The Doctor's Undoing (22 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

D
aniel felt like a different person as he made his way into the hospital ward. It was past midnight, and while he should have been exhausted, he felt an energized peace, as if he'd just woken up from a long sleep. In many ways, he had.

Ida was beautiful as she slept, her head tucked onto a free corner of Gitch's bed, the child's hand still grasped in hers. The low lights of the hospital ward cast long shadows over the scene, mixing with the blue-white of the moonlight that came through the windows. He couldn't help but see the world in Ida's colors now; the flush of Gitch's wounded lips against the pale of her skin and the way Ida's hair made cascades of red-gold circles around her temples.

Ida had changed him. Ida had changed everything.
I'm so grateful, Father God
, he breathed into the night air.
I'll trust You with what You have planned for us next, but I don't mind saying it's a rather frightening affair.
He smiled, thinking Ida would laugh at the honesty in his prayer.

“Dr. Parker?” the night nurse whispered and tapped on his shoulder, curling one finger to call him aside.

“How is she?”

“Frightened, uncomfortable, but I don't think we could expect much more given her injury. Miss Landway said you would be returning, so Dr. Hartwick told me to tell you he feels it may be eight to ten weeks before the wires can be removed.”

Eight to ten weeks. That would seem like forever to someone Gitch's age. “And after that?”

“Difficult to say, but Dr. Hartwick did say her speech will most likely be impaired. There's some question about the vision in the right eye, but it's too early to tell. I'm sure you know that.”

Daniel turned to look at poor Gitch, his heart swelling with concern. He wanted to do something, but there wasn't anything to do. “She's been wonderful,” the older nurse said, nodding to Ida. “She drew pictures for all the other children when Miss Gwen was asleep.”

Daniel looked around and saw that, indeed, there were small pictures tacked up over the beds of the other children in the ward. He recognized her drawings instantly. Three decorated the wall over Gitch's headboard.

“What I wouldn't give for more like her around here,” the nurse said as she closed her notes. “You're fortunate to have her at the Home.”

Daniel felt his throat tighten. “You've no idea how much.”

He moved over to sit quietly beside Ida's sleeping form. The knitting lay at the foot of the bed, the ball of yarn on the floor where it had rolled from the covers. Daniel picked up the yarn and placed it back on the bed. The motion roused Ida, who woke to blink at him with sleepy eyes.

“You're back.”

He loved her to distraction at that moment. He knew with absolute certainty that he belonged with her, and she with him.
So this is what all those poems are about
, he thought, amused.
They were right.

“You're smiling?” She yawned the question as she straightened up.

“I was thinking how much I love you.” The words were lush and close, whispered so soft in the low light.

“Well, that's mighty nice to hear.” She gently slid her fingers from Gitch's grasp, and the child murmured and settled deeper into her pillows. Ida's face grew serious as she woke further. “How was it?”

The unpleasant details seemed too sharp for this tender place. “Over. Done. Nothing that needs recounting now.”

She looked at him, puzzled. “How?”

Daniel merely shook his head.

Ida took his hand. “Daniel, she's your mother.”

“She's a mean, conniving old woman trying to take something that cannot be hers. She won't be a bother to us anymore.”

“I know she's terrible, but...”

“Marry me.”

Ida blinked. “What?”

“Marry me. The Parker Home needs a Mrs. Parker.
I
need a Mrs. Parker. I know it's the middle of the night, but I don't need another hour to think about it. I know. Marry me.”

Ida smiled. “I thought
I
was the impulsive one.”

“Well, evidently you are contagious.”

She leaned toward him. “How delightful. Yes. I will absolutely marry you, Daniel Parker.”

Wide awake, Daniel kissed her until the ward nurse gave a warning tap on her clipboard, smiling even as she
tsk
ed and shook her finger.

* * *

Ida woke in her bed at the Home weary and disoriented. The sun was already high in the sky—she'd not come back from Roper until nearly two in the morning when Daniel had sent for MacNeil to come and take her home. Evidently the groundskeeper had told the staff to let her sleep.

It felt as if years had been stuffed into the past twenty-four hours. Yesterday's sun had risen on a normal Home day until the summons to Amelia Parker's parlor had begun the chaotic chain of events still unfolding. Ida drew in a deep breath and touched the battered spine of her Bible as it lay open on her bedside table. She'd thought herself too wound up to sleep and had opened the Psalms for comfort last night, but hadn't lasted two pages before nodding off.
I know none of yesterday came as a surprise to You, Father
, Ida prayed,
but it sure did to me. Watch over Gitch. Watch over Daniel while he's still there with her. Watch over all of us.

