish.”

  “Truer words were never spoken,” Clementine agreed. “It’s amazing to me how much the small children in my classes hate some races or even genders. I have heard young boys deny the value of their female counterparts until I suggest that without them, humankind would be incomplete.”

  Faith shook her head. “I imagine that was not what those children wanted to hear.”

  “No,” Clementine continued, “but it is easy, as a teacher, to quickly discern what parents believe by what comes out of their children’s mouths.” She glanced up at the clock. “Oh goodness, look at the time. We’re going to be late, Mimi, if we don’t hurry.”

  That declaration sped up the meal for everyone, even though Nancy, Faith, and Mrs. Weaver had nowhere in particular to be. Faith’s first class wasn’t until ten o’clock, so she eased back in her seat and sipped her coffee in leisure.

  “I understand you’re attending college to become a doctor,” Mrs. Weaver said as Mimi and Clementine bid them good-bye.

  Faith gave the ladies a wave, then turned her full attention to Mrs. Weaver. “I am. I’ve considered myself a physician since I was twenty, but this way I’ll have the paperwork behind me to back my claim.”

  “I cannot imagine enjoying such . . . intimate work.”

  Faith nodded. “It certainly isn’t for everyone. The very thought
of doing what a physician must do is overwhelming to most. But it’s my calling. I felt from a young age that God wanted me to work one-on-one with people. I had no idea what that would entail, but as I grew older, I found myself fascinated by the healing arts. It’s so fulfilling to comfort and care for someone who is injured or ill. It also allows me to share my faith, which is always a privilege.”

  Mrs. Weaver nodded. “It is, isn’t it? Telling someone about God’s goodness and what He has done to benefit and protect us should always be considered a privilege, yet it so seldom is.” The old woman slipped several biscuits into her pocket as if she were doing nothing more unusual than placing her napkin on the table.

  Faith had watched Mrs. Weaver throughout their meal. She was always slipping something into her pocket. At first Faith had thought she was taking the silver, but it soon became evident that the old woman was only interested in food. At one point she had wrapped several sausage links in a well-worn napkin before putting that in her apron pocket. What was she up to? Surely Nancy allowed her the freedom to come for food throughout the day should she need it.

  Later, after Mrs. Weaver had retired to her room with a fresh pitcher of water, Faith asked Nancy about the situation.

  “I used to think she had a hidden pet—that perhaps she had slipped a cat or dog in among her crates. I thought that was also the reason she refused to use the community facilities and instead insisted on a chamber pot. You know, in order to manage the waste. But I’ve never heard anything that would suggest an animal is on the premises. Surely we would have heard barking or mewing.”

  “Perhaps because she lived through the War Between the States, she suffered from hunger. The South was very hard hit and deprived in order to force it back into compliance with the North. I’ve read that many people starved to death—especially in prisoner of war camps.”

  “Seth suggested the same thing. For me, it really doesn’t matter. She has never been difficult to manage, so I refuse to interfere. The few times I have gone into her room, I never find it in disarray. In fact, she keeps better house than I do.”

  Faith laughed. “I find that doubtful.”

  “Well, overall,” Nancy said, getting to her feet as she began to collect dishes, “I’m rather glad to have less work. Especially now.”

  “Why especially now?”

  Nancy smiled. “I’ve been dying to tell someone, but I wanted to be certain. I believe I’m going to have a baby.”

  Faith beamed. “Truly? That’s wonderful news. Have you told Seth?”

  “No. I wanted to be sure. I suppose I’m still not completely sure. I’ve wanted a baby for so long. The entire eight years I was married to Albert, I longed for a baby and never once did I conceive. Now I’ve only been married to Seth for four months, and during that time I’ve ceased having my monthly times. That’s never happened before.”

  “A wedding night baby.” Faith couldn’t conceal her joy. “Why don’t you let me check for sure? By now I can probably tell from the feel of things.”

  Nancy abandoned the dishes. “Right now?”

  “Sure, why not? Let’s go to your room. Lie down and loosen your waistband. You certainly aren’t showing much, but I’ve seen women carry very low and hardly show at all their entire term.”

  Nancy wiped her hands on her apron and then pulled the strings. “I would feel better knowing for sure. I thought about making a trip home to see Mother, but I knew if I mentioned it out of the blue, Seth would worry about what was wrong. Besides, we’re already planning the trip home for Christmas.”

  Faith followed Nancy down the hall to her room. “Well, your mother is much better at just knowing than I am. I swear she can look at a woman and tell if she’s with child.”

  “Mother is gifted, but so are you. I hope you know how proud we all are of you.”

  Nancy undid the buttons on her skirt and climbed onto the bed. Faith pulled the front of Nancy’s blouse from the waistband and reached for her abdomen. “My hands are probably cold.” Faith paused and rubbed her hands on her wool skirt, hoping to warm them.

  “I am sure I won’t care.” Nancy’s grin went from ear to ear. “I’m just so happy. I know I shouldn’t get my hopes up, but I can’t help it.”

