by Helen Wells
The supervisor slid into her car, waved, and drove off. Dr. Miller and Cherry stood for a minute in the shade of the courthouse trees. He mopped his forehead with his handkerchief.
“Had a busy afternoon, Doctor?” Cherry asked, with a hint of a smile.
He grinned back at her. “You look a little warm and dusty yourself. Say, would you mind coming back upstairs for a quick conference? I know it’s late, I know we aren’t supposed to work as a regular thing on Saturdays, but the work does pile up.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” Cherry said. Sick people, and prevention of sickness, could not wait. Besides, Cherry knew, Dr. Miller had his hands full as both the county health officer and private practitioner. He shared an office with, and assisted, Dr. Aloysius Clark, who was growing too old to drive long distances in the country. The young doctor drove out to treat these rural patients.
Some of Cherry’s patients, unable to pay, would be treated without charge by Dr. Miller as county health officer. Other patients, able to pay, would be treated privately by any of the county doctors, who would call Cherry in to do the necessary nursing. Many times her patients would be persons she herself discovered to be in need of health care and referred to a doctor.
Cherry and Dr. Hal talked over the day’s cases and made plans for next week’s visits. The big bare room grew shadowy. The young doctor closed the last case folder while Cherry finished writing down his nursing instructions.
“There! That’s all we can do for today,” he said. “There’s nothing that can’t safely wait over the weekend. Gosh, I’m starving!”
Cherry looked over her shoulder. “It’s so late, even my clerk has gone home.”
Dr. Hal got up and stretched his long arms and legs. “Miss Cherry, did you feel as overheated all day as I did? Calendar says September third, but I thought I’d melt.”
“The heat’s good, makes the corn ripen,” Cherry quoted her farmer friends. “Yes, Doctor, the sun felt so warm today I wanted to go swimming.”
“Well, why don’t we?” Dr. Miller suggested. “Swimming weather isn’t going to last much longer. Why don’t we round up some people, and have a picnic and swim at Riverside Park?”
Cherry was interested. “Tomorrow? Or Monday? That’s Labor Day.” She had a moment’s hesitation about whether it would be all right for her to see Dr. Hal socially. They had not yet done so, unless she counted accidentally meeting him at the town’s one drugstore or garage or seeing him at church. Both of them had been crowded for time, she with in-job training, and he in learning his duties as part-time health officer. But now—? Well, Cherry decided, formal medical etiquette need not apply in a little backwoods town like Sauk, where there was only a handful of people to be friends with one another.
Dr. Hal must have been thinking much the same thing, for he said:
“You know, Miss Cherry—darn it, let’s drop the formalities when we’re not working. Can’t I call you Cherry, and you call me Hal?”
Cherry smiled and nodded. “Yes, Doctor,” she said to tease him. He was only a few years older than she was, so it felt perfectly natural to be friends.
“Well, you know, Cherry,” he said, perching on a desk, “it’s a funny thing how I haven’t gotten around to seeing you except on the job. I’ve wanted to. In fact, since I came to Sauk, I haven’t spent time with anyone except medical personnel and patients. Maybe that’s what comes of working and living at Dr. Clark’s house. Hmmm? Why, now that we spoke of having a swimming party, I realize I don’t know any people to invite except one next door neighbor.”
“Well, I only know my next door neighbors and the Drew girls,” Cherry said. “I’m still new here, too. Never mind. My Aunt Cora knows everybody for miles around here. She’ll gather up some acquaintances for us.”
“Your Aunt Cora sounds grand.”
“She is. And if I don’t go home to supper soon, she may send Sheriff Steeley after me.”
Dr. Hal decided to leave his car parked where it was, and walk home. The tree-filled main street was only eight blocks long and part of a federal highway. They met no one else out walking at this hour; people were indoors having their suppers. Only the birds were in sight, swooping and twittering as the sun dropped. Cherry felt relaxed, and listened to the young man walking beside her.
Hal told Cherry he came from a small town like this one, but in another part of Iowa. He had taken his medical training at the fine schools here in his home state. Then he had served as intern and, later, as staff physician at a large hospital in St. Louis, Missouri.
