No Distance Too Far (31 page)
With the bathtub filling, he stripped and climbed in, his letters wrapped in a towel to keep them dry. He’d forgotten to lock the door. Out again and dripping to the door, he snapped the lock and returned to the claw-footed tub with a sloping back and deep sides. One could almost swim in it. He rolled another towel and lay back against the headrest he’d created. After drying his hands, he opened the earlier one from Astrid with a postmark of Athens, Georgia.
Dear Mr. Landsverk,
Thank you for writing. I feel almost guilty telling you I am writing from my table out on the veranda where the bushes are blooming, the birds are singing, and a little lizard is attempting to be brave and gobble up the crumbs I tossed him. He needs to hurry before the birds pick them all up. I am sure there is still snow on the ground in North Dakota, but I must say, I do not miss it a bit.
I understand your restlessness to be working on your house. Once I start something, I want to finish it as soon as possible, but a house would take a long time, relatively of course, no matter what season. I remember that is why Thorliff always tried to have the outside done in the fall so they could work on the insides all winter. Remember when you were working on Penny’s house? She was sure it would never be done for Christmas, and yet all you workers managed to make it happen.
I am enjoying my studies here. The pace is so much slower than in Chicago that I feel guilty having so much leisure. Other students mutter about the amount of classwork, and it is all I can do to not verbally compare this with the hospital. Some of them already think I should not be here. As do some of the professors. One said that I should go home and find a husband who would want to accompany me to Africa.
Joshua stopped reading. She needed a husband to go to Africa? He chewed on the inside of his lower lip. But now she was home. Had she taken their advice and started looking at the young men at the school? Had she found one? On the other side, did he want to go to Africa? He caught himself shaking his head at that thought. But then, this was all new. He returned to reading.
I am memorizing amazing amounts of Scripture, more than I ever dreamed possible—or necessary. I never thought I might be in a place where a Bible might not be available. We are spoiled in our country, of that I am more assured all the time as I hear the stories of missionaries returning from other lands. I do hope you find the time to write again.
Your friend,
Dr. Astrid Bjorklund
He reread the line about memorizing Bible verses. Pastor Solberg had mentioned the value of that again the last Sunday before the crew left for drilling. Perhaps he’d better make it a practice to have his Bible along and do the same. He opened and read the second letter.
Dear Mr. Landsverk,
Why can’t she call me Joshua? Does she even think of me as Joshua?
I have amazing news. I have been accepted for a two-year term as a medical missionary to the British East Africa Protectorate. I was certain they were going to turn me down after the last meeting I had with the board that makes those decisions. I will be working at a hospital in Mombasa, the capital city, for the first while until someone decides that I can go work in the bush with Rev. Schuman. I am not sure if I am happy or not, but if this is God’s calling for me, He will provide. I read a book that said “God will never call you to someplace He has not prepared for you.” He will provide for all my needs. I have come to believe that implicitly.
I hope to come home for a brief furlough before I leave the first part of July.
Your friend,
Dr. Astrid Bjorklund
Joshua felt the agony of a sucker punch to the midsection. She was going to Africa. This time at home would be a “brief furlough.” He put the letter away and began scrubbing. He would spend every moment he could with her while she was here.
He paused, the washcloth dripping. If she would let him. Maybe she’d decided to leave him behind too.
A
strid sometimes felt the stethoscope should be affixed to her ears. After so many weeks of not practicing medicine, today she had barely taken a break. At least it had calmed enough for Ingeborg to go home for a few hours while Elizabeth slept under Thorliff’s watch. Far better than the other day when she’d pulled her mother from the meeting because Elizabeth had spotted again.
“Can you cough for me?” she asked the small boy sitting on his mother’s lap. He looked up at his mother, who coughed for an example, and shook his head.
She sighed. “He’s been coughing for several days. I gave him honey melted in warm water, but that isn’t helping. Please, Daniel, cough for the doctor so she can help you.”
Daniel promptly vomited all over Astrid. Projectile vomiting at its best, or worst, as the case may be. Astrid smiled reassuringly, eternally grateful for the white apron that covered her clothing, neck to foot. The little boy whimpered and burst into coughs that sounded like they were wrenching out his innards.
Glancing up at the mother, Astrid received a nod of acknowledgment and set her stethoscope against the heaving back and then chest. She needn’t have bothered. A croupy cough sounded like no other. “Let’s get a tent set up, and I’ll show you how so you can do it at home. Steam is the best antidote, and for his cough, I find that honey mixed with equal proportions of whiskey and warm water is the best expectorant around. We have some made up here along with steeped willow bark in the water, if you would like to purchase a bottle.”
While she spoke, she rang for Thelma. She ignored the look Thelma gave her messed apron when she came in and set about turning towels into a tent to be used over steaming water. “I have something new in the pharmacopeia,” she added. “It comes from California, a tree there called eucalyptus. Sprinkle the powder over the water, and it makes the steam more effective.”
Thelma returned with a clean apron and a pot of steaming water that she set on the table. She indicated that Astrid needed to change and waited so she could take the messed apron out with her.
Astrid did as told and returned to her charges. “Now, this is easier done at home over the kitchen stove, but here is how to do it. Hold Daniel against your chest and drape a large towel or sheet over your head and the steaming kettle, trapping as much of the vapor as possible.” She sprinkled the powder on the water, which immediately filled the room with the pungent aroma. Daniel shuddered with the coughing. Astrid fixed the towel over her head, took the boy in her arms, binding his arms with her own, and face out, leaned them both over the kettle. Still coughing, Daniel inhaled the steam, and after a few breaths, the coughing eased.
