Tabitha (14 page)

The dean looked at the papers. “Every student nurse is required
to log one hundred sixty hours of nursing care in each nursing specialty. Your
record, however, indicates incomplete hours in three areas: obstetrics,
surgical, and pediatric nursing. You are lacking a combined three hundred sixty
hours of nursing experience in these areas.”

He removed his spectacles and turned his attention to her.
“Dean Gunderson and I are both at a loss as to why you have not served your
complete rotations in these areas.”

Tabitha was so shocked that she blinked stupidly and could
think of nothing immediate to say. After a moment, though, her mind sorted the
jumbled pieces and—at last—thought she understood.

This is Nurse Rasmussen’s doing! Oh, how could I have
been so blind?

“Dean Wellan, Dean Gunderson, we students work the shifts we
are assigned—we do not have any say or control over our work assignments. I was
assigned to work nights, sir, ma’am, primarily in the general wards.”

Dean Wellan studied her with a quizzical frown. “Yes, yes.
All students take their share of night shifts. I do not appreciate a student
complaining over this necessity. What I do not understand is why your hours in
the required specialties are lacking.”

Tabitha drew a slow, measured breath before answering. “Sir,
I was assigned and have worked nights
exclusively
for the last year and
a half. I work six nights each week. I have not been assigned to any shift
other
than nights for more than a year.”

She looked away briefly. “Of course, I worked on the floors
in question with my cohort during afternoon practicums—but only as we covered
those specialties in our curriculum. And, occasionally, my night shift
assignment placed me on these floors. But only occasionally.”

“I beg your pardon, Miss Hale. Perhaps I do not comprehend
you perfectly. Do you mean to tell me that you have worked a graveyard shift
for an entire year and a half? That you have
regularly
worked eight-hour
nights while still attending classes and practicum clinics?”

Tabitha shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, sir. I do not
understand why I was assigned thusly, Dean Wellan, but yes. I have worked
nights for the past eighteen months, even during term breaks and holidays.”

“Six nights a week? Without a day—er,
night
—off?
Ever?” He sounded incredulous. “To whose cohort does Miss Hale belong, Dean
Gunderson?”

Dean Gunderson’s lips tightened. “Third cohort, Dean Wellan.
Nurse Rasmussen.”

“Excessive night shifts are usually assigned as corrective
measures, are they not, Dean Wellan?” one of the board members inquired. “As
penalty, say, for poor performance or insubordination?” The board member
scrutinized Tabitha. “Does Miss Hale have disciplinary marks against her that
would explain this unusual situation?”

Dean Wellan perused Tabitha’s record. “Well. I am surprised.
Indeed, I see several notations to that effect.”

Tabitha jerked and sat forward. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

“I will read from these notations,” Dean Wellan said. “Let
me see. October 1, 1911. ‘Student Hale was insolent and haughty today. She
spoke back to a staff member when corrected.’ January 17, 1912. ‘Student Hale
was reprimanded for tardiness.’ February 28, 1912. ‘Student Hale was
reprimanded for five instances of tardiness to class this month.’ April 11,
1912. ‘Student Hale demonstrated a disregard for sanitary procedures today.’
May 5, 1912, ‘Student Hale’s performance on the surgical
floor . . .’”

He went on, listing a total of fifteen complaints.

Forcing down the bile bubbling up from her stomach, Tabitha
spoke quietly but firmly. “I have never heard these complaints, Dean Wellan.
Except for the first week back after my leave of absence—a year and half ago—I
have not been reprimanded or given any sort of disciplinary counseling, and I
can think of no instance in which I was late to any class. Your reading of this
list is an utter surprise to me.”

She cast about in her mind for someone or something to
corroborate her response. “Were these complaints lodged by several staff
members or only one? Surely my instructors could verify whether or not I was
tardy to classes? As I said, I had no knowledge of these complaints. Could they
be the product of a single individual? Someone who has a grudge against me?”

Dean Wellan’s expression darkened at her suggestion, but he
looked carefully at the complaints nonetheless. After several minutes of
examining them he pursed his mouth and slid the file over to Dean Gunderson.

The older nurse donned her glasses and peered at the
notations in Tabitha’s record. After she had read through them, she inclined
her head toward Dean Wellan and they spoke in whispers. Dean Wellan huffed and
shook his head at something the Dean of Nursing suggested.

