“I shall dress and pack a bag. What of you?”
“I told him I would come, but what of the shop? Mr. O’Dell proposed we close it for the day, but I would hate for Joy to lose out on any sales.”
Rose thought a moment. “Arouse Olive and ask her if she is willing to leave her duties here to assist Corrine tomorrow. If she is agreeable, we shall leave the key and money bag with her. Then please dress and pack a light bag.”
Sarah did as Rose asked. Fifteen minutes later, she was in the rear seat of O’Dell’s motor car, and they were speeding into the night. While they drove, she prayed. Lord, your Son, Jesus, healed many fevers during his ministry on earth. He even healed Peter’s mother-in-law of a fever. I come to you now, in Jesus’ name, and ask that you heal Joy of her fever. Thank you, Lord.
When they arrived at the O’Dell home, Rose told Sarah, “I shall bring Jacob to you as soon as I can convince Joy to let me take him.”
When Rose and O’Dell slipped into the bedroom, leaving her alone, Sarah entered the kitchen, filled the tea kettle, and set it on the gas stove to heat. Five minutes went by. The kettle sang, and Sarah turned the burner down to keep the water hot. She looked through Joy’s well-ordered cabinets and found what she needed to make herself a cup of tea.
Ten more minutes passed before Rose appeared with the baby.
Sarah stood to take the sleeping infant. “How is Joy?” she asked.
“Her fever is quite high; she is agitated and in great discomfort.”
“What does Dr. Murphy say?”
“Dr. Murphy was unable to come, so he sent his new associate. The doctor examined Joy and believes that a portion of the afterbirth remained within her and is putrefying, causing infection and fever. He said it is imperative that this piece of afterbirth come out.”
“What can he do for that?”
“At present, he is massaging Joy’s lower abdomen to stimulate cramping, hoping her body will expel the portion on its own. It is quite painful. I could not bear to watch it any longer.”
Sarah pursed her lips. “And if the afterbirth does not come out?”
“The doctor said he would attempt to remove it . . . manually.”
“A surgery?”
“Yes. To . . . to scrape it out.”
Sarah shuddered. “Miss Rose, we should pray.”
“Oh, yes. Thank you, Sarah.”
With Jacob cradled between them, Sarah and Rose cried out to the Lord for his help. Sarah prayed specifically that Joy’s body would expel the infected tissue as it was meant to and that the doctor would not find it necessary to perform a dangerous surgery.
Afterward, Sarah made Rose a cup of tea and left her sipping it to look in on Matthew. She carried Jacob with her. When she found Matty in a sound sleep, she tucked Jacob into the bassinet opposite Matty’s little bed and returned to the kitchen.
Possibly an hour later, a haggard O’Dell entered the kitchen. “The doctor believes he was successful. Given a day or so, he believes her fever should abate.”
“Thank the Lord,” Rose breathed.
“Yes. Thank you, Lord!” Sarah agreed.
“The doctor is packing up. He will return later; however, Joy requires a change of linens.”
“Let me,” Sarah responded. “Miss Rose, perhaps you could lie down with Matty on his bed? You need your rest.”
“No, no. I shall help you change Joy.”
“No, please, Mother Rose,” O’Dell said in all gentleness. “I shall assist Sarah. Please do as she suggests. You will be wanted in the morning.”
Rose nodded. “Very well. Sarah, I shall show you where the basin and washcloths are first.”
“And I shall gather the fresh linens,” O’Dell added.
The doctor was gone when O’Dell and Sarah entered the bedroom. Joy, flushed with fever, appeared to be sleeping, until she moaned and thrashed in pain.
“I realize it is unconventional for a married man and a single woman to do this work together,” O’Dell murmured, “but I could not ask Miss Rose to do more until she has slept. I did not realize how worn she is. Perhaps you could bathe Joy and then I could help you change the bedding?”
Sarah laughed under her breath in dark humor. “Without putting too fine a point upon it, Mr. O’Dell, I was rather compelled to overcome such social conventions in my youth.”
“Ah, quite so. Still . . .”
