The Doctor's Undoing (14 page)

Chapter Fifteen

D
aniel was in the hospital four days, although to Ida it felt like four weeks. After that first day, she'd stayed away despite how much she wanted to go every hour and check on him. She was not Daniel's family. He had his mother tending to him, and quite frankly she was needed here at the Home with the doctor out of commission.

Ida kept herself busy tending to nursing tasks, helping out the other staff as much as she could and working with Isabelle to coordinate the delivery of the socks. Despite regular reports of Daniel's recovery, everyone had seemed on edge and in an especially sour mood with him away from the Home.

Now—Friday and the first of August—the whole Home had brightened this morning with the good news that Daniel was coming home today. In fact, the doctor was due here any minute, and Ida was tacking a series of floral watercolors up in his room so he'd have something pleasant to look at while he recovered. According to Mr. Grimshaw, Daniel had staunchly refused his mother's demands that he convalesce with her at the Parker house, which didn't surprise her. She'd meet the formidable Amelia Parker minutes from now, but she'd heard enough stories to hint that Daniel's mother would be a suffocating nursemaid. Provided he weren't too gruesome a sight—and that was certainly a danger given his injuries—Ida knew the company of the children would be Daniel's best medicine.

The door opened behind her and an elegant woman with Daniel's dark eyes and piles of graying curls bustled into the room. She looked startled to find Ida in Daniel's private quarters, casting her eyes up and down Ida before pronouncing, “You must be the army nurse.”

“Ida Landway, ma'am. I was just ensuring everything was ready for Dr. Parker's return.”

“I'm sure everything is more than ready,” came Daniel's weary voice from behind the woman.

Mrs. Parker stepped aside, letting Daniel into the room. He was upright, but battered looking. The paleness of his complexion made his dark eye stand out even more. Eye, not eyes, because the left side of his head was covered in a thick bandage. An artist would have a field day with the spectrum of blue and purple bruises along the left side of his jaw. Her prediction that he would look as if he'd been in a boxing match was not so far off. His expression, what she could see of it, told Ida he knew on some level the sight he was. It was a sentiment she'd seen so often among soldiers—craving company but worried they were too unsightly to have it.

“You're sure about this, Daniel?” Mrs. Parker was clearly not happy with her son's choice to recuperate at the Home. Mothers were the same everywhere—no matter their son's age, they wanted to tend to them under their wing when hurt.

“Quite certain, Mother. There's no need to make this more than it is. Besides, why go to the expense and trouble of bringing in a nurse when I've access to a fine one here?” He moved gingerly over to the chair in his study alcove, settling himself in it as if to underscore his decision. “The children have been upset I've been gone and they'll be happier knowing I'm here. Even if I do look a bit of a monster.”

“Oh, I wouldn't say that,” Ida argued. The children of the Home were made of stronger stuff than to let such details keep them from the Dr. Parker they needed. “I suspect most of the boys will be rather impressed, and the girls will coddle you.” She offered Daniel an understanding smile. “You may wish for a bit less attention before the week is out.”

She was sorry for the last comment, for Mrs. Parker jumped on it. “My point exactly. You need rest and quiet, Daniel.”

“What I need, Mother—” Daniel put just enough edge in the respectful tone of his voice to let his mother know the point was not open for debate “—is to get back to work. I'm simply injured. I'm not an invalid. I'm grateful for your concern, but I'm endlessly tired of just sitting and having people fuss over me.”

Mrs. Parker huffed, fiddled with her handbag, but offered no reply. Ida thought that wise; Daniel looked at the very edge of his temper. Time for a diversionary tactic. “Mrs. Parker, I'm sure it's been a difficult day for you. Would you like me to see to some tea for you in the dining room while Dr. Parker settles in?”

Mrs. Parker looked surprised, but pleased at the opportunity for a graceful exit from the room's mounting tension. “Thank you, Miss Landway, I'd like that.”

“Right this way. I'll make sure you have time to return to your son before you leave. I'd like you to see all the cards I had the children make for Dr. Parker while he was away.”

