To Everything a Season

by Lauraine Snelling

  “I don’t know. I hear the winters are much colder than in England or here in Chicago, and with lots of snow.”

  “Ah, the goat cheese I used to make.” Her smile made her whole face brighten. “We had a herd of goats, so we had plenty of milk, and—” But a cough cut her off. When she could breathe again, she asked, “How is your school going?”

  “Very well.” She went on to describe the two nurses who would be going with her. “If Corabell can get over her fears of being so far away from home. And Vera? All she dreams of is a husband. But they are both good nurses.”

  “What if you meet the man of your dreams out there?” Mercy poked her sister on a shoulder blade. “You could, you know.”

  “Don’t you fear. I will be back. Mrs. Korsheski has promised me a position at the hospital in the surgical ward if I prove my skills well in that area. She feels we will come back with far more experience than we would gain here.” She watched her mother’s eyes close in spite of her efforts to stay awake. Turning, she caught Mercy’s nod. “All the time?”

  “No, but today is worse. She was so excited you were coming that I think it wore her out.” She motioned to the door, and they all filed into the other room.

  “So tell me what has been happening.”

  “With Mother or . . . ?” Mercy picked up a pillowcase she was embroidering.

  “With everything.”

  For the next two hours, her siblings shared what had been happening and asked Miriam questions about life at the hospital. When the shadows lengthened across the room, she went in to say good-bye to her mother. “You will write to me, won’t you?” she pleaded, the ache in her heart almost unbearable.

  “I will. I just hope you can read it.”

  “Oh, I will read it. Mother, I am going to ask Mrs. Korsheski if they will admit you to the hospital again to see if there is anything more they can do. Are you eating?”

  “Yes, some.” She clung to her daughter’s hand. “I know the others save out the best bits for me, and that is unfair. They all work so hard, they need every bit of food we can find.”

  “Cook sent some soup for you. She said to be of good courage and asked if there is any way you can get out in the sun, at least for a bit every day. You do sit in front of the window in the morning, don’t you?”

  Her mother nodded. “When I can.” She smiled with her eyes more than her mouth. “You go with God, and I pray He will bring you back to us.”

  “He will.” If not God, I will make sure I come back. He’d not answered any of her prayers for so long she had pretty much given up on the love He said He had for them. Or at least the priest had said. That thought brought up another. “Has a priest been here to visit you?”

  “Not since Father Mulganey grew too old to serve. The younger priests don’t seem to take care of their flock the way he did.”

  Not surprising, Miriam thought. You no longer have anything to put in the offering box. But if God was serious about taking care of the poor and the widows, why had He not sent help?

  “It is not our place to question the almighty God. I will pray for you, my Miriam, not that I have ever quit. That He will keep you safe and bring you home again.”

  “Well, in the meantime, I will ask Mrs. Korsheski if you can be admitted again.” She leaned over and kissed her mother’s pale cheek. “You eat that soup and you will feel better.” For that is all I have to offer you. She shook her head. No, she couldn’t go. She could not leave her family like this. She would tell Mrs. Korsheski in the morning.

  Her mother clasped her hand. “Listen to me.” Her voice took on a semblance of authority. “You will not cancel your plans to stay here for us. God has provided for us so far. We have a roof over our heads, and we have not starved to death. You will go.”

  Miriam nodded, anything to pacify the agitated woman in the bed. “I have to leave now. I will write.” She kissed her mother’s hand again. “Thank you for praying.” Knowing what she’d just said bordered on a lie, she left the room, hugged her sisters and brothers too, since Tonio had come home, and started out the door.

  “I will walk partway with you.” Tonio stood from his place by the window, where an evening breeze was blowing off the lake and breathing coolness into the room.

  “You needn’t do that.” She wanted to lie and tell him she was taking the trolley, but . . . “Only to the trolley, then.”

  “You have the nickel for that?”

  “She gave all her money to me.” Mercy ducked when she caught Miriam’s glare.

