A Measure of Mercy (25 page)

“If I don’t get going, I’ll be in town all afternoon.”

“Have you heard from Astrid?” Rebecca asked.

“No. Perhaps today.”

“Come by for coffee.”

“I’ll stop on my way back,” she promised in spite of her good intentions.

Mrs. Valders looked up as the door opened. “Ingeborg, how good to see you.”

“Thank you. I feel like it’s been months since I came to town. You’d think I lived twenty miles out or something.” Sometimes she was still shocked at the pleasant turnaround Hildegunn was working on. Ingeborg started to slide her outbound mail into the slot but stopped when Mrs. Valders said to bring it to the counter.

“I’ve the mail all ready to put in the mail pouch. I’ll add yours before I take it to the station.” She did so while she talked. “I almost came out to your house last night with your mail since no one came to town. You have a letter from Astrid.” She handed the mail across the counter. “You want Kaaren’s too?”

“Of course. Anything for Freda or Andrew?”

“Andrew’s farming magazine is here. That young man sure keeps up on the latest things, doesn’t he?”

“That he does.” Ingeborg slit open the letter from Astrid, knowing full well that Mrs. Valders was as curious about the news as anyone. That was the way of letters. Everyone got to share the news. She pulled out the single sheet of paper and glanced down at the sparse writing.

“She didn’t write much,” Mrs. Valders said, leaning over the counter.

“No. But she says all is well and she has been assisting in the surgery. Her classes are interesting, but her favorite is dissecting the cadaver that she shares with a young man from South Dakota named Red Hawk.”

“An Indian? And a dead body?” Mrs. Valders’ mouth hung open, her voice squeaking on the word
body
.

Ingeborg kept from laughing out loud by clearing her throat and continuing on as if the postmistress had not spoken. “She doesn’t think too highly of Chicago. Says it is dirty, smelly, and windy.” She folded the page and tucked it back into the envelope. “That’s what I remember of that city too. We were so grateful to get back home. She says to tell everyone hello.” She glanced up to see shock still freezing Hildegunn’s face. She didn’t mention Astrid’s cry for help. What was she to do about the letter from Africa? Was God really calling her to be a medical missionary there? How was she to know for sure?

“I’ll be back after today’s mail comes in.”

“Yes, of course.”

As Ingeborg left the post office, she ached over Astrid’s questions.
Lord, I don’t want her to go to Africa. Aren’t there plenty of people here
who need her help? If she goes to Africa, I’ ll never see her again. How can
I give her wisdom when I have none to give?
She knew she should be saying “Not my will but yours, O Lord,” but right now she couldn’t. She hurried by Rebecca’s shop and into the store before she collapsed in tears.

“Ingeborg, what is it?” Penny asked after one look at Ingeborg’s face.

“He asks too much.”

“Who? What are you talking about?”

“God.” She choked on the word, tears bursting like spring freshets leaping down the mountains in Norway. Handing Penny the letter, Ingeborg dug in her reticule for a handkerchief.

“Come, let’s go back to the kitchen. I’ll put water on for tea.”

Ingeborg followed Penny through the doorway and sank down in a rocking chair.

Penny read the letter as she filled the teapot. “No, Astrid can’t go to Africa. We need her here. Surely there must be another way. Surely.”

“But if indeed it is God calling her?”

Penny shook her head. “Please forgive me, Lord, but I pray you have something else in mind. We need Astrid here.”

“More than they do in Africa?” The two women stared at each other through tear-filled eyes.

20

C
HICAGO
, I
LLINOIS

I
believe the crisis will be tonight.”

Astrid stared at the doctor, who peered at her over his glasses. She and one of the nurses were taking turns changing the quickly drying sheets and encouraging Benny to drink. They had moved him into a smaller room so they could care for him more easily. If she closed her eyes, she could almost believe she was at Elizabeth’s, and Mor and Pastor Solberg were praying out in the hall. If she closed her eyes, she might not wake up again—for hours.

She looked away so the doctor wouldn’t see the tears pooling and about to overflow.

“Dr. Bjorklund, you have to understand that we humans can only do so much. You’ve done all you can and—”

“And we will keep doing so as long as it takes.” Speaking around the lump in her throat was difficult.

“I was going to say that you have to depend on our heavenly Father to finish the job, be it here or in heaven.”

“I know that. I’ve been praying for Benny all along.” She didn’t add that God didn’t seem to listen to her prayers for healing all that much. But she didn’t know what else to do. Praying was so ingrained, as were the Bible verses she’d memorized through the years, that they just happened. If only she could talk to Pastor Solberg.

“What about the rest of your patients?” he asked.

“I . . . I’ve seen to all of them.”

“I know you have, but if you are so tired you collapse, what will happen to them?”

“I suppose someone else will take care of them.” She lifted the cloth from Benny’s forehead and felt the ice pack under his neck. The ice was nearly melted—again.

“We can do that here, but what about later, when you are the only doctor around and everyone depends on you?”

“But how can I leave him?” The cry was wrenched from her by unseen hands.

“You make sure there are others that can and will do what you are doing right now, and you come back to check on him. I know this sounds stern and unfeeling, but you are here to learn all that you are able, and we are here to both take care of our patients and to teach young people how to be the finest doctors they are capable of becoming.” He turned to the nurse. “Is there someone to take her place?”

“I will get another nurse to relieve her.”

“Thank you.” He turned back to Astrid. “Now you go get some sleep. I will leave orders for you to be called when and if the crisis occurs. You are due in the OR at seven thirty in the morning, and you will have had breakfast by then.”

“Yes, sir.”

He ushered her out of the room ahead of him. “Good night, Dr. Bjorklund.”

Just before falling on her bed, she prayed one last time. “Lord God, please heal this little boy.” Asleep on the next breath, she heard nothing until she felt someone shaking her shoulder. She sat bolt upright. “Yes?”