“I didn’t feel at home working in a big institution,” he said. “I didn’t like the rigid routine. I missed my own country kind of people. Besides, I felt cooped up in the city. So I looked for an opening in a rural area, and the United States Public Health Service gave me a scholarship and trained me as a health officer. Then a former professor of mine wrote that his old friend, Dr. Clark, was looking for a husky young assistant. So here I am.” He smiled down a little shyly at Cherry. “What about you? You did tell me a few things about your training, the different kinds of nursing you’ve done, but I’d like to hear more.”
It embarrassed Cherry to talk about herself. As they turned the next corner, she could see Aunt Cora’s straight figure standing on the front porch, farther up the street. Cherry mumbled, “My aunt must think I’m lost, strayed, or stolen,” and walked faster.
Dr. Hal looked amused and quickened his long, easy stride. “Well, you’ll have to tell me some other time. Especially about why you wanted to have a try at rural nursing.”
“That’s easy. I was born and brought up across the Mississippi River east from here, in Illinois, in a town in the heart of the corn belt. I’ve always known and respected the people who grow the nation’s food, and I’ve always had a hankering to—to nurse out in the country.”
“Did anyone ever tell you you’re awfully pretty?” Dr. Hal said. She was tall and slim and full of life, with brilliant dark eyes and dark curls. “Did those cherryred cheeks win you your name?”
“Thank you for the kind remarks,” Cherry said. “No, I’m named for my grandmother. My coloring turned out to be the sort of—uh—an appropriate accident.”
Dr. Hal burst out laughing at that. They had reached Aunt Cora’s house. Cherry noticed in surprise that her aunt wore her next-to-best flowered silk dress, and two cars were parked in front of the house. One was her aunt’s sleek new car, the other was a rusty black sedan, so old, big, and cumbersome that it resembled a boat or a hearse. What was going on?
Aunt Cora came down the steps, shaking her head but smiling.
“Where in the world have you been, child? You’re Dr. Hal Miller, aren’t you? I’ve wanted to meet you ever since Aloysius told me about you. I’m sorry to snatch Cherry away, but an old friend of mine has just come home after being away all summer, and we’re celebrating by going out for supper. I certainly hope you’ll come by another time, and often—”
“Thank you, Mrs. Ames. You may be seeing me sooner than you count on. Cherry, will you ask your aunt about the picnic?”
“What picnic?” Aunt Cora wanted to know.
“Why,” Cherry said, “the picnic and swimming party that we hope you’re going to arrange for us. For tomorrow or Labor Day.”
Aunt Cora looked baffled, but recovered immediately. “Do you want fried chicken to take along, or wieners and potatoes to roast over a bonfire? And for how many of you?”
“Ah—we don’t know enough people yet to ask,” Dr. Hal admitted.
“I’ll get to work on it by telephone,” Aunt Cora promised. “I know ever so many young people who’d like to know you. Well! I’m glad you both are finally taking a little time off from work to socialize! How many young people do you want me to invite? Ten? Twenty?”
“Mrs. Ames, you’re wonderful,” said the young man. “If I can help, let me know—and many, many thanks. I’ll be in touch to ask whether it’ll be tomorrow or Monday.”
He looked
so eager, Cherry could see he hoped it would be tomorrow. He continued down the quiet street, whistling.
“You are wonderful,” Cherry said to Aunt Cora, and hugged her. “You won’t mind being hostess, will you?”
“You’ll be the hostess—no, no, I’m not going along. You young people will have more fun by yourselves. Don’t worry about getting acquainted. In ten minutes you’ll all be old friends.”
“I’m anything but worried!” Cherry said. “I’m just delighted at the prospect of a picnic with new friends.”
“And with young Dr. Miller?” Her aunt gave her a shrewd look, which turned into a smile. “I saw you and that nice young doctor ambling down the street together at a snail’s pace.”
“Have I detained you? I’m sorry, Aunt Cora. We were working at the office, honestly.”
“Oh, a few minutes’ delay doesn’t matter, honey. Except that my friend Phoebe is waiting for us. She’s real interested in meeting my niece. She hasn’t seen you since you were three and fell in the duckpond.”
“I hope I’ve improved since then,” Cherry said, and followed her aunt into the house.
