Toward the Sunrise (12 page)

The conference room at the Women’s Medical College of Pennsylvania was exactly as Julia remembered. Wood-paneled walls, the windows flanked by heavy maroon draperies, and a long table stretching down the length of the room. Julia and Ashton sat at one end of the table, Dean Kreutzer on the other. The dean wore her steel-gray hair in a bun, and her high lace collar made her look imperious, stiff, and sour, which was an accurate summation of Dean Kreutzer’s personality. Along both sides of the table sat the men and women who made up the college’s Board of Trustees. Rich philanthropists, renowned physicians, church leaders, and college professors. Not an ounce of humor on any of their faces.

Ashton had warned her to keep quiet and let him do most of the talking. “Miss Broeder’s academic record speaks for itself,” he said. “She has the academic abilities to soar through this program with distinction, but more importantly, she has the heart and stamina to work in the challenging field of medicine. Your college has a distinguished tradition of sending medical missionaries into the world, and Miss Broeder is eager to join their ranks. Such a calling will require a person of extraordinary passion and courage, and I believe Miss Broeder has demonstrated those qualities.”

“It will also require wisdom and self-restraint,” Dean Kreutzer said through stiff lips. “This is where Miss Broeder has been judged lacking.”

Julia swallowed hard and gripped the seat of her chair. Although what the dean said was true, it was hard to sit mute while people discussed her fate, but she followed Ashton’s lead and remained silent.

“Self-restraint is something that comes with age and maturity,” Ashton countered. “Miss Broeder demonstrated a lack of both during the incident in question, and she is prepared to acknowledge such.”

Dean Kreutzer pierced her with a stare. “Well, Miss Broeder? Do you regret your actions?”

She glanced at Ashton, who gave her a tiny nod to speak. Her knees were weak as she stood, and she braced her hands on the table to keep them from trembling. None of the members of the board had
a glimmer of sympathy on their faces. These were the people before whom she’d arrogantly held up her pinky finger and declared she had more courage in that single digit than the lot of them combined, so she hadn’t expected much sympathy.

“I regret insulting the courage of the members of the board,” she began. “I don’t personally know any of you and had no right to cast aspersions on your character. But I cannot make a liar of myself and say I regret saving the dog.” She looked Dean Kreutzer in the eye. “I wish I could have found a way that complies with both the laws of man and the dictates of my conscience, but the situation was—”

Ashton grabbed her hand and tugged her back into her seat. This wasn’t good. She’d probably just blown her chances by mouthing off again.

“As I’m sure we all agree,” Ashton began, the embodiment of diplomacy, “Miss Broeder has an admirable desire to combat suffering, be it in a dog or in a human being. I would ask the board to consider the qualities of intelligence, compassion, and adaptability necessary for a medical missionary to succeed. However unconventional, Miss Broeder’s actions in regards to the dog displayed quick thinking and ultimately rescued the dog in the face of firm opposition. Such qualities will serve a missionary well.”

“And what has Miss Broeder learned from her experience earlier this month?” the dean asked, directing the question at Julia. She would have to answer for herself. She couldn’t hide behind Ashton’s eloquence.

“It taught me the advantages of a good attorney.”

Laughter rumbled from a few board members, but it was quickly stifled when Dean Kreutzer shot them a warning glare.

“And if you do not have a good attorney whilst dealing with the sultan of Oman? Or the tribal leader of a Bengali village? As a missionary, you will encounter people of different backgrounds and perspectives, some of which you may find repugnant, and yet these are the people you shall serve. How shall you comport yourself in such trying circumstances?”

Flippant answers weren’t what the dean needed to hear. Nor would hot-headed tirades work any better. The dean made an excellent point about the need for cool-headed tact when she ventured into a world that would surely have different norms and customs.

Over the past week, Ashton had left his cosseted life in the city to work alongside her in a goat barn. He didn’t like it, but he handled the situation with patience and humor. He learned and adapted, and ultimately he accomplished his goal.

“I am learning patience,” she began. “There is a Chinese proverb that says the best fighters are never angry. I will learn to manage my impulses and my temper. I cannot say I regret saving the dog, but I wish I had handled my anger better so as not to have offended the people who were most likely to be my staunchest allies.”

She risked looking into the faces of the individual board members around the table. All of them were forward-thinking people who believed in education for women, who dedicated their lives to the care of the sick and the poor. They didn’t deserve the broad brush she’d painted them with merely because they hadn’t fallen in line behind an impetuous girl with more bravado than wisdom.

