Your mor
‘‘Mor, I never thought I’d miss Andrew so much.’’ Lamplight cast a circle around Astrid’s head as she sat at the kitchen table writing a letter to Thorliff as her mother did the same.
‘‘I know.’’
‘‘I mean, I miss Pa every harvest season, but Andrew has always been here.’’ She tapped the end of the pencil on her teeth. ‘‘Do you think they miss us like we miss them?’’
‘‘Most likely not. They are seeing new places and different people. They work so hard, there isn’t much time for being homesick.’’
‘‘How come they don’t write us a letter?’’
‘‘Too busy.’’
‘‘Andrew had time to write Ellie a letter.’’
‘‘Ah, but that is different.’’
‘‘A friend is more important than your own and only sister?’’
‘‘Not more important, just different.’’ Ingeborg turned her head to hide her smile. ‘‘Finish your letter and we’ll make fudge.’’
‘‘Really?’’ Astrid bent her head back to her paper and signed with a flourish. ‘‘I didn’t have any more to say anyway.’’
Would that life were that easy, Ingeborg thought. Haakan, I do wish you would write. No matter how well I handle things here, I need to hear from you.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Chicago, Illinois
October 1896
Looking back, Elizabeth could not believe how fast the year had flown.
‘‘So are you ready?’’ Dr. Morganstein asked.
‘‘As I’ll ever be.’’ Elizabeth straightened her gown and patted the upsweep of her hair.
‘‘Then let us begin.’’ Dr. Morganstein gave the signal and all the medical students began filing into the room reserved for them at the Plaza Hotel in Chicago. When the last of the eighteen doctors in training cleared the doorway, Elizabeth smiled at her trainer and friend. ‘‘After you.’’
Dr. Morganstein walked past the rows of seats where her students sat and continued up to the platform to join Dr. Fossden. Elizabeth followed ten paces behind her. While the next graduating class would have nine members, she walked alone. Before taking her place on the aisle, she smiled at her parents and at Thorliff sitting beside them, at Dr. Gaskin and his new wife, the former Nurse Browne, and Thornton Wickersham, who had returned from the mission field to recover his health, and at another of her benefactresses, Issy Josephson.
The ceremony passed in a blur, as did the legal conferring upon her of the title of Doctor of Medicine. When she accepted her diploma, the audience applauded.
‘‘Dr. Elizabeth Rogers is our first graduate.’’ Dr. Morganstein looked down at the students. ‘‘Next year, God willing, we will see nine more walk across the platform. We live by our creed of ‘See one, do one, teach one.’ You second-year students will teach the first-year students, and so it goes. And as our school grows, so will the medical care provided to our great country. May God bless us all.’’ Smiling as she looked out over the attentive audience, she said, ‘‘You are dismissed.’’
Everyone clustered around Elizabeth, congratulating her and wishing her great success.
‘‘But I’ll still be at the hospital,’’ she said with a bubble of laughter. ‘‘At least until the holidays, which I will spend with my family this year and then return. You can’t get rid of me that easily.’’ She smiled over at Dr. Morganstein, who stood with her parents and friends. Not that you’ve tried very hard. The thought brought another smile. Dr. Morganstein was getting her wish of having Elizabeth become a part of the hospital staff—at least for a time.
At dinner an hour or so later, Elizabeth joined her family and friends, taking the empty chair between Thornton and Thorliff at a long table.
‘‘You’re not here to try to talk me into going to Africa, are you?’’
‘‘No. I came because I wanted to congratulate you for accomplishing your dream.’’
‘‘All the way from Africa?’’ Thorliff looked over Elizabeth’s head to ask.
‘‘No. I was sent home to regain my health. The bugs there seem to like me, and my body really detests them.’’
‘‘What did you have?’’ Elizabeth switched into doctor mode.
‘‘Things that are not appropriate for dinner conversation.’’
‘‘Oh. Will you go back?’’
