Bridget (The Bridget Series)

by Laura Deni

  Bridget put the top back on the iodine bottle and returned it to the cabinet. Dr. Sullivan held out his hand. Bridget’s fingers touched his hand and he led her out the door. As they began walking down the street, for a few seconds, their fingers were entwined. Bridget felt the most wonderful feeling surge throughout her body. Then Dr. Sullivan properly offered his arm. She wrapped her arm around his. As they headed towards the Ice Crème Parlour, instead of walking, Bridge felt as though she was floating.

  CHAPTER 11

  ICE CREAM PHOSPHATE

  DR. Sullivan—David—as he insisted she call him, led her to an ice cream table and held her chair as she sat down. “Do you like chocolate ice cream phosphates?” Bridget didn’t want him to know that she had never had an ice cream phosphate.

  “Yes, very much.”

  “Good, then that is what we shall have.” He went up to the counter and ordered two chocolate ice cream phosphates. Bridget couldn’t believe she was going to have an entire ice cream phosphate all to herself. She remembered that when she came to Canyonville to be tested her Pa had given her a penny for ice cream. In this very place she had enjoyed a small dish. An ice cream phosphate was more than twice the price, three cents. Dr. Sullivan—David—made Bridget feel special.

  Mr. Myers who owned the Ice Crème Parlour was also the local druggist. The full name of the store was Ice Crème Parlour and Drug Shoppe. Mr. Myer’s wife had given it the fancy sounding name. The front half of his store, facing the front windows, was the Ice Crème Parlour with the ice cream counter at the side. The back section was the Drug Shoppe with his prescriptives counter along the back wall.

  Mr. Myers had the drug store section first. The townsfolk would come in and procure a potable to cure or aid some malady. Mr. Myers made the elixirs himself, as did all of druggists in other towns. His concoctions of various drugs were flavored and effervesced to make them palatable. The most popular were the tonics which contained cocaine and caffeine as well as bromides and various plant extracts.

  Women reported that the elixirs made with cocaine and caffeine were effective in curing headaches.

  The problem was that the headaches would almost immediately reoccur and the patient would be back frequently for another drink to get rid of the pain.

  Bridget was glad that she never experienced headaches and was sorry for the women who were constantly complaining of needing an elixir. Some of the women didn’t seem to be able to get through the day without their magic tonic.

  Mr. and Mrs. Myers were going to open up a separate Ice Crème Shoppe but they couldn’t be in two stores at the same time, so they combined the two.

  Mr. Myers delivered the phosphates to their table. A mound of chocolate ice cream bounced through the foam. “You two enjoy these. It’s nice to see you in here again, Miss Bridget.”

  “Oh, so you’ve been in here before,” was Dr. Sullivan’s sly remark. “Do you have a beau?” Bridget giggled and told David about her father treating her to an ice cream when she came to be tested.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for your graduation. Were your parents able to attend?”

  “My mother was able to come. She took the train. It was the first time she had ever been on a train, so it was a big experience for her. She also got to see where I’m living.”

  “How do you like living with Dr. and Mrs. Schmidt?” Dr. Sullivan put a spoonful of his ice cream phosphate into his mouth.

  “It’s wonderful. I could not have wished for anything better. Mrs. Schmidt is so kind and helpful. She’s like a mother.” Bridget thought for a moment and added, “Mrs. Schmidt would be a wonderful mother. She never mentions having any children, though.”

  “They had two boys who both died from pneumonia. One was six and the other eight. Died within a month of each other. They never discuss it.”

  Bridget felt sad for their loss. The Schmidts would have been loving parents. She knew they must think about their boys, the same way she would think about her dead parents.

  “I’m currently staying in a spare bedroom Sheriff Jasper and his wife have in their home. It will do until I can find a place of my own.” He swallowed another spoonful of his ‘medicine’. “We are both so busy that we have never really had a chance to talk. Are your parents farmers?”

  “Yes, they are. They work very hard. My mother makes the best apple pie and biscuits. Also, other things, but everyone talks about her apple pie and biscuits. My Pa does the work of three grown men, but he had a bad leg, so I don’t know how he manages it all.”

  “How did that happen—his leg?”