As quickly as she could, Ida guided Mrs. Parker to the dining room, where a flurry of colorful cards were tacked to the staff dining room French doors waiting for Daniel's first meal back at the Home. The woman seemed to find the display rather baffling. She peered at one drawing after another, inspecting the hearts, flowers and other sweet images that filled the wall. “You had the children do this?”

“They wanted to—I only gave them the supplies and paper.”

“How charming.” Mrs. Parker's tone was that distinctly Southern mix of sweet and sharp that made Ida wonder if she really did think so. Ida didn't know what to make of her reaction—what woman would not be charmed by such a show of affection for her son?

“Your son does marvelous work here, Mrs. Parker,” Ida offered. “He's a very fine and honorable man. You must be so proud of him. Take a moment to look at all of these and I'll be back with tea in a jiffy.”

She quickly ducked into the kitchen and had the servers there put together a small service of iced tea and sandwiches. She also asked them to dish up some of the cold soup she'd recommended, along with anything else that would require little chewing, and send it to Daniel's quarters. When she brought out the tray to the staff dining table, she found Mrs. Parker staring at Gitch's card. It was an adorable drawing of a duck with bandages on his little yellow head.

“You show a great admiration for my son,” Mrs. Parker said.

“He is a mighty fine doctor and does quite a job running this place. I've never seen a man so devoted to his work. As sorry as I was to see him hurt, I am glad the children have a chance to let him know how special he is to them.” Ida set the tray down.

“My husband ran the Home for years during the war, you know, back when it was smaller. It's a terrible price of war that the Home has grown so much in the past few years.” She looked at Ida with a softer expression than she'd shown in Daniel's quarters. “I do know what a thankless, endless task running this place can be.” She sighed. “I sometimes wonder if the strain of it all sent Harold home to Heaven earlier than was necessary.”

Ida hadn't thought about that—this woman, of all people, knew how much it took from a man to run the Home. A pang of sympathy shot through Ida's heart. Given what Mrs. Parker had lost, was it so hard to understand why she hovered over her son so? “Dr. Parker Senior must have been an extraordinary man.” That wasn't false flattery. Often Ida had looked at the portrait that hung on the Home's library wall and wondered at the man who'd set out to meet such an enormous need. Daniel had made a great many changes and improvements, but it was Dr. Harold Parker who had the initial vision. He was the man whose example Daniel strived to match.

“He was.” Mrs. Parker took a long drink of tea, then reached into her bag to produce a hanky and blot her brow. “My, but the day has been hot and tiresome.” In truth, Mrs. Parker didn't look all that well herself, but it had been a difficult day for everyone.

Ida ventured a friendly smile. “I somehow suspect Dr. Parker is not the most cooperative of patients. Physicians rarely are.”

“He will try to do too much too soon.”

“If it helps,” Ida confided, “I share your worry. You should visit every day, and I promise that all the staff and I will keep a close watch on him. Personally, I plan to march him back to his quarters to rest at least twice a day no matter how he protests.”

The older woman picked up a sandwich from her plate. “I admit I was not in favor of Daniel bringing a military nurse here to the Home. Daniel speaks very highly of you, however.”

Ida didn't know what to make of her words. They had more a tone of resignation than of approval. Ida chose to extend the tired woman the benefit of the doubt and offered a smile. “I'm very happy to be here, really I am. I think your son is doing marvelous, important work.”

Mrs. Parker's lips pursed just a bit. “To hear Isabelle Hooper speak—and my but she does go on and on about it, bless her heart—you're the best thing that's happened to the Parker Home since my son.”

It was hard to think of joyful, generous Isabelle having anything in common with the formal, proper Amelia Parker. Ida didn't know what to say except, “That's very kind of you, Mrs. Parker. And kind of Mrs. Hooper, as well. Leanne—Mrs. Gallows, that is—and I are just thrilled with all she's done for the children.”

“Ah, yes, the knitting.” Again, such a carefully neutral comment that Ida couldn't hope to guess what Mrs. Parker truly thought of the sock project. After a disturbingly lengthy pause, she added, “I suppose I really ought to help with that. I do know how to knit, you know.”

