Test of Time
Nurses of New York Book Five
by Amelia C. Adams
Writing Jeanette’s continuing story has been a lot of fun for me, as was introducing the friends she made while she was in New York. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this series as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it!
I’d like to thank my team of beta readers—Amy L., Amy P., Bobbie Sue, Erin, Jeene, Jennifer, Meisje, Melissa, Merrilee, Nancy, Renee, Shelby, and Tracy.
Table of Contents:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Chapter One
New York City
January, 1876
Dr. Russell’s house was all abuzz with excitement. Laura had announced her engagement to Benjamin Wilhite, and they would be married in April, just three months away. Jeanette wondered if that was long enough to plan a fancy wedding, which was what Laura had said she wanted, but with everyone pitching in to help out, it was sure to be beautiful.
Jeanette was happy for her friend—she truly was—but with all this wedding talk, plus seeing Dr. Russell and Miss Cantrell get married not long ago, she felt more homesick than ever. Phillip was waiting for her back in Topeka, and as soon as her course of study in New York was complete, she’d be going back to marry him, but his letters had been coming less and less frequently of late, and while she trusted him completely, she was concerned.
When she’d made the decision to go to nursing school, Phillip had been nothing but supportive. She’d been assisting him in his medical practice, and he said he could see her natural aptitude. He’d even arranged for her to study under Dr. Russell, his own mentor. But six months was a long time to be separated, and now that it was nearly over and she could see the effect it was having on their relationship, she wondered if she’d made the right choice in leaving.
Every so often when the homesickness was at its worst, she’d close her eyes and remember Phillip’s good-bye as she was preparing to board the train. He’d kissed her as if he was trying to memorize her face and her lips. Perhaps she’d relived the memory so many times that she’d built up those feelings and those emotions, but whatever the case might be, it was that memory that had seen her through the difficult study sessions and kept her going when she feared it was too much for her to handle. That and reading his letters . . . but his letters were shorter and less frequent, and much less personal.
She didn’t want to lose him, but it seemed that was exactly what was happening.
***
“Nurses, you only have three weeks remaining in this session of study,” Mrs. Russell said as she took her position in front of the class. It had taken Jeanette a long time to get used to calling her Mrs. Russell—she’d been Miss Cantrell for so long. “Because we’re getting ready to send you out into the world, we decided we should arrange a bit more practical experience for you, and we’ve spoken with several prominent private care physicians in New York who are willing to let you apprentice with them. You’ve been trained at the hospital, so you know how to assist with urgent care, but a private practice will give you experience with chronic conditions that a patient might be treated for several times until it’s cured.”
Jeanette’s ears perked up at this. That was one of the things she’d enjoyed about working with Phillip—he saw the same patients routinely, so she was able to follow the same case from beginning to end. Working at the hospital, she helped treat the emergency, but often didn’t know the final outcome after the patient was released.
“I have a list of your assignments,” Mrs. Russell went on. “You’ll be leaving in thirty minutes and having your lunch while on assignment. You’re excused to check your bags and make sure you have what you need for a day away. I anticipate that you’ll have some very useful experiences.”
The nurses rose and came to the front of the room to see where they’d be going. Jeanette would be working with Dr. Swenson, someone she’d never met before. She glanced through her bag to make sure she had all her necessities, tidied her hair and apron, then put on her coat. The winter had been bitter, and she didn’t look forward to stepping out into the frozen air.
The hired buggy got her to Dr. Swenson’s before she was cold clear through. When his door opened and she felt the warmth from inside hit her cheeks, they tingled.
“Hello. I’m Nurse Anderson, sent by Dr. Russell to assist temporarily,” she told the housekeeper who had answered her knock.
“Come in,” the woman said, taking a step back to make room. “I’m Mrs. Hobbs. The doctor’s office is right this way.”
As Jeanette entered the building, she noticed the familiar scents that always seemed to accompany a medical environment. She was so used to them, she might not have noticed them at all except that she’d just been outside in the fresh air.
Mrs. Hobbs led her down a short hallway, then rapped on a door at the end. “Doctor? Your nurse is here.”
When he bade them enter, Mrs. Hobbs opened the door, then gestured for Jeanette to go inside. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” she said.
Jeanette took a step into the office and paused in the doorway. The office looked very much like every other doctor’s office, just as the smells were the same. What was different, however, were the animal heads that were mounted on the office walls. She couldn’t take her eyes from them because it looked like they couldn’t take their eyes from her.
“Dr. Swenson, I’m Nurse Anderson. Dr. Russell sent me.”
“Ah, yes. Our temporary intern. Please, have a seat.”
Jeanette did as she was asked, but found it difficult to focus on the white-haired gentleman in front of her.
“I see that you’re quite taken with my collection.”
“Hmm? Oh, the . . . uh . . . hunting trophies? They are very unusual.” She forced a smile. It looked for all the world like a deer and a moose had poked their heads through the walls and gotten stuck.
“I realize it’s an unusual fascination to have, but I can’t help it—taxidermy is an art form, you know, and the practice of it quite relaxes me.”
Jeanette blinked. “Oh? You . . . did these yourself?”