  “Farming accident,” answered Bridget who was fearful that the conversation was getting too personal. She didn’t want Dr. Sullivan—David—to know she was really from the Orphan Train. Hoping to divert the subject away from herself she tried to shift the conversation. “Dr. Sullivan said you went to school in Boston. What does your father do?”

  “I am a third generation doctor. Both my father and grandfather are doctors in Boston. My mother helped start a Relief Society, which helps the less fortunate receive food and medical care. I have a younger sister who has her eye on a nice chap who has just become a lawyer. I think they’ll probably wed next summer. Boston born and raised. Irish and proud of it,” he said sticking his chest out a little. “Come on, you’re going to let your ice cream melt. Eat up,” said Dr. Sullivan as he pointed towards her glass.

  “Bridget took a big bite of both ice cream and phosphate. She swallowed and wrinkled up her nose. “It’s delicious, but it tickles.”

  A bemused expression crossed Dr. Sullivan’s face as he realized that Bridget had never before had an ice cream phosphate. He turned his gaze from his glass towards her. “They have other flavors. We’ll have to try them all.”

  Bridget blushed knowing that Dr. Sullivan—David—knew she had been lying. Quickly she asked, “Were your grandfather and father upset when you left Boston to come here?”

  “No, they are proud of that. They know there is a real need out here. In fact, they ordered a buggy for me, which ought to arrive any day. I’ll need the buggy to make house calls.”

  Bridget was enjoying the company of Dr. Sullivan—David—and her tasty treat when she spotted Sally Ronjak walking past the Ice Crème Parlour. Her dark curls clung to the sides of her face as her bonnet acted like a frame to showcase Sally’s alabaster complexion. Sally stopped in front of the window and then stepped into the doorway. “Oh, good afternoon, Dr. Sullivan. You are coming to the box social on Saturday, aren’t you?”

  “I’ll be there,” he replied. “See you there.” Then he scooped up more ice cream and phosphate. “You’re going, aren’t you, Bridget?”

  “Oh, yes. I’ll be going with Dr. and Mrs. Schmidt.” She played with her spoon in the frothy delight. “It’s for such a good cause, the fire department. They need more buckets. And, oh, Miss Chadwich came into the office looking for you.”

  “She wanted me to know that her basket would have yellow ribbons,” interrupted Dr. Sullivan. Bridget looked surprised that he already knew the details. As if reading her mind he explained, “I have gotten that message from at least six people. I’m half expecting to pick up the Canyonville Gazette and see an ad.”

  Bridget smiled and enjoyed the rest of her chocolate ice cream phosphate.

  CHAPTER 12

  THE BOX SOCIAL

  BRIDGET hadn’t intended to go to the box social. She had saved enough for the train. She looked forward to going home to visit her mother, and her Pa.

  Now, she was writing her mother a letter saying that she had to work and wouldn’t be able to come home. It was a lie and Bridget felt guilty in just writing down the words. She promised her mother that she would come the following month. Bridget knew it would take her that long to again save the train fare.

  She closed the envelope, addressed it, and still felt a sense of shame as she took the letter to the post office. Her mother should have the letter in four days. She hoped her mother wouldn’t
have already started to bake for her homecoming.

  A part of Bridget felt terrible, but another part of her knew that she couldn’t leave, not while Miss Chadwick, Sally and Elisa had their eyes set on Dr. Sullivan.

  Mrs. Schmidt was surprised when Bridget told her that she had postponed her trip and would be attending the box social. “My mother will understand. It’s for such an important cause. The fire department.” Mrs. Schmidt’s look indicated that she only half way believed Bridget, possibly because Bridget knew her motive had nothing to do with new water buckets for the fire department.

  “You’ll have to fix a box,” suggested Mrs. Schmidt. “Would you like me to help you? We can get up early Saturday morning and you can bake your mother’s biscuits.”

  “Oh, could we! I’d be so grateful!” Then Bridget hesitantly added, “I also know how to roast vegetables with herbs.”

  “We will have a busy morning!” smiled Mrs. Schmidt. “I have some boxes upstairs. You need to pick one to decorate. You need to at least put ribbon on it.”

