Noah was in the large activity room, standing near one of the windows. The easel Levi had provided him was set up near the window, and Noah was looking out the window while painting on the canvas. Levi approached from behind his brother and viewed the painting Noah had begun several weeks earlier—a landscape of the view from his window. Noah had captured the curved walkways bordered with blooming flowers, the manicured hedges and shrubs, the small gardens planted by patients, and the towering trees that had been protected during construction of the asylum. But today his brush was filled with black paint and he was covering the picture with thin, dark lines.
“Noah, what are you doing?”
With paintbrush held high, his brother spun around on his heel. “I’m finishing the picture. You told me I should look out the window and paint what I see. I need the black lines or it isn’t complete.”
Noah stepped around the easel. When he tapped on the window, Levi was struck with understanding. Noah was including the thick wires that crisscrossed the windows to provide a barrier against patients either making an escape or attempting to jump to their death. The fact that Noah thought the picture incomplete without the ugly wires caused Levi to cringe inwardly. While he understood the necessity of protection, he’d given no thought to what it must be like to view the world through those dreadful black wires.
“Why don’t you put your painting aside for a while and let’s talk. I have some exciting news about my work that I want to share with you.” Levi motioned toward a small wooden table in the middle of the room. As if unable to decide, Noah’s gaze flitted between the painting and the table until Levi gently removed the brush from his brother’s hand. “Once I leave, you can finish the painting.”
Hearing that he could finish painting later appeared to calm Noah, and he walked alongside Levi to the table. Once seated, Noah placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his cupped hands. He looked like a young child awaiting further instructions.
Levi pulled his chair closer. “I’m going to be drawing a lot of sketches during the next week, Noah.”
His brother’s glassy-eyed look disappeared, and he listened intently while Levi told him about some of the designs for the tiles. “I want to present a variety of choices to Mr. Harrington and then he can decide what he likes the best. What do you think of our ideas, Noah?”
“I like them.” He bobbed his head up and down. “I think flowers and birds and maybe animals would be good, too—especially the ones here in this state.” He grinned at Levi. “Do you like my ideas?”
Levi placed his arm around his brother’s shoulder. “Those are excellent ideas. Thank you, Noah.”
His brother beamed at the praise. They continued to talk until the orderly appeared at the door and signaled.
Levi nodded and touched Noah’s arm. “I need to go back to work now, but I’ll be back on Sunday to see you.” The two of them stood, and Levi gestured toward the painting. “I liked it better without the lines.”
Noah offered a half smile. “I liked my life without those lines, too.”
Levi fought back tears. At that moment, his brother was as sane as any person he knew. Yet his lucidity would likely be short-lived. It always was.
Ainslee followed Dr. Thorenson down one of the meandering hallways to the east wing of the asylum. A set of large double doors with small wire-covered windows loomed in the distance. He came to a halt and gestured toward a small office to his left. “You can wait here while I fetch the patients. Taking you inside the unit might create problems for a few of the ladies who become quite fearful when strangers enter their living area. Believe me, when a new patient arrives in the dormitory, it can create havoc for several days.” He removed a ring of keys from his waist and selected one. “We keep the dormitories locked. When outside of the dormitories, they’re under the supervision of the orderlies and nurses.”
Ainslee nodded. She wouldn’t want the responsibility for the well-being of all these patients. “I’ll be glad to wait in here. I don’t want to do anything that might cause any of the ladies difficulty.” Once seated in the small room, Ainslee expelled a long breath, thankful for Dr. Thorenson’s knowledge.
Moments later, the doctor returned with two ladies. One who appeared to be near Laura’s age and the other somewhat older, though she carried herself like a much younger woman. The doctor gestured toward the younger woman. “Miss McKay, I’d like to introduce you to Mrs. Nettie Brinker and Mrs. Zana Tromley. Both would like to help you with the library.” The doctor smiled at the two patients. “Isn’t that so, ladies?”
They both nodded. Mrs. Brinker’s lips quivered in a brief smile. “I’m pleased to meet you, Miss McKay. I’m one of the patients who asked for a library. I like to read, but I don’t have any books.”