“I did. I hunted them and I mounted them. A start-to-finish project, they were.”
Her forced smile grew bigger. There just was no accounting for how some people chose to spend their free time. “And how do you keep them . . . well, to be blunt, how do you keep them fresh?”
Dr. Swenson chuckled. “Lots of formaldehyde. Now tell me, Nurse Anderson. How long have you been a student of Dr. Russell’s?”
At last—a topic she was comfortable with. “Just over five months. He and Mrs. Russell have been excellent teachers.”
“And I understand that you’ve been working both at St. Timothy’s and Woman’s Hospital.”
“That’s right. I’ve assisted in quite a number of surgeries and emergency medical situations.”
He nodded. “I don’t see many of those in my practice. I deal largely with common household ailments and I’m called in sometimes to help with childbirth, depending on the situation. The most exciting case I had last week was a woman who broke a small bone in her foot when she dropped a log on it while stoking the fire.”
“Not every case needs to be exciting,” Jeanette replied. “I’m sure the cut-and-dried cases bring their own sense of satisfaction, as you’re able to r
esolve them quickly.”
“True, true.” Dr. Swenson steepled his fingers and looked at her intently. “You said something curious just now. You spoke of satisfaction. Are you one of those, then?”
“I . . . beg your pardon?”
“One of those who have chosen the medical profession because they feel they have a duty to it, that it calls to them, that it will complete them in some spiritual way?”
What an odd question. Of course, should she really have expected anything less from a man who surrounded himself with immortalized animal heads? “I did go into nursing because I felt drawn to it, yes.”
“Well, you’ll find me a complete heathen, I suppose, but I became a doctor for the money, pure and simple. Health care is one of the most basic needs of the human race, and I decided that I wanted a career that would serve me well regardless of whatever else was going on in the world. Farmers depend on rain. Loggers depend on an abundance of trees. I wanted a career where I would always be needed, where there would be a never-ending supply of business.”
Jeanette nodded. “And what of those who can’t afford to pay?”
He looked down at the table and grunted. “All right, you caught me. I do a certain amount of work voluntarily, but don’t let on that you know that. I must keep my reputation for being a heartless old grump intact somehow.”
He rose and buttoned his suitcoat over his ample middle. “Are you ready to accompany me on rounds, Nurse Anderson?”
“Perfectly ready, sir. I haven’t even taken off my coat.”
He looked at her with some surprise. “Indeed, you haven’t. Excellent preparation. Very well—let’s be off.”
Chapter Two
Dr. Swenson had his carriage brought around by his stable hand, but he drove it himself. As the horses’ hooves clipped along the slushy street, he asked, “What are your plans after you’ve completed your training, Nurse Anderson? Will you seek out a job at one of the hospitals, or are you more interested in private practice?”
“I’ll be returning home to Topeka, sir. I’m engaged to marry Dr. Phillip Wayment, and I’ll be working as his nurse in private practice. We don’t have a hospital in Topeka.”
Dr. Swenson turned and looked at her in astonishment. “You don’t have a hospital?”
“We’re a young town, sir, just over twenty years old. I imagine that as more people head west, we’ll continue to grow, and we’ll eventually have a hospital. For now, the four doctors in town seem to handle things quite well.”
“Four doctors?” He shook his head as though he couldn’t imagine such a thing. “I’ve never been west myself—I’ve lived right here in New York City my entire life, and only traveled a short way to find the wildlife I captured for my walls. I can’t conceive of what a town of four doctors must look like.”
Jeanette laughed. “Very different, I assure you. There’s something wild and adventurous about it, whereas here, there’s a feeling of elegance and prosperity. It’s hard to explain.”
“No, go ahead. Tell me more.”
She paused, trying to put her thoughts into words. “I worked at a hotel next to the railroad before I came here, and every day, I met people who were on their way to a new life. They planned to build up new homes and new communities, and their eyes were filled with excitement about all the possibilities ahead. Here, there’s a sense of being established, of old homes and history. It’s very . . . different,” she said again, unable to come up with a better word.
“Hmm. I’m rather tempted to come west and take a look at this place,” Dr. Swenson said.
“You should. And you might even find new varieties of animals to hunt,” Jeanette suggested with a smile.
They pulled up in front of a tall house with stately pillars on either side of the doorway. “This is the home of Carmela Fitzpatrick, who has been a patient of mine for decades. She’s quite convinced that she’s dying, and I’m quite convinced that she’s not. We’ll see who ends up winning this debate.”
When Jeanette entered the opulent home, she surrendered her coat to the housekeeper and followed Dr. Swenson up the curved staircase. The carpeting on the stairs was so thick under her feet, she felt as though every step was a pillow and she could be flung backwards at any time. She held on to the railing tightly so that wouldn’t happen.
Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s room was one of the loveliest things Jeanette had ever seen. It was decorated in peach and green, with ivory and gold accents. The elderly woman was sitting up in her bed when they came in, her nightdress starched and bleached, her cap strung through with ribbons that matched the décor of her bedroom. Jeanette had the impression that she’d entered a throne room rather than a bedroom.
