“Does thee know everything that goes on in this hospital?” Grace asked, surprise in her tone. Then she laughed shortly and nodded. “Jesse is my heavenly sandpaper, I think. He is the most worthless man I’ve ever known—and that’s saying a great deal! He’s lazy, shiftless, dirty, and a thief.”
“Why don’t you let me get rid of him?”
“Oh no, don’t do that.” Grace looked down at her hands, studied them carefully, then looked up with a strange smile. “I think God has given me Jesse to keep me mindful of how often I’ve displeased Him. Just when I’m ready to hit him with a broom, I remember some of the times in my life when I must have caused God as much trouble as Jesse causes me.”
“Well, that’s one way of looking at it, I suppose. But if he gives you too many problems, just let me know.”
Humor came to light Grace’s fine eyes. “I think he’s quite afraid of me,” she mused. “He’s convinced that I can have him put in the front lines of the army at any moment. He’ll do anything in the world to escape service in the army.”
Miss Dix nodded with satisfaction, pleased that Grace was able to handle her own problems. “How is our Mr. Smith?” she asked, sipping her tea. “Any sign of improvement?”
Distress came to Grace’s expression, and she shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid not. His physical wounds have healed, but he still hasn’t said a word.”
“Too bad! Such a fine-looking man,” Miss Dix said regretfully. “We still haven’t been able to find out a thing about him.”
“I think so much about his family,” Grace murmured. “Somewhere he must have a mother and father who are grieving over him.”
“Or a wife and children,” Miss Dix put in; then she glanced sharply toward Grace, thinking of why she had invited her for tea. “Grace, you’re not looking well. Aren’t you sleeping well?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” Grace said quickly, but she flushed slightly under the scrutiny of the superintendent. “Thee must not worry about me, Miss Dix. Thee has too much of a burden as it is.”
“You won’t be able to help your patients at all if you fall ill,” Miss Dix stated. “I’ve seen this before—always with my best nurses. They wear themselves out caring for their patients, and then they’re flat on their backs and I’m left with no one to take their places. The better the nurse,” she added thoughtfully, “the more likely this is to happen.” Setting her cup down firmly, she said, “Take more time off, Grace. You can only do so much, and I think you’ve passed the point of good judgment.”
Grace started to protest, but one look at Miss Dix and she knew that there was no use. “I’ll be more careful.” She nodded. “But thee must take heed of thy own advice. What would happen to the program if thee were taken ill?”
It was a thought that Dorothea Dix had pondered often, for she knew that if nurses were in short supply, there was literally no one to replace her. She held the entire structure on her frail shoulders, and if she were to leave for any length of time, the good that she had wrought in the system might well be lost.
“Both of us must be careful,” she admitted, then stood up, signifying that the tea party was over.
Grace was slightly depressed by the discussion, but knew that what Miss Dix had spoken was good counsel. She knew her own body, and it was telling her to slow down. She was honest enough to admit that she worked such long hours to take her mind off of her own problems, for when she went to bed early, she would think for hours of the past—dwelling sometimes on her father until the loneliness became so painful that she could not bear it.
She thought as well of Clyde Dortch, which shamed her in some mysterious fashion. She felt a guilt over such thoughts and prayed much to not have hard feelings toward her sister and brother-in-law. Still, despite her efforts to bury the bitterness of the past, she would find herself thinking harsh and vengeful thoughts—some of which shocked her. Oh God—don’t let me have this bitterness! she would silently cry, and for a time things would be better.
But losing Clyde had cut her deeper than she supposed. This revelation came when she discovered that she was fantasizing over what might have been. Without purposing it, she would construct a dream of herself as Clyde’s wife, with a family of children. She was the heroine of these dreams, and they always ended the same—and when she snapped out of it, she would be flooded with a new wave of bitterness toward Clyde and Prudence. Then she would have to begin wearily to seek forgiveness from God for such thoughts.
