To Everything a Season (14 page)

“I thought for a while that there might be hard words at the ball game, but thanks to Dr. Deming and his forehead, that blew
on by too. I think that's why the robbery was such a shock. Life has been hard for so many here that we all treasure the peace we find now.”

“Oh, look.” Sophie pointed toward the west. As the sun slid down, the few clouds pinked and then burst into a riot of colors, every shade of red, orange, and yellow and fading into purples. The deepening hush turned to an “Aah” when the last rim of gold disappeared. Someone started to clap, and soon everyone was clapping, turning to smile at one another.

Jonathan Gould on the piano and Joshua Landsverk with his guitar started a familiar tune, and without prompting, the song began. “‘Blest be the tie that binds . . .'”

In English, German, Norwegian, and Russian, the song rose on the evening breeze.

Another hush and Reverend Solberg raised his hands and his voice. “Let's say this together: ‘The Lord bless thee, and keep thee.'”

“‘The Lord make His face to shine upon thee.'” Ingeborg took Kaaren's hand, and Karen took Amelia's as she reached out for Sophie's. “‘The Lord lift up His countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.'” They all squeezed hands on the amen.

After a gentle silence, the music picked up again, this time singing out an invitation to come dance.

“That was indeed a God visit,” Ingeborg said to her family. “Thank you all.”

While couples began moving toward the dance area, Ingeborg smiled over her shoulder to see who was leaning up against her. “Why, Sophie, what a good idea. A perfect back rest.” She raised her eyes to the horizon's glory that was slowly fading into gentle pinks and purples.

“You know something, Tante Ingeborg?” Sophie turned her face slightly. “I think everyone is going to remember this day.
Years from now people will say, ‘You remember that Fourth of July party we had here in 1905? Never seen another one like it.'”

“I think you are right.”
Lord, it sure would be dandy if this is the
way the rest of the year goes.
She smoothed Inga's hair again, then felt the child's face. Sure enough, she was running a fever.

They all started at the sound of a shot in the distance, rapidly followed by another and another.

“Don't worry, folks,” a man called. “That's only firecrackers.”

C
HICAGO
, I
LLINOIS

B
ut
I
don
'
t
want
to
leave
Chicago
.

Miriam Hastings stared at the School of Nursing supervisor. Surely there was some mistake. All she ever wanted was to be a nurse right here in this hospital, where women and children could receive the help they so sorely needed.

“Is there a problem with your assignment? You said you understood that you might be sent out to other locations for practical training.” Mrs. Korsheski looked over her round, wire spectacles. “You've done so well that I am grateful we can send you to the brand-new hospital in Blessing, North Dakota. Since it is a small hospital, at least compared to this one, you will be able to learn far more. Dr. Astrid Bjorklund is a protégée of Dr. Morganstein. The hospital there is actually a distant arm of our program. You three will be the first of our student nurses to serve there.”

Miriam clamped her teeth together to keep the words she
wanted to say from spilling out. How could she leave her family? The little money she earned was sometimes all that bought food for six other hungry mouths. She usually ate in the hospital cafeteria so she needn't eat at home, the few times she was allowed to leave the premises. The nurses in training were all housed right there with one day off a week.

Miriam cleared her throat. “Have you told the others yet?”

“No. You are the first.”

“I see.” She could feel the head nurse's eyes drilling right through her starched nurse's cap and into her head.
Say something!
the voice inside her ordered and pleaded.
You can't
lose out on this chance
. But then,
What if you
are released from the program for insubordination? Then what will
happen to your family?
She tried to speak, but the words refused to come.

Mrs. Korsheski studied her, then leaned forward. “Miriam, what is it? I was so sure you'd be overjoyed at an opportunity like this.”

Miriam slowly shook her head, forcing the words out. “I am honored that you feel you can trust me with this opportunity, but . . .”

“It's your family, isn't it?”

