A Measure of Mercy (3 page)

“We’ve done what we can. Most people would say this one is impossible.”

Thorliff took his wife’s hand. “But, as Mor reminded me, with God all things are possible.”

“And we have seen Him do the impossible before.”

“That we have.” Elizabeth glanced over at Astrid. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know. A wave of tiredness just rolled over me. I can hardly pick up my spoon.”

“That’s not surprising. Just make yourself eat and drink plenty of lemonade. It’ll pass.” Elizabeth did as she’d told Astrid. She turned to Thorliff. “What did you do with Inga?”

“She’s out at Andrew’s, playing with Carl. I took her there when I saw the man in the wagon. I knew you would be busy, and I didn’t want her to see such carnage.”

“Thank you.”

Astrid drank half the glass of lemonade and buttered a roll, putting slices of meat and cheese and a leaf of lettuce on it. Her feet were aching, her back was whining, and her hands were shaking. Her eyes burned as if she had been crying—or would be shortly. Taking a bite of her roll, she ordered herself to chew. Elizabeth was eating her roll and laughed at something Thorliff said. Pastor Solberg nodded and joined in the laughter. All Astrid wanted to do was throw up what little she had eaten and cry herself to sleep. She’d made it through the worst surgery of her life. What was wrong with her now?

2

I
ngeborg checked Vernon’s pulse. Slow but steady. Amazed that he was doing this well after the surgery he’d been through, she sat down in the chair and picked up her prayers again. They felt tangible, like something she could hold in her hands. She closed her eyes, the idea of hands continuing like a gentle stream flowing through her mind. Only instead of her own hands, now she pictured God’s hands, mighty and yet tender, holding this young man securely in His palm, His fingers gently stroking the inert body.

Thank you, Father. You bid us come to you, to bring you the broken of
body and heart. Thank you that you promise to heal, to restore, to comfort.
I ask peace for this child of yours—peace in his body and in his mind. Let
him feel your presence, your great love. Father, I praise you and thank
you for your never-ending love and mercy. You know all things, and you
know his needs far better than I do. I thank you that we can trust you to
do the very best.
She leaned back in the chair, her praises continuing with each breath, each beat of her heart.

Please protect him from the infection that lurks from all the debris
we couldn’t find.
She laid the back of her hand against his cheek and forehead. Still cool.
Thank you, Father.

Dr. Elizabeth stopped in the doorway. “How is he?”

“Vernon is one strong young man. He is holding his own.”

“Call me if you see any change?”

“I will. You look tired.”

“Surgery like that takes every ounce of energy and skill. Thank you for your prayers, both for him and for us.”

“God is in control.”

“I know. Thank you for the reminder.” Elizabeth brushed her hand over her forehead.

“Can you lie down for a bit?” Ingeborg asked, watching her daughter-in-law’s face.

“I just sent Astrid up to lie down instead. She got a bit worn out. Not unusual for what she’s been through. I remember reacting much the same. One time I fainted. Any surgery is grueling, but this was beyond anything even I’ve ever done.”

“I’m not surprised. This was her first surgery inside a body, wasn’t it?”

Elizabeth nodded. “She has stitched up many superficial wounds, set bones, and birthed babies. But having your hands inside the body of a living person is a whole different matter. I was proud at her willingness to put aside her discomfort and concentrate only on what needed doing.” Elizabeth chuckled. “And she is just as amazed, I think.”

Ingeborg sensed her patient moving before he actually opened his eyes. “Be still, Vernon. You are here at the doctor’s. Your father went home to bring your mother in. All will be well.”

Elizabeth crossed the room and stopped by the other side of the bed, picking up his hand. “We are keeping you sedated so the pain will not be as severe. If you can understand me, please squeeze my hand.” She smiled at the light pressure from his fingers. “Good. Go back to sleep now. You are in God’s mighty hands.”

He blinked, then closed his eyes and drifted off again.

