“Well, uh . . . you would let me go?”
“If you can walk and you know where you are going, yes. We would send a pack with you with food and your things in it. You are not a prisoner here, Manny, but we do hope you will be so happy here you want to stay.” She paused. “Oh, and Haakan said to tell you that your horse is waiting for you out in our pasture.”
“Why you are doin’ all this makes no more sense’n a dog chasin’ his tail. Dumb dog never catches it.”
“Sense or not, that’s just the way it is here. And besides, that dumb dog is having a good time, and that’s important too.”
The next afternoon Trygve arrived with a wagon, a pallet of quilts in back, and Ingeborg perched beside him on the seat. He helped her down and together they went inside the hospital.
When they stepped into Manny’s room, he was sitting on the bed, all dressed in the shirt and pants Kaaren had dug out of the box of clothing she kept at the deaf school. The right leg of the pants had been slit open up past the knee, so they were easy to put on. His boots were in a pack on the chair, and he was wearing moccasins that Metiz had made years earlier. Ingeborg had always known that someone was going to need them sometime.
“Well, look at you.” Ingeborg smiled. “Why, Manny, you clean up real good.”
He fingered his shirt. “I never had no clothes fine as these.” He looked up at her. “Why?” His head wagged from side to side, as if of its own accord. “Makes no sense. And someone done patched my shirt and pants so I got two of each.” More doubtful wags.
“Why not, Manny? You needed help and here you will receive it.”
“I know. ‘That’s the way you do things here.’” He parodied her, not unkindly. “But it don’t make no sense.”
“One of these days you and I will have a real talk about why we do these things. For now, I want you to meet another nephew of mine: Trygve Knutson. He has come to help you out to the wagon and will help you up the stairs into my house.”
Manny nodded and mumbled, “Pleasedtameetcha.”
“Glad to be able to help,” Trygve said. “Are you ready?”
“He is,” Dr. Elizabeth said from the doorway. “I have some medicine and dressings to send with you.” She held out a packet. “Thanks, Trygve, for taking time off the haying.”
“Feels kind of good, actually. No hayseed down the back here. Besides, we’re about done. You ever done any haying, Manny?” When the boy shook his head, he half shrugged. “We get the grass mowed and dried and haul the hay to the barns and haystacks close by to feed our cattle during the winter.”
Manny looked from Ingeborg to Trygve and back to Ingeborg. “Winter’s that bad?”
“Oh yes. We can have snowdrifts clear to the roofs of the barns. You wait and see. Winter here is different from where you grew up. Sometime I hope you’ll tell us more about Kentucky. None of us have ever been there.”
Shutters snapped shut over Manny’s face, and he stared down at his hands. When Ingeborg handed him his crutches, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and, once his good foot was on the floor, put the now-padded sticks, as he called them, under his arms and rose to his feet.
“Thankee,” he said to Dr. Elizabeth and Nurse MacCallister.
“You are welcome.”
“I will pay you somehow, someday.”
“No rush. But thank you for offering. I’ll see you one day soon.”
With Ingeborg and Trygve pacing beside him, he made it to the door without stopping. When Trygve held open the door, he went through and paused, inhaling the fragrances of the summer day. “Aah.” He shut his eyes and breathed deep again.
Trygve put his bag in the back and waited for him beside the wagon.
Ingeborg watched the boy, rejoicing in his appreciation of the beauty around them. He had been so sorry and withdrawn. Perhaps he was at last emerging from that shell.
The sun drew the smell of green grass, dry dirt road, flowers, and trees out from the source so that the breeze could waft around them, to be appreciated by those who took time to savor the summer day. The dog sitting in the wagon bed was one of the appreciators. With one ear flopped and the other cocked, he thumped his tail and, standing at the downed tailgate, wagged some more. His tail beat a tattoo against the sideboard.
Manny’s gaze zeroed in on the scraggly gray dog, and a smile widened his face. He turned to Ingeborg. “Your dog?”
“Well, yes. One of our farm dogs. A stray, he just showed up one day. He herds the cattle, announces company, and whatever else he is needed to do. You had a dog?”
Manny nodded as he sticked to the dog and held out a hand, which Patches gave a cursory sniff, three licks, and a wagging whine. “Good boy.” He sat down and twisted enough so that Trygve could help him swing his legs up. Patches immediately settled in next to Manny.
“Do you want to lie down?”
“Can’t I sit here?”
“Sure. Here, I’ll pad the wagon side and you can lean against that.” Trygve folded up a blanket and did the fixing, then slammed the tailgate shut. After helping Ingeborg up, he climbed up into the box, and within moments they were driving down the street toward the boardinghouse.
Ingeborg identified all the buildings as they passed them. The boardinghouse on the left, businesses up ahead, the houses they passed after they turned onto the street that became the road to the Bjorklund and Knutson farms. “That’s Dr. Elizabeth’s house on the right, along with the newspaper office. Dr. Astrid’s is across that field. We have a lot of building going on here in Blessing.”
When they turned into the Bjorklund lane, Patches leaped up and out over the tailgate to run yipping beside the wagon.