Mrs. Brinker lightly nudged Mrs. Tromley, who straightened her shoulders and looked Ainslee in the eyes. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss McKay. I can read and write. Maybe not as good as Nettie, but I’m a hard worker and I’d like to help however I can. The good Lord knows we need something to keep our minds occupied, especially in the winter when we can’t work in the vegetable and flower gardens.”
Dr. Thorenson tapped the back of a wooden chair. “Sit down, ladies. I’m sure Miss McKay would like to talk to you at greater length.”
Ainslee bobbed her head. “I’m delighted to meet both of you. Having assistance will be a great help since I work six days a week. However, I’m dedicated to this idea, and I think we’re going to be successful.”
Both ladies had followed the doctor’s invitation to sit, but it was Mrs. Tromley who leaned forward. “Have you made any plans of how we’re going to do that? The doctor said you’d put us to work helping, but where and when? What’s the first step?”
The woman’s questions surprised Ainslee. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it hadn’t been two ladies with bright eyes and a list of questions. These patients were ready to begin work. Unfortunately, Ainslee wasn’t prepared for such a meeting.
She didn’t want to brush aside their offer, so she quickly explained her lack of preparation. “If I’d known we were going to meet, I would have written out a form letter that I want to send to possible donors. I need to gather a list of names and addresses of those who might be willing to send books or contribute financial assistance.” Ainslee paused. “I’ll write out the letter today and have it, as well as stationery and ink, delivered to the doctor so you can begin.”
A slight frown wrinkled Mrs. Brinker’s forehead. “If we don’t have the names of possible donors, what salutation shall we use in the letters?”
Dr. Thorenson waved in Ainslee’s direction. “Instead of using personal names, why not open the letter with a general greeting? Perhaps ‘Dear Friends of the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum.’”
Zana shook her head and Nettie shivered.
Ainslee suggested, “What about simply beginning with ‘Dear Friends and Family Members’? I’m going to be writing to some of my friends as well as several family members and I believe the same will be true for other workers and patients.” She looked around. “What do you think, ladies?”
They nodded their heads in agreement. Nettie folded her hands in her lap. “Is there anything else we can do?”
Ainslee hesitated a moment. “Could one of you ask the other patients if they want letters sent to their friends or family members?”
Nettie nodded. “I can do that. I’ll keep a list for you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Brinker. That would be a great help.”
She pushed up from her chair. “Call me Nettie, please. I’m not fond of the Brinker name.”
“And you can call me Zana. Makes me feel younger.” The older woman chuckled and stood. “Guess you better go unlock that door for us, Doc.”
Minutes later, the doctor returned to the small room to escort Ainslee back to his office. “What do you think of Zana and Nettie?”
“I think they both seem to be as rational as anybo
dy I know. I’m not sure why they’re in here.” When he didn’t immediately respond, she decided to question him further. “Can you help me understand why two lovely women with obvious intelligence and more than meager education are living in this institution?”
“I can’t discuss any of the patients with you, Ainslee. It wouldn’t be proper. However, you should know that a doctor’s referral isn’t a requirement for admission to this or any other institution.” As they neared the door to his office, he offered a slight smile. “I’m sure you’re pleased that you’ll now be able to set pen to paper whenever you have need.” He glanced down the hallway as he spoke. “Ah, there’s Levi now. I’ll leave you to his care and get back to my work.”
Clearly, Dr. Thorenson wanted to avoid any further questions about his patients.
Chapter 17
The wind whipped at Ainslee’s cloak as she hurried up the front steps of the asylum and down the hallway to Dr. Thorenson’s office. Nettie had sent word a batch of letters was ready to be sent to possible donors. While she was there, she hoped to set up a better method of communication. Nettie’s message had taken three days to reach Ainslee’s ears. Nettie had told Dr. Thorenson, who passed the information to Levi during a visit to Noah. In turn, Levi had passed the message to Ainslee this morning. Perhaps Dr. Thorenson could suggest a more efficient system.
