For the first time in her life, Astrid didn’t feel she could talk out her turmoil with her mother. How would she understand that God refused to hear Astrid’s prayers? And so she had given up praying. He had let two of her patients die when she’d been fighting to save them. A young man with his adult life right in front of him and a baby who never had a chance at life at all.
“Next stop, Chicago. Everyone will be disembarking there. About fifteen minutes to Chicago.” The conductor stopped to answer a question from the people several seats ahead of her. Outside the dirty window were houses right next to each other. As the train drew closer to the station, the buildings rose taller, some for housing, some factories. Brick walls blackened by years of soot, iron steps down the outside of some of the buildings, wash hanging on lines strung between buildings. Did people actually live in these filthy places?
How will I bear this? Six months. Surely I can put up with anything for six months. I will be so busy at the hospital, I won’t have time to be homesick. That’s what Elizabeth promised. Maybe I’ d be better off in Africa. But that would mean saying good-bye to Joshua forever. It was hard enough this time. He had smiled and said he would be there when she returned. Nothing more. No pledges. But he seemed to care, or was that just hopeful feelings on her part? She clasped her hands against her roiling stomach as the train screeched to a stop at a huge station. When she stepped off the train, the smells of coal smoke, engine grease, and hot metal assaulted her nostrils. Walking with the other passengers down the long wooden platform, she kept her eyes on the person in front of her. Surely evil hid in the dark spaces above them capped by a roof.
Dr. Morganstein’s letter said for her to go to the main depot entrance, that someone would be there holding a sign to meet her. He would take care of getting her luggage and take her to the hospital. He who? She felt like clapping her hands over her ears to muffle some of the cacophony that assailed her. This was worse than harvest. At least when they shut the steam engine down, quiet reigned. Not here. The majority of the crowd moved toward glass doors with multipaned windows that arched upward for two stories, so she let the force carry her along. It was a good thing someone else was getting her trunk, because she had no idea where to go for it.
Hoping for fresher air once she made it outside, she found the heat, humidity, and smells were equally as bad, if not worse. Pigeons fluttered about on the sidewalk, pecking at bits on the concrete and flapping away from hurrying feet. Perspiration trickled down her spine and neck. Where was the fan she’d brought on Elizabeth’s recommendation?
Look for the sign with my name on it. The thought jerked her focus up from the sidewalks. Had someone been waiting inside for her? She stared around, trying to locate her driver. Someone bumped into her and mumbled something that did not sound like an apology. She eased her way back toward the wall and out of the main stream of traffic. No one was holding a sign that she could see. She turned and pulled open a door to return to the inside of the station. Would she be reprimanded for standing on one of the wooden seats with a curved back?
Why did I ever come to this place? She thought to the envelope in her reticule that contained money and instructions on how to get to the hospital should some unforeseen circumstance keep her driver from retrieving her. But what about her trunk? I want to go home. Tears burned the backs of her eyes and made her nose start to run.
Astrid Bjorklund, pull yourself together! Sniveling never did anyone any good. If Grace can travel all the way to New York by herself, and she can’t hear, what do you have to bellyache about? Now, just sit yourself down on one of the benches and give this some thought. Taking out her handkerchief, she dabbed at her neck and in front of her ears. And find your fan. That’s right. Sit down, take a deep breath, and find your fan. She did as she ordered and, with the slight cooling from the moving air, thanks to the fan, considered what to do.
An elderly man with gray hair curling at his collar came through the door, catching her attention. He held up a sign with Bjorklund written in large black letters. A wave of gratitude washed over her so powerfully she slumped against the seat back. She was saved. When he swung her way, she raised her gloved hand to catch his attention. He looks about as relieved as I feel grateful, she thought as she stood and picked up her carpetbag and book bag. He crossed the marble floor and bowed slightly.
“Miss Bjorklund?”
“Yes.”
“Please forgive me. There was an accident in the street, and I had to go out several blocks around it. I thought sure I had left early enough. Have you been waiting long?”
