“We’re being honest, you said. I grew up here, Thomas. These people are my own. I left once, but now that I’m back I don’t want to leave again. I want my children to grow up here. These people, my friends and family, are my cushion. We all take care of one another. Should I die, they would raise my children.”
He nodded. “And we have all been reminded fiercely how fragile life is.”
“Yes.” She looked at him with sad eyes. “When are you going to—you said Michigan?”
“Shortly.”
“And the decision is to be made after that.”
“Aye.”
She sighed. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, Thomas. I just don’t know. I will think about it and pray about it. But at this moment, I do not see a happy outcome for me either way.”
And neither did Devlin.
CHAPTER 29
Astrid, Miriam, and Deborah stood at the window watching the circus train slowly, slowly begin to move, thick smoke billowing. Westward bound. “Thank God we are seeing the last of that carrier of pestilence.”
“Do you think they’ll be able to perform?” Miriam asked. “Does that man realize how weak some of his people still are?”
“I have no idea.” Astrid banished the wish that Stetler had caught diphtheria too. After all, vengeance did belong to God, not her. A good thing. She turned and looked out over their ward. For the first time in who knew how long, they had empty beds. Surely she could send some of her people back to their homes, and life could return to normal. She did an interior snort. Whatever normal meant. The next instant she was blinking tears. Elizabeth was gone. Life would never be the same. She blew her nose and realized the other two were doing the same.
“Let’s get this place cleaned up and get Thorliff better.”
“Will you send the temporary help back to Chicago now?” Deborah asked.
“Ja, I think so. I would be happy to keep Dr. Johnson here for a time longer, but . . .” She watched those on duty going about scrubbing beds.
Miriam inhaled a breath of the cool morning air coming in the window. “Can I tell my family they can go home? After they scrub up, of course?”
Astrid smiled. “Ja, and you. I know Trygve will be happy.” She nudged the woman beside her. “And I know you will appreciate your own bed. In fact, you take a couple of extra days off, get some rest, enjoy your family.”
“Thank you. You mean right now?”
“Ja, right now.”
Miriam had her cap and apron off before Astrid could change her mind and headed out to pass on the news.
Deborah watched her go. “That was a generous thing to do.”
“I let her go first because of her family.”
“I figured. How about I tell Vera the same?”
“Go ahead and redo the schedule. I’m going to go work with Thorliff and check on Johnny.”
She entered Johnny’s room first.
He looked horribly droopy. “Can I go home now?”
“Not yet. We’d better keep you here, just in case. Let me see your throat again.” His throat was inflamed, but if the membrane was growing on his tonsils, she couldn’t see it yet. “I can’t let you go back home until we know for sure.”
After turning the boy over to Deborah and her nurses, Astrid scrubbed again, this time with carbolic acid, and headed for Thorliff’s room. The others might get a reprieve, but she would be staying on here at the hospital, not that she’d done more than dream of home. She dissolved into another round of tears, so she let them come. So much. So much.
Once she had herself back together, she went into Thorliff’s room, his coughing meeting her at the door. Was the swelling down in his neck? “Thorliff, I’m taking your temperature. Can you hear me?” He nodded and opened his mouth. When she read the thermometer, she laid a hand on his shoulder. “Thorliff, your temp has remained down, as it was earlier this morning. That is good news.”
He turned his head and stared at her. “She’s gone,” he croaked. He started to say something else and instead started coughing.
“Yes. John and Thomas buried her.”
A tear leaked out the edge of his eye and trailed into his hair. “I . . . I . . .” Another coughing fit wracked him.
“Don’t try to talk. That just makes the coughing worse.”
He closed his eyes and turned his face away.
She checked to see if there was cough syrup in the cup on the bed table and held it to his lips. “Drink this.” Please, Thorliff, cooperate. She held it to his mouth. When he didn’t open his mouth at all, she said firmly, “You will take it from a spoon, and then we will move you to the steam room.” The medicine done, she went to find Dr. Johnson to help her move Thorliff.