Holding up his hand, he broke off their conversation and
lifted his eyes to Tabitha. “I shall need some time to look into your
situation, Miss Hale.”

“Did you find something?” she asked eagerly. Tabitha knew
she was overreaching, but she was almost frantic. “Was it Nurse Rasmussen? I am
convinced that she has something against me. She—”

“
Miss Hale!
That will be quite enough!” The dean
stared her into submission. “You do not disparage our school’s excellent
staff.”

“I apologize, sir, to you, Dean Gunderson, and to the
board.” Tabitha licked her lips. “May I have permission to speak candidly
before you, Dean Gunderson, and the board?”

The dean looked to the board members and back. “Very well.
In the spirit of fairness.”

“Thank you, sir.” Tabitha took a moment to frame clear,
concise thoughts.

Lord, please help me!

“Sir, if, as these complaints allege, my behavior has been
consistently unsatisfactory over such a long period, would not you, through
Dean Gunderson’s office, have been notified quite some time ago? If I
understand the college’s guidelines correctly, a discipline issue that
continues for more than a month is to be addressed at your level with the
student placed on strict probation.

“In my case, not only have you been unaware of these
complaints, but I, also, have been unaware of them—for going on two years.
Someone—I do not name or disparage that someone—but it appears that someone on
the staff, rather than following school policy, has assigned me to night shifts
and various other punishment duties.”

She softened her voice. “It occurs to me that my unusual
work assignment has been a deliberate attempt to prevent me from logging the
required hours in the specialty nursing areas you noted.”

Tabitha looked at Dean Wellan and willed him to hear her
heart. “I beg you to believe me when I say that I had no knowledge of these
complaints. However, I confess that I should have raised the issue of my work
assignment with Dean Gunderson long before today. I should have asked why I was
being subjected to ongoing punishment duties without due process. But I was
afraid. I was afraid that my questions would be viewed as immature complaints,
as murmuring or rebelling against authority.”

She sighed. “I see now that my work assignment has created a
deficit in my practical experience. And I am . . . concerned
that both my work assignment and these complaints are the concerted efforts of
one individual to discredit me.”

The dean and the board exchanged troubled looks, but Dean
Gunderson sat rigid in her chair, looking straight ahead.

No one spoke for several minutes while Dean Wellan
considered his response. When he did speak, his voice was gentle.

“I must agree that there
is
, ah, something irregular
about your record, Miss Hale. I wish you to be assured that we will conduct a
thorough investigation and get to the bottom of this.

“If,” and here his expression clouded, “as you suggest,
wrong has been perpetrated against you by a member of the nursing school’s
staff, we will rectify the situation to the best of our ability.”

Tabitha nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

He paused as though he wished to say something else.

“Sir?”

“I only wish to say that I would not have thought it possible
for a student to work an ongoing night shift . . . while still
managing the heavy class load and study schedule required of our students. It
is a mark of unusual tenacity and dedication that you have done so for such an
extended period.

“And,” he added in a sober tone, “it explains to me why you
appear so very poorly. I assure you that this situation, one way or another,
will not continue.”

Two of the board members nodded in agreement. Dean Gunderson
did not move or shift expression.

“Thank you, sir,” Tabitha answered, but her heart was heavy.
I believe you, sir, but can an investigation alter the fact that my required
specialty training is incomplete? Surely nothing you can do will permit me to
graduate with my class.

“You may go, Miss Hale.”

Tabitha raised her chin and, with as much decorum as she
could muster, walked from the room.

Dear Miss Rose,

Oh, how I wish you were here, how I wish I could speak to
you face to face and, perhaps receive wisdom from your heart! Things have gone
all wrong and I do not know what to do.

I was called to the dean’s office today—before him and
before the dean of nursing and the board of regents. I was told that the
practicum portion of my training is incomplete. It is all because I have been
assigned to night shifts for the entirety of the last eighteen months and,
thus, have missed a large portion of required nursing experience.

In addition, the dean read aloud a long list of
complaints lodged in my record! I was mortified, Miss Rose, and dumbfounded. I
knew nothing of those complaints, but I could see on his face that he doubted
me.

I thank the Lord that he brought the school’s
disciplinary procedure to my mind. I reminded the dean how, under the school’s
procedure, any ongoing complaints should have been brought to his attention
after which I would have been placed on probation.

