Ginny Aiken (17 page)

As she put the finishing touches to the supplies, she heard a knock at the door.

“Why, Daisy!” she exclaimed. “What a surprise. How are you feeling? Is the head wound troubling you? Any episodes of dizziness?”

Daisy shot a nervous glance down the street. “N—no, miss. I’m fine. See?” She pointed to the small scar on her brow.

Letty inspected the spot and agreed with Daisy’s assessment. “Please, dear, come inside. Since you don’t need doctoring, I can brew us a pot of tea, and we can have a chat.”

Daisy surveyed the street again. Hesitating, she rubbed a toe on the floor. She wrapped her black knit shawl closer around her. Then she met Letty’s gaze. “Are you alone?”

The question threw her off guard. “Of course. Why?”

Daisy took another peek at the street behind her, and Letty wondered if she’d run away from a “client” again.

“I have a friend,” Daisy whispered, furtively peering into the corners of Letty’s tiny vestibule.

“And . . . ?”

“And she needs a doctor.”

“I’m a doctor.”

“I know.”

Letty was now worried and quickly running out of patience, but she knew that by pressuring the girl, she would likely lose ground, so she prayed for endurance and waited for Daisy.

Conflicting expressions flitted over the adolescent features: fear, worry, anxiety, curiosity. Finally, the girl set her face in determined lines. “My friend needs you, but she’s scared.”

“I won’t hurt her.”

“I know,” repeated Daisy. After a pause followed by a deep breath, she said, “Can . . . can she come in?”

“Of course! The clinic and I are always ready for patients. Especially for a friend of yours.”

“Thank you, miss.”

As the girl slipped around the corner of the house, Letty mulled over Daisy’s proper language and manners. She was nowhere near as coarse as Bessie. A family—parents—had taken the care and effort to teach her at some time in the past.

When Daisy returned, Letty’s shock burned away every thought of manners and speech patterns. Daisy’s friend, Mim Greer, was another child. A badly beaten child.

Long brown hair covered Mim’s face, which was perhaps just as well, since her eyes were blackened, her nose broken, and her lip split. A gash cut across an elegant cheekbone, and torn orange satin sagged from a girlish chest despite her every effort to hold the rent edges closed.

Daisy helped her friend limp into the examining room and, with Letty’s assistance, got Mim onto the table. Letty then asked Daisy to fill a basin with warm water while she prepared a Calendula lotion to clean Mim’s injuries. She again kept silent, this
time praying for guidance and wisdom in ministering to these two lost sheep.

Letty opened the torn bodice farther and winced at the bruises already painting Mim’s ribs in reds and purples. Upon examination, she found two of the fragile bones broken. She retrieved a large roll of bandage from one of the shelves Eric had built and with a featherweight touch wrapped Mim’s torso.

“He kicked her!” Daisy finally cried.

Letty studied the girls. Daisy’s outburst clearly bothered Mim. Daisy looked murderous.

“If I ask who did it, will either of you tell me?”

“No!” cried Mim.

Daisy shook her head with regret.

“Well, then,” Letty said, “it’s just as I expected. We won’t talk about who, but perhaps we should discuss why you were hit, Mim. Can you tell me that?”

Mim lowered her lashes, and a fat tear rolled down each bruised cheek. “I wouldn’t do what he wanted me to do.”

Letty’s stomach turned. Mim was a child, younger even than Daisy, who looked to be around fifteen or sixteen years of age. What indignities had she been forced to bear?

Lord Jesus, I need your help, and she needs your healing touch.

Letty asked the girl, “What do you plan to do now?”

A shoulder rose then sank back down. “I guess I’ll stay with Bessie until I’m better. Then I can go back to . . . work.”

She recoiled at the very thought. If she, Letitia Morgan, had any say in the matter, and with God’s bountiful mercy, this child would never go back to “work.” Neither would Daisy, and nothing would force Caroline Patterson into such a life; not Caroline, not Amelia, not Suzannah.

Although she knew she treaded on touchy ground, Letty needed more answers. “Do you
want
to stay with Bessie?”

The two girls shared a telling look. In spite of it, both turned
to her and nodded. Mim nodded yet again and sighed. “It’s for the best, miss.”

“Why would you say that?” Letty asked, knowing the answer but seeking to break through to the girls. “Have you nowhere else to go?”

Daisy shrugged. “I can go back to work. As long as I’m working, I can stay in my room. But Mim, since she can’t work like this and hasn’t enough to pay . . . well, she doesn’t have anywhere but Bessie’s.”

Letty tipped up her chin, squared her shoulders, and firmed her spine. “Couldn’t Mim stay with me?”

Fear filled both young faces. They glanced at each other, then Daisy turned to study the street through Letty’s front window.

“We can’t,” she answered, finally satisfied with what she saw, or didn’t see. “Please don’t ask why. We just can’t.”

Letty could bear no more. “Girls, it’s clear neither of you is happy. Neither of you is anxious to stay with Bessie, either. On the other hand, you trusted me enough to come here for help.”

When neither child spoke, Letty appealed to her heavenly Father again.
Dear God, don’t let me make a mistake now. It matters too much
.

“I want to help you even more,” she said. “You can stay with me, Mim, until you’re well, and longer still—for as long as you wish. You too, Daisy. Please, don’t go back where you’re in danger all the time.”

Mim’s violet eyes swam in tears. Rivulets coursed down her cheeks, plopping on her clasped hands. Slowly, very slowly, she nodded. Sobs broke out, and her nods became stronger, more decisive. She looked at Letty with anguished violet eyes.

“You’re right. I—I don’t want to go back. If . . . well, if you have work for me, I’ll stay with you, but not for nothing.”