She'd wanted to stay with him, but Daniel was right—the children needed her presence. Her gifts to calm and distract might be the best resources they had today as things continued to tilt and whirl. She'd slept through too much of the day as it was.

Ida made quick work of washing and dressing. Her shoulders ached from the long hours in the metal hospital chair, and she needed a gallon of coffee. She wrestled her hair into a bun, but declared the dark circles under her eyes beyond repair. “It'll have to do,” she told her reflection in the mirror, feeling nowhere near strong enough to face the day.

Ah, but there was one amazing, powerful thing a week of sleepless nights couldn't undo: Daniel had asked her to marry him. Ida put her hands to her beating heart, amazed again that her cautious, thoughtful Daniel had made such a bold move. She stared at the letter from Dr. Bennet at Walter Reed, a rush of gratitude filling her.
To think I was ready to leave. Oh Father, how You've hemmed me in when I was ready to run away.

The shift in Daniel's life, in the Home's life, would be hard. Starting today—starting this hour, when she walked out of this room.
Hard never stopped me before.
Ida walked to the window and peered out, listening for the sounds of children. Until the busy, serious quiet of the hospital, she hadn't even realized how much the growing chatter of the Home had become an encouragement to her. The noise was life, and she loved her life here.

She tied her nurse's apron in a strong, declarative knot and headed for the door. Just before opening it, she stopped and closed her eyes.
Lord, if ever there was a day I needed a guard on my tongue... Send me all the grace and mercy You can. I don't know what I'll do when I see Jane Smiley, but I'll try to make sure it honors You.

After finding a large cup of coffee in the kitchen, Ida went to find Mr. MacNeil. She located him out in the yard.

He leaned on his shovel and mopped the sweat from his brow. “How are you faring this morning?”

“A bit worse for wear, but I'll survive, thank you.”

“In all the rumpus, I neglected to offer my congratulations last night.” His eyes gleamed. “Dr. Parker looked as though he was burstin' to tell someone. I found it rather funny that it ended up being me.”

Ida shared his grin. “And why not you?” She gestured around the compound. “This is his family.”

“You're right there, lass. But if you'd like to avoid a ‘family argument,' I'd steer wide of Mrs. Smiley. She's a fierce one on a good day, aye? And this is far from a good day, if you ken my meaning.”

“Daniel told her to leave, didn't he?” She could still hardly believe Mrs. Smiley had gone to Amelia Parker the way she had. She'd truly thought she and the schoolmistress were getting along—well, as “along” as anyone got with Jane Smiley.

“I've never heard him use such a tone, ever. He stopped classes, made Grimshaw take them all outside, marched her into his office and closed the door. Even behind two closed doors, I heard him. It's a wonder she didn't stomp off right then. I think, if she had somewhere else to go, she would have.”

“I can't
not
see her.”

MacNeil sent his shovel into the sandy soil. “Well, I'd just be terrible careful about how you do, then. Not anywhere near the young ones.” He looked up at her. “They need to see you. They were all scared when poor Gitch was hurt and you weren't here.”

Ida put her hand to her forehead. “How on earth am I supposed to see the children and yet avoid Mrs. Smiley?”

MacNeil took out his pocket watch and checked the time. Of course! “Lunch duty!” The group charged with setting the lunch tables would be down in the dining room while Mrs. Smiley and the rest were still in classes. Ida startled MacNeil with a quick peck to the cheek before she hurried off. “It won't be all of them, but it will be a start.” After that, she could impose on Fritz Grimshaw to let her into the boys' classes to say hello later. This wasn't so impossible after all.

Ida dearly hoped it was Donna's turn on lunch duty, and was grateful to pull the young woman into a fierce hug as she entered the dining room. “Thank you for all you did to help me yesterday, Donna.”

“How is Gitch? Will she be okay?”

Ida held both of Donna's hands. “She has lots of recovering ahead of her, but you know our Gitch. She won't let this keep her down for long.” Ida looked up at the collection of Daniel's cards still gracing the staff dining room doors. “I think it's time we got everyone started on cards for Gitch, don't you?”

Donna smiled. “I already did. No one could sleep, so I went and got your pastels and papers out.” The teen's eyes grew very serious, and she pulled in close. “I'm sorry I went into your rooms like that, but I tried to think what you would do. And I'm sorry to admit that I saw the letter on your desk—I didn't mean to snoop, honest, but it was just lying there. Tell me you aren't leaving us, Nurse Ida. I couldn't stand it if you left.”