Thank you, Father, that Elizabeth is acknowledging you more and
more. Thank you, thank you
. Ingeborg’s mind filled with songs of praise and thanksgiving, lifting her spirit as well as her smile.

Elizabeth glanced over at her. “What?”

“I’m just thanking God for you and for all this that has happened. God is so merciful.”

“Right now I need His strength, along with the mercy and grace.”

“You have it.” Ingeborg smiled at her.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I asked and you asked, and He says where two or three are gathered and agree, He will do it.”

“Thank you both.” Elizabeth drew in a deep breath. “I think I’ll walk outside a couple of minutes before I go back to my waiting patients.”

“Good idea. Fresh air is another of His gifts.”

Elizabeth paused before she went out the door. “How is Haakan?”

“Stronger all the time. I can tell a difference in the strength between his two hands, but he says he can milk as well as he used to. Milking cows is good therapy for hands and arms.”

“Good.” Elizabeth yawned. “I’ll be back in a minute or two.”

We never have enough time to visit, it seems.
Ingeborg’s mind flitted to her strawberry patch. Next week she’d have the final picking. The season was early this year. They usually had strawberries in time for the Fourth of July. She’d just slipped back into praying when Thelma entered the room with a cup and spoon on a tray.

“I chipped some ice for the young man. A spoonful whenever he comes to will do.”

“Thank you. I was about to come and get some for him to suck on.”

Thelma nodded. “I will bring more later.” She set her tray on the table next to Ingeborg. “Can I bring you something cold to drink?”

“That would be lovely, but I can come and get it.”

“You sit there and put your feet up.” She scooted the footstool over in front of Ingeborg. “Do you have your knitting?”

“No, I left in too much of a hurry to grab it.”

“I’m making a dress for Inga. You could hem it if you like.”

“I’d love to. Mange takk.” Sewing for her little granddaughter and namesake always lightened Ingeborg’s heart.

The young man groaned, and his fingers twitched on the sheet that covered him.

Ingeborg let the songs in her mind murmur aloud and watched as the lines in his face smoothed out. She felt his cheek again. Still cool.

Astrid, after tying on a fresh white apron that covered her from shoulder to ankle, stopped in the doorway. “Singing him to sleep?”

“It seems to help. Did you sleep?”

“Like a cat in the sunshine.” She stretched and yawned. “Did Elizabeth mention that I got so shaky I could hardly stand?”

“That isn’t surprising. The wonderful thing is that you were able to do what was needed. I’ve seen big men faint from far less. Elizabeth has told stories of nurses and doctors in training fainting in surgeries or having to leave because they were vomiting.”

“The smell was horrible.” Astrid shivered a little. “Worse even than when we burned the cattle.”

“Because of the damaged intestines, but you persevered.”

“You think helping butcher animals and chickens made me tougher?”

“Probably. Being out in the open air helps blow the stench away, not like in that small room.” Ingeborg picked up the cup and held a chip of ice to Vernon’s lips. “Try this,” she said softly and smiled as he did so.

“I need to help Elizabeth with the other patients. I’ll come back later so you can go home.”

Ingeborg nodded and spooned another small chip into their patient’s mouth.

Noise in the hallway caught her attention a bit later. A man’s voice first and then a woman’s.

“My son. I want to see my son.” The mother’s anguish swirled into the room ahead of a rounded woman with graying hair knotted in a bun. The lines in her face that bespoke hard work now slashed deeper with fear.

Ingeborg stood and motioned to her chair. “You sit here so you can be near him.”

“Mrs. Bjorklund, this is my wife, Wilma. We came back as soon as we could.” Mr. Baxter clutched his hat to his chest and stared down at his boy. “He is still alive.”

“Yes, and he has swallowed some ice bits. It is there in the cup. He can have some every few minutes as long as he can swallow and keep it down.”

The mother’s tears dripped onto her son’s hand as she clutched it to her cheek. She spoke in tear-seasoned German, but the tone sounded only of love.

