“It is only right and normal,” she insisted, but Tabitha did what she could to fill the void Joy’s departure had created.
I can never fill Joy’s shoes, she admitted, but I want to do whatever I can to ease Rose’s loss. She surprised herself when she added, Even if it is only for a short while.
Weeks after the wedding, Tabitha received an unexpected communication from Mason Carpenter. It was only a note, dated February 7. It arrived February 26.
My Darling,
If you have heard the news, I did not wish you to worry. Yes, the Germans sent their airships across the Channel to bomb eastern England, but we are much farther north than Great Yarmouth where they did the most damage. We do not know if the clouds obscured their pilots’ view or if their targets were intentional, for the airships did not bomb any military bases. Instead, they hit innocent civilians. Sadly, several villagers were killed.
In response to this cowardly attack, the Army has directed the Royal Flying Corps to mount guns upon its aeroplanes so that our pilots can shoot down German airships before they can release their bombs. We are working out how to best do so, and hope to prevent another such incursion by the German “blimps” or Zeppelins as some call them.
As I said in an earlier letter, the Army has a limited number of aeroplanes, and we have lost a third of them already. We hear that the French are building newer model aeroplanes, apparently in response to new German models. The British Army has asked to purchase a number of these French planes. I sense a great shift in the war coming upon us. The Allied Forces are now considering the use of aeroplanes to bomb enemy troops and to shoot other planes from the sky.
Tabitha, the wounded are arriving from the front in more numbers daily. Every hospital in England will soon be filled and yet the end of the war is nowhere in sight. We are also hearing disturbing rumors from the western front, rumors of German shells filled with poisonous gasses falling upon Russian positions. If the report is true, this is devilish behavior indeed.
I will write more as I can, but I must get this note onto the mail truck before it leaves. Be at peace, Tabitha. Our times are in his hands.
With all my love,
Mason Carpenter
Tabitha replied to his letter that evening. As she wrote, his words regarding the wounded overflowing England’s hospitals occupied her thoughts and she found herself, in her imagination, caring for them and providing solace. She could not shake the images of the wounded before her.
When she had completed her letter to Carpenter, she rested her chin upon her folded hands thinking. The pictures of the wounded in her mind were insistent. Urgent.
Finally, she bowed her head and prayed. Lord? Am I hearing you? What are you asking of me?
The following Sunday, those who lived at Palmer House occupied their customary two rows at Calvary Temple. Tabitha closed her eyes and lost herself in the worship of many voices raised in unity to glorify God.
When the singing ended, Pastor Isaac Carmichael stood to bring the message. He took his text from Romans 12.
For as we have many members in one body,
and all members have not the same office:
So we, being many, are one body in Christ,
and every one members one of another.
Having then gifts differing according
to the grace that is given to us,
whether prophecy, let us prophesy according
to the proportion of faith;
Or ministry, let us wait on our ministering:
or he that teacheth, on teaching;
Or he that exhorteth, on exhortation:
he that giveth, let him do it with simplicity;
he that ruleth, with diligence;
he that sheweth mercy, with cheerfulness.
“I wish us to first look at a very profound statement,” Pastor Carmichael said. “So we, being many, are one body in Christ, and every one members one of another. In plainer language, God’s word tells us two important and connected truths:
“First, Christ has but one body. His body is not this church. It is not the church down the street. It is not one denomination or another. Christ’s body includes every individual connected to Jesus through his blood.
“The second truth flows from the first: All parts of Christ’s body are members one of another. How can we restate this, members one of another, with greater clarity?”
He leaned toward his congregation and they inclined their hearing toward him.
“Let me be plain,” he said softly. “We belong to each other.”
He stood tall. “We belong to Christ. Christ has but one body, and every part belongs to the others. You,” he made eye contact with several individuals, “and you, and you, and you, belong to each other.”
He let his words sink in then continued. “The rest of the passage, regarding the gifts God has given us, refers back to these two truths. Whether we prophesy, minister, teach, exhort, give, rule, or show mercy, our gift belongs not to ourselves, but to the other members, to the rest of the Christ’s body.
“And I cannot put too much emphasis upon this: What gift God has given you is necessary. Important. Vital. For Christ’s church to accomplish its mission, every part must work together. For Christ’s body to minister to the world, every piece must be present and functioning.
“Do not think you may elect not to serve. No, you and your gift belong to Jesus—and he has said you belong to each other.”
He stared around at his congregation. “Every piece. Every part. Every one of us. We are necessary. Important. Vital. We are Christ’s hands and feet upon the earth.”
A few nights later, Tabitha and several of the girls decided to assemble a jigsaw puzzle. The Christian women’s society that often aided Palmer House had donated several boxes of used puzzles, all with intriguing images on their box lids.
“Ohhh! Do look at this one,” Gracie suggested. Her selection was of a large passenger ship plowing through a turbulent ocean.
“Shall we make it first, then?” Flora asked. “It is very dramatic, I think.”
Tabitha regarded the image and experienced a peculiar pull toward it. “Yes, that one will do. Shall we turn all the pieces right side up and separate them into edges and non-edges first?”