As she walked down the hall toward Ward K, Grace thought about her future. Though it didn’t seem like it now, someday the war would be over. What will I do then? Where can I go? These thoughts depressed her, and she attempted to shake them off. No sense letting my mood bring the men down, she thought, and as she entered, she shook off her blackness and began to go from bed to bed, examining the dressings and giving words of encouragement.
One of the patients, Aaron Bent, a tall, fierce-eyed man from Michigan, had showed some promise. He had spells of such deep depression that he seemed to die inside, but they faded away and he could have passed for normal during these periods. Now he was sitting at one of the tables used for writing and playing games, staring at a sheet of paper.
“Writing your family, Aaron?” Grace asked as she came to stand by him.
“I reckon.” Bent looked up at her and shook his head. “I ain’t much on my letters, Miss Grace.”
“Would you like me to look at it for thee?”
“Sure would.” Bent handed her the letter, then sat back and studied her as Grace read what he had written.
Alf sed he heard that you and hardy was a runing to gether all the time and he thot he wod gust quit having any thing more to doo with you for he thot it was no more yuse. I think you made a bad chois to turn off as nise a feler as Alf dyer and let that orney, thevin, drunkerd, card-playing Hardy Simons come to sea you. He aint nothin but a theef and a lopyeard, pigen toed helon. He is too orney for the devil. I will Shute him as shore as i sea him.
The letter was signed, “All my love, Aaron,” which almost brought a smile to Grace’s lips. Ignoring the terrible spelling, she asked with a straight face, “I take it thee doesn’t care for Hardy Simons?”
“No, I hate his guts,” the soldier said with a shake of his head. “He’s a dead man if he don’t leave my sister alone.”
“But—” Grace struggled to find something to say, but nothing seemed appropriate. “Perhaps your sister loves him.”
Aaron Bent gave Grace a hard, unbelieving stare. “Ain’t no sister of mine goin’ to marry up with a no-account skunk like that! She kin just find some other man to love.”
“But, Aaron, a woman can’t—she can’t just switch off love!”
“Why can’t she?”
Though Grace felt she was getting in over her head, she tried valiantly to explain. “Well, when we love somebody, we can’t just stop loving them, can we—even if they’re not what they should be? What if God stopped loving us just because we didn’t behave right?”
Aaron shook his head firmly. “God never told nobody to be stupid.”
That comment caused Grace to stare at the tall man speechlessly, and he nodded firmly. “Shore He didn’t. And any woman who marries up with Hardy Simons is gonna have a terrible life. He’ll drink and steal and lie and beat her, and she’ll have to raise all the kids by herself. So only a stupid woman would ask fer thet kind of life, ain’t it so?”
Grace found her face glowing slightly with a blush. She said, “I—I can’t answer that, Aaron.”
Bent’s lean face was serious, and he nodded emphatically. “Don’t you be marryin’ up with no trash, Miss Grace,” he said firmly. A thought came to him, and he added, “I’d marry up with you myself, but I already got me a woman.”
“That’s…nice of thee, Aaron.” Grace summoned a smile. “I know thy woman will be glad to have thee home again. And thee has improved so much, it won’t be long now.”
Bent looked down at the floor, his f
ace growing sad. “I’m most afraid to go home. When these fits take me, I ain’t fit to live with my family.”
Grace suddenly felt the Holy Ghost move on her heart, more powerfully than she had ever felt it before!
“Speak the Word to him—and he will be made whole.”
The message came as plainly as if it had been painted on a huge sign, and a joy filled Grace, for she knew that God was about to do something for the man who sat beside her.
“Aaron,” she said quietly, “God wants to take your fears away.…”
Twenty minutes later, Aaron Bent called on God, asked for salvation, and was filled with the Holy Ghost and with peace. He had sat there listening as Grace had read to him from the scriptures, then had told him how God had given her peace. When she’d given Aaron the gospel and asked him to pray, he’d said at once, “I need God, Miss Grace!” He’d bowed his head and, with tears running down his face, had called on God as simply as a little child.
Finally he lifted his head, his eyes wide with wonder, and exclaimed, “Miss Grace…it’s all gone! All that heavy weight I been carrying! It’s just gone!”