Thankfully, he agreed with me that something was not
right, and he assured me that he would look into the situation.

I know someone has worked behind the scenes to besmirch
my reputation. I do not understand why, but I believe I know who has done so.
And it must also be the same person who kept me assigned to nights, knowing I
would miss the required hours in several nursing specialties.

But, Miss Rose! The fact remains that my practicums are
incomplete. Whether the dean uncovers the truth or not, I am certain that I
will not be allowed to graduate next month.

Please pray for me, for I am struggling to understand why
God would allow this to happen. I am grieved beyond measure that the work of
Palmer House might be affected.

Your devoted daughter,

Tabitha

Tabitha placed the letter in the outgoing mail box and then
fell into her bed. She was spent in mind and body.

I do not care what I miss or what goes by the way this
evening,
she realized.
None of it matters anymore.

She fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

~~**~~

Tabitha awoke with a start in the dim light of early
morning. Her fellow students were just rising and preparing for the day. She
was confused for a moment and then panic struck her.

Oh, no! I slept through the night! I missed my work
shift!

“Must be nice for a change, huh, Red?” The girl who
addressed her had one hand on her hip and a toothbrush in the other.

“Wha-what do you mean?” Tabitha scrambled to make up her bed
and get into a clean uniform. She was so shaken that she forgot to remind the
girl
not
to call her “Red.”

“Why, not having to work nights for a change, of course.
Must be a relief to finally be off night shift.” The girl gestured with her
toothbrush toward another student who was just dragging herself into a
nightgown. “Henderson, there, caught your shift last night, poor thing.”

She pointed her toothbrush at herself. “And
I
am the
poor sucker tonight!”

Tabitha glanced at the student she knew as Nancy Henderson.
“Henderson worked my shift last night? I was not on the roster?”

“Of course you’re on it, just not on nights. Looks like you
have a stint in pediatrics. Evenings.” She wandered toward the communal sinks
at the end of the dormitory.

I am not on nights? I did not oversleep?

Tabitha’s schedule had, indeed, changed! In fact, the entire
schedule had been adjusted. She saw her name on the revised schedule for
evening shifts in pediatrics, 3-11 p.m., for the next week. Where she had been
on nights, seven girls from her dormitory were scheduled for one night each.

As it should have been all along
, Tabitha noted.

She washed, dressed, and fixed her hair with more energy
than she had felt in a while and arrived at breakfast with a healthy appetite.
Her day was long and busy, but she smiled every time she remembered that she
would be climbing into her bed and spending the entire night there at the end
of it.

Over the next few days she continually wondered how Dean
Wellan and Dean Gunderson were investigating the complaints against her and
what progress they were making. Twice she thought she caught Nurse Rasmussen
watching her, but she could not be certain.

If you are behind all of my troubles,
Tabitha
thought,
God himself will deal with you.

She pushed down a more worrisome thought: that the Deans
might
not
uncover any wrongdoing—and she would be dismissed from school
in disgrace.

O Lord,
she prayed,
please help me to give this
situation to you. I know I have been unjustly accused—but how much more
unjustly were you treated? You kept your peace when they accused you! If you
help me, I know I can bear whatever comes of this. I so want my life to honor
you. For your name’s sake, please do not allow me to be disgraced.

She received a letter from Rose and took heart from the
encouragement penned in Rose’s familiar handwriting.

My daughter Tabitha, I hope that you will not give in to
fear. If God leads and guides your way as he has promised to do, he will make
that way plain. Again, I say, do not fear what “man” can do to you, for God
himself will walk with you, even through fire. We have Jesus’ sure promise: “I
will never leave you nor forsake you.”

“Yes. I know you will never forsake me, Lord,” Tabitha
whispered. Still she could not shake an ominous feeling, a strong sense that
something else was about to go wrong. And at the end of the week, she received
another summons.

Miss Hale,

You will report to the office of the Dean of Medicine at
1:30 to address a complaint. The charge is of a serious nature. Please do not be
tardy.

Emilia Gunderson, Dean of
Nursing

The dean’s secretary again showed Tabitha into the
conference room. Dean Wellan, Dean Gunderson, and the board of regents faced
her. The scene was much as it had been a week ago—with one exception: The expressions
on the faces turned toward her were grave.

Dean Wellan’s voice was stiff as he began the meeting. “Miss
Hale, we have investigated the situation around your training deficit and the
complaints in your records. Sadly, another issue, one much more serious, has
been brought to our attention.”

