Tabitha (21 page)

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.

~~**~~

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 while 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.

“If those Germans think the United States will take this
laying down, they had better think again,” Tabitha heard one doctor at her
hospital declare in anger.

If I am called over to England to serve, could my ship
suffer the same fate?
Tabitha wondered.

No. God will not call me but that he will not also make a
way.
Tabitha put her chin up and tended to her duties.

The United States, in response to Germany’s sinking of the
Lusitania
,
protested heartily, but the president did not declare war as some had hoped he
would.

Late in the month, Tabitha received a letter from Claire.

Dear Tabitha,

I have passed all my examinations and will graduate June
12. I so look forward to entering nursing. I know I am not strong enough to
work in a hospital ward as you are doing, but I hope to find a family with an
ill child whom I can nurse back to health. Perhaps in this way I will render
service to God by being a blessing to them.

Is there any possibility you
could come to my graduation? My entire family is coming, and they have planned
a light lunch after the ceremony. I would count it an honor to have you here
and to introduce you to them.

Tabitha shared the letter with Rose. “I would dearly love to
go,” Tabitha confessed, “but going by train would mean staying overnight, maybe
even two nights. The hospital would not grant me that much time off.”

Rose thought for a moment. “Could Mr. Carpenter’s man
perhaps drive you? It would make for a very long day but we did so for your
graduation. Two or three hours to Boulder and the same back, returning late?”

Tabitha’s answer was dubious. “I am not certain. Mason did
say to call upon Banks, but—”

“If Mr. Carpenter were here, he would, no doubt, take you
himself,” Rose answered.

Tabitha nodded. “Yes, he would.”

“Then, I should think Claire’s graduation is an occasion to
contact Mr. Carpenter’s man.”

Banks called for Tabitha early the morning of Claire’s
graduation. Tabitha sat alone in the spacious interior of Carpenter’s motorcar,
cradling a bouquet of flowers that filled the car with their fragrance. She was
still marveling at Banks’ response to her telephone call. He had not paused or
hesitated a moment over her request.

“But of course, Miss Hale! It would be my pleasure to drive
you to your friend’s graduation. I know Mr. Carpenter would send his congratulations
to Miss Claire as well. I shall order flowers for Miss Claire in Mr.
Carpenter’s name.”

When they arrived at the school, Banks opened the door for
her near the entrance to the school’s great hall. “I shall be parked just
there, miss.” He pointed with his chin to a patch of grass already filling with
other motorcars. “If you would care to stand here on the curb, I will watch for
you and bring the car around directly.”

“Thank you, Banks,” Tabitha whispered, struck by his kind
attention. He smiled, nodded, walked around the vehicle, and drove away to make
way for others pulling up to the entrance.

When Tabitha disembarked on the familiar campus, she viewed
it with fresh eyes.
It is so hard to believe an entire year has flown by,
she reflected.

The crowd was pressing her, so Tabitha moved with the flow
to enter the hall and find a seat. Soon after, the graduation ceremony began.
Tabitha stood with the crowd to honor the new nurses as they paraded into the
hall. Dean Wellan and Dean Gunderson addressed the graduates, commending them
for their achievements—and their dedication to a profession that would entail
even more commitment and hard work.

Afterward, the graduates filed onto the platform and, one by
one, received their caps and nursing pins. Tabitha smiled with pride as she
watched Claire receive the marks of her accomplishments.

When the ceremony ended, the graduates filed out. It took
Tabitha many minutes before the crowds exited the hall. She looked for Claire
and found her friend surrounded by her happy, proud family.

Just as I was only a year ago,
Tabitha recalled. As
she drew near, it was obvious that Claire had been watching for her.

“Tabitha! Oh, I am so glad you came!” She reached for
Tabitha and the two of them embraced.

“I am so proud of you, Claire,” Tabitha murmured into
Claire’s ear. “These are from Mr. Carpenter.”