  For a second Bridget envisioned every girl wrapping their box in yellow ribbon. That would really irritate Miss Chadwick.

  Saturday morning was busy. Bridget was concentrating on cooking and almost forgot that she needed to wrap her box. Quickly she looked at the sewing basket that Mrs. Schmidt offered and selected four strips of multi-colored checked cloth. She wrapped two strips on each side and tied them in the middle.

  With her picnic blanket draped over her arm, Bridget picked up her box and started walking to the church when she ran into Miss Opal from her school days. She hadn’t seen her since graduation. Opal’s box had a red ribbon and bow. Bridget was glad to see Opal, who was equally as glad to see Bridget.

  “Did you notice the red ribbon? asked Opal.

  “You can’t miss it!”

  “That’s so Alfred will know which box to bid on, blushed Opal.

  “Alfred? I didn’t know you had an Alfred. Where did you meet him?”

  “At the bank where I work. He is the head teller. His office is behind the bars in the front. I work in my very own room in the back. Alfred is very smart. I know he will become a bank vice-president. He’s also so handsome and he is so kind to me.”

  “Opal, you’re in love!” screamed Bridget.

  “People will hear you,” said Opal motioning for her to be silent.

  Bridget was having none of her gestures. “Does he know you love him? Has he stated his intentions? What are your plans?”

  “We go walking sometimes after work. One time he picked wildflowers for me. And, we’ve been to the Ice Crème Shoppe. I heard you were in there with your beau, that new doctor.”

  “He’s not my beau,” Bridget whispered under her breath, wishing that what Opal said was true.

  “Oh, there he is,” giggled Opal as she saw Alfred heading in their direction. Alfred had a blanket over his arm and Bridget noticed that Opal only had her box. “Alfred is bringing our blanket. I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

  Our blanket thought Bridget, looking first at Opal and then in Alfred’s direction.

  “May I escort you two ladies?” asked Alfred as he stepped between the two women.

  “Miss Bridget, may I present to you bank teller Alfred Watkins,” said Opal whose eyes were only for Alfred. “Mr. Watkins, this is Miss Bridget. We went to school together.”

  “It’s a pleasure, Miss Bridget. I’ve heard what a big help you are to the doctors. I frequently see you running back and forth between the hospital and the doctor’s office.”

  Arriving at the church Bridget realized that she hadn’t asked Opal anything about her work. Looking at Opal and Alfred as he walked over to the men’s waiting area and Opal went to place her box with the others, Bridget realized they had the conversation which mattered the most to Opal. Bridget wondered if there would soon be a wedding.

  Bridget waved to some of the town folk who were regulars at the doctor’s office and then walked up to leave her box. Opal had stopped to chat with members of the volunteer fire department, wishing them luck in being able to purchase more water pails.

  For a moment Bridget thought she saw Miss Violet from her school days holding the arm of a young man, but then they disappeared amongst the trees.

  There were a lot of boxes on tables placed in front of the church. Bridget was amazed at the turnout. It seemed that the entire town was there to bid on the boxes.

  The Rev. Owen Harris would conduct the auction. He sounded as eager as did he on Sundays when he encouraged people to fill up the collection plate. He had a way of making you embarrassed if you didn’t drop something into the basket.

  After the auction, the men would be called to the auction tables where they would pay Mrs. Harris their bid money, take their boxes and find the lady who filled it. Couples would place their blankets on the lawn and under trees and enjoy the fund raiser. Some of the men had brought their fiddles to play after lunch. It looked to be a nice afternoon.

  Most of the men knew precisely on what box to place a bid. For a couple of them Bridget guessed that if they failed to bid on the correct box, they didn’t need bother going home.

  The bidding began and all of the eligible girls had the corners of their eyes fixed on Dr. Sullivan.

  Fast and furious the bids were shouted. Most of the boxes went for two bits or four. It was no surprise that Alfred bought Opal’s box. Other boxes were bought by husbands and brothers. Then Bridget’s box was placed on the bidding table.

  “Two bits,” came a voice from the back. “Do I hear four?” asked Rev. Harris.

