A Harvest of Hope (5 page)

“I know. That's where I got my love of medicine.” A yawn caught her midword. “Good night.”

Good thing she could get ready for bed while half asleep. She didn't even hear Daniel crawl in beside her.

Her shoulder being shaken dragged her up from the dream she'd been having. “What?”

It was Daniel. “Astrid, there is a man at the back door. His wife is having trouble birthing a baby. I'll help you.”

“Where?”

“In the tent camp.”

“He can't get her to the hospital?” She threw on her clothes while asking him.

“He says she is too far along.”

“Tell him I'll be right there.”

“I did.” Daniel hesitated. “Do you want me to come along?”

“Yes.” She threw the answer over her shoulder, not sure why he'd asked.
Please, Lord, I didn't
even know someone was pregnant there. Protect her and the
baby, please.

I
lost another baby!” Astrid slammed the palm of her hand on Ingeborg's table.

“No you didn't! The baby was born dead, and there was nothing you could do about that!” Ingeborg shook her head.

“Had I gotten there earlier . . . Why, oh why, did they wait so long? Another baby gone and, O God, I hate this part of what I do.” She hollered this last at the ceiling. Even the rain ran like tears down the windows, the water from the roof clattering into the rain barrel beside Ingeborg's porch. “So much death lately. Oh, Mor, I cannot stand this.”

“I know. Oh, how I know.”

“I don't know why I came visiting you when I'm such a mess.” Astrid dug in her pocket for a handkerchief, shaking her head as she tried to wipe her eyes and blow her nose. She tipped her head back. “It was their first baby, and he seemed to be fully formed, so why did he die? Mrs. Sorvito was in no condition to answer questions, even if I could have asked them. And her husband was in no shape to talk either. He was too frantic about possibly losing her.”

“But she is at the hospital now?”

“Daniel and I carried her to the hospital, lifting her by the
corners of the sheet, once I got the bleeding stopped. I wasn't taking any chances. Another man finally helped us. I think they were too afraid of the hospital to go there when she went into labor. No money probably.”

“Or women aren't usually taken to a hospital to have a baby, you know. They are supposed to have it at home. Was there a midwife there?”

“No. You know, there aren't many women in that camp.” She sniffed and blew her nose again. The worst seemed to be over. “I think they speak Italian. It's a shame Miriam isn't here. She speaks both Italian and Gaelic. The man went to find Father Devlin, one reason he was unwilling for us to take her. I assured him that Father Devlin would come to the hospital. He must have been dead asleep to not have heard all the commotion.”

“I believe he is away.”

Astrid stared out the window. “Do you want to go dance in the rain?”

“Not today. It's a bit chilly for that.”

“Do you remember when we did? Tante Kaaren and Sophie and Grace and us?” Astrid got up to stand beside her mother.

“More than once. There is nothing like rain-washed hair.” Ingeborg finished her coffee. “Freda is out in the cheese house. I should be helping her.”

“Instead, you are helping your daughter.” Astrid leaned her head on her mother's shoulder.

“Does Elizabeth know?”

Astrid shrugged. “I got the woman stabilized, left orders, and went home for breakfast. Then I just grabbed the umbrella and came out here.” She blew out a breath. “I sure wish Miriam would get back here.”

“Trygve said she is coming on Sunday's train.”

“How come I didn't know that?” Why did Ingeborg know this and Astrid did not? Had they called Elizabeth and she forgot to tell Astrid? “I better get back to the hospital.” She paused.
“I miss the nurses no longer staying at our house. It has been delightful to see Corabell adjust to life so far from home, but I think living in a home rather than the boardinghouse was a good thing. At least at first.”

Ingeborg nodded. “I like having Gray Cloud and Dawn Breaking drop by now and then. They are a great help, and they're learning things that will serve them well when they go home to their tribe.” She adjusted Astrid's shawl around her shoulders.

Astrid paused in opening the door. “Mor, why don't you come with me? You could be a mother to that poor Mrs. Sorvito today.”

“All right. I will. I'll leave a note for Freda. There is nothing pressing here today.”