“We shall do as you say, Mr. O’Dell. If you will find an unsullied gown for Joy, I shall bathe her and call you when I have finished to help me change the bed.”
The earliest hint of dawn had crept through the curtains when Sarah and O’Dell completed their chores. O’Dell slipped off to snatch an hour of sleep before he left for the office. Sarah was putting the stained linens into ice water to soak when a high, thin wail caught her ear. She washed her hands and rushed to fetch the baby before he awakened Rose and Matthew.
She returned to the kitchen with the fussing infant and smiled into his angry, red face. “Listen to you, little man! What a racket you make. Shall we change your nappy and see if that satisfies you?”
She changed his diaper and gown, wound him snugly with a blanket, and sat down to rock him close to her heart. For a minute, she cooed little nothings to him, and he stilled. He was less than two weeks old but so alert. Sarah watched, completely engrossed, as he listened and looked for her.
“What a good baby,” she crooned. “What a good little angel you are.”
She yawned, and her eyes drooped. Together, she and the baby slept.
SARAH WOKE WHEN A WET finger poked her neck. She was growing rather accustomed to being awakened in this mode. She cracked one weary eye, and the wet finger retreated into a little mouth.
“Good morning, Matthew O’Dell.” Sarah yawned. “Goodness. I guess I fell asleep.”
Matthew pointed with a slobbery index. “’Cub.”
“That’s right. Baby Jacob. Would you like to sit in my lap with your brother?”
Matthew proved his adept climbing skills by clambering up the front of the chair. Sarah tucked him into the crook of her free arm. As Sarah set the rocker moving back and forth, Matthew nestled his head against her shoulder, and Sarah put her cheek to his soft hair.
Lord, is this what heaven is like?
AN HOUR LATER, JACOB O’Dell awakened.
Hungry.
Screaming.
Like a wild banshee.
“Oh, my goodness,” Sarah groaned. “How can such a big noise come from such a teeny body? And I am so very sorry, Master Jacob, but I do not have what you need. Please be patient just a few minutes.”
The household was up now. O’Dell flew out the door, Rose took Jacob in to Joy to nurse, and Sarah fixed a small pot of creamed wheat cereal for Matthew’s breakfast. When Rose returned and sat down to help Matthew with his cereal, Sarah—behind Matthew’s back—tipped her head toward the bedroom, asking an unspoken question.
“She is in less pain, thank the Lord, and her fever is coming down.”
“Oh, I am glad!”
“As am I.”
IN THE MAIN, ROSE LEFT Jacob with his mother throughout the day, so she could nurse him. Rose removed the baby to change him as needed, allowing Joy to rest in bed and heal. However, Rose was content to let Sarah manage Matthew, declaring that the toddler had “more jump and bounce than six frogs in a bucket.”
So, while Rose cared for Joy’s needs, Sarah kept Matthew occupied. She read him stories, took him on walks to the park, and played tag with him in the O’Dells’ little yard behind their house. She loved every moment of it.
As much as she enjoyed caring for Matthew, the high point of Sarah’s stay with the O’Dells was the conversation she and Rose had during Matthew’s nap. They were sharing a cup of tea and a quiet respite when Rose ventured to confide in Sarah.
“While it is our desire that all of our girls at Palmer House learn good and wholesome work skills, become independent, and are able to leave us and move on with th
eir lives, I must tell you, Sarah, how much I cherish your ongoing and stabilizing presence in our home. With both Joy and Breona married and occupied with their families, you must know how much I lean upon you, Olive, and Marit.”
Sarah flushed with pleasure. “Miss Rose, it is my honor to help you any way I can. I admire you so much.” She looked down. “And I have been wanting to be an assistant at Palmer House for some time.”
Rose cupped Sarah’s cheek with her hand. “The Lord bless you, my daughter. I consider you so already.”
Sarah leaned her cheek into Rose’s hand, soaking up the love she extended so freely. “Miss Rose, you are such a strong and godly woman. I think one of the things I admire most about you is that you do not require a husband to complete you. You are a whole person on your own.”
Rose sighed. “Thank you, Sarah, but I would not have you believe that is completely true.”