  Faith felt her cousin’s abdomen. It was immediately apparent that Nancy was pregnant. “You are definitely with child. I can feel the top of your uterus just here.” She pressed and smiled. “There are measurements that can be done, but from my experience, I would say you are as you thought, about four months along.”

  “Oh, I can hardly contain my joy. This is more than I ever dreamed possible.”

  “What’s going on?”

  The two women turned toward the door to find Seth. Nancy blushed. “What are you doing here? I thought you were long gone. Didn’t you have some sort of client meeting?”

  Seth was too concerned to answer his wife’s question. “Are you ill?” He looked to Faith.

  “I’m not sick at all,” Nancy declared before Faith could even speak. “Faith was just confirming my suspicions. We’re going to have a baby!”

  Seth paled. “A . . . baby?”

  “Yes.” Nancy sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She hurriedly tucked her blouse into the waistband of her skirt, then fastened the buttons. “And Faith just confirmed my calculations. This is a honeymoon baby, and we should expect this little one in . . .” She looked to Faith.

  “About five months. So sometime in May.”

  The news began to make sense to Seth, and he started to smile. “A baby. In May. Well, I’ll be.”

  Nancy crossed the room and threw herself into his arms. “I’ve been fairly certain for a while, but I wanted to make sure before I said anything to get your hopes up. I’m so happy. I’ve wanted a child for so long.”

  “My dear wife, I couldn’t be more pleased.” He kissed her with the utmost of tender affection.

  Faith looked away and smiled to herself. A baby in the house would be wonderful. No doubt all of the boarders would find the addition a blessing.

  Of course, if things went as planned, Faith would graduate in late April and already be thinking of her next move. For now, however, she needed to focus on her studies and classes. She needed to complete her thesis paper as well. At least she was in the final stages of that obligation.

  The Friday before Christmas, Faith stepped in front of Mrs. Lakewood’s gathering of friends and smiled. She had dressed in her finest wool suit—a dark green trimmed in black piping. She wore a high-necked lacy blouse and knew she looked acceptable. But still, in the back of her mind, she could hear that voice reminding her that she was a half-breed. These women would never have been so accepting and generous had they known the truth, and that bothered Faith a great deal. More and more she wrestled with whether she was doing wrong by claiming her white heritage.

  “First, I want to thank you for your kind invitation to come here today, Mrs. Lakewood. It is an honor.”

  Lakewood’s wife nodded and gave a hint of a smile. She and her friends were sedate and serious for the most part. They were some of Portland’s finest society and were not easily accepting of unfamiliar people or ideas.

  Without further ado, Faith began her speech. “As Mrs. Lakewood mentioned in her introduction, I attend the medical college sponsored by Willamette University. The university started the first medical college in the Pacific Northwest in 1866 and began admitting women in 1877. I am privileged to be among the first.”

  She could tell by the bored expressions on her audience members’ faces that they were unimpressed. Faith steadied herself and smiled.

  “I have been involved in midwifery and healing since I was a child. I have helped deliver hundreds of babies and have treated numerous wounds, diseases, and injuries. By the time I was fifteen, I knew that working in medicine was what God had called me to do.”

  The looks of the women turned skeptical, but at least the boredom was gone. Faith pressed on. “In this world, it
is common for women to be attended by women in childbirth. Most deliveries, particularly in rural settings, are performed by women in the family. Midwives are only sent for in cases of distress or emergency. The simple reason doctors are not in attendance is that childbirth is not considered a major event worthy of a doctor’s attention, even though it is the most common reason for death in women. Most doctors are male, which is also a strong reason for eliminating them from the birthing room. Women don’t want a strange man present in such an intimate situation.” At this comment, Faith couldn’t help but remember Andrew Gratton referring to himself as a “strange man.” The thought made her smile.

  “My thoughts on the matter are similar to those of many other women. Childbirth is probably the most important thing we will ever be a part of, and the safety of our babies, as well as ourselves, merits better understanding and consideration. Keeping that in mind, it has been established through various polls that women find the idea of a female doctor to be a comfort in such situations. Further, they also appreciate the idea of female physicians for other circumstances isolated to the female anatomy. All of this is to say that the importance of supporting women in medicine cannot be underestimated. We are quite fortunate that the men of our state took our needs seriously and established a place for female students in the medical college.”

  She paused, not sure how much time Mrs. Lakewood had allotted for her speech. “Are there questions?”

  When no one said anything and Mrs. Lakewood remain seated, Faith continued.

  “Our studies are quite vigorous and demanding. We study anatomy in detail, and we also must complete classes in physiology, chemistry, therapeutics, the theory and practice of medicine, surgery, and obstetrics, as well as diseases of women and children. We are required to attend numerous lectures and clinics on all of the practical branches of medicine and to complete a lengthy and detailed paper on a topic to be approved by the college. There is little time for anything else in our lives, as you might guess.”