A Measure of Mercy (34 page)

Why was it harder to write to him than to anyone else? Not that she had written to many others, but she felt she had to pick and choose what to tell him. Perhaps if his letters to her were not so brief and stilted, she would feel freer to write about life at the hospital.

What it comes down to,
she thought,
is that I just don’t know him
very well at all, and while I’ve heard of people getting to know each other
through letters, this doesn’t seem to be working.
She rubbed her eyes and tipped her head back and to the sides, trying to pull the tightness from her neck and shoulders. A day with no surgery had been unusual. She thought back to her time with Benny. She’d found him in the wagon being pulled by one of the other children.

“How did you get out of your bed?” she’d asked.

“I slid out.”

“Didn’t it hurt when your legs hit the floor?”

“Some. But I checked, and they don’t bleed no more.”

“What if we make wooden legs for you and teach you how to use crutches?”

He shrugged.

“It won’t be easy, but you could get around.”
Please, Lord, let it
be so.

“I ain’t goin’ to the orphanage.” He clamped his arms across his chest.

“I’m working on something,” she whispered, leaning closer to his ear.

His face brightened. “I could come live with you.”

“You’re going to have to go to school.”

Now he frowned.

“You don’t want to grow up ignorant, do you?”

“Ig-igrant. What’s that?”

“You learn things like the meaning of words in school. You learn to read. You know how much you like it when someone reads to you.” At his halfhearted shrug, she continued, “And you learn to do arithmetic. Along with so many other things I can’t begin to tell you all of it.”

“No orphanage.”

“Then you better use the pull-up bar that the janitor is making for your bed. He said he’d have it here tomorrow.”

He looked at her out of the side of his eye, a trick of his when he wasn’t sure what she was asking.

THE NEXT AFTERNOON Benny’s bed was at the center of a group of giggling children. “My turn” was squealed more than any other word as Benny demonstrated how to pull himself up with his arms.

Astrid watched while Benny scooted to the end of the bed and another child took his place lying prone. Some could pull up, but most couldn’t. Perhaps they should have pull-up bars for all the beds and run contests with prizes for the winners. When she suggested it to Mr. Korchensky, he shook his head. But his grin said he would think on it.

Astrid brought herself back to the letters at hand, putting the pencil and paper back in the compartments so designated. She dropped her letters off at the front desk so they could be mailed in the morning. Perhaps since there’d been no surgeries, she’d not be called to assist with anything in the middle of the night.

SHE WAS NEARLY finished with rounds the next morning when a surgical nurse came for her. “We have a cesarean to perform immediately.”

Astrid excused herself and followed the nurse to the scrub room. “Who am I assisting?” she asked, since there was no doctor present.

“You’re it for now. Dr. Whitaker is tied up in the other operating theatre, and Dr. Franck will be observing with some of the newer students.”

Astrid blinked and started scrubbing. Yes, she’d assisted before, and yes, she’d been assisted by one of the other doctors. “Who will be assisting?”

The nurse named one of the other surgical students.

Taking a deep breath, Astrid continued. “All right, then, tell me the story.”

“The woman has been in labor for somewhere around twenty-four hours, and when nothing was happening, the family brought her here. While she is dilated, the baby has not crowned, and—”

“Why did they wait so long? Is the fetus viable?” She could keep from thinking
live baby
if she used the technical words.

“We have a faint heartbeat.”

“How fast?” She glanced at the nurse, who was shaking her head. “Let’s see what we can do.”
Please, God, this has to be in your hands.
She pushed through the door and stepped to the table. The woman was already anesthetized, and the nurse was holding the ether cone.

Astrid picked up the scalpel, nodded to the young man assisting her, and made the first incision. Even with the quickest work she could manage, the baby never responded. Blinking back tears, she concentrated on the mother. If she could at least keep one of them alive, she knew she would have done her best. She let the student doctor close and complimented him on a job well done. Now all she had to do was go tell the family the sad news.

“Why did they wait so long?” She fought the tears of both sorrow and anger, dumping her operating apron in the laundry.

“She’s not one of ours,” the nurse said, meaning one of the mothers who came to the hospital for prenatal care and training. “And the midwife thought she could handle it.”

“With hips that narrow, she should have known better.”

“True. That’s the kind of training we are trying to offer, midwives included. They are necessary because we can’t convince all the women to come here. They don’t have the money, and you know that birthing units are rare in hospitals. We lead the field in our care for mothers and babies. But we cannot handle them all.”

Astrid listened and nodded as she washed and changed into a clean apron and shirt. “And how many other places do cesareans?”

“Not many.” The nurse patted her on the shoulder. “You did very well in there.”

“Thank you. You want to go out and tell the family that?”

Dr. Franck met her in the hallway outside the door. “You did well.”

Astrid bit back a sarcastic comment and let herself appreciate his comment. “Thank you. If we’d saved the baby, it would have been worth it.”

“You did save the mother, however. Keep that in mind.” He strode off down the hall, leaving her to go to the waiting room, where a man with two children looked up at her entrance.

“Your wife came through the surgery all right.”

“And the baby?”

“I’m sorry. It was too late.”

“A boy or a girl?”

“A boy.”

He nodded. “Thank you. When can I see her?”

“She should be awake in an hour or so. Someone will come for you.” She nodded and left the room, hearing the little girl asking where her mother was.

Lord, was there anything I could have done differently? Hurried
faster? Skipped scrubbing? But then the mother might have died too, of
an infection. Of course she still might.
That thought made her swallow.
Please, Father, help her to live.

Since there was nothing else on her schedule until after dinner, she returned to her room to find a letter on her pillow. From Mor. Astrid ripped open the envelope and scanned the page. She had agreed to take Benny until Rebecca and Gerald had a house without stairs, and then he would go to live with them.