‘‘I don’t know. I found I learn languages very quickly. I might be of more help in translating the Scriptures into Swahili or another major language so at least those who can read, can read the Bible to those who can’t. Right now I am not sure how the Lord plans to use me.’’
‘‘But your health is better?’’
He shrugged. ‘‘I am feeling much improved.’’
‘‘That is good.’’ Elizabeth resisted the urge to take his wrist and check his pulse. He looked so gray that if he was now much improved, what had he looked like before? And what had he contracted in the dark continent, where strange and horrifying diseases seemed to proliferate like mosquitoes in a swamp?
She glanced up to catch Dr. Gaskin’s eye. ‘‘So, dear Doctor, when did you finally gain your wits enough to marry Nurse Browne?’’
‘‘Tsk, tsk. And here I thought medical school might teach you to curb your tongue.’’ He smiled at the beaming woman beside him. ‘‘But to answer your question, I don’t know why I wasted all that time.’’ He patted Matilda’s hand lying on the table. ‘‘I feel like I have a whole new lease on life.’’ He looked straight at Elizabeth. ‘‘So much so that I rescind my offer for you to take over my practice. I would be honored if you would join me, but I’m not ready to give up the harness yet.’’
‘‘Bravo. I’m glad to hear that, because I plan to stay in Chicago for at least a few more months.’’
‘‘She’ll be with me forever if I have anything to say about it.’’ Dr. Morganstein spoke from the head of the table on the opposite side of Thorliff.
Dr. Gaskin leaned forward. ‘‘Would the idea of a hospital in Northfield make a difference in how you feel?’’
Elizabeth laid down her fork. ‘‘Really?’’
‘‘We are working toward that end. My small surgery with three beds is just not enough. We even thought of putting more beds in the parlor, but I’m kind of partial to that parlor now that I have someone to sit in it with me.’’
‘‘We’ve been talking with Dr. Johanson and the city fathers. There is a great deal of interest.’’ Mrs. Gaskin turned to smile at her husband.
Elizabeth recognized the love in her eyes. How wonderful for them both. Her thoughts took off. All this past year of exchanging letters with Thorliff, she had been given the chance to look into his soul and realize even more what a fine man he was. No wonder her father thought so highly of him. Not only did he have a good mind, but he was a godly man of character. True, he wasn’t as polished in the social graces as Thornton, but he learned quickly and, unless his head was lost in a story, usually had a good sense of humor.
Are you comparing the two? The thought caught her by surprise. Not in the least, just finishing out an idea. Besides, they were both just good friends. After all, that was what men would be in her life, just good friends.
You sure you don’t care for Thorliff as more than just a friend? When she tried stuffing that voice down in a corner and clapping a lid on it, she raised her attention from her meal at the clearing throat next to her. ‘‘Ah, did you ask me something?’’
‘‘Not exactly, but I did expect a response to my comment.’’ Thornton wiggled his eyebrows when she looked at him.
Elizabeth covered a snort of decidedly unladylike manner with her napkin. ‘‘I’m sorry. I was thinking. Could you repeat yourself?’’
‘‘I said that I’ll be remaining in Chicago for a few weeks.’’
‘‘Oh, really?’’ Oh, please don’t expect to take up where we left off. I have no more feelings for you now than I had then.
‘‘Perhaps we could attend a sym
phony or something.’’
‘‘That would be lovely.’’ She caught the stolid look on Thorliff’s face and looked across the table to catch Dr. Gaskin chuckling at what he realized was her predicament.
Why had whoever arranged the table put her between the two young men after all?
Because they were both her friends. That was an easy answer but not an easy situation.
As the waiters removed the plates, she glanced down the table at her mother and father. They were talking with Mrs. Josephson and seemed to be really enjoying themselves. She would always have a special place in her heart for Mrs. Josephson, as she was the person who introduced a young girl dreaming of medical school to the woman in Chicago who could help make her dreams come true.