“No. I am just glad you are here.” She pulled a ticket from her reticule. “This is for my trunk. I didn’t know where to get it.”
“You weren’t supposed to. You wait right here, and I’ll fetch that.
You have only one trunk?”
“Yes, sir.” She indicated the two bags at her feet. “And these.”
“Good. I’ll be right back.” He started off and turned back. “Pardon me, miss, my name is MacCallister. Most everyone calls me Mac.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. MacCallister.”
“Just sit down and be comfortable. I know that traveling makes one weary.”
Astrid did as he suggested. With this worry gone, she watched the other travelers in peace. And what an unending stream to view. Everyone from tiny babes in arms to small children to an old man in a chair with wheels and a robe over his knees paraded by. She’d seen pictures of wheelchairs in catalogs, but they were more astonishing in real life. No one in Blessing had a baby buggy either, but she saw several in the crowd. A young mother with a crying baby sat across from her, while a small girl, index finger in her mouth, clung to the woman’s skirt. When a man came, he scooped the little girl up in his arms and strode off, hardly waiting for the wife to gather the baby and follow.
How rude. He could have taken one of the woman’s carpetbags at least. Astrid glared at the disappearing man, definitely not a gentleman, and took her gaze elsewhere. Only a few minutes had passed when MacCallister showed up, followed by one of the luggage handlers, Astrid’s trunk balanced on his right shoulder.
“I have a conveyance outside. Let me take those bags for you, and we’ll be on our way.” He led the way, and within minutes they were loaded and driving down the street, dodging traffic—human, horse-drawn, and machine.
Astrid fought to take it all in, but the sights and sounds were too overwhelming to be absorbed in one trip. The trolley car seemed to have the right-of-way. While she’d seen Hjelmer’s automobile in Blessing, and Elizabeth had talked about purchasing one, it seemed every third person owned one here. And they were all driving them at once. Sometimes closing one’s eyes was the better part of defense.
Though Mr. MacCallister called over his shoulder the identities of all the landmarks she saw, it was too much to take in. The old fable of country mouse in the city most certainly fit her. To think that Elizabeth had talked of Chicago with delight and had promised Astrid good memories and great adventures. The best adventure would be to turn tail and run back home.
“Here we are,” MacCallister said at long last. He stopped the horse in front of a cut-stone building that reached three stories into the air and was really two buildings joined together. City grime blackened the stone walls, but the name, Alfred Morganstein Hospital for Women, cut in the stone above the double-glass doors, still stood out. Underneath it were the words Under his wings you will find refuge. Astrid recognized that as being part of a familiar psalm, and hoped it would calm her fears. Refuge. This hospital was indeed a place of refuge. Elizabeth had said so. The ten steps up to the door were divided in two by a wider step protected by a railing on either side. A concrete ramp angled out from one side and, after an L-shaped turn, ended at the front door also. Off to the side, a portico, with an Emergency Entrance sign hanging from it, covered a driveway wide enough for a horse-drawn ambulance.
MacCallister climbed down from the high seat, opened the side door, and rais
ed his hand to assist her in stepping out. “This might be the last of courtesy you’ll receive for a while, so you’d best enjoy it. Once inside, you’ll find everyone is too busy to wait on manners. You go on up the stairs, and I’ll bring in your trunk.”
Astrid did as he said, trying to blow out her terror with a breath on each step. By the time she reached the top, she sucked in a final breath, held it, and then let it all out. She straightened her spine, firmed up her jaw, and pulled the door open.
“Can I help you, miss?” said a woman from behind a desk in the vestibule.
“I . . . I’m Astrid Bjorklund, here to attend training.”
“Oh yes, Miss Bjorklund. Doctor said to let her know as soon as you arrived.” She stood and came around the battle-scarred wooden desk. “I’m Mrs. Hancock. I’ll show you the way.”
A woman’s scream from somewhere down the long hall gave Astrid a start.
