Cherry Ames 22 Rural Nurse (4 page)

“We both thank you, don’t we?” Cherry said.

26
CHERRY

AMES,

RURAL

NURSE

Jane Fraser smiled weakly. “I feel as if I’m among friends.” “You are,” Dr. Hal said. “That ankle will take time to heal, but you’ll be able to get around within a few days. This is the lightest weight cast, and we’ll lend you a pair of crutches. That’s not so bad, is it?”

“That’s fi ne, because I have an awful lot of urgent things to do around here,” Jane Fraser said. “And such a short time to do them all.” She looked anxious.

“Don’t overdo,” Dr. Hal cautioned her. “And don’t put your weight on the cast. Rest half an hour now.

Then we’ll drive you to Mrs. Barker’s.” Cherry tried to telephone Mrs. Barker, but the party line was busy continuously on a holiday, and Cherry could not reach her.

It was late afternoon by the time the three of them were on the highway in Dr. Hal’s car. They had propped Jane Fraser across the back seat as comfortably as they could manage, with her foot elevated on a pillow. Cherry turned around to talk with her. Jane told them that she was a nutritionist, that all the family she had was her mother, and that she was engaged to be married.

“We’re going to get married even if Bill never gets completely well!” Jane said. “He
may
be cured someday, if I can just swing things here in Iowa.” She did not say what was the matter with her fi ancé.

“You sound worried,” Cherry said sympathetically.

Jane forced a lighter tone. “I guess if I weren’t so worried about what I hope to do here, and so excited and overtired, I wouldn’t have stumbled and awarded myself a fractured ankle. A great help I am,
not
.”
JANE’S

STORY

27

Dr. Hal, driving, looked concerned but kept silent. Cherry said encouragingly to Jane, “Could be worse. We’ll have you walking around on crutches by tomorrow.”

They stopped at a crossroads store to inquire where Mrs. Barker’s place was, since neither Dr. Hal nor Cherry knew. Jane Fraser did not know, either. She said she had been in Iowa once when she was about four years old, with her mother, and had met Mrs. Barker and her son then, but she could not remember either the place or the people. She knew Mrs. Barker, an old acquaintance of her mother’s, only through letters.

The Barker place was a mile beyond Riverside Park.

It was a scrap of land in these vast plains, only about three acres, with a fl imsy cottage, one cow, a shed, a few chickens, and a vegetable patch. Mrs. Barker must be poor, Cherry thought. But the place was as clean and tidy as the old lady who came bustling out to greet them.

“Jane! Is that you, Jane? Land’s sakes, where have you been?” Mrs. Barker looked at the three young people in bewilderment. “Young man, aren’t you the new doctor?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and Cherry thought she’d be inclined, too, to say a respectful “yes, ma’am” to this vigorous little woman of sixty.

“Which one of you girls is Jane?” Mrs. Barker asked.

“Why in the world are you so late? And where’s Floyd?

Didn’t he meet you?”

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CHERRY

AMES,

RURAL

NURSE

Dr. Miller introduced Jane and Cherry, and explained gently what had happened. The old lady looked ready to cry, but she said:

“Well, what’s done is done. I’m mighty sorry about your accident, Jane. I’ll take good care of you. That shiftless son of mine! If he had met you, like he promised me, maybe you wouldn’t have taken that tumble.

I can’t count on Floyd for a single, blessed thing,” she said sadly, half to herself. “Well! Come on, children, let’s get this girl into the house.” Jane managed slowly with the crutches and help from Dr. Hal. Cherry went ahead with Mrs. Barker into the cottage. The living room was small and crowded with an assortment of worn-out furniture. A parrot greeted Cherry with “Goodbye! Goodbye!”

“He’ll say hello to you when you leave,” Mrs. Barker said. “His name is Mike. That bird is an embarrassment to me, the way he repeats our conversations sometimes, but he’s company.”

The old lady sounded lonely. Cherry inquired whether anyone else besides her son Floyd lived here.

No one else, Mrs. Barker said. She led the way into the small spare bedroom which was to be Jane’s. Cherry helped Mrs. Barker turn down the bedcovers, since Jane would need to rest.