Which they had.
Ah, Lord, how blessed I am. Now please get me out of this situation that is growing more uncomfortable by the moment. She glanced at Thornton, who smiled at her, then at Thorliff, who smiled too, a forced smile with clouds dimming the incredible blue of his eyes. Tonight they looked dark, like water at twilight. Her arm brushed his, and she felt her breath catch. The desire to lean closer made her sit upright, like a prisoner laced to a pole.
Dr. Gaskin winked at her.
He knows. Knows what? Knows that I really don’t look on Thor-liff as a brother like I do Thornton. As if I really know the difference when I’ve never had a brother, but that thrill I feel with him surely doesn’t come with brothers and sisters.
She rubbed her forehead to stop the voices shouting at each other, or at least it seemed they did.
A waiter dimmed the lights as the chef brought in a tray with flames burning blue on the cherries jubilee.
‘‘In your honor, Dr. Rogers.’’ He set the beautiful dessert on a table slightly off to the side and began serving. When the waiter set the first plate in front of her, she turned to offer her thanks.
Again she brushed Thorliff’s arm. This time her back grew warm, as if that flame had moved on over to take up residence within her.
When the coffee was served at the end of the meal, Elizabeth rose and looked around the table, waiting to catch glances so she could speak. When the conversations quieted, she said, ‘‘I want to thank each one of you for coming to my graduation but even more for the parts you have played in bringing me to this place. You have encouraged me, provided me with experiences that I needed, and helped me financially, and I know that all of you have prayed for me too. I would not be where I am today were it not for all of you. Thank you, Father and Mother. I know this wasn’t your dream for me, but you helped me anyway. Mrs. Josephson and Dr. Morganstein, you saw something in me that cried out for your attention. Thank you for being aware and then pursuing a way for me to walk. Dr. Gaskin, under your tutelage I delivered my first baby, I stitched the first laceration, and I cried when we lost my first patient. Thank you for all those years of answering unending questions and challenging me to think things through. Thornton and Thorliff, you have made me laugh, beaten me at croquet, and argued both theology and politics, neither being a subject for polite company. What would I do without friends like you? Again, thank you all for coming, and may God continue to guide us in the paths where we should go.’’ She smiled at each one as she closed her impromptu speech and applauded along with them before sitting down again.
‘‘Whew,’’ she muttered under her breath and heard a chuckle on either side.
‘‘You spoke beautifully,’’ said Thornton.
‘‘I’m proud of you,’’ whispered Thorliff.
‘‘Are you really?’’
‘‘More than I can say.’’ Thorliff’s whisper soothed her like a gentle rain that settles the dust and makes the world smell all fresh and alive again.
She thanked each guest at the door and finally took the elevator to the family’s suite, where she collapsed on the bed and let her mother help her undress.
‘‘Good night, dear. You sleep as late as you want in the morning. If we aren’t here, we will leave a message.’’
‘‘Good.’’ Elizabeth didn’t even hear her mother close the door.
October 23,
1896 Dearest Elizabeth,
Our brief visit in Chicago was far too short, and though the holidays are not too far away, right now it seems forever.
I have something I need to ask you, and I had hoped we’d have more time together when I was there, but since we didn’t, here goes. Elizabeth, I have come to care for you deeply, far beyond that of friendship, although that is surely the basis for my caring. I need to know if you care even a bit for me as more than a friend. When I am with you, I forget the lonely hours when you are away, and when we are apart, I remember how much I love to hear you laugh, to discuss something important with you, and to hear the music in your voice. I feel tall and strong as an oak tree when you are by my side, and my day lights up as with the sunrise when I receive a letter from you. There, now that I’ve poured my heart out to you, I ask that God keep you safe and bring you home again swiftly.
Yours,
Thorliff
November 10, 1896
Dearest Thorliff,
Such beautiful words you write. How can a young woman’s heart but quicken to know that someone she holds in the highest esteem speaks with such fervor!