“Come here,” she said, motioning toward Jeanette. “Who are you? I don’t recall seeing you here before.”
Jeanette took a few steps forward. She wondered if she was expected to curtsy, but decided that if she was, that was simply too bad. “My name is Nurse Anderson, Mrs. Fitzpatrick. I’m a nursing student on loan to Dr. Swenson.”
The woman looked appalled. “A nursing student? I don’t recall agreeing to be treated by a student, Percy. I expect all my care to be handled with the utmost professionalism.”
Jeanette glanced at Dr. Swenson, unsure if she should respond. He stepped in with hardly a pause.
“There’s nothing at all that says a student can’t be professional, Carmela, but if it makes you feel better, I promise not to let Nurse Anderson give you any lethal injections or reattach any severed limbs.”
Jeanette’s gaze flew back to Mrs. Fitzpatrick. How would the woman respond to that unusual statement? To her additional surprise, Mrs. Fitzpatrick laughed, her double chin wobbling as she did so. “All right, Percy, all right. I suppose I’ve been put in my place. Everyone must have the chance to learn or they’ll never become professionals, will they?” She held out her hand toward Jeanette. “I’m sorry, my dear. I grow rather quarrelsome from time to time, but Percy knows how to snap me back into good humor. Forgive me.”
“Of course.” Jeanette took the other woman’s hand. “How are you feeling today?”
“I’m not long for this world,” Mrs. Fitzpatrick replied, pressing a handkerchief to her face. “My heart, you see.”
“Do you mind if I take your pulse?”
“Go ahead. You might as well, while there’s still a pulse to take.”
Jeanette suppressed a smile as she placed her fingers on the woman’s wrist. The pulse was strong and regular, and gave Jeanette no cause for alarm.
“Do you see? It’s just a matter of time.” Mrs. Fitzpatrick gave a slight moan. “Thank goodness I have Percy here to see to me.” She gave Dr. Swenson a smile.
“Let’s have a listen at your lungs,” Dr. Swenson said, pulling his stethoscope from his bag.
She sat forward willingly and took the deep breaths he requested, then coughed as directed, then sat back. “Are they bad? I’m quite sure they’re bad.”
“They sound very clear and strong,” he replied, and her face fell.
“That’s not at all how they feel,” she said. “If only you could know how they feel.”
“You have a lovely home, Mrs. Fitzpatrick,” Jeanette interrupted, breaking all polite nurse protocol, but she had to know. “Do you share it with family, or do you live here alone?”
“Alone, I’m afraid. My children grew up and left, and then Arthur passed away. My husband,” she clarified, although Jeanette could have guessed. “That was almost eleven years ago.”
“Nurse Anderson, would you please fetch the liniment from my bag?” Dr. Swenson asked, his tone of voice carrying a warning.
“Of course, Doctor.” She retrieved the bottle, but instead of taking it from her, he asked her to apply it to Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s legs so the circulation would improve. She did so, her nose wrinkling at the smell of the stuff.
“Carmela, I’m sorry to say, you’ll be with us for some time yet,” Dr. Swenson said, putting his instruments back in his bag.
“You’ll need to cancel those funeral plans you’ve been making—put them off for a year at least.”
“I haven’t been making any funeral plans,” she protested. “That is to say, I might have told Cook to plan on those little ham sandwiches I like, and some chocolate cake, but that’s hardly planning a funeral. And you needn’t sound so jovial.”
“Why not? Isn’t it good news that you’re as fit as a fiddle?”
She slapped the bed beside her, making Jeanette startle. “Fit as a fiddle? Dr. Swenson, do you see this bed? If I were as fit as a fiddle, would this bed be the sum total of my existence?”
“No, I suppose not,” he said, nodding. “I suggest that you either become sicker or that you get out of bed.”
Jeanette finished rubbing the woman’s legs and adjusted her blankets for modesty, then stepped back. This little verbal spar between doctor and patient was quite entertaining.
“I’ll see you next week, Carmela,” Dr. Swenson said after tucking the liniment back in his bag. “Are you ready, Nurse Anderson?”
“I’ll be down in a minute,” she replied.
He gave her a quizzical look but then nodded, leaving the room.
“You know what I would do?” Jeanette said, lowering her voice and leaning forward conspiratorially.
“What’s that, my dear?” Mrs. Fitzpatrick asked.
“I’d invite Dr. Swenson over for some of those ham sandwiches and chocolate cake. There’s no sense in waiting until you’re dead, is there?” Jeanette straightened and gave the comforter an extra pat. “Have a good afternoon.”
She left Mrs. Fitzpatrick sitting there with a surprised and yet pleased look on her face, her mouth slightly agape.
***
“So, what do you think of my diagnosis, Doctor?” Jeanette asked as they clip-clopped their way to the next patient on their list.
He shook his head, his cheeks pink. “I’m not sure I agree with your conclusions. They’re hardly scientific.”
“Oh, come on. Not everything has to be scientific.” She couldn’t help but grin. “I stand firm in my theory. Your patient is suffering from having feelings for her doctor.”
Test of Time (Nurses of New York Book 5) Page 1