She rose up, handed the child to the mother, showing her again how to hold him, then motioned her to bend over the kettle and hung the towel over their heads. Stepping back, she tied her apron and listened for the wheezing to ease. Sure as the sun rising in the east, the child relaxed, the mother’s crooning voice softened, and Astrid breathed a silent prayer of thanksgiving. She’d done a tracheotomy on a child in Chicago that was too far gone to respond to this simple treatment, but she would only do another in an extreme emergency.
“How often can I do this?” the mother asked.
“As often as needed. The relief gives his body time to fight the infection. When this happens again, the sooner you start the treatments, the better off he will be. Most children outgrow the croup as they get older.”
“He’s sound asleep.”
“That’s wonderful.” Astrid lifted off the makeshift tent and folded it. “Do you have any questions?”
“How much are the two medicines you mentioned?”
Astrid named a figure and wrote her notes in the child’s records. “If he gets worse and doesn’t respond to the treatment, bring him in or telephone me.”
“We don’t have a telephone.”
“I see.” Astrid realized that she’d begun to take the availability of that instrument for granted. It had already saved several lives that she knew of due to the swiftness of medical response. “Send someone for me, then. He could choke and die if the mucous were trapped in his throat.”
The mother nodded, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Thank you, Dr. Bjorklund. You saved my Daniel’s life.”
“You are indeed welcome.” Astrid ushered her out the door, the boy sleeping in his mother’s arms. “Thelma will give you the things I suggested. She can take the payment also, either now or leave a note for later.” Bidding them good-bye, she made her way back upstairs to check on her other patient. Since her mother had gone home after her last sitting, Astrid and Thelma were taking turns checking on Elizabeth, who had gone back to sleep after her breakfast and basin bath. Since there didn’t seem to be any change, Astrid figured that was a good thing and returned to her office downstairs.
“Telephone for you,” Thelma announced when she reached the main floor. “Sophie.”
Astrid followed her into the kitchen and picked up the earpiece. “Hello.”
“I won’t keep you but thought you might want to know that Mr. Landsverk is back in town. The crew returned about an hour or so ago.”
“I see.” Was that her heart leaping or her stomach? Did it matter which?
“So?”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“I guess I want you to act a bit excited for a start.” Her voice slipped from sweet to tart.
“Sophie, this is not the right time. I haven’t even had a chance to talk with Far yet.” Did she not realize how fragile Elizabeth was?
“You still need to take a break,” Sophie snapped.
Astrid thought a moment. “What would you do?” If that wasn’t an explosive question . . .
Sophie paused. “I’m thinking.”
“I have patients waiting.”
“I guess I would ask my friend to tell, er suggest, to him that she would be available for supper or perhaps sodas later in the afternoon. When do you close the surgery?”
“I have no appointments for after three o’clock, but I am watching Elizabeth too. I sent Mor home, and Thelma has a stack of laundry a mile high. Or several baskets anyway.” She reminded herself to be accurate, not to exaggerate.
“Good. I shall suggest sodas if he asks.”
Astrid twirled her apron sash. Did she dare leave for a few moments? She did wonder how their meeting would be. “Okay, Sophie, if Elizabeth is doing okay.”
It’s been forever since I saw him. What if he
has changed? His mind, at least.
“He was thrilled to hear that there were letters from you up in his room.”
Her heart did another of those skippy beats she hadn’t felt for a very long time.
“Sodas would be a fine way to get to know him a bit again.” After all, she’d really met him at the soda shop, so this seemed most appropriate.
“I’ll have him telephone you.”
“If I’m with a patient, he can leave the message with Thelma.” Astrid hung up the receiver. Her day had definitely taken a different turn. Should she change clothes? There wasn’t time to take a bath. No. If a relationship were ever to grow between them, he needed to see her as she was. That was clear to her from the missionary school. Truth had to be the basis of all relationships.
She turned down the urge to look in a mirror, but smoothed errant strands of hair back into her snood and returned to the office—and her waiting patients. As she reached the door of the examining room, a thought hit her like a thick glass window. Why have sodas with Joshua, Mr. Landsverk, when she would most likely be leaving any day for the missionary school and on to Africa? She heaved a big sigh and, turning the doorknob, entered the room. Sometimes keeping too busy to think was a good thing.
At four o’clock she checked on Elizabeth, who was back to sleep after her dinner and some time sitting in the corner window settee. They had decided against carrying her downstairs because she seemed a bit weaker. Mor was back and had taken up her post in the rocking chair near the bed, knitting in her lap and prayers on her lips and mind. Astrid felt like she was fleeing a battlefield. Perhaps she should stay. Did she really want to see Joshua, or would it be better not to see him at all? She hesitated.
Ingeborg looked up. “Go for a walk and get some fresh air.”
“I’ll be at Rebecca’s,” she whispered. Mor nodded.
Astrid went downstairs, turned the
Closed
sign over, and walked to the Blessing Soda Shoppe.
Benny met her at the door on his flat cart that he pushed with his hands. “My Doc is here,” he announced with a grin. Leaning closer he whispered, “A man is here to see you.”
She patted his cheek and whispered back, “I know.” She entered, feeling his gaze on her before her eyes adjusted from the bright sun outside and she dared look for him. He was waiting at the counter, where he’d been talking with Rebecca. Astrid stared.
He stared.
Was that trepidation in his eyes, or a shadow? A smile to match his growing one tugged at her lips, creasing her cheeks. She could feel it traveling from her face clear to her fingers and toes. Surely he was more handsome than she remembered—dark curly hair, broad forehead, square chin, and a smile that took her breath away.
“Welcome home.”
His voice sent shivers up her spine. If she’d had any doubt that there was an attraction between them, it fled before the rampant stampede of emotions.