Hal helped Jane slowly into the spare room, and she sank down on the bed. Dr. Hal gave a few simple instructions to Mrs. Barker for Jane’s care, and told the patient:

“Now don’t worry about a thing. Just rest. Miss Cherry and I will come back tomorrow.”
JANE’S

STORY

29

Cherry said a few encouraging words to Jane Fraser, and said good-bye to Mrs. Barker. Then she and Dr. Hal left, with the parrot calling after them:

“Hello! Hello!”

The next day Dr. Hal held a conference with Cherry as they drove up to the Barker’s cottage on Labor Day afternoon.

“The main problem, I think,” Dr. Hal said, “is to keep Jane in good general health, so she’ll have the vitality needed for the ankle to heal. As it is, that girl seems tired to the point of exhaustion.”

“And worried half to death,” Cherry said. “That’s a large part of what’s draining her energies, isn’t it?”

“Her health problem may be mostly a problem of morale,” Dr. Hal agreed. “Let’s see whether we can get Jane to talk about what’s worrying her. She might fi nd it a relief to unburden herself. We’ll have time to visit with her today, since it’s a holiday. Hey, look at that museum piece in the Barkers’ yard!” Dr. Hal braked to a stop and they both stared. Next to the well, someone had parked a rusty old jalopy. It looked ready to fall to pieces, but apparently it worked, for a pair of man’s rubber boots and a tin bucket of grapes were on the front seat.

“Might be Floyd’s,” Cherry said.

“Maybe,” Dr. Hal said, “Floyd didn’t meet Jane be cause that contraption never made it as far as the railroad station.”

That, in fact, was Floyd’s excuse. Mrs. Barker told them so when she came out and led them into the house. She took the grapes in with her.

30
CHERRY

AMES,

RURAL

NURSE

“I wish my son would’ve stayed home a few minutes to meet you folks,” Mrs. Barker apologized. “But Floyd always has some business of his own to attend to.

I never know where he’s off to.”

They found Jane sitting beside a sunny open window in the spare bedroom. She was writing a letter when they came in, but eagerly put it aside.

“You look much better today,” Dr. Hal said. He examined Jane’s leg around the cast, to make sure that cir-culation was normal, and asked Jane a few questions.

Cherry made notes for him, for Jane Fraser’s record.

“This girl isn’t sick,” Cherry said cheerfully, “just incapacitated temporarily.”

“But I can’t afford to be incapacitated!” Jane exclaimed. “Not when I need to make every single day here count!”

“You’re in Iowa on a very special errand, aren’t you?” Cherry said.

“Yes. But now, with this ankle—” Jane shook her head. “To come all this distance for nothing—Bill and I may never get married now.”

“Maybe we can help you with your special errand,” Dr. Hal suggested.

“Yes, maybe we can,” Cherry said, and sat down in the sun beside Jane to listen.

The girl sighed, then told them her story. When she and Bill Dowd became engaged, they had to fi nd ways to provide a home for themselves and Jane’s mother.

Jane’s salary as a nutritionist was small, and so were Bill’s earnings as a salesman. So he took a risky job
JANE’S

STORY

31

which paid well. Bill had done deep sea diving for sport and—thinking himself strong and well—went to work diving to mine underwater bauxite. He did heavy labor for long hours in the cold water, off the coast of Brazil, and worked several long, rainy, sea voyages on a freighter between the United States and Brazil. As a result Bill contracted tuberculosis. For over two years, he had been in hospitals; the money he earned had gone to pay for his hospital bills.

“I feel responsible for the tuberculosis,” Jane said.

“He won’t be able to work for a very long time to come.

If ever.” She added, “Bill has no family, no one but me to look out for him.”

From the way she spoke, Cherry could see that Jane and Bill were very much in love, still wanted to marry—and they had already had a long wait.

Jane sighed. “My mother feels bad, too, about our situation. She wants to help Bill and me all she can—

by keeping house while I work, and doing whatever nursing Bill may need.”

Cherry and Dr. Hal looked at Jane with sympathy.

There was not much to say in the face of such hard-ship. Dr. Hal asked what medical care Bill had had.

The past two years, Jane said, he had been at a TB

sanitorium in upstate New York. Although Bill was better now, and no longer needed much medical care, he was a long way from full recovery. In fact, the doctors recently told him and Jane that his recovery depended on living quietly in the country, and of course doing no heavy work.