Tabitha froze at the icy detachment in his voice.

“Miss Hale, students at this school must possess an
unblemished reputation. They are required to behave according to the highest
standards of virtue. We have received information from a reliable source that
you have a sordid past, one that precludes you from attendance at this
institution, one that I hesitate to even speak aloud in these chambers.”

He cleared his throat. “Can you answer to these charges?”

Tabitha could not speak. She shook her head a fraction, but
she could form no words. All she could think was,
O God! Would you redeem me
from my past only to have it disgrace me now?

“You do not answer, Miss Hale?”

Tabitha looked at him and said nothing.

Dean Gunderson’s chin dropped a little. Tabitha imagined the
disappointment and humiliation the senior nurse was feeling.

Without conscious forethought, Tabitha whispered, “Dean
Wellan?”

“Yes? What do you wish to say?”

“Sir, I am . . . overcome at this moment. May
I . . . may I have a few days to prepare a statement to you and
to the board of regents?”

Where did that response come from?
Tabitha wondered.

One of the board members expostulated, “Really, I do not
see—”

“Enough!” It was the first time Dean Gunderson had spoken,
and the single word crackled with stern authority. “The seriousness of this
charge should allow Miss Hale some latitude. After all, she has comported
herself with honor
for
three years
. Is all of that to be
disregarded and her reputation ruined without hearing from her? I say, give her
the time she requests to respond to this charge.”

The men in the room were as startled at Dean Gunderson’s
vehemence as Tabitha was. Dean Wellan surveyed the board and received several
nods and one sheepish shrug in response.

“Very well, Miss Hale.” He paged through a small book and
added, “Since this is Wednesday, we will reconvene on Monday, five days from
today. Will that be satisfactory?”

He again looked for a response from the board. Then he
addressed Tabitha.

“We will hear from you on Monday morning at ten o’clock.
Until then, you will continue your school and work activities as usual.”

Tabitha left the administration building on legs that barely
obeyed her commands.

The same question swirled in her head and repeated itself.
What
am I going to do?

She was surprised to feel a hand upon her shoulder. “Miss
Hale?”

Tabitha turned and blinked. Dean Gunderson’s concerned face
stared back at her.

“Miss Hale, whatever your past
might
have been, do
not allow those men to denigrate you. What you
were
is not who you are
today. I understand that they have a single witness who will testify against
you. I suggest that you withstand him to his face.”

“Withstand him? Do you mean lie? You are saying I should
lie?”

The old nurse’s expression softened. “Nursing has come a
long way, Miss Hale, but part of its history was neither noble nor honorable.
Even fifty or sixty years ago, before the War between the States, most nurses
were ‘retired,’ er, whores.”

She straightened. “We need bright, committed women like
yourself in nursing today. So, yes. If you have to lie to them, do so. I will
support you.”

Tabitha could not believe what the dean suggested. “Who is
this witness?”

Dean Gunderson snorted. “A low-life reprobate with whom the
school is strapped.”

Tabitha turned her response over in her mind. “Is
he . . . related to Nurse Rasmussen?”

The dean nodded.

“Is he a caretaker here? A groundskeeper?”

Dean Gunderson gave only one bob of her chin.

Tabitha sighed. Perhaps things did make sense. “Thank you,
Dean Gunderson. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for your
encouragement—but I will not lie.”

She turned to go, but Dean Gunderson caught her arm.

“Then what will you do?”

Tabitha surprised herself by smiling. “I will pray, Dean
Gunderson. I will pray. If the God of all grace wishes to save me from this
humiliation, he will. I place myself in his hands.”

When Tabitha returned to her dormitory the other students
were still in their afternoon practicums. Tabitha knelt by her bed and prayed,

Lord, I am calling upon you. You are my Help, my
Fortress, my Defense. The waves are crashing over me, and where can I go but to
you? You set my feet high upon the Rock, Christ Jesus where the waves cannot
reach me! Because you hold me, the waves cannot dash me to pieces. Speak to me,
Lord! Show me what I am to do and I will obey.

She knelt there until she felt a small, slight nudge, an
urge to do something. Standing, she went to the nightstand beside her bed and
dug in its drawer until she found the tiny volume she sought. She then found
the entry she needed and trod down the stairs to the dormitory’s lobby where
the telephone resided.