Dr. Thorenson appeared in his office doorway as she rounded the corner. “Ah, Miss McKay, it’s good to see you. I trust this is not a medical visit.” His gaze shot toward her hand.
“Absolutely not. I’ve done nothing to reinjure myself.” She quickly explained she’d just received his message the letters were ready this morning. “Are they in your office?”
He shook his head. “Why don’t you walk with me to the ladies’ wing? I need to see a patient over there.” He turned and closed his office door before stepping alongside her. “In the future, I’ll have one of the orderlies who lives in Mrs. Brighton’s boardinghouse deliver the message to you instead of waiting until Levi comes to visit Noah.”
She smiled. It was as though he’d known what she’d been thinking only a short time ago. “Thank you. I think that would be most helpful.” She glanced up at him as they continued toward the ladies’ dormitory. For some time, she’d wondered why Dr. Thorenson had come to the Weston asylum. “I hope you won’t think me prying, but I’m curious why you chose to use your doctoring skills in the asylum. I’m sure you must have had other choices.”
The doctor nodded. “Doctors can set up a private practice in most any town. I could have opened an office right here in Weston, if I’d wanted to, but that wasn’t why I studied medicine. For a short time, I did consider a teaching position at the University of Pennsylvania School of Medicine. I thought I might be able to discover more about the causes of mental deficiencies in some folks and not others. After giving the idea of teaching more consideration, I decided I would learn more and be of greater benefit if I took a position in an asylum.” He hesitated a moment. “I’ve never regretted my decision, although I don’t know much more about the causes than I did when I first arrived here.”
“So have you become discouraged?”
He shook his head. “In medicine, we never know when some small discovery will lead us to the answers we seek. Perhaps someday there will be more answers than questions. I’m thankful this asylum has opened to provide better conditions for the patients than being tossed into a jail cell.” His voice quavered, and Ainslee looked up at him. Sadness creased his features and seemed to darken the hollows around his eyes. He met her gaze and forced a feeble smile. “Both my mother and sister suffered tragic deaths in one of those horrible places while I was studying at the university in Edinburgh. I believe they would still be alive if my father had kept them at home, but he said he couldn’t manage them when they had spells. They died within a year, both from pneumonia—at least that’s what he told me.”
Regret filled Ainslee’s heart, and she silently chided herself for asking one question too many. Her inquiry had obviously opened an old wound for the doctor. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Thorenson.”
The doctor straightened his shoulders and shook his head. “No need to be sorry, Ainslee. You did nothing wrong.” He inhaled a deep breath. “Here we are.” He gestured to the small office where she’d waited before. “I’ll have Nettie bring you the letters.”
Moments later, Nettie appeared with a sheaf of papers in her hand and a smile on her face. “Some of the ladies asked to have us send letters to their relatives and friends, so I put them on the list. Of course, there’s no telling whether some of them even remember who their relatives are, but most of the ladies gave us at least one name.”
Ainslee’s eyes widened at the thick stack of paper. “How many letters have you written?”
Nettie’s cheeks burned bright pink. “There are twenty letters. The rest of this is a story I wrote. I brought it along to see if you’d read it. Dr. Thorenson told me you were a schoolteacher before you came here, so I’d value your opinion. I like to read books a lot, but when my husband burned all my books, I took up writing stories.”
Ainslee shuddered. How could anyone be so cruel? “How clever of you. I’m glad you were able to find another way to occupy your mind.”
“I was happy enough until he found out about my writing.” Sadness etched tiny lines around Nettie’s lips, and her gaze drifted toward the window. “I wrote on every scrap of paper I could find. I was smack-dab in the middle of my story, but I couldn’t find any more paper. The story wouldn’t quit rambling around in my head, so I kept searching the house trying to find something to write on. I was near desperate to finish, so I tore some pieces of old paper from the wall and wrote on the back. I tried to explain, but he wouldn’t listen.” She ruffled the edges of the paper as she spoke. “He said I was crazy. Maybe I am, but I don’t think so. I was lonely living in that hardscrabble place he called a farm. He wouldn’t take me anywhere, not even to church. He even took my Bible away from me.”