Sarah looked up and saw a great sorrow within Rose’s soul. “It is not?”
“No, my dear. While it is true that each of us, when Jesus saves us by his blood, are complete in him, Scripture also tells us that the Lord has said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help meet for him. God, our Creator, tells us that being alone in this life is difficult. If we are called to singleness—as the Apostle Paul was—then the Lord’s power and grace will enable us to bear our singleness. However, I know from experience that the burdens of this life are lighter and sweeter with a husband’s love and strength.”
Sarah whispered, “I-I may be called to singleness, Miss Rose. I do not desire a husband’s love.”
Rose drew back and studied Sarah. “I wonder . . . how one can say she does not desire what she has never experienced? You told me once that you never knew your father’s love, Sarah. The lack of a father’s love can wound a woman’s heart, even twist it out of its natural shape.
“What I can tell you is that I have lost two husbands in my lifetime, Sarah, and I mourn them both to this day. Yes, I am strong in my faith, but I do not want you to think that it is easy, this being a widow, being single—it is not. I would not trade the joy of those years of marriage for the world.”
She hesitated before finishing her thought. “All that being said, I have determined to make my latter years count for the Cross. I have set my heart and will to be fruitful for God.”
“That is what I want, also, Miss Rose.”
LATE THAT AFTERNOON following his nap, Sarah took Matthew to visit Joy and Jacob. Joy was weak from the pain and fever, but she was visibly improved. She allowed Matthew to sit on the bed next to her. While she helped him hold and examine Jacob, Sarah brushed out her long, blonde hair and braided it down her back.
“You have no idea how wonderful it feels to have you run the brush over my scalp, Sarah. Every inch of my skin—even on my head—throbbed when the fever was at its peak. Now my skin aches and itches.”
Sarah set the brush aside and gently massaged Joy’s neck and shoulders. “You must be weary and sore from lying abed.”
“How right you are. I am anxious to regain my strength and return to caring for my family.”
“You must not overtax yourself just yet, Joy. This was a serious infection; your body needs time to recover.”
Rose poked her head through the doorway. “Pardon me, but the doctor is here. He wishes to check in on Joy before he retires for the evening.”
“Please send him in, Mama.”
“I shall withdraw,” Sarah murmured. “Shall I take Matthew with me?”
“Yes, please. I do not know what we would have done without you while I was so sick, Sarah.”
Sarah ducked her head. “It was my pleasure to help. And I am so happy for you—two healthy baby boys. What a blessing.” She tickled Matthew and scooped him off the bed. “Shall we go see your toys, Matty?”
“Yes. Yes, pease, Sar.”
Joy blew him a kiss. “Mama loves you, Matty. You are such a good boy.”
Sarah paused at the bedroom door when Rose reappeared with the doctor. She had forgotten that Palmer House’s longtime physician, Dr. Murphy (now a stately old gent) was not attending Joy. Sarah was shocked when a tall man of significantly younger years followed Rose into the room. Sarah set Matthew on the floor and moved farther to the side, chin down, waiting for the doorway to clear so she could make good her escape.
“How are you feeling this evening, Mrs. O’Dell?”
“Much improved, Doctor Croft, thank you.”
Matthew pulled on Sarah’s hand. “Toys, Sar.”
His unexpected demand drew all eyes to him, including those of the doctor.
“Ah, this must be young Master O’Dell.” He stooped down. “Hello, Matthew. What do you think of your new baby brother?”
Matty nodded with vigor. “’Cub.”
“Jacob. Very good, Matthew.”
As he stood up, his gaze passed over Sarah. And stopped.
Dumbfounded.
Not as stunned as Sarah had been when he entered the room. Her lips had parted in amazement. And mortification. Now, hot color blazed up her neck into her cheeks.
For just an instant, as he recognized her, she saw candid appreciation flicker in his eyes—the same admiration she had seen at the shop. He recovered quickly, however, shuttering his countenance and assuming an air of formality. He bowed. “Dr. Bryan Croft, at your service, miss.”
Sarah did not answer; she was tongue-tied.