“Thank God!” Grace was weeping, too, and she noticed that a few of the patients were watching and listening avidly. Glancing around, she saw that the tall soldier who’d never spoken was leaning against the wall, watching them. Grace smiled at him, but there was no change in the stolid countenance. She turned back to Aaron and rejoiced with him. Finally she said, “Now, Aaron, let me ask thee to do something.”
“Yes, Miss Grace?”
“Tell people what God has done for thee,” Grace said. “Follow Jesus. Learn to love Him more. I will teach thee to pray and to read the Bible, but thee is a new creature, and it will help thee to tell people.”
“Why, shore I will!” Bent exploded. He glanced around the room and said, “Some of these pore fellas can’t understand much, but I’ll shore tell ’em what God’s done for me!”
He rose at once, saying, “Hey, Cyrus, lemme tell you what jest happened.”
Grace sat at the table, unable to contain her tears. This was the first real breakthrough in Ward K, and her heart overflowed with thanks to God. Doubt had come to her many times, and the devil had whispered to her that all her efforts were in vain. Now she knew that wasn’t true, and the power of the gospel was at work all around her!
Getting to her feet, she wiped the tears from her face and moved around the room, speaking to the men—and the blank looks on most of their faces didn’t discourage her at all! When she came to John Smith, she smiled brightly, saying, “John, you’re going to be set free! Jesus Christ is able, and I’m going to pray harder than ever for you!”
She left the ward, going at once to share her good news with Miss Dix and others. Some would doubt and scoff, but Grace was strong in the power of the Lord and cared not one pin what they thought or said! Had she not seen today the power of God displayed in her ward? And what God could do once, He could do again!
The stove made popping noises as the wood burned. There were two stoves, one close to where he stood and another like it down at the other end of the room.
Everything was white and clean. Two rows of beds ran the length of the room, their heads touching the walls. Some of the beds were empty, but others held men who wore white shirts of some kind and lay still.
Looking down he saw that he was wearing a dark blue shirt. He wondered why he wasn’t wearing a white shirt like the men in the beds. His pants were light blue, and he had on black boots.
Something was warm in his hands, and he looked down. He stared at the brown cup filled with hot black liquid, not understanding what it was.
Then a voice came to him, and he was suddenly afraid. He didn’t know why, though, and that made the fear worse. He looked at the table to his right and saw a man wearing the same kind of clothing he had on. He was a small man with bushy hair and wide-staring eyes. He was looking up at the ceiling and saying in a shrill whisper, “George Washington, George Washington, George Washington—!”
The staring eyes turned in his direction, and he wanted to run out of the room—but what would be there waiting for him? He looked around, and the sight of a nearby blank-faced man walking slowly back and forth and wringing his hands brought more fear.
It was better in the dark—there were no blank-faced men there. He closed his eyes, trying to go back into the warm darkness where there was nothing to frighten him. The darkness began to close in, and he felt himself slipping back. It was like a huge pool that was creeping up his body, and he knew that it would cover his chest, then his head—and there would be nothing then but the void.…
But he wrenched his eyelids open with a physical effort, for he suddenly remembered that there were terrible things in the darkness, too! He couldn’t remember them clearly, but shadows and phantoms danced across his brain, and he began to tremble.
A noise came to him, and he looked to his left where one of the men dressed in blue was squatting on the floor and flapping his arms like a chicken. He was making odd noises and advancing steadily. Again he wanted to run, but that would have meant leaving the room.
He closed his eyes and heard something hit the floor.
“Hey, Smith, you spilled your coffee!”
He opened his eyes to find a man standing in front of him.
The man was small, but his eyes were filled with anger.
“I got more to do than clean up your mess!” The man pulled a rag from his pocket and tossed it at him. “Wipe that up! What’d you do that for?”
“I don’t know.”
The man’s jaw sagged, and his eyes flew open wide. He grunted sharply, then reached out and grabbed the patient’s arm. “Hey—what’d you say?”