Astrid read about Emaline, who still had not said a word but never left Mor’s side.

She has the most expressive eyes. And she loves to play with the cat. She laughs, so we know her vocal cords work. She and Inga have become great friends, and Inga talks for both of them. No one here is at all surprised at that.

Let us know when we can come for Benny.

Love from your Mor

One good thing to compensate for the one bad. Astrid clutched the letter to her chest. If only she could take Benny to Blessing in time for Christmas. A wave of homesickness rolled over her, and she found herself sitting on the bed.
Almost halfway there.

27

B
LESSING
, N
ORTHDAKOTA

W
hat a discussion we have going now.

Ingeborg glanced over to see that Kaaren was praying. While her eyes were open to keep track of things, her mind was definitely elsewhere.

“Ladies, ladies.” Mary Martha Solberg raised her hands, in supplication or for quiet, Ingeborg wasn’t sure which. Why had Astrid sent the letter to Mrs. Solberg rather than to her or Kaaren? Thinking on it, she figured it out. Her daughter was trying to keep her mother and her aunt out of the middle.

“As if we don’t give enough already!” Mrs. Valders glared around the room, her glower resting on Ingeborg. “
Your daughter
must have no idea how much we already do for those less fortunate and have done for years.”

Ingeborg started to respond but kept quiet when she caught Mary Martha’s slight headshake. The emphasis on
your daughter
made Astrid sound like something newly crawled out of a muddy ditch.

“We do have a lot here,” Mrs. Magron offered. “God really has blessed us all.”

Ingeborg mentally applauded the usually meek woman who had always followed Hildegunn’s leading. Well, not so much lately, come to think of it. Thinking back to other quilting sessions, she’d been a dissenter more than once.

Hildegunn glared at her followers. Mrs. Veiglun and Mrs. Odell could be depended on to agree with her.

“Ladies.” Mary Martha stood and spoke more firmly. “We have received a perfectly legitimate appeal for assistance. And from someone who could be our window to the world. I think we need to prayerfully consider her request.”

Dr. Elizabeth leaned forward. “Perhaps I could add something to this?”

Mary Martha nodded and sat down.

“Astrid and I have been dreaming of creating an outreach medical arm, sort of like a traveling clinic, where one of us would visit small towns that have no medical help. We had talked about including our local reservation. Since the Indians do not bring their ill and wounded to us, we feel we should go to them. They are part of God’s family too. We are in discussion with the hospital in Chicago as to the building and staffing of our hospital here and provisioning such an outreach.”

Ingeborg watched how the doctor’s speech was affecting the others in the room. These were good-hearted people who would do the right thing, given some thinking time and proper leadership. Some just reacted more quickly and vociferously than the others. Now if she could control her own desire to go nose to nose with Hildegunn . . .
Remember how polite and cheerful she has been to you lately,
a little voice whispered.

Pastor’s lessons on forgiveness had been hitting Ingeborg in the heart region. Squirming was not a good feeling. How much easier it was to point fingers at others and not look inside herself.

No one seemed to want to look at the others. Instead they studied fingers, handkerchiefs, a spot on a skirt, anything but look up.

Mary Martha looked to Kaaren. “I think we should table this discussion and do some thinking and praying on it. Kaaren, if you will read to us as soon as we get settled into our duties. If anyone has a request for today, let her know.” She glanced around the group. “We have the wedding ring quilt for Gus and Maydell on the stretcher to be quilted; that is our most critical project today. We have a wool top ready to be put together. We’ll tie that one, and I know Ingeborg has a child-sized quilt that she has been working on for Emaline. Are there any other projects nearing completion that I am not aware of?”

Mrs. Geddick raised her hand. “I have the pieces cut for a three-inch nine patch, using plain blue squares in between. I am trying to make a quilt for each of my sons, for when they have their own homes.”

“How many sewing machines do we have today?” Mary Martha asked. She counted the hands. “Three. Good. I put the flatirons on the stove to heat. Let’s begin with prayer.” She waited until all heads were bowed. “Heavenly Father, we gather here in your name to do your work, to care for each other, and to draw closer to you. We thank you for giving us a reprieve from the coming winter, for snug homes, and for an abundance of food on our tables and in our larders. Thank you for your great love for us and help us to spread that love around. In Jesus’ name we pray, amen.”

Like a flock of birds, they all rose, laughing and twittering, choosing where to start and settling down again in their appropriate places. Eight women surrounded the stretcher for the wedding ring quilt. Ingeborg took charge of the ironing board. Penny and Kaaren took two machines, Mrs. Geddick the other. Rebecca and Sophie, scissors in hand, took over the cutting table.

“Where’s Emmy?” Sophie asked Ingeborg.

“Helping Haakan.” It hadn’t taken long for Emaline to be shortened to Emmy.

“I’m surprised she let you out of her sight.”

“Thorliff took Inga out there too,” Dr. Elizabeth added. “She thought having a day with Bestefar would be better than coming here.”

Ellie glanced over to where the small children were playing, with Addy Geddick, Mrs. Geddick’s daughter, supervising. “If I’d sent Carl over there, they would have had a real party.”

“You should have all brought them to my house, but with Deborah working days, Garth’s sister Helga already has her hands full.”

“Why doesn’t she come to quilters?”

“She says she doesn’t like to sew and would rather I got to go for a change.” Sophie grinned. “Now if that’s not the best kind of sister-in- law to have.” She turned to Ellie. “Your little May looks more like you every day. I sure wish your mother could come more often. She must miss seeing the little ones something fierce.”