“I'm not going anywhere, Donna. I promise. You and I will have a long talk about that later. As for the papers and pastels, you did the right thing. We'll just need to make sure the Home has an art room from now on in, don't you think?”

The other students at the far end of the room had noticed Ida's presence now and came rushing up to her. A dozen questions from “Where were you?” to “Is Gitch dead?” flew at her in a matter of seconds.

“Whoa, there!” Ida exclaimed, grabbing as many of the outstretched hands as she could. “Gitch is alive and well but rather banged up, I'm afraid. She'll have lots of recovering to do—much more than Dr. Parker did—so she'll need our support.”

“I drew her flowers,” one girl said. “Blue ones because she likes blue.”

Ida touched the child's long brown braids, thinking of Gitch's matted hair underneath the ghastly bandages. “She'll like that.”

“I drew her cookies because she likes those,” another girl offered.

“That may be the only kind of cookies she can enjoy for a while.” Ida sat down on one of the dining table benches and gathered the girls around her. “Her jaw,” she explained, pointing to the bone Gitch had fractured, “broke when she fell, and they can't put a cast on it like an arm or a leg. So they have to wire it shut to help it stay still.”

The youngest girl winced and gasped.

“I know it sounds like it hurts, but mostly the hardest part is that Gitch can't talk or chew or eat like you and I for many weeks. She'll need lots of love from us, and help keeping her spirits up.”

“She'll get it,” Donna said, taking the hand of the small girl. What leadership young Miss Forley had shown in the crisis of the past hours. Ida was so very proud of her. “From all of us.”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” came Daniel's voice from the other end of the room. Ida hadn't even realized he was on the compound. Had his appearance really changed so, or was it just how much the world had tilted in the past twenty-four hours that altered her view of him? He stood taller and stronger and even more settled.

“Dr. Parker!” The herd of children rushed from her side to his. Even the way he bent down to answer little Audrey's question seemed transformed. It kindled such a warm glow in her chest that Ida felt she could face a dozen Jane Smileys and not lose hope.

“I have a job for you girls,” he said tenderly. “Run upstairs and tell all the classes that lunch will be one half hour early today.”

“That's in fifteen minutes,” Donna said, looking around the room. “We're not finished setting.”

“We'll manage. I want everyone downstairs. Everyone needs to hear how our Gwendolyn is faring—” he caught Ida's eyes above the group of upturned faces “—and Miss Landway and I have important news to share.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

T
he girls needed no more encouragement than that to scurry upstairs and leave Daniel and Ida in the empty dining hall.

She rushed to his side, and a surge of happiness coursed through his weary body when she took his hands. Would it always be like this? He dearly hoped so. A man felt he could conquer the whole world with such a boost of spirits. Daniel longed to kiss her—soundly and more than once—but decided holding her hand might be shocking enough for anyone from the now-frantic kitchen staff who might happen into the room.

“Here? Now?” Ida asked. He enjoyed that the blissful sparkle of her eyes showed the same love-struck quality that had carried him all morning.

“Can you think of a better time or place?”

She laughed. “I was just telling Mr. MacNeil that the people here really are your family.”

Daniel joined in her laughter. “You should have seen his surprise when I told him. I believe you've improved his estimation of me considerably.”

She squeezed his hand. “He is so very fond of you, you know.” Her face grew serious. “I'm sure I can't say the same of Mrs. Smiley. MacNeil warned me to stay away from her today. Do you really want her to hear it like this?”

“Believe it or not, I think it's the best way. She'll know there's no going back on our plans, and she wouldn't dare make a scene in front of the children. If she's as smart as I hope she is, she will use it as an excuse for a quiet exit.”

“Gracious, you're absolutely right. I declare, what a very clever man I'm going to marry.” He watched as the words struck her with delight, feeling it, as well. “I'm going to marry Dr. Daniel Parker.” She whispered it like the grandest of news. It was, wasn't it?

“Gitch was awake this morning. I talked her through everything that had happened and that will happen. She was very brave.”

“Donna went and found my pastels and already has the girls making cards.” She took one of Daniel's hands in both of hers. “I don't think we should make her and Matty wait, Daniel. They're ready. When they graduate, they should marry. I know I couldn't stand the thought of waiting now, and Donna has been so mature in all this.”

Daniel took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have to admit I was thinking the very same thing.” Her eyes were so warm and intense. “I'd marry you this afternoon if I thought I could manage a free hour.”

“Goodness,” she declared with a laugh, “I really have infected you, haven't I?”

“A happy contagion to be sure.”

