Streams of Mercy Page 5

  “I’m not sure why I was called instead, but probably because Mr. Valders asked for me.”

  “And you had Nurse Knutson close. But that still is no excuse for not calling a medical doctor.”

  “Please follow me.” Astrid turned and headed for her office. The nursing desk was not a place for a discussion like this. Lord, give me the best words, not the words beating through my head. How to get this young man to work as part of the team. She’d heard rumors that he was rude, especially to the two student nurses, but she’d found Miriam gritting her teeth one day too. She and Elizabeth should both be at this discussion, but Elizabeth had been up half the night with baby Roald, so Astrid told her to stay home.

  She held the door to her office open for him and motioned him to the chair beside her desk, then closed the door, careful to not let it slam.

  “Dr. Commons, it appears to me that you don’t really care for women in the medical professions.” Might as well hit the problem head on.

  “Ah.” He stared down at his hands, then looked up at her. “Everyone knows that this is a profession where men excel.”

  “And what gives you that perception?” She kept her voice even and tone mild.

  “I know you and Dr. Elizabeth managed to get through medical school, but . . .”

  Keep calm! She took in a deep breath. “Here in Blessing and at the Morganstein Hospital, we believe a person’s gender has nothing to do with his or her ability to make a fine doctor. I am not sure how you got this far in your schooling in Chicago with your beliefs, but here we work as a team, with everyone learning all they can and taking responsibility for what they do. We train both nurses and doctors and have trained women to be nurses on the Rosebud Indian Reservation. I’m sure you knew or at least knew of Dr. Red Hawk, who has returned to help his people.”

  She waited for his response. At a barely perceptible nod, she continued. “We do the best we can with our limited resources, grateful for our partnership with Chicago. We ascribe to the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, and we expect you to do the same. You are here to practice medicine, to learn all you can. Agreed?”

  “Yes.” He continued to look down, obviously not wanting to meet her gaze. She studied his reddening ears as she spoke. “I know your father is a physician too, correct?”

  Another nod.

  “Are you planning to join his practice on your graduation?”

  He shrugged.

  The urge to shake him blew on by. “You have a choice, Dr. Commons. You can remain here and get all the medical training we have to offer—excellent training in a small-town medical practice—as long as you agree to work as part of a team, accepting the full value of all those working on this staff and treating them accordingly and with respect. Or you may return to Chicago on the next train.” She did not add “with your tail between your legs,” but she thought it. Letting the silence stretch, she studied the top of his head as he studied his hands.

  “I hope I have made myself clear?”

  “Yes, Doctor.” His slight emphasis on the title made her want to send him off. How would they get through to him?

  “You will be on call for the rest of this weekend and through Monday. And I will leave instructions to that end. We will be having a staff meeting on Monday. That includes all doctors and nurses. I hope I do not hear any further murmurs of rudeness.”

  “What time?”

  “After the morning shift change. We will be finished in an hour so those just getting off duty can head for bed. Any questions?”

  He shook his head. “May I leave now?”

  “Yes. You are on duty now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you please assess the woman in room two?”

  “The one who wants to die?”

  That gave her pause. “Why do you say that?”

  “She doesn’t want to eat, refuses to communicate, and—”

  “Are you sure she isn’t just too weak to eat?”

  “Her vitals seem stable. A bit thready but not something to be concerned about.”

  “And what kind of treatment do you recommend?”

  “Send her home.”

  “Do you know her history?”

  “A man brought her in, diagnosis possible pneumonia. Her lungs are clearing, her temperature has returned to near normal, she is pregnant.”

  “And her name?”

  “Unknown.”

  “Address?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing on the chart.”

  “So where would we send her?”

  “Surely there is someone who knows of her. If she stays here, who is going to pay her bill?”

  “Ignore that part.”

  “But if someone brought her in, someone knows her or about her, and . . .”

  Astrid waited, watching his reactions.

  He straightened. “And how would we find that person is your next question, right? And I have no answer for that, since you have no police to assist you.”

  “But why police? We have no certainty of wrongdoing.”

  “He deserted her, dumped her like a bag of garbage.”

  “True. But at least he brought her here. He could have just left her out in the snow.” She waited again. “Well, I am asking you to examine her again and see if we can ascertain anything else. Our job is to save her life and that of her baby. And hopefully, give her back a life along with it.”

  “Then we’d better force-feed her.” He stood and turned to exit the door.

  “Have you ever attempted to feed someone who is unresponsive?” Astrid stood.

  “That is a nurse’s . . .” He caught himself. “No.”

  She motioned him through the door. “What do you suggest feeding her?”

  “Warm beef or chicken broth, and then hopefully graduate to soft or finely chopped food.” The two walked across the hall to room two. They paused in the doorway to watch Miriam giving the patient a sponge bath, all the while talking softly in hopes of getting a response.

  She glanced up. “I will be finished in about five minutes.”

  “Are you using the lotion Ingeborg left?”

  Astrid looked to Dr. Commons. “We care for the whole patient. The lotion also helps prevent bed sores.” She turned to Miriam. “When you are finished here, please come to my office.” Pausing again, she looked to the young man beside her. “And you will implement the treatment you decide to use and then explain what you expect to all of us. Correct?”