Ida thought about how Isabelle had scowled over Mrs. Parker's refusal to join the other knitting ladies. While her laconic statement wasn't a ringing endorsement, was Amelia Parker coming around to the idea? Perhaps God was going out of His way to show Ida how much good she could do in Charleston. “I've some yarn and the pattern in my office. I'd be delighted to fetch them for you before you go.”

“Have you any pink? With only one son, I've never had the chance to work with pink yarn.”

She was indeed coming around. Suddenly Ida wanted nothing more than to give Mrs. Parker something pink and fluffy to knit, and she felt a smile shine all the way to the bottom of her heart. “I've got loads of pink, Mrs. Parker, loads of it.”

* * *

Daniel had agreed to spend his first full day back at the Home within the confines of his rooms. He didn't much like the prospect of not being out in the classrooms and yards, but he was desperately tired from not sleeping well, and he quite frankly thought his current appearance might give some of the younger children nightmares. His brow seemed to stab him with pain every time he blinked, and the stitches had started to pull, making him feel as if his face were an overfilled balloon about to burst. The broken edge of his tooth bothered him immensely, both because his tongue seemed to find it every ten seconds and because Daniel thought it made him look like a hoodlum.

At lunchtime today, Donna and Matthew had both brought him their card from the staff dining room doors. “Glory, but you're a sight!” Matthew had proclaimed, sucking air in through his teeth with a grimace. “It's like the whole side of your face is one giant shiner.” Donna had swatted him for that one, but Daniel would have laughed if it didn't hurt so much.

“You look like a brave warrior come home from a terrible battle,” Donna had proclaimed.

“A terrible battle with a fearsome fence post,” Daniel had joked, wanting to put the worried look on the young woman's face to rest. “I'm fine, I assure you.”

Ida knocked on his door shortly after Donna and Matthew left. “Are you ready for your excursion?”

“More than ready. I'm going mad in here.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “I doubt that. But I do have a special surprise for you.”

The short walk to the staff dining room tired him more than he'd expected, yet the sight that awaited him was more than enough to reinvigorate him. Ida had told him about the display of cards, but even her vivid description didn't prepare him for the bright, splendid splash of colors and shapes that filled both French doors and spilled over onto the door frame, as well. And the endearing messages! It was all he could do to keep the lump in his throat from swallowing him whole right there in front of her. He was glad she'd arranged it so that he was alone in the room when he saw it; he was rendered weak and speechless.

“Wonderful, isn't it?” she said quietly after giving him a long time of silence to take in the display. He was grateful not to have an audience for the emotions welling in his chest.

“It's extraordinary,” he choked out, staring at the drawing Gwendolyn had done of a duck all bandaged up as he was. She had signed it “G,” and he recognized Ida's handwriting underneath: “Because that stands for Gitch
and
Gwendolyn.” His soft laugh very nearly dissolved into tears.

“They love you. You know that, don't you?”

Did he? They respected him—that was clear—and many of the older ones admired him, but had he allowed himself to think of their feelings toward him or his toward them in terms of genuine love? Professional devotion, charity, certainly—but love? Then again, what did these precious children need more than to love and be loved? It seemed dangerous and absolutely essential at the same time. Ida's question struck so close to home that Daniel found he couldn't hope to form words, just a hard swallow and a slight nod. He was grateful she simply stood beside him in silence, not pressing him for further admissions. As it was, he felt exposed and brittle, as if she'd seen way too far inside him.

When he could speak again, he chose a lighter subject as they walked back to his quarters. “What have you done to my mother?” he asked.

“Your mother?” The innocence in her words didn't match the secretive smile.

“The woman was knitting in my presence this morning. Pink socks. With white lace ruffles, evidently.”

“Ruffles?” Ida asked, mock surprise on her face. “Goodness, Isabelle must have really gotten to her.”

“It's unheard of, I assure you, and I want to know how you did it.”

Ida folded her hands in front of her as if the task were simple. It was not, by any means. As a matter of fact, before today Daniel would have classified it as impossible. “I simply showed her how irreplaceable her son was.”