“Yes, madam, of course.” With that same slight but still appropriate bow, he left, leaving Elizabeth the secret of his wink.
“Do you take milk with your tea?”
“Yes, please, and one cube of sugar.” She accepted the fine bonechina cup and fluted saucer, setting it to the right of her place setting as her mother had drilled into her for years. At least she did know proper etiquette, although she’d never dreamed she would be needing it in a situation like this.
“So are you here in Chicago alone?”
“Oh no. My stepmother is upstairs resting from our journey. She will order tea in our rooms, have a leisurely bath, and finally dress for a late supper, most likely to be served in our rooms also.” She tried to trap a sigh, but the perceptive woman across from her caught it.
“And you did not want to waste a perfectly wonderful evening in Chicago in rooms with curtains drawn and the need to not disturb a sleeping relative.” Mrs. Josephson dropped a cube of sugar into her teacup with the silver tongs. After stirring it, she took a sip and closed her eyes briefly. “Ah, there is nothing like a pot of fine Indian tea shared by an interesting person.”
Elizabeth nodded at the compliment. “Merci.”
“You do speak French. I wondered.”
“Not well enough to keep up with the gentleman, but I can carry on a conversation.” Elizabeth took two of the tiny sandwiches off the crystal salver held out to her. “These look lovely.”
“Claude is an artist, but with food instead of paints.” Mrs. Josephson bit into a sliver of smoked oyster on a tiny cracker. “Delicious. The older one gets, the more one must appreciate every little delight in life. Gratitude is a dying grace, I’m afraid.” After touching her mouth with her napkin, she leaned slightly forward. “I have decided to take you to visit Dr. Morganstein. Althea and I grew up together.”
Elizabeth could not have been more shocked had the woman confessed to . . . she couldn’t think of anything to fit. “Th-thank you.
B-but why?”
“My dear, I do not believe in coincidences. Our meeting is Godordained, like everything else that happens. How else would I be standing at a table where I never pause while you were trying to cajole Ambrose into taking you to see my friend?”
“I just wanted directions.”
“Which you would not have been able to follow unless you had lived in Chicago a good long time, and even then you may not have arrived at your destination.”
“Even in the daylight?” Elizabeth barely rebuked a shudder.
“Lovely young women alone have been known to disappear without a trace.” This last was said simply and without any attempt to frighten, thus making it all the more frightening.
“How can I thank you?”
Mrs. Josephson leaned forward. “By becoming the very best doctor you can be and accomplishing your dream. No amount of money can buy a good enough doctor when needed.”
“And what happened to you to come to this place?” Elizabeth knew she was walking a thin line, but confidence begot confidence.
“My only daughter died in childbirth, the babe with her, due to her doctor’s inexperience, or at least that’s what they called it. I call it criminal negligence, but”—Mrs. Josephson sat back again in her chair—“it shouldn’t have happened.”
Wishing she dared lay her hand over that of her hostess, Elizabeth threw propriety to the chandeliers and did exactly what she felt was right. The woman clenched her fingers with a fierceness born of a soul-stripping need.
“I dream—I pray—she might have been just like you.”
As if nothing had transpired, Mrs. Josephson released Elizabeth’s hand and picked up her teacup, using both hands to control the shaking.
“We will go tomorrow if that is acceptable to your stepmother. And now I suggest that you go ascertain that she is well and enjoy your time together. Chicago and the fair will wait. I will send you a note in the morning.”
Knowing that she was dismissed, Elizabeth touched her napkin to her lips, rose, and inclined her head. “Merci beaucoup, madame. Is it possible I could—?”
“No. I shall be fine.”
Elizabeth sketched a curtsy and left the room, positive that her feet never touched the carpet. What did Mrs. Josephson mean about many hours together? Does she not realize I live in Minnesota?
CHAPTER TWENTY-Two
“But I thought we were going to spend this time together.” Annabelle Rogers frowned at her daughter, then smoothed out her brow as she looked around the hotel dining room.