* * *

The unmistakable sound of fifty-seven pairs of excited feet filled the hallway, and Daniel led Ida to the front of the dining hall to greet the children and staff. Ida felt his hand solidly around hers, and she felt her stomach give a small flip as one or two of the older students noticed their clasped hands.

The staff mostly looked curious—some of them looked alarmed, worried that Dr. Parker had gathered them to hear grim news. Ida could watch their faces fill with relief as they entered the room, so it must have been obvious by her and Daniel's expressions that good news was about to be delivered. She watched the children file into their table groupings, her heart lightening further with the chatter. So much had changed since her first visit to this room and its unnerving quiet. It was still orderly—or as orderly as hungry and excited children could achieve—but it was a happy, hopeful kind of efficiency. The kind of a busy kitchen or a bustling home.
Thank You, Father, for all You have done here. For the children, for Daniel and for me.

Ida felt Daniel give her hand one final squeeze before clearing his throat loudly and raising his hands to quiet the children.

“We've had a difficult time since last night, but I want to say I am proud of all of you for handling it as well as you have. You all have shown Parker Home to be the family it is, both in taking care of each other and in showing care for Miss Martin.”

“Is Gitch all right?” a thin voice, pitched high with concern, piped up from one side of the room.

Daniel clasped his hands behind his back. “Gitch will make a good recovery, yes.” Ida gave no outward sign of how she recognized that reply for the merciful doctor's answer that it was. Every nurse knew that “making a good recovery” was not the same thing as being “all right,” but now was a time for reassurances. Daniel had confided that Gitch might never speak as clearly as she had before the accident, and that she had a long road to getting better.

Ida knew, however, that Gitch had the vital advantages of a hearty spirit and lots of support. Already she'd seen more fight in the small girl than in some hardened soldiers with half her wounds. Whatever life lay ahead for Gitch, she would embrace it. Ida felt a glow in her heart from the knowledge that she would be here at the Home to help make that happen.

“Gitch will be in the hospital for a month or so, and then we hope to bring her back to us to finish her recovery. I'm confident all of you will do whatever it takes to help Gitch heal. And I'll make sure the cards you made her last night get delivered to her as soon as possible.”

Ida felt Daniel's demeanor stiffen a little and she looked up to see Mrs. Smiley walk slowly into the room with a narrow-eyed glare.

“I have other news that I want to share.” She heard him take a deep breath, and it struck her further what an enormous leap this was for Daniel to be taking on her behalf. On behalf of both of them, really. She held her own breath, and turned her eyes to watch Daniel rather than to do battle with the steely stare of Jane Smiley.

“We have all come to think of Nurse Landway as part of our family here.” He faltered, making Ida think he was in the process of discarding whatever carefully worded speech he had prepared. She wanted to take his hand, but knew the moment must be his to command. “I know you all join me in feeling that the Parker Home is a far better place for her...unique and colorful contributions.

“The truth of the matter is that she's become very special—to all of us. And to me especially. And, so...” He coughed, a flush coming to his face, and Ida felt a hundred pounds lighter when he simply reached for her hand before continuing. “And so I wanted you all to be the first to know that Miss Landway and I will be married just as soon as we can make arrangements.”

Squeals—really, there was no other word for the sound—erupted from the girls' tables while the boys gaped in shock. The room seemed equally divided into those who couldn't be more thrilled and/or shocked, and those who nodded to each other in an “I told you they were sweet on each other” fashion. All semblance of order was lost for a boisterous bit of time, with girls tumbling out of their seats to come up and give Ida a hug and staff members, including a grinning Fritz Grimshaw, shaking Daniel's hand in congratulations.

“I knew it!” Donna said as she crushed Ida in an enthusiastic hug. “Martha said I was imagining things, but I knew it! Now you won't be leaving.”

Ida felt such a surge of near-maternal affection for the young woman that she found herself choking back tears. “I'm not ever leaving, Donna. This is my home now. And you were a big part in making it that way.”

“Who'd have thought you'd beat me to the altar?” Donna said, her smile enormous and stuffed with happiness.

“Well, let's just see about that.” Ida winked, nodded toward Daniel and gave the girl another big squeeze before a trio of smaller girls grabbed at her nursing apron and began pulling her away.

She managed, as she was being tugged toward a table filled with well-wishers, to look up toward the back of the room. Jane Smiley's eyes were alternating between popping wide in astonishment and squinting narrow in rage. As if she had two-dozen reactions to what had happened and couldn't decide which awful one to feel first. As wounded as she had been by Mrs. Smiley's betrayal, Ida now found herself too full of happiness not to find a tiny portion of pity for the woman.