“You can see the hay wagons out in the field and the haystacks they are building beside the barn. That means the haymow is full,” Trygve explained. “Soon, you’ll know this land like the back of your hand. That’s the Red River ahead of us to the east. It flows near the hospital too. You probably smelled it at times.” He turned in the seat. “You know how to milk a cow?”
Manny nodded.
“You like fishing?”
“We used to fish a lot.”
When the wagon stopped by the house, Manny stared. Once out of the wagon, he sticked his way to the porch steps.
Ingeborg smiled at the awe on his face. “My husband Haakan is waiting for you on the porch. You can see him there. He has been ill or he would be out in the fields with the others.”
“You ready?” Trygve asked.
Manny nodded. Trygve scooped an arm around his waist and hoisted him up the steps.
Ingeborg readily recognized the white band around the boy’s mouth and the sweat on his forehead. They should have given him the pain medicine before they left the hospital. Right now he looked about to faint.
“Let’s get him down on the settee so he can lie down if he needs to.”
Trygve picked Manny up again, this time not setting him down until they reached the settee. “Can you manage the rest?”
“Umm.” The boy’s jaw was clenched to fight off the pain. He turned and Trygve lowered him to the seat. Manny collapsed against the cushions on the back with a groan. He tried to lift his legs, but Trygve helped him swing them up on the seat, then helped him scoot to a cushioned arm.
“Pain’s bad?” he whispered.
Manny nodded, his eyes already closed. His shallow breathing and now white face told Ingeborg more than if he’d said words.
She brought morphine with a glass of water. When he’d downed them both, she laid a wet cloth on his forehead and another behind his neck. His pulse was strong and his breathing had returned to normal. “You sleep as long as you need, and when you wake up, I’ll get you something more to drink and to eat. You are home, Manny.” She stroked the hair back from his forehead. “You are home.”
Please, dear God, bring healing to this boy’s leg but even more to his soul and spirit. Please help him to learn what love is, and why we do what we do.
Ch
apter 22
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
You have ducked this ever since Monday and it’s already Wednesday, so get yourself in there to talk to Mrs. Korsheski.”
Miriam glared at the face in the mirror. “You will go do this now!” She closed her eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and grabbed her apron from the hook on the wall. Then she pinned her starched cap in place, thought to try to tame her wild mane, but gave up on that idea and headed for the door. Stomped her way might be a better description. She inhaled deep and exhaled, then reached for the doorknob.
A knock on the door made her jump back, her hand flat on her chest. “Y-yes?”
“Message for you from Mrs. Korsheski.”
Puffing out another breath, Miriam reached for the doorknob, and this time opened it. Expecting a note, the young woman announced, “Mrs. Korsheski wants to see you in her office immediately.”
Land sakes, what have I done now? “Of course. I am on my way.” She shut the door behind her, all thoughts of her own demand left behind as she fretted over What now? all the way down the two staircases to the main floor. Outside the closed door she sucked in another breath, along with what she hoped was the courage to accept whatever she was to hear. She knocked.
“Come in.” Mrs. Korsheski looked up with a smile. “Oh good, Miriam. I’m glad you could come so quickly.” She pointed at the chair in front of the desk. “Sit down, please.”
Miriam took a deep breath and remained standing. “Ma’am. Mrs. Korsheski . . . I, uh . . .” One more deep breath. “I am convinced that I cannot go to North Dakota after all. I would love to travel there. I’ve always wanted to, but I’m needed more here. I have family responsibilities thrust upon me, and until Truth is older . . . I mean . . . No. I simply cannot do it.” She sat down, totally deflated. “I’m sorry. I know you were counting on me, but no. I’m sorry.” And she added another no just for good measure.
Mrs. Korsheski’s smile had faded, but she did not seem angry. “Your family depends upon you for your income, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. Also, Joy is ten and already dropped out of school. I am hoping eventually to help her to go back. Truth is eight and I want to save her from having to abandon her education like her sister did, and . . . well, you see how it is.” Miriam perched on the edge of the chair, her hands woven together in her lap. And waited.
“Yes, I see.” Mrs. Korsheski still did not look angry. Perhaps Miriam would be able to stay on here even though she had disobeyed their wishes.
“Also, there’s my mother. She is becoming increasingly frail and needs medical attention now. My nursing experience could mean the difference between her living and dying.”
Mrs. Korsheski nodded slowly. Quietly, deliberately, she signed another paper on her desk and set the pen back in the inkwell. She gathered her papers and danced them on end to straighten them, then laid them aside. “We chose you carefully. I’m disappointed that you feel you cannot do this.”
“I am disappointed as well. I truly am. I recognize that it’s a wonderful opportunity and I would love to, but . . .” She shrugged mightily. Well, the woman had just said she had disappointed them. She was as good as out the door now.
“And this is your final decision?”
Miriam meant to say, “Yes, ma’am,” out loud, but it ended up a whisper. Miriam had just sealed her fate. How did she feel? Terrified. That was how. What would happen to them all now?
Mrs. Korsheski clasped her hands on the now cleared wooden desktop. “This took longer to put together than I had hoped, but I want to inform you of some decisions.” She leaned forward. “First, we want to admit your mother for observation to see if we have something new that might help. Her heart insufficiency is the root of the problem, as you well know. We may be able to ameliorate that.”