  “Give the nickel back to her. She will take the trolley.” Tonio cocked an eyebrow at his older sister. “I will be paid this week. The trolley is safer for a woman alone on the streets in the evening.”

  Miriam tried to not accept it, but when Tonio took the coin from Mercy and laid it in her palm, she gave up. She hugged everyone again and followed Tonio out the door and down the stairs. He swung her basket as they walked, after tucking her hand around his crooked elbow.

  “Uh, I have a question. When did you become this man I see?”

  “Over the last months. I could no longer be a boy. My family needs me too desperately. Men are more likely to be hired than a boy.”

  “I see.” But she didn’t. “Do you think this job might last longer?”

  He nodded. “I work harder than two of the others put together. The foreman has noticed.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Loading railroad cars.”

  The trolley was only half a block away when they reached the stop. She took her basket back after hugging him tight. “Please take care of yourself so you can take care of the others.” He nodded. “And write to me. I need to see home through your eyes.”

  “I cannot promise that, but I will try.”

  She stepped up and dropped her nickel in the coin box. She should have walked instead.

  “I saved you a plate,” Cook said when Miriam arrived in the dining room after all the others had left. “How is your mother?”

  “More frail all the time, if that is possible. But she said she has good days and bad days, and today happened to be a bad one.”

  “And you believed her?”

  “The others said the same.”

  “I’ll be right back.” When Cook returned, she handed her a warm plate of mashed potatoes, gravy, roasted chicken, and a mixture of canned vegetables. “We have gingerbread for dessert. You can have it with applesauce or hard sauce.”

  “I’ll take the hard sauce. I’m not sure I’ve ever had that.” Miriam picked up her plate and set it on a white-clothed table, then retrieved her utensils and the square of gingerbread. “Thank you. I feel guilty for eating so wonderfully when my family is getting by on so little.”

  “That’s life, all right. Now, you enjoy your supper and leave the worrying to God. He’s much better at it than we are.”

  There it was. God again. Should she tell Cook of her new certainty? That God was sitting up in His heaven and maybe shaking His head over what was going on down on earth but not lifting a finger? She knew what she had to do. Go tell Mrs. Korsheski that she absolutely refused to go. No, that wasn’t the best way. But her family could not survive without her help. If she had to, she’d go to Mrs. Shaunnessy, head of the nursing school, and explain the situation.

  But what if they do not allow you to stay in school if you don’t accept their plan? Kick you right out for insubordination? Then what will you do? Would the voice of torment never cease?

  Chapter 21

  BLESSING, NORTH DAKOTA

  What are we going to do for housing for our nurses? They arrive Sunday!” Astrid paced the floor of her living room. “They need to be near the hospital.”

  “And there definitely is no room at the boardinghouse?” Daniel asked.

  “No. Sophie says not. She’s sorry, but the new addition isn’t open yet, and that is where we planned for them to stay.”

  “We tried, Astrid, we really did. Give us two more weeks.” Tho
rliff shrugged and shook his head. “If the materials had all been delivered like promised, we’d have made it. We’ll get those three rooms or that one big one ready by then. They are putting up the interior walls now. Then it is plaster and paint, and then Sophie can move the furniture in. Might be sooner than two weeks, if all goes well.”

  “Thank you. They can’t stay at Mor’s. It’s too far to walk in for the night shift. We could house them in the one ward at the hospital temporarily, but if something happens and we need those beds . . .”

  Mrs. Jeffers chimed in. “Cannot two of them, at least, stay here?”

  “I thought of that,” Astrid said, “but that would be a lot of extra work for you.”

  Mrs. Jeffers shook her head. “It won’t be forever, you know.”

  “The other could stay at our house,” Thorliff added. “It’s a shame the deaf school is also too far out of town for people who work the night shift. I take it they will take turns on the shifts.”

  “Yes. That’s part of their training.” Astrid went to stand at the window, looking out but seeing nothing. Why did everything have to be a problem? She’d much rather be concerned with sick people than housing for the nurses and all the others coming to town.

  “What about the two Indian women Red Hawk is sending up?”

