Wearing a lightweight yellow daisy-sprigged cotton dress as a concession to the temperature, she slipped into the side door of the doctor’s house so she wouldn’t have to go through the waiting room.
“Elizabeth, is that you?” The doctor’s voice came from one of the examining rooms.
“Yes.” She debated checking those patients waiting or answering the querulous tone that told her Dr. Gaskin was already fed up to the eyebrows with seeing patients when the day was not yet half over.
“I never realized all that his wife did for him,” she muttered under her breath. He’d always seemed such an even-tempered man before.
But he’d never lost his wife before, remember? The voice in her head made perfect sense. She took in a deep breath and headed for the nearest closed door of the two examining rooms. She tapped and entered on command.
“Hold this arm for me, will you?” the doctor instructed.
The tears on the boy’s face told of his pain.
“What happened, Johnny?” Elizabeth took in the situation at a glance. The boy’s mother held a handkerchief to her eyes instead of comforting her son. Usually she was the one in that family who came running to the doctor with every headache or feared disease.
“I . . . I fell out of the apple tree.”
“I told him not to climb trees, that he was going to fall and break something, and now, see, he has done just that. Oh, this is giving me such a headache.” The woman sank down in the chair, her face pale and beaded with perspiration.
“It is awfully warm in here,” Elizabeth said. “What if I open the window and see if we can find a breeze?”
“Hold his shoulder there first.” Doc indicated with a nod. “It’s just a simple break. I want to make sure the bones are in alignment.”
“Easy, son, this will be over in a minute.”
With Elizabeth’s hands on the shoulder, the doctor pulled gently on the hand and wrist. A soft snap, a muffled shriek from the patient, and a sigh of satisfaction from the doctor. “There now. I’ll splint it, and you can wear it in a sling for a few weeks. But don’t you go climbing any more trees.”
“Hear that? You have to do what the doctor says.” A large sniff accompanied the pronouncement.
Elizabeth and the doctor exchanged glances, then turned their attention back to the boy on the examining table.
“Someday I’m going to be a doctor.” Johnny’s gaze followed every movement Dr. Gaskin made.
“Really? Me too.”
Johnny looked at her, disgust evident in his hazel eyes. “You can’t be a doctor. You’re a lady.”
That’s what you think. But Elizabeth only raised one eyebrow.
“You better hope she gets to be a doctor.” Dr. Gaskin continued to wrap gauze around the splinted arm. “She’s going to take over for me.”
“Why?”
“I’m getting too old. That’s why.” He knotted the tails of the bandage. “Now you be real careful with this. You don’t want to end up with a crooked arm. You’ll never make a doctor if you have a crooked arm.”
Elizabeth took a square of white cloth from a drawer and folded it into a triangle. Slipping it under his arm, she tied the tails in a knot behind his neck and then pinned the other corner around his elbow.
“Now promise me you will keep this sling on all the time.”
“Even when I’m sleeping?”
“No, you can take it off then. Come back in three weeks and let the doctor see it again.”
“But . . . but I can’t play baseball like this.”
“That’s the point.”
“And I can’t go swimming.”
“I know.”
“This is going to be a terrible, awful summer.”
“At least you won’t be climbing any more trees.” The mother rose and headed for the door. “Come, Johnny. Thank you, Doctor. You may send the bill to my husband’s office.”
Even Elizabeth could tell that wasn’t a question. And since she was the one doing the accounts, she knew the woman’s husband didn’t pay his bills regularly. This time she would include a more forceful reminder whether the doctor wanted her to or not. This family was different from many. They had the money to pay their bills, or at least it seemed that way.
She waved Johnny off with a reminder to keep the sling on, then straightened up the room. More patients awaited attention.
Later, when a lull finally occurred, she pointed the doctor to an easy chair in his office. “I’ll get you a glass of lemonade.”
“There isn’t any. I drank it all.”
Elizabeth thought of the large pitcher she’d made the day before. Did he take a bath in it? “I’ll make more,” she said and headed for the kitchen. Thank goodness the new housekeeper would be there in the morning. When she returned some time later, Dr. Gaskin lay back in his leather chair sound asleep. Dark shadows circled his eyes, and new lines channeled from nose to chin. His cheeks appeared sunken, as if he’d not eaten for weeks.
A soft snore fluttered lips that used to smile more than frown. Somewhere along the way, they’d forgotten how.
She set the glass down on the blotter of his desk and gently closed the door behind her.
He must have been out on a call most of the night.
But he wasn’t. When he told her later that he hadn’t heard the man pounding on his door, she started to say something and stopped. How could he not have heard?
“Were you sick?”
He shook his head, not meeting her gaze. Suddenly she understood the smell of peppermint. He’d chewed mint leaves to cover the odor of whiskey.
She closed her eyes. How had she missed the signs? How would the new housekeeper tolerate this?
“I need to go interview the nurses. I’ll have them go into the parlor.”
“I’d rather you stayed on.”
“I know, but I start school again soon, and then what?”
“You can apprentice under me and not go on to school.”
Only as a last resort, Elizabeth promised herself. “We’ve been over this before.” She patted his arm. “Call me if you have an emergency.”