“We have several women in heavy labor,” Mrs. Hancock explained. “Sometimes it gets a mite noisy around here. Especially when it is a full moon. More babies born then than at any other time.” She took one of Astrid’s bags and motioned to her to follow. “Did you find that where you came from?”
“We didn’t usually have more than one birth at a time, so it would be hard to say.” She was already learning that Mrs. Hancock might appear elderly, but keeping up with her was something else.
She stopped in front of a closed walnut door and tapped before opening. “Miss Bjorklund has arrived,” she said as she sailed on in, ushering Astrid right after her. Astrid caught a glimpse of tall windows hung with plain white drapes pulled to the sides. They proceeded through another door at the order to “Come in,” and Astrid caught her first glimpse of Elizabeth’s hero, Dr. Althea Morganstein, sitting behind a cherrywood desk big enough to serve dinner for eight. White hair crowned a face whose lines deepened with her smile. She rose and came around the desk.
Astrid felt she should curtsy as in the presence of royalty. This was the Dr. Morganstein, by whom legends were created, according to Elizabeth. She extended her hand to meet that of the doctor, who then clasped her other hand over Astrid’s.
“Ah, my dear, I have been looking forward to this day for a long time.” She looked Astrid up and down, smiling and nodding all the while. “I feel as though I’ve known you for the last several years. Did Elizabeth tell you how I tried to keep her here? She would have made a fine teacher.” She chuckled. “Well, I guess I will find out what kind of a teacher she is.”
Or what a terrible student I am. The thought sucked the joy out of the moment. I have to do well, for Elizabeth’s sake if not my own. This was not a new thought but likely the one that forced her to get on that train in spite of her insides screaming that she should have stayed in Blessing, that something terrible would happen if she left.
Dr. Morganstein drew her over to sit in one of the wing chairs, while she took the other. “Now, tell me how your trip was.”
“Fine. Longer than I thought it to be.”
“Your first time away from home?”
“Yes, ma’am. I thought to go to Grand Forks, but Elizabeth insisted I come here. She said there was nowhere else I would get the training I need.”
“I am glad she still feels that way. Our program here has changed in the years since she graduated, but I can guarantee you will have plenty of surgery time. I have set up your exams to begin tomorrow morning, right after breakfast. Mrs. Hancock will show you to your room. You will be sharing with an older woman who is finished with her surgery rotation and will be starting obstetrics. I hear you’ve had plenty of experience with that.”
Astrid lowered her eyes and nodded, forcing her fingers to quit twining themselves together and laid them in her lap.
Dr. Morganstein leaned forward and covered Astrid’s hands with one of her own. “We all suffer when we lose a baby, but we must let go, knowing that the child is now with almighty God and there was nothing more we could have done.”
But what if there was? Astrid clamped her teeth together and made herself nod, as if she agreed. “I take it you’ve spoken with Elizabeth since I left home?”
“I have. She is very concerned about you. Much like a mother hen with her first chick leaving the nest.”
Tell her. She ignored the voice.
“Oh my, Mrs. Hancock, why didn’t you remind me? I said we’d have tea as soon as Astrid arrived. Be a dear and ring for it, please. And you must join us. Astrid needs to feel she has someone here she can talk to.”
Within moments a tea tray arrived, and Mrs. Hancock poured.
Astrid took her cup and saucer, allowing one lump and milk. “Thank you.” As she lifted the cup to her mouth, the fragrance of Ceylon black tea made her inhale again.
“Ah. There is something relaxing about tea,” the doctor said, “while coffee just propels one to get going and keep on. Today we’ll have tea, and I’m sure you’ll learn where the coffeepot is kept refreshed around the clock.”
Dr. Morganstein set her cup in its saucer. “Now, tell me about little Inga. From what I hear, she is a bit of a handful.”
“We sometimes call her Queen Inga because she likes to run things, especially her father. My brother is enthralled with his little girl. She gets her cousin Carl in so much trouble. He even fell in the barn and broke his arm. She forgets he is younger and not quite as capable as she. When we need a laugh, we go find Inga. The other day I found her reading a book to him.”
