Believing the Dream

by Lauraine Snelling

  “They at least eat the putrefaction. I read a paper that said that during the war, they learned that maggots could clean a wound better than anything man had yet to devise. Carbolic not withstanding.”

  Elizabeth shuddered. “I’m afraid I washed them away.”

  “Perhaps they had done their job. Alcohol is a viable alternative.”

  “Thank you.” Elizabeth rose, and taking her kerchief out of her apron pocket, tied the triangle over her hair again. The two made their way down the hall to the children’s ward.

  Annie met them at the door. “I-I’m sorry, she’s gone. There just wasn’t time to help her none.”

  Elizabeth sagged against the wall. “What happened?”

  “She just quit breathing.”

  “You should have called me.”

  “ ’Twas too late.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “You did the best you could.” Why, Lord, did I stop for supper and a visit with the doctor? I should have stayed here. Perhaps I . . . She slumped against the wall, lost in her recriminations.

  “No, my child, you do not waste your energy on what has been. You save it to fight for the next one. Only God has control over life and death, in spite of how hard we try.” Dr. Morganstein took her arm and led her back up to her room. “You go to bed early, and things will look better in the morning. Often I have to remind myself that weeping endures for the night, but joy comes in the morning. That’s one of the verses I cling to when despair seems imminent.”

  Through the next three weeks Elizabeth had many opportunities to remember the doctor’s words and take them for her own. When the day arrived that she was to leave, she trailed through the hospital, imprinting each ward and room in her mind. She gave Patrick a hug, which turned his ears bright red.

  “Th-thank ’ee, miss.”

  Back in the doctor’s office, she felt like a little girl called before the principal.

  “You’ll have one more summer before you start med school. You are welcome to spend as much of it as you want or are able to here with us.” Dr. Morganstein handed her an envelope. “Just a bit to show our gratitude.”

  “But it is I who must be grateful.” Elizabeth stuttered to a stop. “You do want me to come back?” Joy burst like a firecracker.

  “I don’t want you to leave, but your mother will be here any moment, and I know she is looking forward to your time together. We will keep in touch, and I will send a letter of recommendation to whomever you need me to. Between my dear friend Issy Josephson and I, we will get you into a medical school somewhere. You can count on that.”

  “Thank you.” Please, Mother, come before I turn into a weeping puddle right here.

  That night at the hotel, her mother asked, “Was it all you hoped?”

  “Far more than I could even dream, but I have a favor to ask. Could we have dinner brought here to our room so I could spend an hour or two in that lovely bathtub?”

  “Of course, dear. But tomorrow we shop. You promised.”

  Elizabeth groaned but leaned over to give her mother a hug, cheek to cheek. “You look well again. Thank you for my summer.” As if she would ever get it out of her mind.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Northfield, Minnesota

  August 1894

  “Elizabeth, I have to talk with you.”

  Thornton’s voice sounded strange, even over the telephone. “Fine, but I haven’t even been home two hours.” Elizabeth rubbed her forehead where a headache had started up during the last hours of the train ride. Or had it started during the long hours of shopping with her mother in Chicago? Why was it that shopping made her far more weary than the longest shift at the hospital?

  “Would it be all right if I came over about three?”

  “Why don’t you make it four and plan on staying for supper?”

  “We’ll see.”

  Elizabeth hung up the earpiece and stared at the oak box. What was it she heard in Thornton’s voice? She trailed one hand on the banister as she climbed the stairs to the upper hall.

  “Who was that?” Annabelle asked, coming out of her room.

  “Thornton. He’ll most likely be joining us for supper.”

  “On our first night home?”

  “I know. Something is wrong, I’m afraid, but he wouldn’t say, just that he’d see me at four.”

  “Hmm.” Annabelle peered more closely at her daughter’s face. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “A headache is all. I’m going to take a bit of laudanum and lie down.”

  “That sounds like a marvelous idea. Just what I planned too, the lie-down part, that is.” Annabelle took her daughter’s hand. “Thank you for the shopping and the concert. I feel better than I have for so long. And your Dr. Morganstein is an amazing woman. You are fortunate to have such a fine patroness.”

  “I know. Rest well.” Elizabeth kissed her mother’s cheek and crossed to her own room. In spite of the humidity of this August day, a breeze lifted the sheer white curtains at her window. After removing her travel clothes, she wrung out a cloth in the cool water of the pitcher and lay down with the cloth across her forehead and eyes. Within moments she was sound asleep, her last thought about Thornton.

  “Dear.”

  Elizabeth felt her shoulder being shaken and her mother’s voice but somehow failed to find the energy to respond.

  “Elizabeth, Thornton is here. He’s waiting out in the garden to talk with you.”

  Elizabeth opened her eyes and stretched her arms above her head. “I was having such a nice dream.” She tossed the now dry cloth toward the basin and sat up. “Please tell him I’ll be there in a few minutes. How I would have loved a bath first.”

  “I’ve told Cook to expect another for supper. I was thinking of a tray in my room, but . . .”

  “Thank you. I know he wouldn’t have called if it weren’t something important.”