“Yes.” Too broken to be anything but honest, Miriam spoke to her fists clenched in her lap. “They . . . they need every penny I can send to them.” Most student nurses did not receive any pay, instead paying for their schooling, but Miriam did extra work to earn money to send home.

“I see.” Mrs. Korsheski sat back in her chair. “There has to be a way for us to deal with this. Tell me about your family again. I know I have notes written in your file, but refresh my memory.”

“My mother has a chronic illness, so she is weak much of the time. She became a seamstress, and that has pretty much become the family business. I am the eldest of six. A brother of
sixteen works anywhere he can find work; my fifteen-year-old sister both sews and has assumed the care of our mother; my brother, who is fourteen, picks up what jobs he can and helps at home; my ten-year-old sister has dropped out of school so she can help with most of the cooking and cleaning; and our youngest sister, who is eight, is still in school. Mother insists that her children have as much education as possible, so she teaches those at home when she can.”

“And your father?”

“He was killed in a strike several years ago. That one wasn't as bad as the Teamster strike, but several were killed.” Miriam kept her voice to a near monotone, fighting to keep control of her emotions.

“If I remember right, your oldest sister is a very good seamstress. She and your mother did some work for us at one time?”

“Yes, they did.”

Mrs. Korsheski wrote some notes on the pad of paper in front of her. “You let me work on this. Surely there is a solution to be found.” She looked up, eyes still narrowed in thought. “Tell Miss Wells to come in, please.”

“Thank you.” Miriam stood. “Uh . . .”

“Yes?”

“Uh . . .” Miriam turned and, fighting to keep some semblance of composure, left the room. She nodded to the first of the two young women sitting on the bench outside the door. “You're next, Vera.”

“What did she . . . ?”

But Miriam had fled down the hall to the women's room.

“How can I leave them?” She stared at the tear-streaked face in the mirror. “Pull yourself together. It's not like you are being hauled off to the poor farm or some such. She is trying to help you, and you behave like a flibbertigibbet, with no sense
whatsoever. Other people leave home to go for work or school all the time. Or even to travel.”

Travel. A snort caught her by surprise. She had always dreamed of boarding a train and going off to see the world. Or on a ship—not traveling in steerage like her mother had when she came from London and her father from Bingham, but as an actual passenger in a stateroom.
Oh girl, such fine dreams you have. Such a foolish
waste of time and effort. Pull yourself together. You are
a student nurse who has been offered an excellent opportunity
. You will not let this pass you by. After all
, it is for one year, not for a lifetime
. She tucked one stubborn curl under her cap and then another.

Her dark hair had a mind of its own. Staying confined in a net and cap was difficult, to say the least. She splashed water on her face to wipe away any trace of tears and dried her hands. Smoothing her apron, she started for the door, only to be pushed back by the exuberant Vera.

“We are going on a train to North Dakota. Can you believe it? I am so excited!”

“I never would have guessed.” As soon as the words popped out of her mouth, Miriam wanted to bite them back.

“Oh, this is so wonderful.” Vera grabbed her around the waist and spun them both.

“Enough!” Miriam could feel some pins slipping from her hair. At least one pinged on the linoleum floor. “Stop!” She planted her feet as the taller young woman slowed.

Vera stopped all right. A dead stop! Her eyes widened, took on a sparkle as a grin spread her rounded cheeks. “Surely there will be plenty of young men out there, men of courting age, who desire marriage—not just wastrels, but like forever.” The last word came out on a reverent breath. “And whose God is not the bottle.”

Vera wouldn't mind leaving her family. She had basically cut herself adrift from them when she announced she was registering for nursing school. That she had managed to make it through high school was a testament to the girl's determination in the face of her family's derision.
Hoity-toity
was one of the kinder phrases they used to try to dissuade her.

Miriam knew all this, due to confidences shared through the two years they'd been in school together. “We are not going to Blessing, North Dakota, to find a husband. We are going to improve our nursing skills.”

Vera nodded, but her eyes said,
“Just watch.”