  His jaw tightened, he took in a breath, and he nodded. “Of course.”

  O Lord, if his staying is your will, please give us all the grace we need to accomplish your plan. Whatever that might be. She made a mental note to herself. Get the prayers focusing on Dr. Commons and the situation here.

  CHAPTER 5

  What do you suppose Toby wants to talk with us about?”

  Rebecca turned to Gerald. “Well, I’m sure I have no idea, but supper will be ready when he gets here.” By the time Toby got back from the hospital last night with Melissa and Anji, Rebecca had already served supper to the rest of the family and they had postponed their discussion for a day.

  “Toby usually just comes over, not official like this.”

  Rebecca turned from sliding a pan of biscuits in the oven. “I made his favorite, so that should put him in a good mood, not that he is ever in a bad mood.” She laid her hot pads up on the stove warming shelf and looked to her husband. Gerald was leaning against the doorjamb, hands in his pockets.

  Anji reached up for the plates so that Lissa could set the table. Her hand was still wrapped with bandages, but she wasn’t in pain today.

  Anji’s thoughts went to the strange situation with Toby and Gerald’s parents. Toby Valders had always lived with his mother and father, taking care to see the house was maintained, sometimes trying to be a calming agent when one of them was irate, which was often. He’d not been successful at that venture in the last years. When Anner insisted Hildegunn leave with
him, Toby had continued as usual, both he and Gerald as confused at their actions as everyone else.

  “Do you suppose he heard from your mother?”

  “Possibly. It would be helpful if someone did. I mean it seems a shame that all that house is not being used. Not with this housing shortage.” Gerald shook his head and sighed. He turned at the sound of Benny’s wheels on the hall floor and the giggles preceding him. “Here they come. Be prepared.”

  Benny sat with Annika and Swen in front of him and Joseph pushing. Annika waved her arms at her mother when they stormed into the kitchen.

  “Uh-oh. Here comes the Benny Express.” Gerald smiled down at his oldest son. “I bet you are all starving.”

  “Yep.” Benny grinned up at him. “Delivering the little ones.”

  “Oh, they have trouble walking now?”

  “Ride. Benny, ride.” Annika lifted her arms to her mother and Anji swooped her up while Gerald grabbed Swen and spun around with him in his arms.

  Swen had the most infectious giggle, and within moments the kitchen walls bulged from the laughter.

  “How are we supposed to get food on the table with all the children underfoot?” Rebecca raised her hands in mock surrender. “Guess there will be no supper tonight.”

  “No supper?” a familiar voice came from the doorway. “Oh no!”

  “Uncle Toby!” The children shouted together and headed for the man who had just come through the back door and was hanging his coat by the door.

  “Help! I’m being attacked!”

  “Serves you right. Take your admirers into the parlor so we can get supper on the table.” Rebecca motioned down the hall with a nod.

  “Sorry. We are being banished.” He grabbed the rope to Benny’s wheels and away they went, everyone trying to tell him something important at the same time.

  Shaking her head, Lissa looked up at her mother. “I think they like Onkel Toby.”

  “I think you are right.” Anji looked over the table. “What are we missing?”

  “Milk. I can’t carry the pitcher yet.”

  “Sorry, I’ll get that. How does your hand feel?”

  “Thumpy, but it doesn’t hurt.”

  Anji filled the glasses on the table, many only halfway for the younger ones. She set the cream pitcher next to the sugar bowl with a teaspoon already in it. For some strange reason, lately she had decided she liked her coffee better with the addition of cream and a little sugar. Her mother and father would surely roll over in their graves if they knew what she was doing.

  “We can eat as soon as the biscuits are done. Gerald, will you please supervise the handwashing, and then we can sit down.” Getting everyone in their right place, including two high chairs and a small box for another, sometimes took some doing.

  After all were seated and grace said, Anji set the platter of biscuits next to Rebecca and took her own seat next to almost-four-year-old, towheaded Annika, who needed a box on her chair to get her to a comfortable height. Had the Valders grandparents been in attendance, the children would have been silent at the table, but Onkel Toby was often at their table and enjoyed getting them talking—and laughing.

  Toby looked across at Anji. “Seems to me I see you and Thomas Devlin together a lot lately.”

  She nodded. “He’s become a good friend.”

  At the wiggle of his eyebrows, she could feel warmth start up her neck. Perhaps she should rethink her plan to go with him to Thorliff’s gathering tonight. Toby wasn’t the first to inquire if there was more to their friendship than they were revealing. Since Mr. Devlin was still an Anglican priest, Anji hadn’t given the possibility much thought. Now, if he chose to remain here in Blessing as a teacher and give up the priesthood . . . She banished that thought before it could grow. However, he most certainly was an entertaining friend.

  When they’d finished the meal, with only one glass tipped over and that almost empty, the children were sent to the living room, where Lissa and Benny would read aloud. The two women cleared the table and did the dishes. After refilling coffee cups, they sat down at the table, and the three adults looked to Toby, who was drawing a letter out of his pocket.