“Two men want to talk with you,” Sandra said, pointing to the door.
“Go get Dr. Johnson and help him move Thorliff to the steam room, please.” When Sandra nodded, Astrid went to the door. Two men indeed. Daniel and Trygve! She smiled at her husband, wishing she could leave with him. His return smile made her wish that even more. She asked, “What can I do for you gentlemen?”
Her husband asked, “How is Thorliff? Please, I hope you have some good news for us.”
Other than the train leaving? Now was not a time to be flippant. “He is no worse. He still is running a temperature, but not much above normal. The swelling seems to be diminished too. Not a lot but . . .”
Daniel nodded. “Now that the quarantine is lifted, send for us when you need something.”
“I shall.” She walked down the hall and watched them leave. I need to go home! I need to have a normal life again. But they couldn’t cure that.
She looked up to see Reverend Solberg with Mary Martha trotting at his side. Lord God, help us. I’m glad I can give someone good news. She held open the screen door and beckoned the Solbergs inside.
“Astrid, are you sure?” Mary Martha held her handkerchief to her leaking eyes.
“No, we are not sure, but we must act as if we know. Be ready to do all we can if it appears. That is why I am keeping him here. Come, he’s in room two.”
Johnny lay sleeping. His eyes fluttered open when they spoke his name. “Ma, Pa . . .” He reached for them with a smile, but the smile vanished, and he sniffed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to miss the shots. I didn’t know about it.”
“You would have if you’d been home where you were supposed to be,” his mother said in a tone of voice that mothers so often use.
Astrid closed the door and went to check on Thorliff in the steam room. The nurse was making sure his head stayed upright so that he could inhale all the steam possible. Both were drenched in steam and sweat. “Make sure he gets broth and ice packs after this. After the broth, another dose of cough syrup.”
Thorliff did not open his eyes, but the sound of difficult breathing seemed to fill the room. “Let me know when you have him back in his room.” She went down to the telephone and asked for her mother’s home.
There was no answer. “Try Thorliff’s house. She may be there.”
Moments later, her mor picked up the phone at Bjorklunds’. “Oh, Astrid, I just heard about Johnny,” Ingeborg said. “All I know to do is pray, and I know we all have been. We just thought we were safe.”
“I’m glad you are there with Inga. She needs all the solace she can get.”
“She is cranky, but look at what she’s lost! What can I tell her about her far?”
“He is no worse and his temperature seems stable. I wish Inga could come see him, but not yet. His condition would frighten her.”
“Oh, thank you, Lord. We praise your mighty name. Oh yes, Astrid, that is good news. And Clara and I got to welcome a new baby into this world. We are making strawberry jam, and I will take that and fresh berries to Emmy. Oh, Astrid, such great news. Tell John we are all praying for Johnny and for them. I need to go. See you soon.”
Astrid smiled at the click she heard in her ear. Thank you for my mor. She hung up and headed for the back of the
hospital, where there just might be a breeze in the shade. What if she had them wheel Thorliff out there? Perhaps tomorrow, if he continued to improve.
On her late evening rounds, Astrid checked Johnny’s throat again. Her heart sank. He had diphtheria. The membrane proved it. She sighed.
John sat up on his cot along the wall. “He has it, doesn’t he?” John Solberg almost had his pastoral self back in place. Only his eyes showed he was now a grieving father too.
Astrid nodded. “It’s for sure now.”
“I will telephone Mary Martha and tell her. We decided we would take turns here at the bedside.”
“I’m sure someone would gladly stay with him through the night.”
“This won’t be the crisis night though, will it? Seems it usually takes a few days to get to that point.”
“Remember . . .” Astrid paused. Did they dare let these two dear people go back and forth to home and expose the other children to possible danger? She knew she might be erring on the side of caution, but when was too much? She had yet to go home. Could she now? Could she leave Dr. Johnson in charge and go home? The thought made her ache. But John was right. Tonight was not the danger night, nor tomorrow. But what about Thorliff? Was he really beyond the danger point?