Miriam crouched down to locate the hairpins that were no longer in her hair, where they belonged. Locating two, she turned back to the mirror and, after removing the hatpins that secured her cap in place, pulled off the net, sending more pins in flight.

“Now look what you've done.” She tried to sound stern but failed. Vera was irrepressible. She knew that, but for some reason had assumed the job of assisting her fellow students to live up to the standards set out by the staff of Morganstein Hospital's nursing program. They all had been reminded of the standards at the fall meeting that started each new year.

“Give it up. You know only braiding can control that wild mop of yours.” Vera bent over and retrieved a couple more pins.

The door opened and Corabell Nester, shock blanching her face, stopped just inside and leaned against the wall. “I can't do this. I just can't.”

“Why not?” Miriam stared at her in the mirror, at the same time fighting to get the hair net back in place.

“What is it, Corabell? You look like . . . like you've seen a ghost.” Vera crossed to her friend and put an arm around her shoulders. “If you think you can't go to Blessing, why, of course you can. I will be with you and Miriam too.”

“It's too far. I've never been so far from home. Coming here was bad enough, and now I'm supposed to go halfway around the world to—”

“First off. North Dakota is only a couple of days by train. It is not halfway around the world, and secondly, don't be a goose. Of course you can do it.” Miriam almost said a most unladylike and unnurselike word as she fussed with her hair. “Maybe I should just cut all this hair off and be done with it.”

Corabell and Vera stared at her in the mirror, their mouths open and eyes round in shock. “You wouldn't.” Even their voices matched.

Miriam stuck the hatpins through the muffin-like white cap, fixing it to her hair as firmly as possible. She checked the clock. “We have exactly four minutes to get to class.” The others groaned as they all headed for the door. Now was the time to concentrate on the lecture and put all the worries of a possible upcoming trip to bed for a time.

Arm in arm, the three marched down the hall to the classroom, pasted the proper decorum on their faces, and made their way to their assigned seats. At least they weren't the last to enter the room, but still they earned the frown of Professor Gutenheimer.

“Good you could come.” With steely eyes, the gray-haired man in the frock coat glared at the two nurses who tried to tiptoe in after the three.

“Uh, yes, sir.”

Miriam crushed the sigh that threatened to erupt. This man might be head of his field, but how did he manage to remain an instructor here at the Morganstein Hospital? He quite obviously did not respect the calling of nursing but held them and probably all women in contempt.
Pompous
was far too mild a term to apply to His Honor. What would his comeuppance take?

A sneaky thought slipped through her mind. At least in North Dakota they would not have to endure the snide remarks of Dr. Gutenheimer of Harvard, as he was always introduced, including when he introduced himself.

An hour and a half later, the class filed out, all of them looking as bleary-eyed as Miriam felt. Dr. Gutenheimer had expounded on the benefits and uses of carbolic acid, which he called phenol, as if it were a recent discovery and therefore causing a great deal of excitement in the medical community.

Where had he been for the last fifty years that carbolic acid had been in use? She had been reading some of the American Medical Association publications in the hospital library. If this drug worked as well as those who discovered it said, it would be a wonder drug in the fight against infection, the likes of which they'd not seen before. Hyperbole like that only caused her to raise her eyebrows.

At the supper table, the discussion continued amongst the nurses. But Miriam was forced to leave before they finished, since she had the night shift and needed at least a few hours' sleep before going out on the floor. Sometimes the night shift was easier, depending on the cases.

If only sleep could be easy, but her mind could not or would not leave her family. How would they ever survive without her? They needed not only the money she sent home but the medical help for her mother and the work she was able to send to her siblings when she saw a need they could fill at the hospital. They wouldn't even be able to talk with her—not that they could easily now, but . . . the miles apart seemed impossible.

What if her mother died in one of her attacks and Miriam was too far away to help? She was getting visibly weaker all the time.

And how could Miriam herself go on without her mother's wisdom?