She lifted the receiver and placed it to her ear. “Operator?
I would like to place a trunk call to Denver. Yes. My name is Tabitha Hale.
Please place the charges on my account. Thank you. I have the number.”

She recited the number and waited until the operator told
her she was connecting the call. Tabitha heard the line ringing from far away.

“Denver office of the Pinkerton Agency. How may I help you?”

“Hello. Yes, this is Miss Tabitha Hale calling. I am a
friend of Mr. Edmund O’Dell. I need to speak with him most urgently. Yes, I
will wait.”

Monday morning at ten o’clock, Tabitha was seated in the
dean’s reception area. With her were Edmund O’Dell, Marshal Jake Pounder, Mason
Carpenter, and Rose Thoresen. Rose sat beside Tabitha. They held hands and
prayed softly. The men with them did not sit. They shuffled on restless legs
and feet. O’Dell’s fingers twirled his bowler hat, and Tabitha noted the
solemn, implacable lines of the men’s faces.

“Thank you, Lord, for godly men,” she whispered.

According to the message Tabitha had received earlier in the
morning, the witness against her was already ensconced with the deans and the
board of regents. When he concluded his testimony, Tabitha would be allowed to
face her accuser.

Shortly after ten, the door to the dean’s conference room
opened and Dean Gunderson herself emerged. She surveyed the group that
accompanied Tabitha with raised brows and asked, “Are these folks here for you,
Miss Hale?”

“Yes, we are,” Carpenter answered. He faced the senior nurse
and added, “Actually, Miss Hale will not be speaking this morning. I will be
speaking for her.”

“I see.” Dean Gunderson looked at each of them carefully,
noting the determined air of the group, and her mouth curved in the ghost of a
smile. “Then I wish you well. This way, please.”

Carpenter led the way into the conference room. Tabitha and
Rose followed behind and Marshal Pounder and O’Dell brought up the rear. Before
anyone within the room could express surprise, Dean Gunderson announced, “Miss
Hale is here and has brought character witnesses to speak on her behalf.”

As the group took the seats pointed out to them, Tabitha
noted that the arrangement of the room was the same as last time with one
exception: Nurse Rasmussen perched rigidly upon a chair at the side of the room
and a grizzled man slouched beside her. Tabitha recognized him immediately: He
was the caretaker she had encountered weeks before, the one she feared had
known her.

If he is the witness against me, then the deans and the
board already know about my past
, she realized in dismay. Her heart pounded
against her ribs.
Lord, please help me! I pray that no shame falls upon you
because of me.

Dean Wellan responded to Dean Gunderson’s announcement.
“Miss Hale, will you please introduce your guests?”

Before Tabitha could respond, Carpenter stood and replied,
“Good morning, Dean Wellan. You and I are already acquainted; however, Dean
Gunderson and the board do not know me. My name is Mason Carpenter. May I also
present Mrs. Rose Thoresen, Marshal Jake Pounder, and Mr. Edmund O’Dell, all of
Denver, Miss Hale’s home town.”

The dean nodded. “Very well. Miss Hale, are you prepared to
respond to the charges against you?”

Carpenter, still on his feet, answered, “Dean Wellan, Dean
Gunderson, and members of the board of regents, Miss Hale will not be speaking today.
I and my companions, Mr. O’Dell, Marshal Pounder, and Mrs. Thoresen, will be
speaking for her.”

“This is quite unusual, Mr. Carpenter,” Dean Wellan
answered.

“Perhaps. However, we have information as to the reliability
of the witness against Miss Hale. As his testimony is the only voice speaking
against her, you and the board should be apprised of this information.”

Nurse Rasmussen sat up and called out in a shaky but
strident tone, “How dare you! You have no right to speak against my brother!”

“Indeed, we do, Nurse Rasmussen. This man,” and Carpenter
pointed to the slouching figure next to her, “has disparaged the character of a
fine young woman and an exemplary student of this school. If his testimony is
to be given credence, then
his
character must also be scrutinized.”

Dean Wellan studied Carpenter for several moments before
saying, “Very good, Mr. Carpenter. You may continue.”

Carpenter nodded. “Thank you, Dean. My companion, Mr.
Pounder, is a United States marshal. Mr. O’Dell is the head of the Denver
office of the Pinkerton Detective Agency. Mr. O’Dell, would you please tell us
what you know of the witness?”