“She’ll be missed.” Mother was right that Mrs. Smiley’s removal would be a huge loss, but one he was ready to bear. “But I assure you we will get by. We always do.”
“If you persist in this nonsense, I’ll withdraw from the board and take patrons with me. I’ll not be associated with such scandalous behavior.”
Daniel had been waiting for that. He’d known it was in the offing since the moment he chose to come here. Perhaps he’d been waiting months—years, even—for whatever offense would eventually drive Mother off. It should be terrifying, but Daniel found the only emotion he felt was a hollow, weary relief.
“And we will suffer your loss as well—but we will survive it.” Somewhere, from a place he was sure could have come only from God’s supernatural mercy, Daniel heard himself say, “End this, Mother. Ida is not your enemy. We are all we have, you and I. This is not what Father would have wanted.”
“Don’t you dare bring your father into this. It’s enough I had to ship away one of his pretty little underlings and sit there smiling about it. I will not stand for it in my son.”
His father? Someone from the Home? “You’re lying.”
“Am I? How do you think I was able to accomplish this so quickly? I’ve done it before, Daniel. I know how. I wasn’t talking about Shepler before. I was talking about your father and one of the teachers. I’d hoped to spare you this, but since you now seem to take after him in every regard...”
“Stop that!”
“Stop what? Aren’t we telling the truth now? Isn’t that what you want?”
Daniel felt the air turn to dust in his lungs. The sterling reputation of Harold Parker, the man whose character Daniel strove every day to emulate? A man who did so much good in the world that Daniel woke up every morning feeling the weight of his name press down on his conscience?
“No, it wasn’t pleasant, but this is what married women must do to protect our families. Your father came to thank me for what I was able to do, and in time I was able to forgive him for what he’d done.”
Even as she said the words Daniel could see she had not ever forgiven him. How easily a cold marriage could hide in a civil society. It made him yearn for Ida’s warmth all the more.
“I’m going to marry her, Mother, if she’ll have me.” He hadn’t even settled on the idea until this very instant, but it made perfect, immediate sense the moment the words hit the air. Daniel wished he could have turned and proposed to Ida right then; the urge was that profound and irrefutable.
“If she’ll have you?” Mother nearly spat the words out. “You are Daniel Parker! You cannot marry some wild mountain woman like that.”
“I can indeed. And I shall, if she says yes, which I expect she will. I’ll be happy, Mother. Does that mean anything at all to you?”
She looked at him as though he were a lost cause. One of her projects now beyond hope. Whatever the expression was, it wasn’t anything he would classify as the kind of look a mother ought to give a son. There seemed to be no love in it at all, just a pale wash of long-suffering disappointment. “You are just like your father.”
“I hope in many ways that’s true.” In all the good ways, that is. For what man is without fault? And who could even know where the truth stood in whatever Mother told him tonight, or ever, now? He could only aspire to the character he knew and follow where God led.
And God led him to Ida.
As he looked at his mother, he felt the final snap of their long-strained relationship, the burst of a man coming into his own true identity out from behind a shadow he hadn’t even realized was there.
It was done.
It had been a tortuously long day, but Daniel felt weightless, scrubbed clean of an obligation that no longer made sense. He hoped that someday he might find a way to repair the relationship to the point of civility, but he was grateful the obligation to Amelia Parker was forever severed. Too many children depended on Daniel Parker for it to stand as it was.
It was time to go home.
* * *
Her life was in tangles. Ida was used to causing trouble, but not to making enemies. The thought of Jane Smiley and Amelia Parker—two women she had actually thought were coming to like her—plotting her removal was hard to bear. She felt her own heart was as beaten and bruised as Gitch’s jaw. Then again, that same heart was so full of love and wonder over Daniel, it was hard to believe the day had gone so far in opposite directions. Such happiness in the midst of such sadness—how was it life could come up with such a clash all at once?
In the darkened ward, listening to Gitch’s breathing, Ida groped for stillness and balance one stitch at a time. The ward had a dozen or so children in it, and it struck her how wounds came in visible and invisible forms. The boys and girls at the Home came from lost, missing, broken or embittered families. What was to become of Daniel’s family tonight? Could God somehow save the relationship between Daniel and Amelia Parker? Or was Daniel about to become a different kind of orphan?
I can’t see Your plan, Ida prayed as she sat knitting in the dim light, her eyes not even seeing the stitches, her fingers working the yarn by sheer touch, as she’d seen the Catholic nuns at the army hospital worry at their rosaries. Will the Home survive? Can Daniel and I have a life together? Have I truly helped or just made a terrible mess of things?
She couldn’t know. She couldn’t move the obstacles surrounding her. She could only be who she was, where she was. She could tend to Gitch, she could love Daniel, and perhaps knit an ounce of peace and stillness into the growing darkness.
All the rest would have to be God’s territory.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Daniel 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 c
losed 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 tsked 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.
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