She appeared to return to the present and looked at Ainslee. “It’s not so bad being in this place. It’s sure better than living on that farm. There are other ladies as sane as me, and we get to visit with each other.” She looked up and grinned. “And they give me paper and ink so I can write my stories.”
Ainslee considered asking about some of those other ladies but decided her questions might create discomfort for Nettie. Still, she wondered how many patients were in this place for little or no reason. She stared at the handwritten pages.
“I know you’re busy what with your tile works and trying to get the library started. I shouldn’t have asked.” Nettie started to rise.
Ainslee extended her hand to stay the woman. She’d mistaken Ainslee’s hesitation as a refusal. “Please, stay a moment longer. I would be delighted to read your story.”
“Thank you, Miss McKay.” She leaned forward and touched Ainslee’s arm. “I want you to tell me the truth. If it’s just the silly ramblings of a crazy woman, you can say so. I don’t expect anything more.” She touched her hand to her bodice. “But no matter what you tell me, I’ll keep writing my stories.”
Ainslee nodded. Even if the story didn’t prove well written, she wouldn’t be cruel in her assessment. She would help Nettie any way she could.
Ainslee peered through the depot window, eager for the arrival of Laura and Tessa on the afternoon train. Her anticipation of their visit had mounted throughout the day, and she’d finally convinced Ewan they should arrive at the station a little early.
Ewan waved to her. “Come sit down, lass. Looking out the window won’t make the train get here any faster.”
Ainslee returned to his side and folded her gloved hands in her lap. Before the accident, the gesture had seemed insignificant. Now she valued the ability to fold her hands together or grasp a pen. During those long weeks of recovery, she had learned how much one part of the body depended upon another—and how difficult it was to manage without the he
lp of others.
Ewan touched her shoulder. “Pleased I am that you’ve gained the use of your hand again. I understand that you have a scar, but when I think of how much damage could have been done, my heart aches. I hope you won’t do anything so foolish again.”
“You need not worry. I plan to keep a safe distance between me and the cutting machine.” She turned toward him. “This has been a difficult time for me. I’m not accustomed to relying upon others, and I didn’t realize how difficult it would be to take care of myself with that cumbersome bandage on my hand. The girls at the boardinghouse were wonderful. They helped me dress and styled my hair.” Her eyes took on a faraway stare. “I don’t know what I would have done without them—or Levi. The books would be in total disarray if he hadn’t entered the figures each day. I never before gave thought to how much we need each part of our body.”
Ewan nodded. “Aye. Our bodies are much like the church. Each person who becomes a part of the body of Christ is needed to do their part so that the church can meet the needs of others and serve the Lord. And speaking of the church, are you still favorin’ the small church near the boardinghouse?”
She nodded. “I like it very much. The members are like a large family.”
A whistle shrieked in the distance, and Ewan lightly nudged her arm. “Ya see? It took only a few words about the Lord and his church to bring the train down the tracks.” He chuckled and grasped her elbow. “Let’s get out to the platform. I’m sure Tessa will be disappointed if we’re not outside waiting for her.”
Minutes later, six-year-old Tessa descended the steps of the train, immediately followed by her mother. Tessa rushed toward them and wrapped her arms as far around Ainslee as her wide skirt would permit. Her blue eyes sparkled with delight as she accepted Ainslee’s kiss to her cheek and then bounded into her father’s arms. She was a beauty of a child who had somehow escaped her birthmother’s rather frumpy appearance and mousy personality. Though Kathleen Roark was a sweet woman, no one would have labeled her attractive. Perhaps living with her sister and brother-in-law, Aunt Margaret and Uncle Hugh, had been the cause of Kathleen’s meek and retiring disposition. It was, after all, difficult for any member of the family to defy Aunt Margaret’s edicts. Though Kathleen had no control over her physical attributes, a fitted gown and proper hairstyle would have helped. Yet Aunt Margaret was not one to spend Uncle Hugh’s money to enhance the appearance of anyone other than herself.
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