CHAPTER II
Guest at Aunt Cora’s
CHERRY WAS VERY FOND OF AUNT CORA—REALLY AN older cousin by marriage whom she had seen and known only in snatches all her life. Aunt Cora and her husband, Jim Ames, had always travelled a great deal, and sometimes had stopped off in Cherry’s hometown on their way to Bombay or Paris or Copenhagen. Now that Aunt Cora was a widow and “not as young as she used to be,” she stayed at home, enjoying her comfortable house and garden and her books and her many community activities. She had written to the Ameses that she would enjoy having some young company in the house.
Cherry’s twin brother, Charlie, was too busy and fascinated with his aviation engineering job in Indianapolis to be able to visit her. But Aunt Cora’s invitation had found Cherry between jobs and thinking about what sort of nursing job she would like to try next. She had read in a professional bulletin last summer that R.N.’s were needed as rural nurses, and on inquiring, had learned there were job openings in Iowa, in Sauk County, in fact.
From there on, it had been a matter of taking and passing the written examinations given by Iowa’s Merit System, similar to Civil Service, and undergoing field training. It helped that Cherry earlier had trained and worked as a visiting nurse in New York City. It helped further that the Visiting Nurse Service had allowed Cherry time to go to college part time and take the advanced courses required in public health nursing.
Now she was ready for a highly independent sort of job, and very much at home in Aunt Cora’s roomy, flower-filled house. Aunt Cora’s choicest African violets grew in white pots in the living room, and Mrs. Phoebe Grisbee was fussing over them.
“I declare, Cora, why don’t you tamp down a little tobacco on the soil? Oh, here’s your niece! My, Cherry, you certainly have changed since you fell in with the ducks!”
“I should hope so,” Aunt Cora said amiably, and Cherry took Mrs. Grisbee’s outstretched hand.
Her aunt’s friend was a plump, plainly dressed woman with spectacles and a big smile on her round face. She had never been farther away from home than St. Louis, and still held to many of the ideas and ways of living she had learned as a girl growing up on a farm near here.
Cherry said, “I’m glad to see you, Mrs. Grisbee,” and thought that Phoebe Grisbee, whether as dowdy as her old car or not, must be an awfully nice person for Aunt Cora to be lifelong friends with her.
“Mr. Grisbee,” Mrs. Grisbee explained to Cherry, “is at home all by himself, poor soul, though I did invite him. You know how Mr. Grisbee is about hen parties, Cora, and restaurant food.”
“Yes, I know Henry’s not a ladies’ man,” said Aunt Cora. “We three ladies,” she said, turning to Cherry, “are about to have supper at Sauk’s one and only restaurant.”
“At least I left a nice supper for him,” said Phoebe Grisbee, worrying about her husband, “and a pot of his favorite herb tea keeping hot on the stove. Cherry, you’re a nurse, you’d know about the healthful value of herbs?”
“Mmm—well, perhaps certain herbs,” Cherry said. She wondered how much reliance Mrs. Grisbee put in farm lore and how much in tested scientific discoveries. “I don’t mean to sound official, but herbs haven’t much value, except a few as a mild tonic, Mrs. Grisbee. Modern medical science provides much better medications.”
“Phoebe knows that perfectly well,” Aunt Cora said. “If she sets any store by herbs, it’s because she takes pleasure growing them in her garden.”
Mrs. Grisbee nodded mildly. “Speaking of medicines, Miss Nurse,” she said, “we may be in the backwoods, but we can buy the best just the same. Our local drugstore and the door-to-door salesmen take good care of us.”
“What door-to-door salesmen?” Cherry asked.
“Oh, the Watkins Company man comes through these parts about six times a year,” Mrs. Grisbee said. “He’s due pretty soon again. You watch, out there on the country roads, and you’ll see a man driving a smart-looking delivery truck and going from farm to farm selling his wares. He sells a certain amount in towns, too, but mostly it’s to the farmers.”
Aunt Cora explained to Cherry that some farm people were isolated and did not have much time to travel into the nearest town to shop; besides, a town like Sauk offered only limited supplies. Therefore, door-to-door salesmen and local pedlars brought the needed merchandise to the farmers.
“What do they sell?” Cherry asked. She remembered seeing door-to-door salesmen occasionally in and around her home town, but Hilton was not as rural as here. “You mentioned that they sell medicines—I guess you mean patent medicines?”