She interviewed three women before she knew she had the right one.
“Is that Miss or Mrs.?” Elizabeth glanced from the paper in front of her to the bright-eyed woman who reminded her of the gray squirrel that sometimes visited outside her bedroom window.
“Miss.” The smile that accompanied everything she said made Elizabeth automatically smile back. “Miss Matilda Browne.”
“And you can start immediately?”
“Yes. I found a place to live yesterday. Something just drew me to this town. Must be the hand of God at work.”
“Well, you are needed here. Dr. Gaskin’s wife died two weeks ago, and while I can help off and on, I will be leaving next week for a trip with my mother. She would be so disappointed if we had to cancel.”
“Now, dearie, you go right ahead with your plans. I’ve been a nurse for fifteen years and would still be in Wisconsin if my doctor hadn’t sold his practice and gone west.” She shook her head. “Sometimes men get the wanderlust, and there is nothing to do about it.” Clasping her hands in her lap, she leaned forward. “I worked at the hospital for two years too, so I can help in most instances.”
Elizabeth named the salary the doctor had instructed her to offer and waited while the woman in front of her pondered.
“Done. I can be here at eight-thirty in the morning, or do you want me earlier?”
“No, that will be fine.” Elizabeth felt like some giant had just removed a huge pack from her back. “I’ll take you on a tour through the office now. Most of the patients should be gone. And you can meet Dr. Gaskin.” And please like him. He is such a dear man.
By the time she walked toward home, the doctor’s office was set to rights, and his supper was on the table. All she wanted to do was sit and stare at a wall. Even reading a book would take too much energy.
How had Mrs. Gaskin handled it all? And
kept her cheerful attitude?
“Your father is wondering when you will get to the newspaper office. He sent Hans over to get you a few minutes ago, for the third time.”
Elizabeth groaned. Dreams of a soaking bath and early bed went flying out the window like a bird heading south.
“You don’t have to go.”
“Yes, I do. I promised.”
“Then have a bite to eat first and perhaps you’ll feel better.”
Elizabeth let her mother lead her toward a dining chair, and she sank down on it. She rested her elbows on the table and her head on her hands.
If answering an emergency in the middle of the night made her this tired, how was she going to handle hospital work?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Blessing, North Dakota
“Please come, Miz Bjorklund. Mira’s wailing something awful,” a voice called urgently, waking both Haakan and Ingeborg.
“I’ll get the door while you get dressed.” Haakan pulled on his pants and headed for the door.
Ingeborg shed her nightdress and put on her dark skirt in nearly the same motion. Not bothering with camisole and slip, she buttoned her waist and slipped her arms through the straps of her voluminous apron with pockets for her supplies, quickly tying the bow in the back. Since this was a second baby for the Mendohlsons and all had seemed all right during the last months, she knew the baby could come quickly. She also knew Mira didn’t handle pain well. Birthing basket in hand, Ingeborg strode into the kitchen.
“Is there anyone with her?” She skipped a greeting, knowing that young Mr. Mendohlson was too upset to think things through anyhow.
“Only Ossie and he’s asleep.”
“When did the pains begin?”
“Just before I left. She woke up screaming, you know.”
Haakan held the door for her. “You want to take the horse and wagon?”
“No, I’ll ride with Abe here.” She looked to the man with his hat in hands and feet shuffling from one to the other. “Or did you come on horseback?”
“No, I got the wagon in case Metiz wanted to come too.”
Ingeborg hesitated for only a second. She and Metiz always worked together if there was a problem with the birthing. Should they go get her?
“I’ll send you back for her if it looks like we will need her.” She turned to look up at Haakan. “Tell Astrid to make pancakes for breakfast, and I planned on the last ham for dinner. It is soaking in the well house. She knows to go ahead and finish the bread.” The night before Ingeborg had set the sourdough to rising, so eggs and flour were all that needed to be added, and then the dough would be ready for kneading. “If she has any questions, you know where I am.”
Haakan smiled at her, the slow smile that warmed both his eyes and her belly. “God bless.”
“He does and will.” She let the young man assist her up the wheel and to the board seat of the wagon. She settled her basket at her feet and pulled her shawl around her shoulders against the predawn chill.
When Abe set the horses to a gallop that nearly threw her off the seat, she hollered above the racket, “Take it easy. That baby won’t be coming for some time.”
He reined them in to a fast trot, which only rattled her teeth.
They heard Mira scream as he pulled the horses to a halt at the front porch. He wrapped the reins around the brake handle and leaped to the ground, racing into the house without bothering to assist Ingeborg down.
She chuckled to herself. How good it was to see a man so concerned for his wife. Young love. Perhaps they all needed a dose of it once in a while.
She made her way into the house, heat from the roaring stove smacking her in the face. A washing boiler heated on the front burner. He’d taken her request for hot water to heart, that was for sure.
Mira moaned.
A child’s cry floated down the stairs from the half story above. Mira’s carrying on had wakened her year-old son.
Ingeborg kept on course to the bedroom just off the kitchen and found Abe comforting his wife.
“I’ll see to her, and you go take care of the baby.”