  “We have more than a month until they get here, and Kaaren said they could stay out there.”

  Astrid spun around. “That’s it for now, then. By the way, you better ask Thelma and Elizabeth if a student boarder is a good idea. I’ll be at the hospital if you need me.” She kissed Daniel on the cheek, picked up her black bag, and headed out the door. By the time she reached the hospital, sweat was already trickling down her back, and she had to mop her face and neck. Good haying and garden growing weather, good for the wheat too, but fans were needed for humans.

  Today Elizabeth had their office open, but it sure would be good when they could move that out here. Plans for the next wing were already dreamed and drawn. As she walked by the larger of the two wards, her mind switched gears. What if they were to put movable walls in that long room so that, until it was needed for more patients, they could use the space for examining rooms and an office? The same could apply for housing for the students. They would be cubicles more than rooms, but they ate in the dining room and there was a bathroom. She smiled to herself. Indoor plumbing was a boon beyond measure. She’d have to talk with Thorliff and Daniel. How difficult would that be?

  Pausing in the hallway outside Manny’s room, she heard her mother’s voice.

  “You’re doing well.”

  “Ain’t neither. I hate these sticks.”

  “Would you rather stay in bed?”

  “No. I’d rather walk.” Manny came clumping to the door and saw Astrid. “How long?” He nodded to his crutches. Astrid walked beside him as he swung out and maneuvered clumsily down the hall.

  “You had a terrible bad break. The surgical wound is healing well, but when bones are separated like that, they take longer to heal. And if you rush it, you might make it worse and be flat back in traction.”

  “Might?” They turned at the outside door and made their way back.

  “Look, Manny, you are lucky or, as my mother would say, blessed to have a right leg at all. Most doctors would have taken the leg off and been done with it.” She could feel him staring at her.

  “Why din’t you?” His voice lost the belligerent tone.

  “Because even though that leg will be shorter than the other, if we have no complications, you should be able to walk again. And ride a horse. I believe a good boot maker could help that by putting an inch- or two-inch thick sole on the right boot.”

  “I—I din’t know.” His voice cracked.

  “Or you could have died from gangrene. That is why we are being so careful to avoid infection.” Might as well lay it all out. “The traction helped keep the bones straight. When you are in bed, we will put a mild traction on it again, just to be safe.”

  Manny entered his room and turned, his back to the bed. He hoisted himself backward onto the bed, using only his arms. Good. He pretty much had his upper body strength back. He would need it.

  Astrid smiled at her mother, who sat knitting away.

  “It will sure be good when those trees outside grow tall enough to give some shade.” Ingeborg nodded to the window. She had been the one who’d insisted they plant the trees last fall, and as usual she had been right. The cottonwood trees outstripped any other tree in rapid growth, but the maples would be useful too in a few years.

  “That it will. Manny is walking better all the time. We’ll put some fleece on the handgrips and the underarm part. Padding should help. But for now and tomorrow, back in traction. I sure wish we had one of those new x-ray machines that can make the bones visible. Another one of those ‘someday’ things.”

  Ingeborg nodded. “Manny, your room is ready at my house as soon as you are released. The big problem is going to be the four steps up to the porches. As you get stronger, you’ll make it fine, but for now I suspect we’ll need to get you some help.”

  They all three looked up as a voice came from the window, “Grandma, we came to see you.”

  “You and who else? And what are you standing on?”

  “Benny’s wheels. He’s here too. Can Manny come to the window? We want to meet him.”

  “Who is she?” Manny asked Astrid.

  “My niece Inga. I told her she can’t come in here to see you and bring germs.”

  “Uff da!” The little girl’s head disappeared.

  “She’s a girl. Who is Benny?”

  “You can walk over there.” She handed him his crutches and helped him off the bed.

  “Do I have to?”

  “It would be polite.”

  The head appeared again. “Sorry. I slipped.”

  “Don’t go pushing.” A boy’s voice came from below.

  “I won’t. Are you coming to see us, Manny?”