“Do you want the buggy?”

Ingeborg made a face and shook her head. “Outside in a rain-washed world is a great place to be.”

The telephone rang, and they paused and counted rings. Ingeborg returned to the box on the wall.

“Is Astrid still there?” It sounded like Rachel, Goodie Wold's niece, on the switchboard.

“Ja. We are just going out the door.”

“Tell her to go to the hospital. It's not critical, but she's needed.”

“I will.” She rushed out the door. “We need to hurry.”

The two women broke into the half run, half walk they had used for years when a patient needed them. They were both puffing by the time they arrived at the hospital, and Deborah pointed them in the direction of the patient.

Vera met them at the door. “The bleeding has slowed way down.”

“Good. What have you done?”

“Changed the packing as often as needed. What else is there to do?”

Astrid headed into the room. “Massage her lower belly. The
afterbirth looked to be intact, but the light was poor there. Does anyone here speak Italian?”

They all shook their heads.

“And she doesn't speak English. Although her husband does some. I want to know if she carried any other babies to term or lost them early.”

Vera shook her head. “If only Miriam were here, she could ask those things.”

“She'll be back on Sunday,” Deborah Norton said softly.

There it was again. Deborah knew and Astrid did not. “When did you learn that?”

Their most experienced nurse hesitated. “Why, I think there was a written message that Mrs. Korsheski had telephoned from Chicago to say Miriam was coming on the Sunday train. I think it is still on the desk.”

“Do you know when it came?”

“Early this morning, I think.”

“Then how did Trygve know she was coming?”

Deborah shrugged. “Maybe she wrote to him.”

“And we have no idea who took the message?”

“Corabell was on duty. She must have forgotten to mention it in all that was going on this morning. They had a boy in here with projectile vomiting shortly after you left. It was a real mess. He is sleeping in the ward. His mother is with him. Poor woman was up all night with him.” She paused then added before Astrid could ask, “We put him way at the end in case he is contagious.”

“I see.” But all Astrid really saw right now was that an important message had been nearly lost. However, all the patients were as well cared for as possible. Her resolve strengthened. They needed more training for emergencies so that no matter how severe the pressure, no one panicked and forgot what they were to do. Astrid thought back to her experience at the Indian village that had been so decimated by measles. How she had gone from tipi to tipi to see who could possibly be saved and then stipulated
care. They'd not managed to save all the sick ones, but those who lived would have died without their care. Her father had been there with them. She kept from looking at her mother by sheer will. While that trip sometimes seemed far in the distance, other times it seemed like it had happened last week.

An epidemic was not beyond possibilities right here in Blessing. Or some other catastrophe. While these thoughts had been racing through her mind, another track focused on the woman with the bleeding. The good old trick of pressure on an artery could stop bleeding, but not in this case. There were several possible vessels involved and located too deep in the abdomen to reach.

She returned her attention to the patient. Her mother was sitting by the young woman's bedside, gently washing her face, murmuring softly, and with her came a sense of peace that made even her daughter relax. Color had begun to return to the woman's face. Ingeborg washed and dried the limp hands and arms, then began on the upper torso, her croon continuing.

Astrid knew for certain her mother was praying all the time, perhaps singing her favorite Bible verses. All the nurses needed lessons from her mor in how to care for a patient, especially those who were unconscious. She moved silently to the opposite side of the bed and checked her patient's vitals. Her pulse was fast, which wasn't surprising with the blood loss. The woman was breathing easily. She was so young and thin. Still, nothing told her why the baby had died. Not that they could always pinpoint reasons anyway. Perhaps this woman had not had sufficient food, and from the looks of her, that could well be the case. She'd seen cases like this at the hospital in Chicago, women from the tenements, where people sometimes starved. Was Miriam's family in bad shape? she wondered.

“I'll be in the office. Thelma will send any patients over here that show up at the door. Thank you for mothering her.”

“You are welcome.” The bath finished, Ingeborg took out
some lotion that smelled like Amelia's roses and began smoothing it into the patient's skin.