“That’s right, patent medicine,” Phoebe Grisbee said. “Oh, liniment and cough syrup and vitamins and laxative herb tablets, and lots of other home remedies. And livestock remedies, and insect spray, and even toothpaste and vanilla and—Why, I buy all my needles and thread from Mr. Carlson; he has the best. And I count on Old Snell, whenever he turns up, for certain of my herbs and berries—he gathers ’em in the woods.”
“That’s a real convenience,” said Cherry.
“Well, you’ll soon be educated in country ways,” said Aunt Cora. “Now, honey, if you’re planning to change out of that uniform—”
“I’ll be quick,” Cherry promised.
Cherry freshened up in a hurry, brushed her dark curls until they shone, and put on a crisp red and white gingham dress.
As they strolled the few blocks to downtown, the three women stopped to chat with friends along the way. Their neighbors were just coming out on their porches in the early evening. “Anybody for a picnic and swimming party, tomorrow or Monday?” Aunt Cora asked several young people. The Drew sisters accepted right away, and asked whether the picnic could be Sunday. They, and the Anderson young people, had made plans to visit relatives on Labor Day. Passing Dr. Clark’s white frame house on Main Street, Cherry decided to ask the housekeeper to tell Dr. Miller: “Picnic tomorrow.”
On the rest of their walk down Main Street they met a crowd. Farmers with their entire families had driven in for Saturday night in town. The few stores were open and brightly lighted, jammed to the doors with shoppers. Boys and girls crowded into the one movie theatre and stood three deep around the drugstore soda fountain. Cherry overheard someone say there was a dance starting for the young folks one block over, at the school.
Smith’s Restaurant was the last building in the row of stores and upstairs offices. Beyond, in shadow now, were the bank, the post office, the public library, and the courthouse with lights burning in the sheriff’s office. Cherry looked toward the courthouse for the windows of her office, through the dark trees, until her aunt nudged her. They went into the restaurant.
Smith’s had a busy lunchroom counter in front, and in back, a dining room with tables and a few booths. “The dining room is nearly always empty,” Mrs. Grisbee said. “It’s a dandy place to gossip.”
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Mostly they talked about plans for tomorrow’s picnic, over platters of steak sandwiches and homegrown tomatoes, and about Mrs. Grisbee’s visit this summer with her sister in Missouri, just south across the Des Moines River and the state line. They discussed Cherry’s new job, and her new little car, waiting for her in Michaels’ Garage. Half of the car was a present from her dad, the other half she’d paid for herself out of savings. The county, which employed her, would pay her mileage allowance for operating the car on her calls to patients. The car was bright blue, small, inexpensive to run, and easy to park. Cherry was immensely pleased with it. On their walk home she peeked in the garage to see it. Mrs. Grisbee said her car could stay parked overnight where it was. Cherry and Aunt Cora left Mrs. Grisbee at her house—Cherry could smell the spicy herbs from her herb garden, somewhere in the dark. Then Cherry and Aunt Cora went home. Aunt Cora systematically telephoned for miles around about the picnic, with Cherry sitting beside her. Not many young persons were at home on a warm, starry Saturday night. Those who were at home accepted with glee.
“Well,” said Aunt Cora, half an hour later, “I’ll try telephoning again bright and early tomorrow morning. I think plenty will be glad to go.”
Aunt Cora went to the open door, stepped out on the porch, and looked up at the night sky. Stars were out in profusion, and hanging over the treetops was a big, yellow, harvest moon.
“You’ll have a fine day tomorrow,” she said to Cherry beside her.
“I think we’ll have a fine day in more ways than the weather, Aunt Cora.”
“Deader than a doornail” was how Aunt Cora described her home town. Considering that Sauk was a very small farming town in the southeast corner of Iowa, close to where the Des Moines River flows down into the Mississippi, Aunt Cora was right. Except on this fine Sunday morning! Right after church, four cars full of young persons stirred up a great deal of laughter and excitement, assembling in front of Cora Ames’s house. They were loaded down with picnic baskets, bathing suits, cameras, a guitar that belonged to plump Joe Mercer—and they raised a cheerful hullabaloo in getting acquainted with Cherry and Dr. Hal. Neighbors on their way home from church stopped, stared, and smiled.