“We will bring in an extra bed if you both want to stay.”
John smiled wanly. “Thank you, Astrid. Have you seen Thomas?”
“Not since he brought Johnny in. He’ll be in soon, I am sure.” She left the room still pondering. Sleep here or go home? She’d be waking Dr. Johnson in an hour. By then she would have decided.
On her way past, the telephone jangled. She picked it up. “Dr. Bjorklund.”
“Your mor.”
“Thank you. Put her through.” No wonder the telephone operators knew everything going on before the others. All they had to do was leave the line open. “Yes, Mor. Did you enjoy your visit with Inga?”
“I am still here. She has a cough and a slight temperature. I don’t want to bring her over there, just in case. I don’t see any sign of a sore throat.”
Please, God, no more. Was that fear she heard in her mor’s voice? “What about Roald?”
“He seems fine yet.”
“Good. If you see any change, bring her right over.” No choice, she was staying here.
The next morning, she checked Thorliff first thing. He seemed to be improving, almost imperceptibly, but even so, he was better. The membrane was fighting a losing battle.
On the other hand, Johnny was getting sicker. When she mentioned intubation or a tracheotomy if it went that far, John and Mary Martha agreed. Do whatever she could to help their son. Knowing too much about the disease made it even harder for John. She knew that but also knew there was nothing she could do to help him.
The day dragged on. She knew it was only a day, but it seemed like weeks. No one else came in with suspicious symptoms, including Inga. But the Solbergs took up their own vigil with Johnny. They changed cooling cloths, fetched their own ice, in reality took over the care of their son. Both of them now vowed to remain at the hospital around the clock. When one was caring for the boy, the other was praying.
“You have to get some sleep,” Astrid said on her way to bed herself. “Both of you.”
“We are.” John laid a hand on her arm. “You do the same.”
“He is putting up a good fight.”
“Thank God for that.” John asked, “Shall I take him to the steam room again?”
“Ja, that seems to help him the most. Make sure you get some more broth in him.” She shrugged. “Sorry, I know you knew that, and you are doing all you can too.” She laid a hand on his arm and squeezed, wishing there were some way she could pour all her strength into this man who strengthened so many others. “Call me in when you need me.”
He nodded. “Sleep, Astrid. You need that too.”
At her bed, Astrid took off her shoes. Lord, tell me when it is time to protect that airway. A sense of peace made her certain God had indeed heard her. Lord, please keep Johnny alive.
The next thing she knew, the sounds of morning awakened her. She sat up and swung her feet over the edge, then looked up when Dr. Johnson stuck his head through the curtain gap.
“Oh, excuse me, but I think we need to intubate Johnny. The membrane . . .”
“Go prep and I’ll be right there. Tell whoever is on to get the OR ready.”
“I already did that.”
“Thank you.” She slammed her feet into her shoes and twisted her hair into a bun as she headed for the scrub sink. John and Mary Martha stood on either side of the gurney, their hands on their son, so struggling to breathe.
Nurse Abigail was pushing the gurney. “Deborah is preparing the anesthetic.”
“Good, thank you.” Turning to the Solbergs she nodded and set to scrubbing. “You might as well wait in his room. It’s more comfortable there. This won’t take long.” She couldn’t look at them again. Feeling herself submerge into being a doctor, she inhaled a deep breath. Apron, hat in place, she held dripping hands up and entered the operating room, already hot from the lit lamps. Gowned and ready, Dr. Johnson was prepping the boy’s neck. He could no longer be Johnny to her. He had to be a patient.
“Ready.”
She looked to Deborah. “Give him another minute. Let’s pray.” Astrid inhaled and exhaled. “Father God, we plead your mercy on us and this young man. You alone are the true healer, but we are fighting in your battle. Give us strength and wisdom beyond our ways. We thank you and praise you. Amen.” She opened her eyes. “Ready?”