Miriam’s heart leaped. “Oh, I’m so grateful. She is declining.”
“Good. Now, we have a position in housekeeping that Mercy—she is fifteen now, right?—will fill nicely. If Tonio is willing to learn about furnaces and plumbing and all the myriad things that can break down in a building like this, our maintenance man, Mr. Ruger, would appreciate an assistant. You know Mr. Ruger. This old building is getting to be far too much for one man to handle, and he is not young anymore.”
Miriam’s eyes were getting hot. She’d break down in tears if she wasn’t careful.
“While I too believe that Joy should return to school, someone has to be there when we send your mother home again. Unless we can get her functioning independently, of course. Now, as for Este.”
Even Este? Undersized fourteen-year-old Este!
“If Este would be willing to work in both the kitchen part time, doing whatever Cook tells him to do, and with the gardener part time, we can have full-time work for him too.” She paused, studying Miriam closely.
“I-I cannot believe this.”
“One of the responsibilities of the housekeeping department is mending. Perhaps Mercy can work here part of the day and take the mending home to be with your mother so that Joy can return to school. We’ll have to work on that.”
“You’ve thought of everything!”
“The one thing I’d like to do most, and only God can do that, is to restore your mother’s health. I admire her. She raised six fine young people, people willing to work, people who put responsibility for others ahead of themselves. I’m not talking about just you but about all your mother’s children. We will do what we can. Perhaps not being so concerned about a place to live and food to eat will make it easier for her too.”
What could she say? Miriam stuttered, started a word, quit, groped for another. She leaped to her feet because Mrs. Korsheski stood up.
“I’m sure you realize your protests about being unable to go to Dakota have fallen on deaf ears. You will go. Do you know what I am hoping?”
“No, ma’am. What?”
“That Mercy might decide she wants to be a nurse as well. She is a talented and caring young woman from what little I’ve seen of her. Much like you.”
“Have you told my family all this yet?”
“No. I wanted to tell you first. I’m of a mind that we will send you out tomorrow with the hospital’s carriage. That way both you and your mother will have a way to get back here. I suspect you would like to get her settled in before you leave. And with the others working here, they can visit her more easily.”
Miriam tried to hold back the tears, but the stubborn things trickled down her cheeks nevertheless. She dug around in her pocket for a handkerchief but came up empty-handed. Mrs. Korsheski pulled a square of muslin from her drawer and handed it across the desk. “Crying is not a mortal sin, you know.”
Sniff. “I know, but it is a sign of weakness.” Sniff and blow.
“Or great feelings. I choose to believe the latter. Plan to leave here about ten tomorrow morning, after morning rounds, and you should be able to be back by dinner. Oh, and bring Este and your sisters. You said Tonio has a job right now?”
Miriam nodded.
“Tell him to come see me when he is let go. And should miracles happen and he finds a solid job, then I believe we will ask Este to train with Mr. Ruger.”
“Este does have a knack for fixing things.” And scavenging food for his family. “Our mother often mentions the gardens when she and Da were first married. I think Este would really like to work in the garden too.”
“I will keep that in mind.” Mrs. Korsheski penciled in a note, nodded, and kept on nodding as she wore a contemplative look. Then she slapped her hands on the desk. “Now you must get on with your duties. And you need to pack for the trip.”
While Vera and Corabell each had a steamer trunk, Miriam did not have such a thing—not even a small trunk. She could pack nearly all she owned in one suitcase. Two dresses, a gored serge skirt in dark gray wool, two waists, and her nurse’s aprons. Her schoolbooks would go in a separate box. She could pack her winter undergarments in another box and ask to have it sent to her later.
Miriam retired that night so full of gratitude she floated above the bed, sure she would never sleep a wink.
Even though Dr. Gutenheimer was abrupt with the nurses during rounds in the morning when he discovered a mistake that was made, this time she did not let that bother her. While she knew who had made the error, she understood he was trying to make clear to all of them the seriousness of the infraction.
“You must check and recheck the medications that are ordered and do the treatments just as I say. Falling asleep on the night shift is cause for dismissal in most hospitals—immediate dismissal—for there are no excuses. Should this happen again the entire class will be on probation. Do you understand?”
They all answered as one voice. “Yes, Doctor.”
Our last day. For a whole year. At the end of their term in Blessing, they would have one month back at the hospital before their final examination and graduation. It seemed incomprehensible.
Poor Corabell had a bad case of the mopes that day. While she did her nursing duties as well as ever, tears had dripped during breakfast. Several classmates commented that if Corabell did not want to go, they would be glad to take her place.
The class had started out with twenty, but some had dropped out for various reasons. Often the hard work was the real reason. So now there were twelve left and three of them going off to spend a year at the hospital in Blessing. Two of the third-year group were planning on going to the mission field, two were interning at hospitals outside the city, and the others would spend time at various clinics in the city, most of which were there to bring medical help to the poor, of which there were many in Chicago and the surrounding area.
To Everything a Season Page 17