32
CHERRY

AMES,

RURAL

NURSE

“That news was a blow,” Jane said. “We’d thought that after two years’ rest and care, he’d be much better than he is. We didn’t know what to do next.” Neither Bill nor Jane could afford to keep him on at the sanitorium. The only alternative was for him to go to a free public, county hospital—where he was at present. This meant that he and Jane would be separated indefi nitely. Before they could ever marry and be together, they had to get a home in the country—but there was no money.

“Then”—Jane’s face lighted up—” I received a letter from an attorney’s offi ce, out of the blue. A great uncle of mine— I scarcely can remember him—my mother’s uncle—died and left me a small farm around here.

About a mile from here.”

“Why, that’s wonderful!” Cherry exclaimed.

Jane smiled uncertainly. “We rejoiced, maybe too soon. That old farm
could
be the answer to our problem. But there’s an
if
. Wait—it’s not what you think.

Here’s what I planned.”

Jane had fi gured she could, as a nutritionist, fi nd a job in one of the many mills, canneries, or dairies in this farm area. Or she could apply in the thriving small towns around here at a large motel restaurant, school, or hospital.

Jane was willing to buy an inexpensive used car and drive many miles to her job, if necessary, while her mother would keep house. Her husband-to-be would do whatever outdoor activity on the farm that his doctors would advise, perhaps none. Jane and her family did not plan to work the old farm, except for a vegetable patch.

JANE’S

STORY

33

“Living in the country can be inexpensive,” Jane said.

“The main thing is a house! Once we have a house, the three of us could manage on my salary. Eventually Bill can fi nd some gainful occupation he can do at home, once he grows stronger.”

“You’re a brave girl,” said Dr. Hal. “You said there’s an
if
—?”

Jane pushed back her soft brown hair. “Yes, another letter came. From Mrs. Barker, this time.” She paused to explain that the Barkers were distant cousins of the deceased great uncle. They had been his neighbors until the old man had abandoned his farm and moved to California several years ago.

“I vaguely remember his farm,” Jane said. “My mother brought me West to see him once when I was very small.

We were his nearest kin. Mother says it was during that visit that she and Emma Barker met and became friends, and they’ve exchanged Christmas cards and an occasional letter ever since. When I inherited the old place, Mother wrote Mrs. Barker the news. Well,” Jane said slowly, “Mrs. Barker wrote back—” Mrs. Barker invited Jane to stay with her, while she decided what to do about the old farm. Mrs. Barker said in her letter that ever since the great uncle had abandoned the farm, it had become overgrown with weeds, and the old farmhouse was fi re eaten and in bad disrepair. The possibility of moving in there might be hopeless.

“Oh, no!” said Cherry. “Not when it’s your only chance!” Dr. Hal murmured agreement.

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CHERRY

AMES,

RURAL

NURSE

“Well, Mrs. Barker thought I’d better see the old place before counting on it,” said Jane. She made an effort to be cheerful. “I hope the three of us can live there, anyway. I’m determined to, even though I haven’t seen it yet. We just
have
to make it livable.” So Jane had obtained a leave of absence from her job in New York to come to Iowa, to inspect the farm. She had only three weeks in which to decide whether to keep or sell the old place, fi gure out whether she and her mother could make it livable, and fi nd out what repairs would cost in money and time. Also, Jane had to explore job possibilities in this area.

“And now I’ve gone and broken my ankle! With poor Bill just existing from day to day in that hospital, and Mother waiting for word from me,” Jane said in despair, “I don’t know how I’ll ever do all these things in three weeks. I need help. But Mrs. Barker isn’t young, and she’s kind, just to take me in. Floyd is unreliable, so I can’t count on him. And I don’t know anyone else here.”

“You know us,” said Cherry. “And through our work we know people who know still others. I think you’ll fi nd several persons who will be glad to help you, especially when they hear how urgent your business here is.” Jane looked encouraged.

“It’s also urgent,” Dr. Hal said to Jane, “for you to get well as soon as possible. Your own good health is essential if you’re to work out three persons’ futures in the next weeks.’

JANE’S

STORY

35

“Yes, Doctor,” Jane said. She hesitated. “One more thing. Maybe it’s not worth mentioning. My mother told me this story as a child, and it haunts me.” The old farm was reputed to hold a secret dating back a hundred years or more. If Jane’s great-uncle knew the secret, he never revealed it. Jane said she had asked Mrs. Barker about it, but she had laughed and explained that country folks love fanciful legends and ghost stories.