Believing the Dream

by Lauraine Snelling

  “What do you want to do?” Relaxed in his chair, the doctor crossed one leg over the other and, fingers steepled beneath his chin, studied his young protégé.

  “I want to go to Chicago and work with Dr. Morganstein.”

  “So what is keeping you from doing just that?”

  Elizabeth leaned back and stared at the branches of the ancient oak tree that sheltered them with limbs large enough to be oak trunks. Leaves still the fresh green of spring rustled in the wind, casting shadows that danced in the sunlight. Oh, to be free to do as she wanted and not be brought down by the guilt that threatened to cut off her breathing. “Good question, that. How can I leave my mother, frail as she is? If she were back on her feet, I would be on that train in an instant. Or at least as soon as I packed, and I can pack light.”

  “Your mother is getting stronger every day, just not so’s you noticed, being with her all day every day as you are.” Dr. Gaskin picked up his glass of tea from the table in front of them both and waved it for emphasis. “Besides, with you here to wait on her hand and foot, what need has she to push herself?” He drank from the glass and watched her over the rim.

  “Are you saying Mother is faking her weakness?” Elizabeth’s eyes widened.

  “No, I never said any such thing. But I’m sure she doesn’t want you to go.”

  “She doesn’t know about the letters.” And I feel like a liar for keeping the secret.

  “Ah.” Dr. Gaskin leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his hands clasped loosely, one finger pointing at her. “You listen to me, young lady. Your mother is on her way back to health, and she doesn’t need you here to mollycoddle her. She does want you to stay home though, and that is her right. I want you to stay here too and work with me, but I know you could gain more by working with Dr. Morganstein, so I’m man enough to let you go.” The twinkle in his eyes told her he was teasing himself as well as her. “So since you asked for my advice, I say go write that fancy doctor and ask if she still has a place for you. If so, you kiss your mother good-bye for a month or two and get on with your life’s work. There, I had my say.” He dusted his hands off and let a sigh escape. “Old fool that I am to cut my own throat like this.” He shook his head as he lumbered to his feet. “Your father finds out I did this, and he’ll slit my throat for me.”

  Elizabeth rose and, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, leaned her head against his shoulder. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. Thank Matilda. She said if I kept you from going, I was a horse’s behind for sure.”

  Elizabeth fought the giggles that threatened to overcome her but finally cupped her hands over her mouth like a little girl and exploded.

  Dr. Gaskin watched her for a few moments, then shook his head. “Personally, I didn’t think it was that funny.”

  Elizabeth called up all her mother’s admonitions on ladylike behavior, but none sufficed. One more look at the doctor’s pained face set her off again.

  “Well, I certainly hope and pray that by the time you earn your medical degree, you will have your emotions under control.”

  Was that a hint of devilment she caught in his eyes? She sucked in a deep breath and, letting it all out, pasted a prime smile in place and answered, “Of course, Doctor.” Inwardly, she chuckled and chortled, and much to her surprise and his as well, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, right in front of his left sideburn.

  “Thank you, my dear. That I shall treasure. Along with the sight of you giggling like a little girl.” He cleared his throat. “Helen and I considered you as close a daughter as God gave us. I’m sure she’s watching over you from heaven, the same as I will always be while I’m on earth. You will be a fine doctor, and I will be the first to shake your hand when you make it.”

  Now Elizabeth had to fight the tears that attacked her as swiftly as had the giggles. She reached over and laid a hand on his. “And for much of my knowledge and experience, I have you to thank.”

  He cleared his throat. “Best not be lounging here all day, no matter how pleasurable. You get on with that letter, and I’ll be on my way.” He stuck out his hand, which she ignored and gave him a hug instead. “Go with God’s blessing as you learn to use the gifts He has given you.”

  Elizabeth put the letter in the mail the next morning and continued on to her father’s office. Today she would get the accounts in order and remind him that he needed to find an assistant for the summer. There was no way he could do it all himself. Sure was a shame Thorliff could not have stayed on. She nodded and smiled to the folks she met on her way, and it wasn’t until she reached the door to the newspaper office that the thought struck her. What if Dr. Morganstein had already filled that position? Perhaps she shouldn’t mention her letter until she received an answer. But then, she had never told her parents about the first letter. She stopped stock still, her hand still on the door. Had Dr. Gaskin spoken with her mother? What a quandary, and all because she was trying to protect her mother. Lord, no wonder you order against a deceitful heart, even when mine wasn’t meant to be one.

  “I can’t do this.”

  “Do what?” The deep voice from behind her made her turn with delight.

  “Ah, Thornton, you are just the right one.”

  “I am? How wonderful, but why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?”

  She tapped the third button on his coat. “You can play pastor and help me out of my dilemma.”

  “The last time I agreed to, and I quote, ‘help you out of a dilemma,’ I got more problems than I planned on.”

  She cocked her head to the right and gazed up at him. “Why do you think that? I kept you safe from all the young ladies who accosted you so recklessly.”