“To build the outside you mean?” Gracie had already dumped the many pieces upon the table and was sorting a handful.
“Um-hm.”
The girls were content and quiet as they turned, sorted, and separated the small pieces. Soon they had identified three of the four corners and were connecting edge pieces onto the corners to form the puzzle’s frame.
As Tabitha uncovered another edge piece her attention lurched to a standstill.
A voice, one she immediately recognized, spoke to her heart. Every individual I call is necessary for the success of my work. The work cannot be complete without all the parts and pieces.
The words were so clear that the hair upon Tabitha’s arms lifted. Gracie and Flora did not notice that Tabitha seemed frozen.
The edge piece between her fingers grew warm.
I call some to be the frame for the work, to make the vision plain. Those whom I call to frame the work are vital to my plans, the voice spoke. They lead so that others may follow.
Tabitha scarcely breathed. Lord, I am listening.
She opened her hand and stared at the edge piece resting in the hollow of her palm. Except it was not an edge. The fourth corner of the puzzle stared back at her.
You are vital to my work. The whisper of His voice faded. You are vital to my work.
“There it is!” Flora pounced on the corner piece and placed it on the table. “See! These all fit together now. Goodness. I had begun to think the last corner was lost—and then where would we be?”
“Excuse me. I-I have something pressing I need to do.” Tabitha pushed away from the table and stumbled upstairs to her room.
“Well! We wish you would have thought of that before we began!” Flora grumbled to her back. “
Olive! Jane! Do come and help us. Gracie and I can’t do this all on our own.”
Tabitha sank to the floor next to her bed. “Lord, I feel your call upon me. Please show me what I should do.”
She prayed for some time. Then, with a nod of decision, she picked up pen and paper.
Dear Dean Gunderson,
Greetings from Denver. I hope this letter finds you well and flourishing in the grace of God. My work in the hospital here is quite satisfying, and I am often grateful for the excellent training I received from our school in Boulder.
However, with the war in Europe increasing, I find that I have a strong desire, a calling from God, to serve the wounded of this conflict. I am seeking God’s will in this direction.
You once told me you had connections with the American Red Cross. If so, and if you are inclined to recommend me to their ranks, would you kindly forward my letter and nursing credentials to them? I would be most appreciative.
Cordially,
Tabitha Hale
She reread what she had penned and nodded. If this is your leading, Lord, I trust that you will confirm it with an open door.
~~**~~
Chapter 19
April 1915
The unexpected spring snow lay more than a foot deep—and more threatened to fall from dark, low-hanging clouds. Tabitha could feel the icy moisture in the air, dampening her clothes, even penetrating her thick wool coat as she struggled to break a path from the trolley stop to Palmer House.
Earlier, as she had climbed aboard the trolley, the driver had warned her that he had been ordered back to the terminal. “Th’ snow downtown is s’ deep th’ trolleys are a-gettin’ stuck,” he explained. Huffing, he added, “Spring in th’ Rockies, eh? Never know what yer gonna get.”
I am so grateful to have caught the last car going my direction! Tabitha thought as she trudged through the drifted banks. I am not so very far from Palmer House. I can make it.
Tabitha had three blocks to traverse on foot, but many of the walkways along her route were impassable. Biting her lip, she slogged through the wet, frigid slush in the gutters.
Her boots were soaked through. Her feet could have been bricks of ice. Worst of all, a coating of ice clung to the hem of her coat and skirts, weighing down every step.
“But I am nearly home,” she mumbled. “Almost there.”
Home!
Tabitha envisioned what awaited her there: The two fireplaces at either end of the old mansion’s great room would be blazing merrily. Her friends—her dear family—would rise from their cozy chairs to welcome her home from her long shift in the hospital. They would strip away her cold, sodden outer wear and knock the ice from her dress. They would urge her toward the warming fires. And the rich scents penetrating the air would foretell the dinner they would sit down to enjoy together.
“I know Mr. Wheatley and Billy will have cleared Palmer House’s walkways,” she said aloud to encourage herself.
But she wasn’t quite home, and she shivered, chilled all the way through. Although the early spring days were growing longer, the looming, snow-laden clouds had turned the late afternoon light to near darkness. Gaslights along the street did little to diffuse the foggy gloom—or penetrate the thick columns of snow now falling all around her.
“Just what we needed,” she grumbled. “More snow.”
Beneath the heavy scarf muffling her throat and face, Tabitha prayed, Lord, you always comfort me in my afflictions. You are with me even through the dark valley. I will fear no evil; you lead and guide me. You lead me in paths of righteousness for your name’s sake.
She sighed with relief when she stepped from the gutter onto the walkway bordering Palmer House’s iron fence. Here the slushy snow was passable, mere inches deep.
“Bless you, Billy! Bless you, Mr. Wheatley!” she murmured. Surely they had shoveled the walk fronting Palmer House no more than an hour or two before.
She stumbled down the walk toward the tall wrought-iron gate and yanked it open. The cold hinges protested their opening and closing, but Tabitha thought of nothing but the cobblestone path ahead of her and the warm house where the path ended.
She dragged her ice-filled skirts up the steps toward the door and noted, as she always did, the little sign to the side of the door.