Vernon’s eyes fluttered open, and he stared into his mother’s face, then turned slightly to look to his father. The faintest of nods welcomed their presence before he drifted off again.

“Can I get you anything? Something cool to drink?” Ingeborg asked.

Mr. Baxter shook his head. “Thank you. Perhaps later.”

“I’ll be back in a while. Call if there is any change or you need anything. The necessary is right down the hall.”

“Not outside?”

“No. There is running water to wash with too. We all wash our hands to try to keep infection down. I can show you how to use it.”

“Ja, that would be good.” Mr. Baxter followed her from the room and down the hall. “This is most amazing.”

“I know.” Ingeborg opened the door. She turned the handles on the faucets, pulled the chain above the commode, and showed him the bar of soap and the hand towels. “Please wash and then show your wife how this works. We scrub our hands with brushes like the one there.” She pointed to a brush on a glass shelf above the sink.
Please,
Lord, let him not be offended.

“Danke.” He spoke his thanks with a slight bow, a look of amazement etched on his face.

Ingeborg headed for the kitchen and a cup of much needed coffee.

“You go sit on the porch, where there’s a bit of breeze. I will bring the coffee.” Thelma paused. “And the dress.”

Ingeborg nodded, and out on the porch she sank into a rocking chair with thick red plaid cushions. A breeze lifted the tendrils of hair that had loosed themselves from the braids fashioned in a crown framing her face and neck. She let her head rest against the back of the chair and reveled in the cool air on her skin. A robin sang from the elm tree just off the porch. Swallows dipped and darted after bugs and brought daubs of mud to their houses in the eaves of the porch. Thelma set a tray on the table and the dress on a chair beside Ingeborg, then with a smile she returned back inside the house.

A plate of molasses cookies sat between a cup of coffee and a glass of lemonade. She started with the lemonade, holding the cold glass against her forehead and cheeks.

Inga’s black-and-white cat mounted the steps and rubbed against her skirt, eyeing the birds as she mewed to be picked up.

“All right, come ahead.” Ingeborg set her glass back on the tray and patted her knees. The cat didn’t need a second invitation and leaped into her lap, bumping her head under Ingeborg’s chin before turning around, kneading with her front paws, and curling in a circle. Ingeborg stroked the cat, enjoying the soft fur and the purring motor that started up with the first stroke. Smiling, she reached for the cup of coffee and a cookie. “Now if this isn’t the life. Sitting here in the middle of the afternoon and ignoring all the work that needs doing.” She eyed the pinafore with ruffles along the crossed straps and ties for the back of the gathered skirt. She knew the pink-and-white checks of gingham would delight her granddaughter.

When she finished the cookie and the cup was only half full, she picked up the dress, along with the threaded needle, and blindstitched the hem. The cat leaped lightly to the wide board that formed the ledge on the porch railing and prowled after the birds, the tip of her tail twitching as she melted into a crouch.

Ingeborg watched the cat between thrusts of the needle. “You better not let Inga see you hunting so close to the house.”

“So, Mor, who are you talking to now?” Thorliff pushed open the gate and strolled up the walk.

“The cat.”

“I see. Did Mr. and Mrs. Baxter arrive?”

“Yes. They are sitting with their son, so I came out here. You want some coffee or lemonade?”

“You sit still. I’ll get it,” Thorliff said when she started to get up.

For a change, Ingeborg settled back. She started to scold herself for being lazy but instead shrugged and chose to enjoy the moment of ease.

Thelma met him at the door with a duplicate tray of the one she’d brought Ingeborg. “You make sure your mother sits awhile longer.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“Be that as it may. I wasn’t working that surgery like they were and taking care of the young man.” She raised her voice. “I took more ice chips in. Taking care of her son gives his mother something to do with her hands.”

“Mange takk, Thelma. You are so wise. What would we do without you?”