“I know, Mother, we are. I’m taking one morning to go meet Dr. Morganstein, that’s all. Perhaps you would like to come with us.” Elizabeth knew the invitation was only polite. Her mother did not like to view suffering up close.
Annabelle sighed. “I should have known this would happen. You agreed to the trip too readily.” Annabelle shook her head, sadness dripping from every pore.
Elizabeth tried warding off the arrows of guilt, but a few penetrated her shield. “After that, I am all yours, Mother. I’ll even go shopping with you if that is what you would like.” Going shopping meant spending hours looking at and trying on and dithering over choices of shoes and hats and gloves. Her own style was to walk in, point to a fabric, buy it, and get back to more important things. Then call their dressmaker and have her take care of it all. She knew Elizabeth’s likes well enough. She could manage with only one fitting and that to check the hem. Therefore, a real shopping trip with her mother was a major concession.
Annabelle sipped from her after-supper tea and pondered her daughter over the rim of the fine bone-china cup. “And you won’t grumble?”
“I won’t grumble, and I won’t sigh.”
Annabelle’s musical laugh drew attention from the tables immediately around them. Elizabeth joined in, knowing she’d confessed to something she’d sworn for years that she didn’t do—sigh, that is. At least not on purpose. Well, sort of.
“Are you ready for dessert?”
“I cannot eat another bite.” She didn’t mention the delicacies she’d enjoyed with Mrs. Josephson only a couple of hours earlier. Some things were just better left unsaid.
“Fine, then let me show you what I have discovered. Mrs. Andresen and Miss Wahlstein are speaking at a rally in front of the Women’s Building at ten o’clock in the morning on the fourth. I know your father will be ecstatic to hear that, but he can go listen to the mayor or some such at the same time in front of the Agricultural Building. Then we can have a picnic dinner at the park and spend the rest of the day and evening seeing the sights of the fair.”
“Don’t forget the Ferris Wheel. Father will really enjoy that.”
Annabelle rolled her eyes. “Just so the two of you understand, I will not be joining you.”
“You’ll be missing out. Everyone is riding it and talking about it. Cook will castigate you severely for declining such an adventure.”
“Lord save us.” Annabelle flashed her engaging smile at the waiter who set the chit by her place. After signing, she waited for him to pull out her chair as she stood. “Thank you. Come, dear, it’s not too late to see some of the city from an open carriage. Such a pleasant way to end the day.” Elizabeth followed her mother to the concierge’s desk, where she made arrangements for a carriage tour. Eagerly the two of them set out.
“Oh, Mother.” Elizabeth gazed at a white domed building outlined in incandescent light bulbs that created a magical view of the world’s fair.
“Prettiest sight I ever seen.” Their driver spoke over his shoulder as he held the horses still so the woman could enjoy the view.
“What is this world coming to that entire buildings can be lit up like that?” Annabelle took her daughter’s gloved hand in hers. “I read about Mr. Edison’s invention, but to see it displayed like this. One has to see it to believe it.”
“You want to go on further?” the driver asked.
“No, thank you, not tonight. Is there always such a crush of peopl
e?”
“Thousands go through every day. Prettier lakes and parks you never did see, let alone the buildings and the statues and fountains and such. People are saying a week here is like attending a university, you can learn so much. Chicago done outdid herself.”
Later as they drove back to the hotel, Elizabeth closed her eyes to keep the fairyland imprinted on her mind.