“I know I have much to learn from every person in this room.” She looked directly at Dean Kreutzer, a woman who had been at the forefront of the battle to clear the way for women in medicine. “And I truly hope I have the opportunity to return to school so that I may do so.”

It felt very different this time when Julia was asked to step outside to await the board’s decision. For one thing, she had Ashton sitting on the hard bench beside her. The hallway was cramped and uncomfortable, with a bench designed more for beauty than for comfort. Whoever thought carved mahogany scrollwork on the back of a bench was a good idea? All it did was dig into her spinal column and make these few minutes even more exquisitely awful.

She glanced over at Ashton, who looked as uncomfortable as she felt. The waiting was torture, and she needed something to unwind the tension that ratcheted higher.

“Did you ever get a good scolding when you were a boy?” she asked. “Come on, let’s hear it. I’ll bet you were reckless and disorderly at least once in your life.”

“I was the perfect child.”

She snickered. “And what would your father say about that?”

“He would agree.” He tossed the comment off blandly, but a hint of a smile threatened to ruin the straight line of his mouth.

She rolled her eyes. Someone like Ashton Carlyle probably wore a suit and tie even as a toddler, while she was making mud pies with Emil.

The door to the conference room opened, and the dean herself came out of the room, her manner still stiff and commanding. Julia stood, her mouth suddenly dry and her heart threatening to leap from her chest.

“The board has voted,” Dean Kreutzer said. “We have concluded that there are times when the laws of man are in conflict with basic human decency and compassion. We believe you are now more sensitive to this issue and have the makings of a fine medical missionary. Welcome back to college.”

Julia shrieked and leapt into the air. Her feet didn’t even touch the ground because Ashton snatched her in mid-jump, shouting for joy and whirling her in circles.

It was time to say good-bye to Ashton. The dean wanted her back in class tomorrow morning, so there was no opportunity to return to Dierenpark. Ashton offered to walk her to a nearby apothecary shop where they would send a telegram home, asking Emil to forward her belongings to the college.

The scent of menthol and tobacco surrounded them as they stepped inside the shop. While Ashton dictated the note to the telegraph operator, Julia gazed at a display of elegant soaps on the glass countertop. Most were in paper boxes or tins featuring sumptuous illustrations of the soap’s fragrance, such as jasmine or roses. Other pictures depicted the soap’s main ingredient: beeswax, rose oil, or cream. One of the larger tins had a bucolic scene painted on the lid, an Alpine goat standing in a green field with a pristine blue sky overhead. She opened the tin lid and ran her finger along the milky smooth cake of soap inside. She paid for the tin and joined Ashton outside.

“The trolley stop is at the corner of the street,” he said, and they walked with impossibly slow, measured steps toward the corner. They both knew this was where they would say their final good-byes. She would stay in Philadelphia, while Ashton would take the trolley to the train station and then return to New York City this afternoon.
They would have only a few more moments together before they both returned to their normal lives.

The street corner was crowded, with a vendor selling pretzels and a boy hawking newspapers. A passel of school children had just been released for the day, and they scampered down the street in a flurry of boisterous voices.

She reached inside her pocket for the tin of soap. After all the unique and wonderful gifts he’d given her over the years, a bar of soap seemed terribly humble, but she couldn’t bear the thought of Ashton disappearing into the vast city and forgetting their magical week together. In a goat barn, of all places.

“Here,” she said, pressing the tin into his hands. “A bar of goat-milk soap to remember our time together.”

His eyes softened. “I won’t need any help remembering, but thank you,” he said, his voice rough with tenderness. He tucked the tin inside his suit pocket then clasped both of her hands. “I hope you will continue to write. I can’t tell you how much your letters have always meant to me.”

“I’ll write.” The trolley was already making its way down the street toward them.

Ashton turned to face her, longing carved onto every line of his handsome face. “This is it, then.”

“I know. I won’t ever forget you.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Some of the schoolchildren hooted, but she didn’t care. This was probably the last time she would share a kiss with a man in her life, and she wanted to savor every second of it. She clung to him, trying to memorize the moment. She was going to have to live on this kiss for the rest of her life.

The trolley stopped, and she heard the door open. Ashton looked down at her, love and wistfulness gleaming in his eyes. “I wish things had been different,” he said.

She shook her head. “I don’t. Everything about these days together was perfect. Simply perfect.”

He nodded. Then he boarded the trolley and headed out of her life forever.

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