Lost Are Found, it read.
Tabitha touched the sign tenderly and murmured, “Lord, in you the lost are found. We trust you.”
She had to shove on the heavy entry door with all her strength before it gave way: The freezing dampness had swelled the wood and bonded the door to its posts. When the door released, Tabitha almost tumbled into the foyer beyond. She caught herself and collapsed, instead, against the open door, her strength gone.
Almost immediately her friends surrounded her. “Lord be praised, ’twas that worried we were growin’ o’er ye,” Breona fussed. Then she snapped over her shoulder, “Dinna be standin’ there gawking, Gracie. Be shuttin’ thet door.”
Gracie and Jane rushed to push the solid door closed and latch it. Other hands guided Tabitha from the foyer into the great room and voices clucked over the chunks of snow and ice clinging to her clothing.
“A bucket an’ towels, if ye please,” Breona growled. “Mind th’ ice on th’ floors.”
Someone fetched a straightback chair and urged Tabitha into it. Capable hands worked the boots from her feet and mittens from her hands, while others pulled at the ice on her skirts.
Tabitha sighed as the weight came off. “I caught the last trolley, but the snow . . . it is so deep and wet.”
“Aye. Billy was jest bundlin’ up t’ go out an’ seek ye,” Breona muttered.
“Are you all right, Tabitha?”
Tabitha found Rose’s gray eyes studying her, and she smiled. “I will be, but I do not care to do that again anytime soon!”
“Indeed, no,” Rose agreed. “Most of Denver’s businesses closed at noon. No one has ventured out for hours. Breona cannot even go home to her husband.”
“The hospital never closes.” Tabitha could feel the heat of the fire beginning to penetrate her bones, and her eyelids grew heavy. “I have thought of nothing but your dear faces and this warm fire for most of the past half hour.”
“I can believe it took you that long to walk from the trolley stop,” Sarah chimed in while chafing Tabitha’s hand. “It was difficult enough earlier in the day! You, my dear Tabitha, are a trouper.”
Rose nodded. “Yes, you are. And just as soon as we peel most of this ice off your skirts, we will get you upstairs and into dry things. Marit has been waiting dinner until you arrived.”
Tabitha smiled again. Dinner . . .
Clad in dry, warm clothing, Tabitha descended the stairs and hurried to join the others already at the table. She was just passing Rose’s desk when she noticed the letter propped against her pencil jar. Tabitha plucked it up and stared at the return address.
Her heart quickened. She tucked the envelope into her pocket. Is this the answer I have been waiting for, Lord? Will this letter confirm what I feel you have spoken to me?
Much later, as she was preparing for bed, she remembered the letter, tore the sealed envelope open, and scanned the contents with eager eyes.
Dear Miss Hale,
We have received your letter of interest forwarded by Dean Gunderson. The American Red Cross welcomes your application. We have inspected your credentials and Dean Gunderson’s letter of reference. We find your qualifications and character most suitable, particularly your training in the care and treatment of traumatic injuries.
You are correct in saying that the situation for the war wounded in Europe grows daily more alarming. Reports from the front are distressing.
Unfortunately, our organization’s focus must remain, for the time being, primarily upon our mercy ship, the SS Red Cross. Our present task is to keep the ship adequately fitted with medical supplies and personnel and to position the ship to accomplish the greatest good, providing relief wherever we can wh
ile strictly observing neutrality and impartiality.
That said, our leadership anticipates that the United States will, eventually, join the fight. When that occurs, the need for doctors and nurses will be far greater than our present numbers could possibly supply.
In response to this future need, we are screening and approving the applications of nurses such as yourself but are constrained from doing more. If you will, please hold yourself ready for our call. It may be a few months; it could be much longer.
However, Miss Hale, if you are quite prepared to serve in a more immediate capacity, may we suggest an alternate course of action? England is begging for skilled nurses.
At the onset of the war, Queen Alexandra's Imperial Military Nursing Service created the Reserve and the Territorial Force Nursing Service. The QAIMNS mobilized these nursing branches to serve the British Expeditionary Force. Presently, the Territorial Force Nursing Service has a presence on every front of the war.
This has left England herself short of nurses, and the war wounded are returning to England for extended care by the thousands. The QAIMNS draws qualified volunteer nurses from the British Red Cross to work with them in English hospitals overflowing with wounded from the European front. Your credentials make you an excellent candidate for their need.
You may write to the address below to submit your application and may include the letter of reference I have enclosed. If you are accepted and travel to England, please keep us apprised of your whereabouts. When the President grants us authorization, we will be organizing base hospitals overseas and will be pleased to enlist your services at that time.
Sincerely,
Marjorie Oxman-Steel, RN, advisor to the American Red Cross
Tabitha stared at the address below the nurse’s signature. “England! I will write. And Mason is in England. This cannot be a coincidence,” she whispered. Not wanting to lose any time, she composed her letter that same evening.
It was two more days before the spring storm subsided and she was able to post it.
On May 8 newspapers reported the sinking of the American passenger ship, Lusitania, torpedoed by a German U-boat. Tabitha swallowed hard when she read the account herself.
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