Mr. Buchmeister cleared his throat.
Astrid turned to him. “Don’t worry. I’d never let her make a mistake.”
When the stitches were in, she nodded to Deborah. “This next is what you covered today and yesterday, right?” At her nod, she turned to the two Indian women. “Now, I want you to tell me what to do, step by step.” She smiled when their eyes widened. “Dr. Red Hawk will be very proud of you.”
When they were finished, their patient sat up and grabbed his shirt. “No money to pay you until payday.”
“You were injured on the job?” At his nod, she smiled. “I’ll send the bill to the company. Please don’t go rolling in the dirt, and try to keep it clean. We’ll change the dressing in a couple of days and see how it is doing.”
“Danke. Thank you.” Out the door he hustled, as if they might run after him and do something else.
After the shift change, when Corabell replaced Vera, Astrid conducted evening rounds, checking each of their patients and asking the nurses what they had seen during the day regarding each one. While the nurses served the supper trays, Astrid stopped in the office to see what absolutely required her attention. She picked up the list of needed supplies and sent the two Indian women home for the night, leaving Corabell on duty. Astrid went to Elizabeth’s to drop off some papers, said good-night, and headed home. Sure enough, it was seven thirty. But that was earlier than some other nights.
The sun was setting, with a fine line glowing on the western horizon. The evening star, holding back the true dark of night, was already smiling down at her. A bullfrog announced his availability, while the others sang the melody, and a mosquito whined in her ear. Somewhere over in the tents, a baby cried and was hushed, a dog barked twice, and she could see the kerosene light on her front porch, backed up by the lighted windows.
Their house did look friendly, one of Astrid’s requirements when she and Daniel had discussed the plans. She mounted the steps to the back porch, the lamp flickering in a slight breeze. A nip in the air reminded her that fall might be a bit late this year, but it was coming soon. Even the air smelled like fall, a tang to it that summer didn’t have.
“I’m home.”
“I’ll be right there.” Amelia bustled through the door into the kitchen. “I have your supper in the warming oven.”
Astrid had given up saying “You needn’t do that.” Amelia, like her son, would do what she felt was right, and she saw her place in Blessing as taking care of her son and his doctor wife. And her rose garden, which was known and admired far and wide. The work of her hands graced the registration counter at the boardinghouse, Penny’s mercantile, the church on Sunday morning, and Thorliff’s house.
Astrid set her bag in its appointed place by the door and, after washing her hands at the sink, allowed herself to finally sink down in a chair at the table.
“You look tired.”
“I shouldn’t after a nap like I had.”
“One nap can’t make up for all the short nights.” Amelia set a plate with baked squash, potatoes, and baked chicken in front of her. “Would you like a roll? I’ll warm it for you, since it was baked yesterday.”
Astrid stretched her neck, tilting her head from side to side. “Thanks, but this is plenty.” Amelia was already slicing two rolls. Astrid shook her head for what little good her opinion counted. Amelia buttered them and laid them in a frying pan, then pulled it to the hotter section of the stove.
“That’s okay. I wanted one too. All of a sudden that just sounded good. I thought tea might be good too.” She fetched two mugs from the cupboard and set them on the cooler end of the stove, then poured water from the steaming kettle into the rose-trimmed teapot. The fragrances of tea and hot butter waltzed across to the table.
Astrid smashed her potatoes and added butter, all the while shaking her head. She and Daniel would certainly not be this well cared for without Amelia. And the lady had worried she would not be useful.
“How are your English classes going?” she asked.
Amelia smiled. “I think I’ll add one on Saturday afternoon for some of the men who are too tired in the evening and for any of the wives who want to come. I have ten, no, eleven pupils in the class during school. Two hours every morning is not really enough to catch them up with the others. We need people to tutor those who are so far behind in school.”