“Oh, lass,” said Mr. MacNeil, who had just ducked in the kitchen door to catch the end of the announcement, “I'm so happy for the pair of you. You've been a good thing for Daniel, and he's a smart enough man to know it, aye?” He winked. “Don't you worry about her,” he added softly, following Ida's gaze out the door Mrs. Smiley had just stormed through like a round, black raincloud. “She'll make noise and fuss, but she knows better than to make too much trouble. And I'm not so sure Mrs. Parker wouldn't have done what she did with or without Smiley's help. She had it out for you all along, I'm sad to say.” He gave Ida's hands a squeeze. “But like I said, Daniel's a smart man and knows a good thing's worth fighting for. You'll be grand together, I'm sure of that.”

* * *

Daniel felt he had just leaped off a terribly high cliff, and had barely been able to eat with all the fuss at lunch. He had only a few minutes to spare before he would be forced to attack the mountain of paperwork at his desk, but he wasn't at all sure his brain would focus after a day like today.

Ida came up behind him as he stood at the doorway of his study, and together they looked out over the mass of children as they took their outside recreation after lunch. She looked as happy and as spent as he felt.

“Thank you,” she said, her hand resting on his chest.

“For what?”

“For all of it. For here, and for all you've done.” She inhaled deeply before adding, “And for the fight ahead of you. Ahead of us.”

“It's only a fight if you think you can't win. If you know you will win, then it's only a struggle. You know, my father said that to me. I think today I understand it better than I ever have before.”

“Well then, it's a struggle you won't have to face alone.” She drew herself up. “I hear tell the future Mrs. Daniel Parker is a very stubborn sort.”

His arm slipped around her waist. “Impulsive, even.”

“Decisive,” she corrected.

“Beautiful,” he added, letting one finger wander through the waves of her hair that had already escaped her bun.

“And rather smitten,” she said, smiling up at him.

* * *

How had he grown even more handsome? The authority had always been there, but now the severity that used to darken his eyes was gone, replaced with a warm glow. Daniel was capable of such tremendous care—it made her feel as if she sparkled like sunlight to know he loved her.

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, not caring that they were right there in the window where the children could see. Children ought to see love every day—most especially these children. “It's one of God's best gifts, you know,” she said as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

“A kiss? I admit, I agree.” She could hear the broad smile in his voice as he murmured into her hair.

Ida swatted his chest gently. “No, silly—love. My mama said love never took love away, only made more love. That's why you can never use it up.” She looked up at him, wanting to see his eyes as she tried to get the fullness of her heart into words. “I love these children. And I love you. One only gives more to the other, not less. It's like it doubles itself because both are there. I have more love to give because I give more love.” She pursed her lips, unsatisfied with the description. “Does that make any sense?”

“As much as colored socks do in an orphanage.” His words teased, but Daniel's eyes told her he understood completely. His arms tightened around her. They gave her strength, his arms. She'd never felt more sure this was where she belonged.

“Colored socks make loads of sense in this orphanage,” she declared. “I want it to always be that way.”

Daniel made a face as if he were committing the command to memory. “Parker Home children shall have colored socks until further notice.”

“Knit by Mrs. Daniel Parker and her friends.” Ida sighed. “Mrs. Daniel Parker. I do like the sound of that.”

Daniel kissed her forehead. “Mrs. Daniel Parker,” he echoed. A ball bounced by the window, sending one of the children scurrying after it. The girl picked up the ball, but not before stopping to offer a giggling wave at the two of them through the glass. Ida thought her heart must be spilling so much happiness, even Mama in West Virginia could surely feel it.

“Will you still be Nurse Ida to the children?” Daniel asked.

“Of course!” she replied instantly, then thought about that for a moment. “Can't I? Is there some sort of rule about that kind of thing?”

Daniel pulled away just enough to look her in the eye. “When have you cared about the rules?”

She shrugged. “Will I have to start caring about them as Mrs. Daniel Parker?” She was ready to, if it came to that. She knew she'd have to make some changes to help shoulder the social expectations Daniel dealt with in order to keep the Home up and running. Ida dearly hoped Isabelle Hooper would help her with that, as well as John and Leanne.

His eyes gleamed. “In time, but there's no reason to start now. We've broken half a dozen in the last twenty-four hours alone.” He nodded toward the window. “And look how happy those children are.” He pulled her closer. “I'm better for you being here, Ida. We all are.”

Ida wrapped her arms around Daniel as tight as she could. “Oh, it's good to be home.”