Elizabeth didn’t receive a note from Mrs. Josephson the next morning, so she accompanied her mother as promised on a shopping trip. Her father joined them on July Fourth as planned, and since Elizabeth still hadn’t heard from Mrs. Josephson, they all went to the world’s fair. The Ferris Wheel was everything people said it was. It was a little crowded with sixty people in each box, but that was the only thorn of the day. The view from that height laid out the Midway Plaisance outside the gates of the Exposition, the Exposition grounds with all the lakes and bridges, and the city—all like a magical carpet that they swooped up from and back down to. The two suffragette speakers drew huzzahs from the crowd, and her father even stayed to listen, taking notes for a future newspaper article. He took so many notes during his almost three days at the fair that he had to buy another notebook. She saw her mother and father laughing together as they rarely did at home, and suddenly they weren’t old beyond their time but rather two fine-looking people who appeared urbane enough to be from any big city and of far more wealth than they really were. Bands played, orators expounded, flags flew from posts and walls, but the fireworks reflecting in lakes and ponds drew more oohs and ahs than anything else. They talked to each other on the newfangled telephones, saw the Buffalo Bill Wild West Show outside the Exposition grounds, and came back to the hotel worn out but still laughing.
When her father went home, Elizabeth began to lose hope that she would get to meet with Dr. Morganstein.
“Perhaps I should just pay a cabby to take me to the hospital and drop me off at the front door. Surely nothing could happen in broad daylight.” Speaking to the young woman in the mirror who nodded in a most encouraging manner made it all sound eminently sensible.
Until her mother asked where she was going, and she could not lie.
“I think not.” The queen of England could not have spoken more imperiously.
“But, Mother, I—” Elizabeth closed the door and leaned against it. “What do you suggest?”
“Wait.”
“But surely Mrs. Josephson has forgotten or . . .”
“Women like her do not forget. Rest assured that she has been unable to arrange your visit. You have no idea what extenuating circumstances there may be.”
“I know.” The sigh came clear from the soles of her slippers. “But we leave so soon.”
“I am aware of that.” Annabelle turned from where she was folding garments and packing used things in their trunk. “I should have allowed for more room. I forget how many things would come home with us from shopping in Chicago.”
“One shopping trip would have been sufficient.”
“Not the three?” Annabelle arched an eyebrow and returned to her task.
“I think I shall go down and ask Mr. McKnight—”
“I think not.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. Just because she’d given in earlier did not mean she’d given up. Father God, please, you know the main reason I wanted to come here was to visit Mrs. Morganstein’s hospital.
“Shall I ring for dinner to be served up here, or would you rather go down?”
“Either. It makes no difference to me.”
A discreet knock on the door that echoed in the middle of her back made Elizabeth start. She turned to open the door, her heart leaping with hope.
A uniformed young man offered her an envelope on a silver tray.
“Thank you.” Closing the door, she made sure the envelope was addressed to her and slid a fingernail under the flap to lift it open. She read the precise handwriting that first apologized for the delay and then invited her to accompany Mrs. Josephson to the Alfred Morganstein Hospital for Women at two o’clock that afternoon. They would leave from the main entrance to the hotel, and her mother was invited along if she so desired.
Elizabeth took a deep breath to calm her racing heart and read the missive aloud.
“Send her a message back with my regrets but thank her in my name and say I have too much to accomplish yet to join you.” Annabelle held up a hat she had purchased at a special millinery shop. “I do hope this looks good with that watered silk, or I shall have to have a new frock made to go with the hat.”
“Yes, Mother.” Elizabeth penned the note on hotel stationery and rang for the young man to deliver it. When their noon meal was delivered a few minutes later, she had a hard time concentrating enough to finish hers. Half an hour in advance of the appropriate time, she pinned her hat in place, unfurled her parasol to make sure it worked, furled it again, checked her reticule, and made a final trip to the necessary.
“Elizabeth Marie Rogers, stop fidgeting. You are driving me mad.”
“I’m not . . .” Elizabeth had the grace to stop. She crossed to the window and stood watching the people rushing by three floors below. A carriage pulled by a matched team of bay horses arrived under the portico.
I wonder if those—no, surely not. People living in a hotel wouldn’t keep horses and a carriage like that. Not when other conveyances were so available.
Elizabeth crossed to drop a kiss on her mother’s cheek. “I’m not sure when I shall return. Don’t wait tea for me.”
“I won’t.” Annabelle turned, hands on hips. “Do you think I should order another trunk?”