  “This came today, and I figured we should make some decisions right away.”

  “The letter is from?”

  “Mor and Far.”

  “Well, I’ll be . . .” Gerald shook his head. “Took them long enough. Are they coming back?”

  “Doesn’t sound like it.” Toby pulled the kerosene lamp closer so he could read more easily. “Dear Toby and Gerald . . .” He looked up. “Mor’s handwriting.” He returned to the page.

  “I am sorry to have left everything in such disarray, but I was given no choice. We are settled now, and Mr. Valders has a job at a local bank.”

  “Where are they?” Gerald asked.

  “I have no idea, other than the postmark that is so blurred because it got wet that I can hardly read it.”

  “No return address?”

  “No, none.”

  Gerald and Rebecca exchanged puzzled looks. “Go on.”

  “Mr. Valders has decided that if you boys want to keep the house, that is fine with us, but if you choose to sell it, please send us the proceeds. I pray all is well with you and your families. Greet the others from me.

  “Sincerely,

  Mrs. Hildegunn Valders”

  “Wait. Our own mother signed it Mrs. Hildegunn Valders?” Gerald stared at his brother.

  “Ja, if this isn’t the strangest letter, I don’t know what would be.” Toby held the paper up for them all to see. “That’s it.” He handed Gerald the envelope. “See what I mean?” Picking up his coffee cup, he sipped and shook his head. “I personally think Far has gone over the edge. I thought that when he stormed out of town, and when he returned like he did, I was sure of it. It could even be that he dictated this letter. It sounds more like him than her.” He laid the paper in the middle of the table. “So, the way I see it, we need to decide what to do.”

  Gerald shrugged. “What is there to decide? We have a house, and you need a place to live, so it is yours.”

  “But that house is far bigger than this one, and you have a growing family. You would be much more comfortable there. We would just exchange.”

  “But this one is set up for Benny.”

  “He goes up and down the stairs here, so he could do the same there, and we could build a ramp outside like we did here. Granted, this house is closer to the soda shop, but not that much.”

  Gerald studied his wife, who was looking troubled. “What do you think?”

  “I think I would rather stay here.” She frowned. “True, the other house is bigger, but . . .” They all waited for her to continue. She chewed her bottom lip. “I . . . I don’t like that house as much.” She stared down at her hands, clenched in her lap.

  Anji watched her baby sister struggle with trying to figure out an answer. “Do you have to decide all this tonight?”

  Both men shrugged. “There is a third possibility to consider—well, actually several others. We could sell it and bank the money until we have an address to send it to. I’m sure there are plenty of people who would love to purchase it. Another idea would be for Anji to move into the house.”

  “But you live there.” Anji blinked. “Besides, I . . . uh . . . I don’t have the money to buy that house.”

  “I didn’t say buy it. You are family, after all. You wouldn’t need to buy it.”

  “But what if . . .” She paused and shook her head.

  “What if what?” Rebecca asked.

  “Well, what if your folks come back and get really angry and . . .”

  “The letter leaves the decisions all in our hands. There is no way we can send them the money or anything else, since we have no idea where they are. What we decide is what happens. Besides . . .” Toby grinned at Anji, an eyebrow raised. “You could marry me, and then we’d both have a place to live, and no one would be able to gossip.”

  “You
aren’t serious. You’re like my brother.”

  “But we really are not related.”

  “And I have four children.”

  “All of whom call me Onkel Toby and are already family.”

  Anji had never been one to sputter. She calmly made decisions and acted upon them. But this—this crazy idea . . . “Surely you—you don’t mean this.”

  “Toby, quit teasing her.” Rebecca rolled her eyes and shook her head. But then she grinned at Anji. “You know that really might be a good way to solve several problems. Maybe we could kill two birds with one stone.”

  “An apt description, my dear.” Gerald patted her hand and gave his brother one of those looks of big brother exasperation. “I think we’ve talked about this as far as we can for now.”

  Lissa appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Mark is crying. I changed him but he wants you, Tante Rebecca.”

  “I’ll be right there. Takk.” Rebecca stood. “I suggest we think on this, pray on this, and then decide. In the meantime, we go on as we are.” She left to take care of her crying son.

  “I’ll put the children to bed. Do you want more coffee first?” Anji looked to each of the men, who shook their heads. “Good night, then, Toby.” As she left the room, Toby’s offhand remark ate at her mind. Surely he wasn’t serious. Of course anyone in Blessing would say Toby was a very good candidate for marriage. In fact, she’d heard some of the others wondering why he hadn’t married yet. Not that there were a great number of eligible women. When it came right down to it, there were more men in town who needed wives than women who needed husbands.

  As she tucked her children into bed and listened to their prayers, she prayed right along with them, but this time her prayer was for wisdom. Yes, she would like to marry again, someday. Immediately Thomas Devlin strode through her mind; she always enjoyed the way he made her laugh. There had been a serious lack of laughter when in the presence of the elder Moens. Proper. Everything had to be proper. If she heard that word once, she’d heard it a thousand times. One had to act and be proper, according to the expectations of society.