Later that night, the Jeffers family had just finished eating supper, all together for a change, when a knock on the door brought Daniel to his feet.

“Why, Father Devlin, come in!” Daniel stepped back and motioned their guest inside. “Have you had supper?”

“No, but when I returned late this afternoon, I heard about the sad happenings in the camp.” He smiled at Astrid. “I am muckle sorry for yer day.”

“Thank you. Did you go to the hospital to see her?”

“I did, and while Mrs. Sorvito is still as weak as a baby bird, thanks to ye she still be alive.”

“She knows the baby was born dead?”

“Aye, she told me. I went to the wee thing and baptized it straightway, of course, in her presence. She asked if I would celebrate a proper funeral for it, and that I will.”

“You can talk with her, then?”

Father Devlin chuckled. Despite how many miles he had traveled today, his eyes twinkled. “Aye, Latin be close enough to Italian that we could converse. To a degree and with lots of gestures, of course. Sure and I'd not want to preach a sermon in it, but I understand more than I can speak it.”

“Tomorrow, could you ask her some questions for me?”

“That I could. Ah, and thank ye for yer insistence that she go to the hospital. Too many of the poor are afraid of both doctors and hospitals. Of the money and the unknown.” He smiled at Astrid. “But then other places don't have a hospital like this one. I suspect ye'll never make a dime from it, not the way ye neglect to charge people.”

“How can one charge when there is no money to be had? When they can, people will pay, and often they pay with their
labor, or whatever they have. One woman is doing the laundry to help pay after we cared for her.”

“Never fear. God himself will bless ye.” He started to leave, but Daniel pointed to the table where Amelia was setting a full plate down.

“Sit, man. Anything can wait while my mother feeds you. If you don't, she'll feel she failed in her duty.”

Amelia tsked and shook her head. “Pay no attention to him, but it would be a shame to waste this good food. I know it is good, because Daniel had thirds tonight.”

Father Devlin raised his hands, and Astrid motioned to the sink. Hands washed, the priest sat down, said a brief grace, and cleaned his plate, mopping the gravy with the last of the sliced bread.

“More?” Amelia hovered by his shoulder.

“Ah no. Thank ye. I be—”

“As big as you are, you can eat more. We do not stand on politeness here.” She brought the pan over and dished up what was left. “You wouldn't want to waste this last bit, now, would you?”

“Well, since ye put it that way.” He smiled up at her. “I never be one to waste God's good gifts.”

“So how was your trip?” Daniel asked. “Your horse held up?”

“That he did. Like everyone else, life in Blessing brings health to the broken.”

“What a thing to say.” Astrid stared at him.

“Well, ye have but to look about. A hospital, a church where people truly believe in our God and His power to bring healing, people who treat outsiders as family from the beginning. Not my church, not exactly, but close enough.” He laid his fork by the plate.

Daniel studied him closely. “What exactly is your church? Catholic?”

Father Devlin licked his lips and paused for a long moment. A simple question. Why did he hesitate? He smiled. “I know not
how much ye ken of the liturgical church, that is, the Roman Catholics, the Orthodox, the Anglicans, the Copts. A few other groups. Nor how much ye're aware of Ireland's troubles. 'Tis a long and tangled history since the seventeenth century. Basically, we've two sets of folks in Ireland.”

Daniel frowned. “Is this the green and the orange?”

Father Devlin shrugged. “It be infinitely more than that, but the idea's there. I be of the orange sort and an ordained priest of the Anglican communion rather than Roman Catholic, as ye call it.”

Astrid wagged her head. “You did several Catholic rites, Father.”

“Aye.” He paused again, as if he were marshaling his thoughts. “But not exactly. The old Anglican and present Roman rites be very close. When a dying man be wanting to reconcile with his God, I doubt he'd quibble much. Ye'll recall, yer nurse Miriam assisted. In a truly Roman rite, a woman would never be permitted to do that. Nor would I, in the Roman tradition, be allowed to set foot in yer Protestant church. It simply cannot be done. Rules, ye know.”