  “I guess.” He did better getting balanced this time and sticked over to the window.

  “Hi. I’m Inga and this is my friend Benny. He lives at the soda shop. I live at the doctor’s house.” She pointed over her shoulder. The cart shifted and she grabbed the windowsill. “Whew, that was close.”

  “You got crutches, Manny. You are so lucky.” Benny grinned up.

  “What happened to your legs?” Manny’s eyes grew round.

  “My Doc had to cut them off ’cause a big dray wagon ran over me and mashed ’em up.”

  Astrid watched from over Manny’s shoulder. Benny’s grin had to be the most contagious anywhere.

  “Who you talkin’ about?”

  “My Doc? Why, she is standing right there. Hi, Doc.” He gave her a whole-arm wave. Benny lived in superlatives.

  “So when do you get to go to Grandma’s? She makes the best cookies anywhere. I help her make gingerbread men, with raisins.” Inga cocked her head. “How come you talk so funny?”

  Manny’s eyebrows flattened. “I don’t talk funny, but you sure do.”

  Uh-oh, Astrid thought. Here we go.

  Inga’s eyes narrowed, but when she went to plant her hands on her hips, she fell backward off the cart and sat down with an oomph. “Now see what you did!”

  “I din’t do nothin’.”

  Benny grinned at his friend. “You want me to help you up?”

  She batted away his hand and stood, then dusted off the back of her skirt. “Now Ma will be after me again. She says I get dirty on purpose. But this was an accident. Right, Tante Astrid?”

  Manny turned to look at Astrid. “Tante?”

  “That means aunt. She is using some Norwegian words.” At his confused look, Astrid added, “Many people here in Blessing, Mrs. Bjorklund included”—she nodded over her shoulder to Ingeborg, who was carefully knitting her stitches off the needles—“came from Norway and spoke Norwegian before they learned English. Some of us grew up here and learned to talk in Norwegian also.” Shoul
d I tell him about the deaf school or will that add more confusion to the conversation?

  Inga sat down on Benny’s cart with him. “We will come to see you when you get to Grandma’s. Do you know how to play checkers?”

  Manny nodded. “I used to play with Papaw.”

  “Papaw?”

  “My ma’s father.”

  “Oh, good. Benny taught some of us to play checkers. We play rock, scissor, paper too. And we read books from the school library.”

  Astrid interrupted their conversation. “I think Manny needs to get back to bed so I can put the traction back on before I leave.”

  “Okay.” Inga and Benny waved. “Maybe tomorrow Grandma will bring you a gingerbread man.”

  “And maybe not,” Ingeborg said softly. “I have beans to can.”

  “You should have brought them and had Manny help snap them.”

  Manny shot her a disgusted look, and he sticked back to bed. This time when he lay down, he exhaled a sigh of relief.

  “Hurting?”

  “Some.”

  Astrid unwrapped the traction cord. “Manny, you have to be honest with me—no trying to be a man and tough it out. I can help you best when you tell me the truth. Now, is the pain okay or is it getting worse?” She waited, watching the emotions chase across his face.

  “Bad and getting worse. Started out only a bit, like when the dog scratches you. Now it’s like the dog bit you.”

  Astrid smiled at his description. “Thank you. That helps me. I’ll have the nurse bring something, along with water. You need to drink a lot.”

  “But then I’ll have to—”

  “I know, but you’ve been doing fine.” She looked to her mother, who held up the stocking cap. “I like that blue stripe. Try the hat on Manny. See how it fits.”

  Manny looked rather doubtful but pulled the hat down over his ears. His eyes widened. “That’s warm.” He took it off and handed it back to Ingeborg. “That really is for me?”

  “Ja, and it looks good on you. I’ll keep it safe until winter.”

  “What if I’m not here for winter?”

  Ingeborg put the hat away and brought the lotion out of her bag. She spread it on her hands and started gently working on his bad leg. “Why, I’ll send it with you. It’s yours. Just you don’t go running off in the middle of the night or some such.” She stopped her stroking and stared at him. “Promise me?”