At both of their nods, she picked up the tube. As if they’d been working together for years, Dr. Kenneth firmly clamped the boy’s head. Easing the narrow tube up into the nostril and threading it through the inflamed tissues, Astrid could already feel the sweat dripping down her back and face. Patience, she ordered herself. All had to be done by feel, so she closed her eyes, the better to sense when to increase the pressure. “Done.” She looked to Deborah. “Thank you.” To her assisting doctor, “Thank you and please stay with him.”
At his nod, she left the room and met with the Solbergs waiting right outside the door. “He did well. The tube is in. In just a few minutes, Dr. Johnson will wheel him out.”
“Thank you, Astrid.”
Did she do right? Would a trach have been better? Would that narrow tube actually give him enough air? Such thoughts bombarded her mind as she tossed her apron and cap into the laundry, scrubbed, and rubbed her mother’s lotion into her hands and arms, clear to her shoulders. Lord, like Mor keeps reminding me, I have to trust you, but . . . Arms propped on the edge of the sink, head heavy, she waited, praying for that sense of peace she’d felt the night before. I’ve done all I can, Lord. He is in your hands. Please, please, leave him here with his family.
“Your mor and Inga are in the examining room,” one of the nurses said. She raised both hands quickly, so Astrid’s face must have betrayed her thoughts. “No, no. Ingeborg wants you to check Inga, just in case.”
Astrid donned a clean apron and tucked stray hairs back into the bun. Smile. You know Inga will see any sorrow. She need not know about Johnny right now. Did she dare let her stand in the doorway to her pa’s room?
Ingeborg sat in the chair, holding Inga on her lap as the little girl fought to catch her breath after a spasm of coughing.
Astrid forced a smile and leaned over to put an arm around Inga’s shoulders. “Not feeling too good, are you?”
Inga looked up at her through eyes of misery. “Hurts.”
“I know. I’m going to put you up on the table, where I can see your throat better.” She slid her arms around the little girl and lifted her to the examining table. “Open wide for me.” Inga did as she was told. “Can you say ah?”
Astrid checked carefully. While the throat was red, most likely from coughing, her tonsils were somewhat swollen but no gray membrane—anywhere. Breathing a sigh of relief, she checked the neck. Glands were a litt
le swollen, but that was to be expected.
“Clear?” Ingeborg stood beside her.
“Ja, most likely croup. Keep dosing her with cough syrup without laudanum but extra honey, steam, and—”
“Drink lots of fluids.” Ingeborg picked up the mantra. “Thank you, Lord. That’s what I thought, but my eyesight isn’t what it used to be, and I just wanted reassurance.” Ingeborg took Inga’s hand and squeezed it. “Good thing we don’t have far to walk.”
“You want Dr. Johnson to carry her?”
Inga jerked upright, coughing again. When she could breathe again, she shook her head. “Can I see Pa?”
Astrid debated. “I’m sure he wants to see you too, but he is still very, very sick. He doesn’t look too good.”
“He is not going to die?”
“No, he is getting better.”
Inga leaned into her grandmother. “Let’s go home now.”
“Can you walk that far?”
“I walked here.” That was Inga, always practical. “Can I have ice cream?”
“Ja. Thelma can go get some.”
“Soda.” Inga coughed again. “Strawberry.” She looked to Astrid. “Will you come too, Tante Astrid?”
“Oh, how I wish.”
Then she asked, “Is Johnny going to die?”
So she knew about Johnny Solberg. “I pray not.” Please, Lord, don’t let her ask any more questions. “Here, let me help you down.” Surprised that Inga had not said anything about her ma, Astrid saw them out the door and waved good-bye.
Oh to be out in the fresh air, walking on the ground rather than a floor, no sounds of coughing. She turned back and closed her portal to the world. She could hear Thorliff coughing from here. But he was better. Her heart sang. Inga did not have diphtheria, Thorliff was better, and barring unforeseen complications, there was more hope for Johnny too.
And strawberries. Fresh strawberries. This was the season. How she would love to go pick strawberries.
She’d just finished breakfast when Daniel appeared in the doorway.
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