The smile that greeted her made her blink. “Benny is sleeping peacefully. The fever broke. There is no sign of gangrene in either stump. Go back to sleep so you can do your job in the morning.”

“What time is it?”

“Four or so. Good night.”

“Thank you, God, thank you.” A tap at the door at six o’clock started her day. She peeked in on Benny before heading to scrub. He was still sleeping, his breathing natural, his skin normal. Dare she hope that God really had answered her prayer? Dare she doubt? That thought made her blink. What would Mor say? Her face would be beaming, and she’d be singing “Praise ye the Lord” and thanking Him over and over.

“So be it,” she whispered, and all the while she scrubbed she kept time with
thank you, thank you, praise His holy name.
She felt like shouting it and dancing around the room, but instead she raised her arms and let the water run off her elbows. Benny was sleeping, a healing sleep. No longer sliding away.

After three surgeries in a row, one for an arm with a compound fracture, another for a stab wound, and the last a torn leg, she finished her rounds and then dropped in to see Benny awake and eating the soup a nurse was feeding him. He smiled at her.

“You the angel?”

“No, I’m the doctor. You didn’t get to see the angels this time around.”

“But I saw you.”

“She was here much of the time. Dr. Bjorklund is her name.” The nurse held the spoon to the boy’s lips.

“Lady doctors?” His eyes widened.

“There are more and more of us.” Astrid nodded at the child. “I’ll see you later.” She paused. “By the way, how old are you?”

“Six.”

“You’re missing school.”

“Don’t go to school.”

“Why—?” She caught the nurse shaking her head. “I’ll come by to see you later, then.”

Sitting with her elbows propped on the table in the dining room, she could hardly hold her head up to drink the much-needed coffee. Why was this more tiring than caring for patients with Dr. Elizabeth? Of course, at home she didn’t do three surgeries in a row. Her thoughts went back to Benny. Not in school, a street child, but now one with no legs. She knew two boys who had run from New York, street boys like Benny, and ended up in Blessing. Gerald and Tony Valders. Who in Blessing might be willing to help this child? Wooden legs and crutches. It would not be easy. But there he would be loved, and he could go to school.

“Dr. Bjorklund.” The call came from the doorway.

Astrid drained her cup of coffee and, grabbing a sandwich off the tray, headed for the door. Time to think seemed to be an unknown commodity here.

“We have a woman who’s been in labor for twenty-four hours. Someone brought her in and then disappeared.”

“In the ER?”

“For now. We want to move her to Obstetrics, but all the other doctors are busy right now.”

“What’s her pulse?”

“I don’t know. They just sent me to get you.”

Astrid stopped at the sink to wash her hands and then followed the nurse to a curtained cubicle. The woman on the table stared at her through exhausted and fear-filled eyes.

“I’m Dr. Bjorklund. What is your name?”

The woman closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. “Uh . . .” She panted till the contraction passed. She muttered a name in a language other than English.

Astrid turned to the nurse. “Do you understand her?”

“I think she is speaking Gaelic. An Irish immigrant, maybe.” She wiped the woman’s sweaty forehead. “And no, I don’t understand Gaelic either.”

“Has she had other births?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does anyone here speak Gaelic?”

The young nurse shrugged. “I’ve been on the floor for only a couple of weeks. I don’t know.”

“Talk about the blind leading the blind here.” Astrid laid her stethoscope against the woman’s extended belly. “The baby’s heart rate is accelerated.” She lifted the drape and checked for dilation. “What information do we have on her?”

“I can go check. All I know is she’s been in labor for more than a day.”

“Go.” Astrid tried to keep her voice steady. Panic wouldn’t be helpful, that was for sure. She smiled at the young woman. “I’m going to examine you to see what the problem is.” She dipped her hands in the basin of carbolic acid and shook them out, then laying one hand on the abdomen, she explored the birth canal with the other. What she felt was not a smooth little head.

The woman groaned and thrashed her head from side to side. She tried to sit upright.

“Don’t be afraid.” Astrid kept her voice soothing but firm, smiling into the terrified green eyes. Surely if she’d had other children she wouldn’t be so frightened.

“There’s no one out there waiting for her,” the nurse said as she returned. “Admitting said two men half dragged her in, then hightailed it out again. Nurse thought maybe she is a lady of the night.”

“A what?”

“A prostitute, Doctor.” She looked around as if she’d been caught cursing.

Astrid blinked. So sheltered had her life been in Blessing. She’d not learned the term until she came here, where the hospital served the dregs of humanity. “So that means she’s not seen a doctor or possibly even a midwife?”

“Sometimes when the midwife can’t help, they send the women here.”

“Well, if they’d do that earlier, it would sure help.” She checked the baby’s heart again. “We’re going to lose this one if we don’t do something different and soon. Call an orderly so you can hold her down while I see if I can turn the baby. It’s either breech or posterior presentation.” Astrid tried to remember the stories her mother had told of the babies she’d birthed through the years. Cesarean was an option but a last resort. How could she turn the baby?

An older nurse came in with one of the orderlies, who waited by the door. “Sean here speaks Gaelic. Tell him what you need.”

“Thank you.” Astrid told him and waited while he talked with the woman.

“First baby. She doesn’t want to die.”

“That makes all of us. Tell her I am going to examine her again and she has to lie still or you will hold her down.”

He translated while the three of them took opposite positions. “Ready.”

As soon as the contraction passed, Astrid tried again. When she closed her eyes to concentrate more fully, she could hear her mother once saying,
“We had the woman get up on her hands and knees, and I
was able to turn the baby.”

“All right. Here’s what we are going to do. We’re going to turn her and help her to her hands and knees, then you all will hold her there while I try to turn the baby.”