You know my calling is to be a doctor, and that is what I am doing, and I do not know where that will lead. I commend us both to God’s keeping and leading as I pray for you every day.
Life goes on here at the hospital as busy as ever. I no longer only assist at surgeries but am in charge of some of the more mundane operations. Several of the second-year students assist me, besides the nurses, of course. I am thinking of attending a special clinic at Johns Hopkins in January. Dr. Morganstein feels I will benefit from learning some of their procedures. The thought both terrifies and thrills me. How will I measure up being the foremost question in my mind. I will write more later when I know for sure.
Your still-in-training doctor,
Elizabeth
PS: Remember when I told you about dropping things with my right hand? You noticed it at dinner one day too. I finally took my courage in hand and asked Dr. Morganstein about it. She examined me but had no idea what it might be since it is so intermittent. She suggested I make a record of all the events and what was going on at the time. She feels that the pattern may be due to extreme fatigue, because it never happens when I’ve had plenty of rest. So the prescription is to get enough rest. How one does that when working at this hospital is a question without an answer. But it has not happened lately, and for that I am very thankful. I need not describe to you my relief.
Yours,
E.
Elizabeth tied on a clean apron and adjusted the triangular scarf that covered her hair. She glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes until she was due in the operating room. Without thinking she massaged her right hand and arm as she took the stairs to the lower floor. She’d not had a problem with dropping things since before graduation, but then, she wasn’t as exhausted all the time either. Thank God. It seemed Dr. Morganstein was right. Elizabeth thought ahead to the surgery and murmured her constant prayer before beginning. ‘‘Lord, give me wisdom and sure hands to help heal this woman. And give her the strength to come through the surgery and get well. Thank you that I can be part of your plan for healing. Amen.’’
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Northfield, Minnesota
December 15, 1896
Dear Mor,
How I hate to have to write this, but due to circumstances here, I will not be able to come home for Christmas after all. I guess I did my job too well last time Mr. Rogers was gone, so now he feels free to travel more.
Thorliff stopped writing. Was that really the reason he wasn’t going back to North Dakota, or was it he wanted to spend every minute he could with Elizabeth? Yes, Phillip would be gone for three days. Yes, he needed to be in Northfield through the twenty-second, but . . . He ripped his letter in half and dropped it in t
he wastebasket. His mother would be appalled at the waste. Paper was too precious to just throw away, that is, unless you worked in a newspaper office.
He started again.
December 15, 1896
Dear Mor and my family,
Please forgive me for not coming home, as we had talked about. I could possibly come on the twenty-second after Mr. Rogers comes back from his trip, but since I would need to be back on the twenty-eighth, that leaves so little time with all of you. As you said in your last letter, Mor, more frequent letters would be helpful, and I promise to write more often. I’m praying that one of these days you will have telephones like we do here. Such a convenience, and hearing a voice that you love over lines from far away is nothing short of miraculous. I am thinking that Tante Penny will be able to install one at the store in the next year or so, as the telephone lines follow the train tracks like the telegraph did. Perhaps they will use the same poles even.
School is going well. I am on the debate team again, and we royally trounced Carleton. Would that we could do the same in baseball.
Elizabeth is home through the holidays and enjoying the time off. I might win a debate tournament but have yet to out-debate her, especially on anything to do with medical issues. I think she figures out where I stand and deliberately chooses the opposite. They say that iron sharpens iron, and you know that I have always held strong opinions myself. I wish you could hear her play the piano. Someday she will come to Blessing, I do hope and pray. Or when you come for my graduation, you will have the privilege of hearing her.
He stopped again. Was he saying too much about Elizabeth? How much would his mother read between the lines?
He stared at the paper, seeing Elizabeth’s face without even making an effort. Hearing her laugh, standing behind her, intoxicated by the scent of her hair. Rejoicing at seeing her after months of being content with letters.
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