  “True. Never mind, I didn’t mean anything by that.” He took a step back, and by the time he looked into her eyes again, whatever she’d glimpsed there was gone, and his teasing laughter had returned. He took her hand, tucked it under his arm, and swept off his boater with the other. “At your service, milady.”

  “Thornton Wickersham, I’m not in the mood for your teasing. I need a wise answer and I need it now.”

  “Can we search for this wise answer over a soda at Mrs. Sitze’s?” The ice-cream parlor nearby was well frequented by students from both colleges and the townspeople too.

  “That will be fine, but I need to get to work too.”

  “On this fine day I thought perhaps we could go for a ride in the country.” Matching his steps to hers, he smiled down at her.

  With a sigh she shook her head. “I have to get Father’s accounts in order. And that’s why we need to talk.”

  “Because of your father’s accounts?”

  “No, no. This is a long story, so—”

  “So perhaps we should order double sodas if we need fortifying for a l-o-n-g story.”

  “Be serious, if you can.”

  “Oh, I can. What flavor would you like? Black cherry?”

  “That will be fine. Let’s sit in the back under the awning.” She pointed through the red and white decor to the sun-shaded porch in the back. “I’ll go save us a table.”

  “And so,” she said sometime later with the sodas nearly gone, “that’s what my quandary is. What words of wisdom do you have for me?”

  “I don’t want you to go.”

  “Thornton, that has nothing to do with it. You’re leaving for home and—”

  “No, I’m not.” He interrupted her. Something he rarely did.

  She stopped sucking on her straw and stared at him. “I thought you were going home for the summer and then starting your first term at the seminary in the fall.”

  “I was, but now I’ve been offered a position in Minneapolis, and I was coming to tell you. It should give me enough money to cover my first year at the seminary.” He dropped his voice and looked down at the table. “That is, if I don’t get a call to the mission field first.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all. Let u
s turn our attention back to your dilemma. I believe you should sit your mother and father down at the same time, so you don’t have to go through it twice, tell them exactly what happened and why you did it that way, and then . . .” He gave a half shrug and raised one eyebrow.

  “Yes, and then?”

  “And then you have two choices: run like a scared rabbit and don’t return until you are certain they have simmered down, or sit there and listen without answering back or justifying yourself.”

  Elizabeth leaned back against the heart-shaped, twisted wire back of the chair. “Is this the kind of advice you plan on dispensing as a pastor?”

  Thornton took a slow draw on his straw. “Hmm.”

  “Hmm what?”

  “Hmm, I’m thinking.”

  “God help us.”

  “That’s what I forgot. I forgot to tell you to pray first.” He leaned back, complacency written all over his handsome face.

  “And that’s it?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “And of the two, which would you do?”

  “Neither. I wouldn’t have let myself get into such a pickle in the first place.”

  “Well, thank you, but everyone can’t be as perfect as you.”

  “Now, Elizabeth, don’t pout. It doesn’t become you.”

  “I’m not pouting.” She twirled her straw in the now empty soda glass. “I just want some other choices. No, to be honest, I just want it over, so I shall talk with them tonight.” She looked over at him from under her lashes. He wouldn’t be here when she returned from her month or two in Chicago. Funny, but the thought twinged on her heartstrings. Sure, silly, it’s all right for you to be gone, but everyone else should stay the same. “I better get back to the newspaper. Father is going to be calling around looking for me.”

  “I’ll walk you back.”

  “Not necessary.”

  “I know.”

  They exchanged news of the town as they ambled back to the office, and with a tip of his hat, he left her there and continued up the street. For a moment Elizabeth watched him go, then pushed her way into the office, blinking in the dimness, the bell over the door tinkling her entrance.

  “That telephone is going to be the death of me yet.” Her father brushed past her, reaching for his hat as he left.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Barn fire out south of town. If only Thorliff were here. He could cover it.”

  “Since when—”

  But the door slammed behind him, setting the bell to jangling. Elizabeth wanted to rip it off the wall.

  The note on his desk asked that she call the head of the women’s missionary society from the Methodist church about their ice-cream social that had been held on Saturday. Someone was supposed to send in a write-up, and if they didn’t do it today, they would miss this week’s edition.

  “Thorliff, where are you?”

  While her father returned late, Elizabeth kept to her resolve. After supper she invited them both into the music room, where she sat down at the piano. Listening to her play always put them in a gentle mood. But while she tried to relax, her shoulders kept hitching up to her earlobes, and she could tell the difference in the way her fingers felt stiff on the keys. She knew her mother could too, but she persisted, playing their favorite pieces and ending with “Rock of Ages.”

  “Thank you, dear, that was lovely.” Annabelle laid her needlepoint in her lap. “Shall I have Cook bring tea in here?”

  This is the first time she’s had her stitching out since before she got sick. The thought pleased Elizabeth, making what she planned even more possible. “Before she does that, I have something I need to talk with you about.” Elizabeth left the piano bench and went to sit on the floor in front of the sofa where her parents sat close together.

  “You want to sit here?” Phillip patted the seat beside him.