  “Four,” came another voice from the side area. Bridget was glad her box wasn’t going unsold, but she wished Dr. Sullivan would place a bid. After all, she told herself, she worked for him. It would have been polite to offer a bid.

  “Seventy-five centers,” came a voice she recognized as Dr. Schmidt’s. “One dollar,” was an immediate counter offer.

  “I have one dollar. Do I hear more? Going, going, gone. Sold to Sheriff Jasper for one dollar.” Bridget tried to force a slight smile. She wished Dr. Sullivan had bid and thought he was probably waiting to win Miss Chadwick’s box. Bridget liked Sheriff Jasper. He was a big, jolly man, who was tougher than he looked. And, she could never forget, he did arrest Boxer. It would be pleasant eating lunch with him.

  Several boxes had yellow ribbons, but Miss Chadwick’s stood out. There was one box that looked like the owner had used an entire roll of yellow ribbon. Not one, not two, but three bows. Nobody other than Miss Chadwick would do that.

  Somebody opened the bidding. Bridget expected Dr. Sullivan to up the bid, but he didn’t. That surprised Bridget as it must have surprised Miss Chadwick, who stopped sneaking a glance at him and actually turned her head to fixate her state directly at his face. He didn’t flinch. Somebody else upped the bid and still there was no movement from Dr. Sullivan.

  “Going, going, gone for 75 cents,” said Rev. Harris.

  That was a respectable bid thought Bridget, who wondered if the winning bidder wanted lunch or the ribbon. Now Bridget was curious, Dr. Sullivan was standing there, obviously waiting for somebody’s box to be placed for bidding. He hadn’t bid or hers and he hadn’t bid on Miss Chadwick’s box. What was he waiting for?

  Finally Rev. Harris put a small box on the table. It had a sad ribbon wrapped around it. You could see the crease marks. The ribbon looked as if it had been untied from something else and then crudely tied around the little box. “What do I hear for this box?” asked Rev. Harris.

  Almost before he got the words out, Dr. Sullivan yelled, “One dollar.”

  Bridget was stunned. There was a lot of commotion as the auction ended. Men rushed to pay the minister’s wife their bid money, pick up the boxes they had won and claim the girl that had packed it.

  A nice looking young man stepped forward, paid Mrs. Harris his winning bid and took the box with the three yellow ribbons. “That’s mine,” chortled Savannah Katherine Chadwic
k rushing to the table. Gazing around for Dr. Sullivan, Miss Chadwick yelled, “Look at what you other men missed.”

  Miss Chadwick had brought a meat pie which smelled wonderful. Miss Chadwick opened the box, picking up her culinary offering and lifting it high out of the box to show it off. Unfortunately, she tilted it and the meat, vegetables and gravy fell out of the pan.

  The now food covered Miss Chadwick began screaming. Not able to find anyone to blame, the crying Miss Savannah Katherine Chadwick ran out of the church yard. Bridget noticed that the winning bidder, a young man named Caleb, went running after her.

  “Be careful that you don’t slip on the gravy,” said Sheriff Jasper as he reached Bridget’s side with her box cradled in his arm. Sheriff Jasper had said a mouthful, but Bridget thought it better if she not say anything.

  They found a spot by a tree, spread out the blanket she had brought and opened her box.

  Bridget had packed more food than two people could eat. There was smoked bacon and ham, and a dish of potatoes and carrots roasted with rosemary, chives, thyme, black pepper and parsley. She added chokeberries and huckleberries, those biscuits, apple pie, plus apple cider to drink.

  Sheriff Jasper took one sniff and said, “Smells just like Irish Coddle,” savoring the aroma of a popular soup. Bridget had prepared a version of the dish, without the broth, so that it would travel well. As she poured the apple cider she noticed that Dr. Sullivan’s buggy was parked nearby and there was a woman inside. Then she saw Dr. Sullivan walking back to the buggy with that small box in his hand.

  “You like the boy, don’t you,” said Sheriff Jasper as he took a big bite of the savory vegetables. Bridget blushed and fell silent. “Don’t let the other girls get to you. When my wife gets back from visiting her sister, she’ll be a help to you. She’s a very smart woman, that wife of mine. Don’t worry about the lady in his buggy. It’s Mrs. Dillion.”