Abe nodded and whispered something in his wife’s ear before heading out the door to climb the stairs. His son’s cries now echoed down the stairway.
“All right now, Mira, let’s see how you are doing.”
“The pains. They are so bad.” The young mother wiped the sweat from her face and neck with the sheet.
Ingeborg spoke gently. Calming a frantic mother was no different from comforting a hurting child. And the face that grimaced back at her was no more than sixteen anyway, still a girl but already a mother.
“You must be strong. We have a long way to go.” But after checking, Ingeborg smiled at the resting patient. “Perhaps not so long after all. You are made for having babies easily.”
“If this is easy, I . . . I can’t think about hard.”
Ingeborg took the girl’s hands as another contraction began. “Go easy now. Breathe through the pain. Don’t fight it. If you breathe and ride with the pain, the babe will have less trouble, and you will too.”
Whimpering rather than screaming this time, Mira did as she was told. When it passed, she smiled up at Ingeborg. “That was better, but then it is always better when you get here.”
“Good.” Ingeborg pulled back the sheet. “Now we will walk. Remember last time how we walked and you felt better?”
Mira started to protest, then changed her mind. Using Ingeborg’s strong hand to help pull herself to a sitting position, she grunted and swung her feet to the floor. “I feel like a walrus from the north of Norway. My far told me about them.” She panted as she struggled to her feet. When she stood, water poured down her leg to puddle on the floor. “Uff da, such a mess.”
“No mind. I will mop it up. This means we could go fast now.”
Abe entered the room, his son in his arms.
“Can you take him to a neighbor’s?” Ingeborg, her arm around the young mother’s heavy waist, asked.
“I-I guess so. Or for now I could take him to the barn with me. I leave him in the grain bin at times.”
“Perhaps he will go back to sleep if you give him something to suck on.” While she spoke, the two women paced the floor.
“Ja, I will do that.”
He’d just left, child on his arm, when Mira doubled over. “I can’t walk no more.”
“Ja, you can.”
“No.” The word trailed in a screech. “The baby’s coming.”
Ingeborg half carried the girl back to the bed and then checked on the baby’s progress. After one mighty contraction, Ingeborg held a squalling baby girl, who waved her fists and howled as if she were being beaten.
“Uff da, I never seen a baby come so fast.” Ingeborg laid the baby on her mother’s chest, where mother and babe studied each other, lost in a world of recognition.
Mira murmured sweet words to her baby and stroked the perfectly shaped head with a shaking finger. “I told her you was coming, little girl baby, and so you did.”
“Mighty big hurry she was too.” Within minutes all was finished and cleaned up, the cord cut, and the babe swaddled in a baby-sized sheet and laid in the crook of her mother’s arm. Both of them promptly fell asleep, leaving Ingeborg to add wood to the fire and set the coffeepot to heating. Remembering the kitchen from a year earlier, she found all she needed to make pancakes and eggs for breakfast and had it all ready when Mr. Mendohlson brought in a foaming pail of milk to set on the counter.
“Go see. They are doing fine.”
“The baby is here already?”
“Ja, and a fine little daughter you have there.” Ingeborg slipped into Norwegian, as she knew he understood that more easily.
“So soon.” He left the room shaking his head.
Ingeborg poured circles of batter to bubble on the griddle and broke two eggs into the frying pan.
“They are sound asleep.” Abe returned, still shaking his head.
“I kno
w.” Ingeborg pointed at the table. “Take a seat.”
“Ja, after I go back out and check on Ossie. He fell back asleep too. Then I wash.”
Ingeborg set the filled plate in the warming oven and poured two cups of coffee. As soon as he returned, she asked, “You want me to butcher a chicken and start it cooking? Chicken soup always tastes good after birthing a baby.”
“No, no. That is too much bother. I will take you home right after we eat.” He smiled his pleasure at the food swiftly disappearing. “You are one fine cook, Mrs. Bjorklund. Tusen takk for all you do for us.”
“Mira did the work, short that it was. She nearly dropped that baby on the floor.” Ingeborg cut off her chuckle with a gentle cough at the scandalized look on his young face. Sometimes men just didn’t see the humor in things like that.
A while later she stepped down from the wagon and retrieved her basket. “I’ll send Ilse over to help out for a bit. Just let that chicken stew till the meat is falling off the bones. It will go real well with dumplings. You have anything in the garden ready yet?”
He shook his head. “Nei, we got a late start what with . . .” He made a motion of a big belly.
“Ja, that is so. We will send some greens along.” Ingeborg thought to the few remaining green beans she’d dried in their pods, which they called leather britches. “I’ll send some other things too. You remind Mira she has to drink lots of milk and water so she has plenty of milk for the baby. She nursed like a greedy little pig already.”
At the red flaming up his neck and face, she waved and turned toward the house. Men. They didn’t mind making babies, but they sure didn’t want to hear about the birthing or the baby’s care. Her chuckle preceded her into the house, where Astrid was forming the dough into loaves.
“My, but it smells good in here,” Ingeborg said.
“You are back soon.”
Ingeborg nodded. “Easy time she had. How would you like to run over to Tante Kaaren’s and ask Ilse if she is free to go help the new mother for a day or two?”
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