“She can read already?”
“Not really, but she knows the story so well, it seems she can.”
At a knock at the door Mrs. Hancock rose and hurried out.
Dr. Morganstein sighed. “Another emergency, I suppose. They try to keep me from rushing out to help these days, and I know there are sufficient doctors around to cover things, but . . .” She shook her head slightly and used the tip of her lace handkerchief to dab at her nose.
Settling herself a bit straighter, she took in a deep breath and focused back on Astrid. “Enjoy your first day here, my dear. Starting tomorrow, Dr. Barlow, one of our instructors, will show you around. Your uniforms will be in your room, and you will be referred to as Dr. Bjorklund. There are ten in the surgery rotation with you. Elizabeth said that although you’ve done surgeries, you have not dissected a cadaver. Since that is the best way to learn the intricacies of the human body, we will make sure you get adequate experience in that. It is in the first year’s curriculum, so you will be working with our new students. We have a young man here who is a bit older but comes from your part of the country. He is half Sioux and half white and insists that his name is Red Hawk. I insist that he be called Dr. Hawk.
“I have set aside an entire week for you to go through all the exams. I know this will take tremendous effort on your part, but if there are areas in which you need more classwork, we will attend to those, along with the surgery rotation. Do you have any questions?”
Astrid shook her head. What would they do if she just slipped out and returned to the station and took the train home? She hid behind her teacup, swallowed the last drop, and set the cup down. She could not disappoint Elizabeth like that, no matter how uncertain about her future she was. If she couldn’t handle it all, it was best to find out now.
13
BLESSING, NORTHDAKOTA
I miss Astrid.”
The sheets flapping on the line held no answer. Ingeborg felt like shouting to the heavens, Lord, bring my daughter home safe. But she knew Astrid was where she was supposed to be—wasn’t she? Sliding the last clothespin over the end of the folded sheet, she picked up the clothes basket and returned to the house, stopping with one foot on the bottom step. Why was she so fluttered about this? Flustered was the proper word, but she felt she was like the sheets, snapping in the wind. Were it not for the clothespins, she’d go fluttering off, whipped and tossed by the wind.
“Lord, I thank you that you are my wire, my post, and you are pinning me in place. Let me cling to you, for you
are never changing. You send the sun and the wind, the birds and the butterflies. Thank you for all the land you have given us.” She shaded her eyes with her hand and searched the fields in the distance to see where the men were finishing the haying. Wheat rippled like waves in the wind, the color changing from green to yellow and on toward gold as harvest approached. A shimmery light green kissed the oat fields as the grain started to head out, leading toward the yellow to come.
Off in the distance one of the high-stacked hay wagons neared Andrew’s barn, ready for the hay to be swooped up into the haymow. Haakan said they’d have to start stacking hay outside because all the other barns were already full.
Surely they would have a letter from Astrid any day now. After all, she’d been gone a week.
“Ingeborg, would you like me to make the pies for supper?” Freda asked from the doorway.
“If you feel up to it. I have one more load to rinse and wring, and then the washing will be finished.”
“You keep babying me like this, and I’ll turn into a fat toad.”
“I doubt that. The canned apples are down in the cellar. I checked and the strawberries are done for.”
“The raspberries made wonderful jam. I thought with all the eggs we could make a jelly roll for a treat and use the skimmings.”
“What a wonderful idea.”
The ringing telephone made Ingeborg climb the rest of the steps and enter the house. The stove heat smacked her in the face when she opened the screen door. Crossing the kitchen, she lifted the earpiece from the wooden box that hung on the wall.
“Hello.”
“Ingeborg, this is Elizabeth. Thelma is making meatballs for supper, and I thought you could all come here before the town meeting.”
“I’ll ask Haakan when he comes in for dinner. I don’t see why not. We’re mostly talking about the hospital proposal and plans tonight, aren’t we?”
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