“That’s an interesting thought. Like my two Indian nurses. Mor is helping them with English, and while they can read, just barely, she is helping with that too.” Astrid paused. “Perhaps that is too much for her right now.” Just the thought of her mother’s grief brought her own crashing back down on her. Far was gone and the tears sprang out of nowhere and cascaded down her face.
“I know.” Amelia set the rolls on the table, along with the steaming teapot, and settled into her chair. She stroked Astrid’s hand and arm. “Oh, I so know how it hits you again like that. Grief waits and pounces when you least expect it.” She handed Astrid a handkerchief from her apron pocket. “And that is why you must let Ingeborg help any way she can. Doing for others is one of the best comforts when you are suffering like she is, like all of you are.”
She checked the tea and poured it into their cups. “I remember one day when your pa came to help me with the garden. He insisted on spading up an area along the fence that the weeds were trying to take over. While I pulled weeds and raked, he told me what it was like when he first came to Blessing. What a great storyteller he was, and such a memory. Did you know that little Andrew got lost in the grass and a wolf found him?”
Astrid sniffed. “I’ve heard the story so often. Metiz’ Wolf. Even wild animals remember the good a person does for them. Metiz freed him from a trap and doctored his foot, and Wolf never forgot that. He even brought his family back to visit one year, but after Metiz died, we never saw him again.” She reached for one of the toasted half buns and sniffed again.
“Mor always said Metiz helped keep them alive those first years. She taught them how to live on this land like the Indians did, harvesting more than wheat and hay from the land. That is where Mor got her fund of knowledge of natural medicines, although she and her mother learned that in Norway too.” She glanced down, surprised to see that her plate was empty.
“Someone needs to write these stories down. They are the history of this valley.”
“Thorliff is the writer in the family. I’ll suggest it.” A tiny head shake accompanied her words. Thorliff was worse off than she, and he wouldn’t talk about it. He just drove himself onward.
A few minutes later, she thanked Amelia and pushed herself away from the table.
“You leave those dishes alone. I have to have something to do.”
“Of course you do.” She inhaled. “What is that I smell?”
“Oh, I have rose petals drying for potpourri. I’m going to mix a bit of mint in too for an unusual touch. By the way, I hung plenty of mint, so we have it for tea too. Your mother and I are going to dig sarsaparilla roots. She said she knows of a place with plenty of them. Her knowledge of natural remedies is fascinating.”
“I know. That’s where I got my love of medicine.” A yawn caught her midword. “Good night.”
Good thing she could get ready for bed while half asleep. She didn’t even hear Daniel crawl in beside her.
Her shoulder being shaken dragged her up from the dream she’d been having. “What?”
It was Daniel. “Astrid, there is a man at the back door. His wife is having trouble birthing a baby. I’ll help you.”
“Where?”
“In the tent camp.”
“He can’t get her to the hospital?” She threw on her clothes while asking him.
“He says she is too far along.”
“Tell him I’ll be right there.”
“I did.” Daniel hesitated. “Do you want me to come along?”
“Yes.” She threw the answer over her shoulder, not sure why he’d asked. Please, Lord, I didn’t even know someone was
pregnant there. Protect her and the baby, please.
Chapter 5
I lost another baby!” Astrid slammed the palm of her hand on Ingeborg’s table.
“No you didn’t! The baby was born dead, and there was nothing you could do about that!” Ingeborg shook her head.
“Had I gotten there earlier . . . Why, oh why, did they wait so long? Another baby gone and, O God, I hate this part of what I do.” She hollered this last at the ceiling. Even the rain ran like tears down the windows, the water from the roof clattering into the rain barrel beside Ingeborg’s porch. “So much death lately. Oh, Mor, I cannot stand this.”
“I know. Oh, how I know.”
“I don’t know why I came visiting you when I’m such a mess.” Astrid dug in her pocket for a handkerchief, shaking her head as she tried to wipe her eyes and blow her nose. She tipped her head back. “It was their first baby, and he seemed to be fully formed, so why did he die? Mrs. Sorvito was in no condition to answer questions, even if I could have asked them. And her husband was in no shape to talk either. He was too frantic about possibly losing her.”