  Elizabeth slipped into a light robe and spent as little time in the bathroom as she could manage, resisting even looking at the tub, sure that her longing alone would turn on the taps. The fragrance of bubble bath would be such a treat after the weeks of running full speed ahead at the hospital.

  Back in her room feeling some refreshed, she chose a dress of white lawn with bluebells sprinkled over it and a blue sash at the waist with matching trim above the skirt ruffle. After slipping it over her head, she sat down at the dressing table to brush her hair. She’d worn it coiled in back for so long that brushing it out to flow over her shoulders felt almost sinful. She tied it back with a blue ribbon the same as her sash, slid her feet into doeskin slippers, and made her way downstairs. The piano called to her from the music room that no longer held the bed she’d set up for her mother, another visible sign that Annabelle was, if not back to normal, at least close. Half an hour at the piano would set her spirits to right; perhaps Thornton would rather listen to her play than talk.

  “I have lemonade ready for you anytime you want and the lemon cookies Mr. Wickersham likes so well.” Cook nodded to the tray.

  “Thank you. I’ll take that out with me.” Elizabeth blew her old friend a kiss and took the tray outside, opening the screen door with her elbow.

  “Elizabeth, I could have come for that.” Thornton sprang to his feet and rushed to help her.

  “I know, but I was on my way out.” If only he knew of all the truly heavy things I’ve been lugging around these last weeks. She let him take the tray, the better to observe him for a moment. Surely something was bothering him. His eyes tattled.

  “Won’t you sit down?” He motioned to the wrought-iron chair padded with thick cushions in red-and-white check.

  Elizabeth took one of the glasses and settled into the chair. “Cook made your favorite cookies.”

  He nodded without looking at her. “I . . . I know.”

  “Come, Thornton, whatever can be so bad? Tell me, and perhaps I can help.” She kept her voice light and her smile ready.

  Head hanging, elbows on his knees with hand
s dangling between, he looked like he’d been severely castigated.

  “Thornton, what is it? You are frightening me.”

  “Ah, Elizabeth, forgive me.” He looked across the glass-topped table. “I just don’t know where to start.”

  “They say to always start at the beginning. That’s easiest.”

  “Perhaps, but not necessarily in this case.” He reached across the table and laid his hand palm up. She put hers into it, keeping her gaze on his face.

  “I . . . I’ve received a call, a call to the mission field.”

  “Already? I thought you had decided to attend seminary first.”

  “Me too, but the pastor friend that I told you about has requested that I come now and work under him. He is that desperate for assistance.”

  “Is this what you want to do?”

  “You know it is what I believe I am being called to, the mission field, I mean. Originally I had thought more to the Orient than Africa, but I will go wherever the Lord sends me.”

  “So . . .” Elizabeth turned her head slightly to the side, studying his face. What then is wrong? He is just going early. “I don’t understand. Why is this bothering you so much, unless you no longer want to go.”

  “Sometimes things don’t go the way we planned.”

  “So?”

  He sat straighter in his chair. “Do you remember when you asked me to pretend to be falling in love with you?”

  “Of course, and we’ve both been saved a lot of trouble because of our agreement.” She leaned forward and tapped his hand. “Haven’t we?”

  “Yes, and we’ve had some good times too. But that is part of the problem.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I didn’t hold up to my part of the bargain.”

  “Of course you did. Why, we’ve become the best of friends and—”

  “That’s the problem.”

  “Thornton Wickersham, just speak out what you have to say. This pussyfooting around is not like you.”

  He went down on one knee in front of her. “All right. This is as plain as I can make it, but remember, this wasn’t what I planned.”

  “I see.”

  “Elizabeth, I . . .” He took both of her hands in his. “I have fallen in love with you, and I’m asking you to marry me and come to the mission field by my side.”

  Elizabeth would have laughed but for the expression on his face. “In love with me? You think you love me?”

  “I don’t think so. I know so. Didn’t you have even a hint?”

  She shook her head, disbelief keeping the motion going. “No. I thought one time that if I were ever to think about marriage you would make a fine husband, but you know I don’t believe that is what God is calling me to do. I am to be a doctor, and after my weeks at the hospital, I am more convinced of that than ever.”

  “But that doesn’t have to mean you don’t love me. I will go now and come back for you when you have finished medical school, or I shall stay here and finish school myself, and we can go together.”

  But, Thornton, I don’t love you, not that way at least.

  “Please, Elizabeth, darling, don’t say no, don’t even think no, just say you will think about this.”

  She opened her mouth, then snapped it closed.

  “I do love you, and your agreeing to become my wife would make me the happiest man to walk this earth.”

  Elizabeth kept her groan to herself with the most diligent of discipline. “Thornton, I . . .”

  He laid a finger along her lips. “Please, just prayerfully consider this.” He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it. “I think I better be going.”

  “I thought you were staying for supper. Cook has prepared extra for you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Sure of what? That you can eat with us just as you have in the past? Is this, ah, pronouncement of yours to change everything?” She knew she was only making the situation worse. A thought made her stop. “Thornton, did you ask my father for permission to ask me this?”