“I—don’t know—”
Jesse Ormstead could not believe his ears. His mouth clicked shut, and he whispered, “You all right, Smith?”
“Yes, I’m all right.”
Ormstead dropped Smith’s arm, wheeled, and dashed out of the room.
Smith began to be afraid again. I did something wrong, he thought, and he closed his eyes, trying to slip back into the darkness. His hands trembled, and he discovered he held the rag the man had given him. He stared at the pool of black liquid at his feet, then stooped down. He mopped it up, then stood up, the cup and rag in his hand, wondering helplessly what to do with them.
He heard a man’s voice arguing loudly and looked down the room to see the man who’d given him the rag come in with a woman behind him.
“You’ll see!” Jesse Ormstead was saying as he burst through the door. “He talked just as plain as you or me! Come on and I’ll show you!”
Grace had been in the next ward when Ormstead had come bursting in, speaking so excitedly that she’d had to ask twice what he was babbling about. When she understood, she whirled and followed the orderly, her mind reeling with what she’d heard.
“Now, come on, Smith,” Ormstead coaxed. “Say something!”
His relentless demand frightened Smith, who looked down at the cup in his hand in confusion.
“Let me try, Jesse.” Grace moved forward and took the cup and rag from the man’s loose grasp. When he looked up at her, she saw the fear in his eyes. Quietly she said, “Don’t be afraid, John. Nobody’s going to hurt you.” Encouraged by the way he looked at her, she said, “I’m Nurse Swenson. Do you know me?”
Nurse Swenson? Yes, I know her.… She takes care of me—
“Yes, I…I know you.”
“See? Didn’t I tell you?” Jesse Ormstead crowed. He looked around at the men who were watching as if he’d done something wonderful. “See, he can talk good as me!”
Grace wanted to get Smith away from the other patients. “Jesse, you stay here. I’m going to take the patient to see Miss Dix.”
Ormstead grew sullen. “It wuz me who made him talk. You tell her that!”
“I’ll tell her, Jesse.” Grace smiled at Smith, saying, “Come along with me, will you, John?”
&n
bsp; She turned, and Smith followed her obediently. He glanced at the man who’d been saying “George Washington” and at the man who’d been scrambling across the floor toward him, and he was glad to be leaving.
As soon as they were outside, Grace put her hand lightly on the patient’s arm, saying, “I want you to meet a very nice lady, John.” She hesitated, then asked, “Are you afraid?”
He turned his eyes toward her. “Yes,” he whispered quietly.
“You mustn’t be afraid,” Grace said, tightening her grip. “I won’t leave you alone.”
“All right.”
Grace nodded, and the two made their way to the main building and, by a stroke of good fortune, found Miss Dix in and able to see them. When they entered the office, Grace saw surprise cross Miss Dix’s face. “What’s this, Nurse Swenson?” she demanded, rising to her feet.
“I wanted you to meet John Smith,” Grace said, her face slightly pale.
Miss Dix stared at the tall man, then at Grace. “What is it?” she asked carefully.
“John, this is Miss Dix.”
Miss Dix blinked, then at a nod from Grace said, a little breathlessly, “How are you, John?”
Smith looked quickly at Grace for assurance, then nodded. “I’m all right…Miss Dix.”
Dorothea Dix gasped; then a smile spread across her face. “I can see you are!” She motioned at the chairs, saying, “Sit down, both of you.” She came to stand in front of her desk and look down at them. Carefully she said, “It’s good to see you so much better, John. You’ve been very sick.”
Both women were watching the patient intently. He seemed to be in a daze, and when he spoke, it was in a slightly husky whisper, as though his voice was rusty from disuse.
“What’s wrong with me?”
At the sight of the tall, strong man sitting there, looking so lost and helpless, a wave of pity rushed through Grace. Tears stung her eyes, and without thinking, she leaned over and put her hand over his, which were tightly clenched. “You’ve been injured, John. Do you remember anything about it?”
Appomattox Saga Omnibus 2: Three Books In One (Appomatox Saga) Page 46