Elizabeth slipped out the door before an answer would be required.
“And have you enjoyed your visit to Chicago?” Mrs. Josephson asked when they were settled in the carriage Elizabeth had seen brought round.
“Most certainly. I believe my mother would stay another week if my father and I would agree to it.”
“And why would you not agree?”
“Dr. Gaskin needs me and so does my father. I help run the offices for both of them. I’m concerned about my doctor. He is having a hard time recovering from the loss of his wife.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“He believes I will take over his practice when I finish medical school.”
“I hear a doubt in your voice.”
Elizabeth nodded. How could she be so honest with this woman? It was as if she peered right into her soul. She felt as though she’d known her for years, not just a matter of days.
“If I remain in Northfield, my mother will continue to parade eligible young men before me and expect me to live at home until I marry. Since I believe I will be married to being a doctor, I do not plan on matrimony.”
“Ah, then you will miss out on some of the greatest joys of life. Perhaps your mother sees where you’re headed and does not want that for you.”
“But how can I manage both and do my best at either?”
“Why do you try to live the future now and not let the day’s own troubles be sufficient for the day? If you believe God is sovereign, which I think you do, can you not trust Him with your future?”
Elizabeth looked up to see such compassion on the face of the older woman that she caught her breath. “Why . . . why are you doing this for me?”
“Because I feel God has given me a second chance in you.”
The confusion on her face must have been evident, for Mrs. Josephson patted her hand. “Someday I will tell you a long story, but for now let us go visit with my friend. She is looking forward to meeting you.”
“And I her. I cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am for this opportunity.”
“Who knows what God has in mind.”
The carriage stopped in front of a brick building with the door and frame painted white. Red geraniums filled the window boxes as well as two urns on either side of the door. The building glowed like a rosebush in the middle of a thorn field. The tenement buildi
ngs lining both sides of the street burgeoned with despair, their broken windows leaking the miasma of hopelessness. Flies rose in a blue cloud from the body of a cat lying in the gutter. Tin cans and other garbage were piled by a broken tree trunk, where once a bit of green had lived. A baby squalled, shut off by the sound of a slap and a curse.
Hand in hand two little girls watched the open carriage with round eyes.
Elizabeth wanted to take them back to the hotel for a bath and a good meal, buy them each a dress and a doll, and never bring them back to such filth.
“Come.” Mrs. Josephson took her arm, and they mounted the steps to enter a room filled with women and children like the two outside. Crying babies, children too tired to cry, and mothers with eyes as vacant as the derelict windows on the street outside were everywhere. Elizabeth stopped to take it all in.
“Come,” Mrs. Josephson said again and led her down the hall. Walls painted white, floor waxed to a shine, gas fixtures lighting the way, windows in the rooms off the hall with glass that sparkled in the sun—this oasis of cleanliness and order resided in a desert of degradation.
They stopped in front of a polished oak door and knocked.
“Come in.”
“We have come.” Mrs. Josephson opened the door and motioned Elizabeth to go before her. “I have brought her to you, as I promised. Dr. Morganstein, may I present Miss Elizabeth Rogers of Northfield, Minnesota, which is not far from Minneapolis.”
“Thank you, dear Issy.” Hand extended, a six-foot-tall woman with pince-nez on the end of an extraordinary nose came around the desk to grasp Elizabeth’s hand. Her gray hair in a haphazard bun with a pencil stuck in it and her stethoscope looped in the pocket of her allencompassing white apron, Dr. Morganstein would have intimidated a big man, let alone a young college student—until Elizabeth looked into her eyes. If God lived on earth, His eyes would be like the doctor’s, Elizabeth decided. Or rather this woman had eyes like Jesus surely had. Dark, fringed with long lashes, brows thick but quick to arch, and a gaze so full of love that Elizabeth felt her throat tighten. Oh, God, please let me work with this woman. The prayer went heavenward even as her hand met the doctor’s.
[Return To Red River 01] - A Dream to Follow Page 18