  “A long time ago. When we first began the charade. I knew it would not be proper without it.”

  “O-h.” The word became a groan. “I never knew that.” No wonder her mother and father had been so unquestioning when she had gone places with him. They really thought a romance had been in the making.

  A charade all right. Only now one of the players had changed the rules. And she was sure she didn’t want to play anymore.

  That night in bed, she replayed the scene in the garden. Had there been any thrill when he kissed her hand?

  No, none.

  Shouldn’t there be if she were in love with him?

  “Of course.” She sat up and punched her pillows into a backrest. “At least that’s what all the books say. How would I know?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “The real question is, do I want to go to Africa with Thornton, as Mrs. Thornton Wickersham?” She waited for some answer to strike, then melted into the pillows. “No, the real question is, do I love Thornton Wickersham? Am I in love with him?” She waited again. The no that whispered through the breeze from the window echoed in her heart and head. “Oh yes, I love Thornton Wickersham all right, but only as the brother I never had. Not like a woman who dreams of marriage.” She pulled the pillows out flat and curled onto her side. “I said I was never going to marry, and Lord, it sure seems that way. Now, how do I tell him this? I feel like a creature crawling out of a slimy bog.

  “Lord, forgive me for causing hurt to my friend. This isn’t what I wanted to have happen. I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.” She got up and went to stand by the window, lifting her hair off the back of her neck, wishing for a cool breeze. Now, how to tell Thornton?

  Over breakfast the next morning Elizabeth tried to explain the situation to her mother. “But I don’t love him.” She’d repeated herself once already, but Annabelle didn’t seem to be hearing.

  “Love grows, dear. You will be a lovely bride.”

  “Mother, you are not listening to me. I am not marrying Thornton. I do not love him, and besides, I have said all along that I would not be marrying anyone. I am going to be a doctor.”

  “I see. Of course, but there is no need to say this right now. Give yourself time to get used to the idea.”

  If stamping her foot would get her the attention she needed, she would have, or slamming doors, but instead she just shook her head.

  She’d known better than to confide this to her mother, but she needed wise advice, not total lack of comprehension.

  “I’m going to the office. I’m sure Father’s accounts are in total disarray by now.”

  “No, they aren’t. I’ve taken over that part of the business, and Phillip says I am doing almost as well as you did.” At the shock on her daughter’s face, Annabelle continued. “I think your father offered me the position as a way to get me feeling better, and it worked.”

  “Well, I’ll be . . .” Elizabeth shook her head slowly from side to side as if in a state of shock. “After all these years.”

  “I know. I should have realized a long time ago that if I can manage the household accounts, I could manage the newspaper’s also, but it wasn’t until you were gone that I . . .” Annabelle shrugged and half smiled. “This will make the last year of college easier for you too.”

  “Yes.” Elizabeth reached for the doorknob. “I think I’ll go on over to Dr. Gaskin’s then and pass on some things I learned at the hospital. I’ll be home in time for dinner.”

  “Good, dear, and if you see Thornton, invite him to join us.”

  Stifling groans was becoming epidemic for her.

  “Well, congratulations, missy.” Dr. Gaskin looked up from his notes.

  “For what?” Elizabeth stopped in the doorway.

  “I hear you and Thornton Wickersham are engaged.”

  “Now, where did you hear that?” Biting off words was becoming easier also.

  “Ah, oh-oh. And top of the morning to you too. I’
m not sure who I heard it from, and I’d not tell you if I could remember. Also, I will make sure the news never passes my lips.”

  “Good, because while he has asked me to marry him, I have not given him a final answer.”

  “I take it the answer is not one that will make our young man overly delighted.”

  “First of all, he is not ‘our young man,’ and secondly, you are right. I’ve always said I would not marry, and just because I’ve been asked, that doesn’t change my assertions. Now can we talk about some things I learned this summer that you might like to use for the good of your patients?”

  “Sit yourself down and let’s talk. I have fifteen minutes until they open the doors and the ill and injured flood in.”

  Later, when she left the doctor’s office, she started downtown, but after the second congratulations, she turned around and went home instead. How had the word gotten out so quickly, and how was she going to stem the gossip before it got back to Thornton?

  She stomped up the front steps to her own home and slammed the door behind her. Her heels made a satisfying click on the hall floor and across the parlor to the office where her mother sat writing a letter.

  “Mother, we have to talk.”

  “In a minute.”

  “Now.”

  “Elizabeth Rogers, whatever is the matter? You are being rude, and your face is red as a sunburn.”

  “Mother, who have you told about this supposed engagement between Thornton and me?”

  “Why, no one.” Annabelle laid her pen down and put the cork in the ink bottle. “I haven’t been out of the house.”

  “Then how does half of Northfield, including Dr. Gaskin, know to congratulate me and wish me all God’s blessings?” Elizabeth sucked in a deep breath, running to a stop at the look of total confusion on her mother’s face.

  “Would Thornton say anything?” Annabelle shook her head as she spoke. “Of course he wouldn’t.”

  “Then who? How?”

  The phone jangled in the hallway. Both women turned to stare out the office door.