Joy broke the awkward silence. “Dr. Croft, this is our dear friend, Sarah Ellinger. Dr. Croft has taken partnership with Dr. Murphy, Sarah. He is quite new to Denver.”
New to Denver.
Nothing Joy said could have stung Sarah more.
As for the man’s response to their second meeting? Outwardly, his comportment was impeccable. Dispassionate and professional. What neither Rose nor Joy could see—what only Sarah saw—was the sardonic light in his narrowed eyes.
And how he bit his bottom lip in an effort to control its twitch as he held out his hand to her.
Is this man laughing at me?
Insufferable scoundrel!
Sarah’s chagrin gave way to indignation. She ignored his extended hand. “Pardon me. I was taking Matthew to his room.”
Realizing he had blocked her egress, Dr. Croft stepped aside. “I see. Do please forgive my second oversight.”
Sarah growled, stood tall, and shepherded Matthew from the room. The sweetness of the day was gone, swept aside by the exasperation smoldering in her breast.
Dr. Croft sighed and nodded to himself before turning to Joy. He set his bag on the side of her bed. “I should like to take your temperature and listen to your heart and lungs, Mrs. O’Dell.”
“But, Dr. Croft, before you do, I cannot help but notice our friend’s discomfort in your presence. May I ask, were you already acquainted with Miss Ellinger?”
“I beg your pardon. I visited your shop a few days past and somehow offended your friend. I apologized for distressing her, however . . .”
He shrugged and did not finish his thought, but Rose and Joy were as mystified as he was at Sarah’s behavior.
Rose, for her part, turned inward. Lord, this is unlike my daughter Sarah. Should I be concerned for her? Perhaps I shall ask Olive if she has any insights into Sarah’s actions of late. Whatever is perturbing her, Lord, I ask that you help her by your Spirit to overcome it.
Chapter 5
The jingle of the telephone on the wall of Palmer House’s great room disrupted the morning’s pleasant quiet. Rose Thoresen lifted her eyes from the sums she was working to the telephone. Newly returned from nursing Joy in her illness and then staying on to help with the children and cooking as Joy recovered, she was weary and behind in her tasks.
Managing the household sums was not Rose’s only duty; the house’s finances could, in actuality, be considered but a small piece of her responsibilities. Rose led the girls in Bible study each morning after breakfast, kept track of the girls’ comings and going
s, and met with them individually on a biweekly basis to counsel them, pray with them, and often simply love on them while they wept over their sorrows and difficulties.
The difference between life in a whorehouse and life at Palmer House was extreme. A girl fresh from a brothel required gentle schooling in appropriate, non-provocative dress. Rose, too, provided ongoing coaching to help them moderate their accustomed language to something less “salty.”
In addition to all these efforts, Rose strove to maintain a stable and wholesome environment for the newborn and growing Christians in the home. Although Sarah often helped Rose sort out small squabbles, praying with the quarreling girls and helping them to mend fences and friendships, this “preserving of the house’s peace” was a balancing act that required a great deal of Rose’s care and discernment—even the meting out of discipline.
Although the labors of the past week were behind her, Rose was spent. Sighing, she put down her pen, rose from her desk, and lifted the telephone’s conical hand receiver. “Good morning. Palmer House. Mrs. Thoresen speaking.”
She did not immediately recognize the voice on the other end of the call when it replied, “Mrs. Thoresen? Stephen Sedgewick here. I am very glad to have reached you at home.”
Oh, yes. Martha Palmer’s grandnephew. Her departed sister’s grandson.
“Good morning, Mr. Sedgewick. How are you today?”
He was silent for a moment before murmuring, “I am grieving, Mrs. Thoresen.”
As his words sank in, Rose’s throat tightened. “Mrs. Palmer?”
“Yes; I am sorry to inform you that my great-aunt passed away in her sleep last night. Her staff rang me not more than thirty minutes ago. I know how devoted you were to her and she to you and your work. I wished to be the one to deliver this sad news to you.”
“I thank you, Mr. Sedgewick, and I am sorry for your loss. This is a very hard blow. Mrs. Palmer was dear to all of us at Palmer House. Will you please keep us apprised of the plans for her funeral?”
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