“But she is at the hospital now?”
“Daniel and I carried her to the hospital, lifting her by the corners of the sheet, once I got the bleeding stopped. I wasn’t taking any chances. Another man finally helped us. I think they were too afraid of the hospital to go there when she went into labor. No money probably.”
“Or women aren’t usually taken to a hospital to have a baby, you know. They are supposed to have it at home. Was there a midwife there?”
“No. You know, there aren’t many women in that camp.” She sniffed and blew her nose again. The worst seemed to be over. “I think they speak Italian. It’s a shame Miriam isn’t here. She speaks both Italian and Gaelic. The man went to find Father Devlin, one reason he was unwilling for us to take her. I assured him that Father Devlin would come to the hospital. He must have been dead asleep to not have heard all the commotion.”
“I believe he is away.”
Astrid stared out the window. “Do you want to go dance in the rain?”
“Not today. It’s a bit chilly for that.”
“Do you remember when we did? Tante Kaaren and Sophie and Grace and us?” Astrid got up to stand beside her mother.
“More than once. There is nothing like rain-washed hair.” Ingeborg finished her coffee. “Freda is out in the cheese house. I should be helping her.”
“Instead, you are helping your daughter.” Astrid leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder.
“Does Elizabeth know?”
Astrid shrugged. “I got the woman stabilized, left orders, and went home for breakfast. Then I just grabbed the umbrella and came out here.” She blew out a breath. “I sure wish Miriam would get back here.”
“Trygve said she is coming on Sunday’s train.”
“How come I didn’t know that?” Why did Ingeborg know this and Astrid did not? Had they called Elizabeth and she forgot to tell Astrid? “I better get back to the hospital.” She paused. “I miss the nurses no longer staying at our house. It has been delightful to see Corabell adjust to life so far from home, but I think living in a home rather than the boardinghouse was a good thing. At least at first.”
Ingeborg nodded. “I like having Gray Cloud and Dawn Breaking drop by now and then. They are a great help, and they’re learning things that will serve them well when they go home to their tribe.” She adjusted Astrid’s shawl around her shoulders.
Astrid paused in opening the door. “Mor, why don’t you come with me? You could be a mother to that poor Mrs. Sorvito today.”
“All right. I will. I’ll leave a note for Freda. There is nothing pressing here today.”
“Do you want the buggy?”
Ingeborg made a face and shook her head. “Outside in a rain-washed world is a great place to be.”
The telephone rang, and they paused and counted rings. Ingeborg returned to the box on the wall.
“Is Astrid still there?” It sounded like Rachel, Goodie Wold’s niece, on the switchboard.
“Ja. We are just going out the door.”
“Tell her to go to the hospital. It’s not critical, but she’s needed.”
“I will.” She rushed out the door. “We need to hurry.”
The two women broke into the half run, half walk they had used for years when a patient needed them. They were both puffing by the time they arrived at the hospital, and Deborah pointed them in the direction of the patient.
Vera met them at the door. “The bleeding has slowed way down.”
“Good. What have you done?”
“Changed the packing as often as needed. What else is there to do?”
Astrid headed into the room. “Massage her lower belly. The afterbirth looked to be intact, but the light was poor there. Does anyone here speak Italian?”
They all shook their heads.
“And she doesn’t speak English. Although her husband does some. I want to know if she carried any other babies to term or lost them early.”
Vera shook her head. “If only Miriam were here, she could ask those things.”
“She’ll be back on Sunday,” Deborah Norton said softly.
There it was again. Deborah knew and Astrid did not. “When did you learn that?”
Their most experienced nurse hesitated. “Why, I think there was a written message that Mrs. Korsheski had telephoned from Chicago to say Miriam was coming on the Sunday train. I think it is still on the desk.”
“Do you know when it came?”
“Early this morning, I think.”