  “No, thanks.” I need to see your faces. Elizabeth wrapped her hands around her legs and rested her chin on her knees. “A few weeks ago I received a letter from Dr. Morganstein inviting me to come and work in her hospital for as long as I wanted to this summer. There would be no pay but room and board and the certainty of a variety of experiences I’ve not access to here.” She raised a hand to stop her mother’s interruption. “I sent her back an apology, turning the invitation down because of the situation we were in here due to the measles and the aftermath.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Annabelle clung to her husband’s hand.

  “I . . . you . . . ah . . .” Elizabeth wasted little energy on the minuscule shrug. “Be that as it may, I did what I felt was best at the moment. But now things are somewhat different. I thought to stay here, Mother, and make sure you kept improving like you have been. I know it is slow, but Dr. Gaskin assures me that you will regain all your strength and—”

  “And you were willing to give up a summer at the hospital in Chicago to care for your mother?” Annabelle leaned forward to tip her daughter’s chin up with one finger. “And I would have let you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you talk this over with us?” Phillip crossed one leg over the other, ankle resting on the opposite knee.

  “I . . .” Elizabeth sucked on her bottom lip. “I . . . it’s time I begin to make my own decisions, and I didn’t want to add any pressure to either of you or to myself, as a matter of fact.” She raised her gaze to meet her father’s. “I am growing up, you know.”

  “Only too well.” Her father huffed and laid a hand on his wife’s back. “We appreciate your trying to make things easier for us. Right, dear?”

  Annabelle nodded but without looking at either of them.

  Get it all out on the table. “I mailed a letter to Dr. Morganstein this morning asking if she still has a place for me, telling her I could leave as soon as she lets me know. I gave her our telephone number.” Elizabeth laid her cheek on her knees and watched her mother. “I would really like your blessing, and it’s not like a lifetime commitment. Only a month or a little more, and then I will be back home getting ready for my senior year.”

  “While I’m not thrilled that you didn’t come to us from the beginning, I understand, and of course you have our blessing.” Phillip paused and looked to his wife.

  The silence stretched before Annabelle finally looked to Elizabeth. “I was hoping you would be content at home and we would have more time together, perhaps even go on another vacation as a family.”

  Elizabeth sighed. How could her mother make her feel so guilty with so few words?

  “But, as your father has said, we give you our blessing.”

  Is there a but hanging on the end of that sentence, or am I imagining things? Elizabeth leaned against her mother’s skirt and raised a hand to grasp her mother’s. “Thank you. Perhaps if you feel up to it, you could come to Chicago when it is time for me to come home, and we could go shopping.” A fate near bad as death but if it will make her smile, it’s worth it.

  “Perhaps. If I feel strong enough.”

  Looking at the purple shadows around her mother’s eyes and the pale skin, Elizabeth tightened her grip. “You will.” Surely you will. God, please, please make this all right.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Blessing, North Dakota

  Driving the teams pulling the cultivator through the foot-tall corn left Thoriff with far too much time to think. Or rather, to remember.

  Here he’d been home three days already, and still he had not had time alone with Anji. He’d gone over to the Baards’ twice, but one time she’d been too busy with her father, and the other time Knute and Swen had talked him into going fishing with them. She’d seemed glad to see him, smiling and welcoming him home. But then her father called, and she ran to help him. Swen and Knute said she did that most of the time, in between caring for the two younger ones, cooking, washing, and all the other women’s work.

  The Mendohlsons had gone back to their own farm with the coming of spring and the need to get the crop
s in. So Mrs. Sam helped out at the Baards’ as much as she could, besides working at the boardinghouse, and some of the other women lent a hand now and then, but Anji was the one whose shoulders bowed under the heaviest weight. Or so it seemed to him after listening to her brothers.

  When he mentioned her name at home, it seemed his family changed the subject, or was it all his imagination? He tried to think it out, but between swatting at flies and keeping track of the team, nothing made much sense.

  “Thorliff, you want buttermilk?” Astrid waved and called from the edge of the field.

  “When I get around there.” He clucked the team to a slightly faster pace and stopped them near her.

  “I brought you cookies too and a chunk of cheese.” She handed him the jug first, knowing how thirsty the men got riding on the machinery.

  “Mange takk.” He glugged another mouthful and took off his hat to wipe his forehead with the back of his hand. “Think I’d forgotten how dusty it can be out here.” Leaning against the iron wheel bristling with lugs, he reached for the cheese. “Aren’t you going to have some?”

  “No, I’m not hungry.” Her sunbonnet hung on the strings down her back, and the skirt of her cotton dress had a big three-corner tear on the side.

  “What happened there?” He pointed to the hole.

  “That barbed-wire fence snagged me. No matter how close I wrap the skirt to my legs, it just has to snag.”

  “You ever think of using the gate?”

  Astrid gave him one of her you’ve-got-to-be-kidding looks, one she’d perfected even more in the last year. “And go all the way back there?”

  Thorliff leaned over and gave a gentle tug on her braid. “You sure did grow up while I was gone.”

  “I grew three inches this year. We marked ’em on the springhouse wall, just like always. Andrew grew five inches. He’s almost as tall as you. Did you grow this year?”

  “I don’t think so. My pants stayed pretty much in the same place.”