“Then how did Trygve know she was coming?”
Deborah shrugged. “Maybe she wrote to him.”
“And we have no idea who took the message?”
“Corabell was on duty. She must have forgotten to mention it in all that was going on this morning. They had a boy in here with projectile vomiting shortly after you left. It was a real mess. He is sleeping in the ward. His mother is with him. Poor woman was up all night with him.” She paused then added before Astrid could ask, “We put him way at the end in case he is contagious.”
“I see.” But all Astrid really saw right now was that an important message had been nearly lost. However, all the patients were as well cared for as possible. Her resolve strengthened. They needed more training for emergencies so that no matter how severe the pressure, no one panicked and forgot what they were to do. Astrid thought back to her experience at the Indian village that had been so decimated by measles. How she had gone from tipi to tipi to see who could possibly be saved and then stipulated care. They’d not managed to save all the sick ones, but those who lived would have died without their care. Her father had been there with them. She kept from looking at her mother by sheer will. While that trip sometimes seemed far in the distance, other times it seemed like it had happened last week.
An epidemic was not beyond possibilities right here in Blessing. Or some other catastrophe. While these thoughts had been racing through her mind, another track focused on the woman with the bleeding. The good old trick of pressure on an artery could stop bleeding, but not in this case. There were several possible vessels involved and located too deep in the abdomen to reach.
She returned her attention to the patient. Her mother was sitting by the young woman’s bedside, gently washing her face, murmuring softly, and with her came a sense of peace that made even her daughter relax. Color had begun to return to the woman’s face. Ingeborg washed and dried the limp hands and arms, then began on the upper torso, her croon continuing.
Astrid knew for certain her mother was praying all the time, perhaps singing her favorite Bible verses. All the nurses needed lessons from her mor in how to care for a patient, especially those who were unconscious. She moved silently to the opposite side of the bed and checked her patient’s vitals. Her pulse was fast, which wasn’t surprising with the blood loss. The woman was breathing easily. She was so young and thin. Still, nothing
told her why the baby had died. Not that they could always pinpoint reasons anyway. Perhaps this woman had not had sufficient food, and from the looks of her, that could well be the case. She’d seen cases like this at the hospital in Chicago, women from the tenements, where people sometimes starved. Was Miriam’s family in bad shape? she wondered.
“I’ll be in the office. Thelma will send any patients over here that show up at the door. Thank you for mothering her.”
“You are welcome.” The bath finished, Ingeborg took out some lotion that smelled like Amelia’s roses and began smoothing it into the patient’s skin.
Later that night, the Jeffers family had just finished eating supper, all together for a change, when a knock on the door brought Daniel to his feet.
“Why, Father Devlin, come in!” Daniel stepped back and motioned their guest inside. “Have you had supper?”
“No, but when I returned late this afternoon, I heard about the sad happenings in the camp.” He smiled at Astrid. “I am muckle sorry for yer day.”
“Thank you. Did you go to the hospital to see her?”
“I did, and while Mrs. Sorvito is still as weak as a baby bird, thanks to ye she still be alive.”
“She knows the baby was born dead?”
“Aye, she told me. I went to the wee thing and baptized it straightway, of course, in her presence. She asked if I would celebrate a proper funeral for it, and that I will.”
“You can talk with her, then?”
Father Devlin chuckled. Despite how many miles he had traveled today, his eyes twinkled. “Aye, Latin be close enough to Italian that we could converse. To a degree and with lots of gestures, of course. Sure and I’d not want to preach a sermon in it, but I understand more than I can speak it.”
“Tomorrow, could you ask her some questions for me?”
“That I could. Ah, and thank ye for yer insistence that she go to the hospital. Too many of the poor are afraid of both doctors and hospitals. Of the money and the unknown.” He smiled at Astrid. “But then other places don’t have a hospital like this one. I suspect ye’ll never make a dime from it, not the way ye neglect to charge people.”
A Harvest of Hope Page 4