Thank you, Father
.

“We’re agreed, then,” Letty said. “I have plenty of work for a young lady like you.”

A grim smile twisted Mim’s lips. “I’m no lady anymore.”

“Nonsense,” Letty responded. True, Mim had been forced into a disastrous set of circumstances, but God could heal the child’s emotional wounds, and if she trusted Him with her life, His salvation would wash away her sins. For that to happen, she had to see herself in a better way.

Letty slipped an arm around Mim’s shoulders. “You work for me now, and I make it a practice to employ only ladies of great worth. God made you, and that’s what you are in His eyes.”

Daisy snorted. “Don’t think she won’t come after you, Mim.”

Mim jutted her rounded chin. “You hush, Daisy Butler. You can do what you want, but I’m tired of being hungry, of dirty men, of doing things I can’t bear to do anymore.” Mim shuddered. “I’m staying with Dr. Morgan. You can go back to Bessie and the house.”

Daisy’s cheeks flushed. She lowered her head, then glowered at Mim. “She’ll come for you. I know. But fine, I’ll just go back on my own. Thank you so very much, Miss Lady Mim.”

Letty cringed at Daisy’s acrimonious tone. She didn’t want to come between the two friends, but she rejoiced in the rescue of even one girl. She’d already gained a significant measure of Daisy’s trust. Now, by keeping Mim under her wing, perhaps she would woo Daisy from her hideous existence as well.

“Daisy, my dear,” Letty said, “you’re always welcome here. I have plenty of work for two young ladies. If you don’t choose to stay, you can still visit whenever you wish. And since Mim will be here, too, we’d both be happy for your company.”

Daisy stood taller when Letty called her a “young lady.” She straightened her marigold-and-black-striped skirt and hitched up the black lace at her décolletage. A sweet, poignant longing replaced the pride in her eyes. It was within Letty’s grasp to
grant Daisy’s unspoken wish, but the girl had to take the first crucial step.

“I can’t,” Daisy said, almost as if to convince herself. “But I’ll visit. I—I’m happy for you, Mim. And I’d best be going now.”

“Very well,” agreed Letty, aching to put her arms around Daisy and never let her leave.

Yet it was Daisy who, red faced, threw her arms around first Mim and then Letty. Letty held on as long as the girl allowed.

“Remember, Daisy,” she whispered, “whenever you need me, I’ll help you. Anytime, anywhere.”

“I’ll remember.”

With her arm around Daisy’s shoulders, Letty walked her to the door. She slipped her hands into the pockets of her gray flannel skirt and watched as the girl sauntered toward Main Street. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Emmaline Whitehall standing stock-still across the street.

Agape and rigid with obvious indignation, Emmaline just stared. Moments later, she smacked her lips shut and sniffed. She deigned another look at Letty, a look rife with disdain.

Oh, no. Emmaline couldn’t get away with this sort of behavior. Only God had the right to judge Letty or anyone who left her home. “Good morning, Emmaline,” she called. “Do you need medical attention?”

Emmaline’s jaw flapped open again. When she jerked it shut, Letty thought she heard the woman’s thin lips slap together. “Not now, Dr. Morgan.”

Struggling to contain her temper, Letty watched the woman turn and stalk back to Main Street. She’d lost a patient, it seemed, but she’d retained her self-respect.

She went back inside, ready to deal with the immediate need. She had a housemate. Where should she put Mim? The house was no larger than a bird’s nest. When she reached the girl, she noted Mim’s sleepy eyes. “Come on, dear. Let’s get you to bed.”

The child never argued and, moving painfully, followed
Letty to the room in the eaves. Letty slipped one of her flannel nightdresses over Mim’s head and helped her into bed. Under the rose-colored quilt, the child barely ruffled the covers. Letty folded the torn orange satin dress and set it on the oak dresser. The next time she checked, the girl slept peacefully.

Again at loose ends, Letty remembered the basket she’d packed. This would be a good time to get the food to the Pattersons.

She wrote a brief note for Mim and propped it against the basin on the washstand. She ran downstairs and, grabbing the basket by the handle, went on her way.

She found Amos perched on a stool filing a horseshoe.

“An’ how’s Hartville’s fine doctor this mornin’, ma’am?”

“Very well, Mr. Jimson. How are my horses?”

“Fine, just fine, Doc. An’ call me Amos. Everybody does.”

She nodded. “I need Prince and the buggy. I have an errand to run.”

“Goin’ to birth more babies?”

“Not right now. I’m off to the Pattersons’ with food for the children.”

Amos frowned. “That lazy drunk ain’t gonna get it, is he?”

Letty sighed. “I can’t say for sure. I can only pray that the children might benefit from what I give them.”

Amos rose, slapped his hands on his thighs, and headed toward the stable. “Bad,” he muttered. “Them young’uns is in a bad way. Let’s get you goin’.”

Letty had to agree with Amos’s assessment. It wasn’t a wholesome place for children. When she reached the rickety house, she conquered the treacherous steps, skirted the gaping hole in the porch, and knocked, noting how the warped wood rattled against the jamb.

Caroline, with baby Willy at her shoulder, answered. “Oh, no! What did Steven do now?”

Letty suppressed a smile. “Nothing I know of, dear. I brought you some extra food my patients gave me.”

“Extra . . . ? Food?”

It seemed a foreign concept to the girl. Perhaps it was in a family of five children, especially one with a father more intent on carousing than on providing for them.

“I’ll trade you my basket for baby Willy,” Letty offered, and they made the switch. As she cuddled the little one, she stepped farther inside and perused her surroundings. The small, dark parlor was furnished with only a torn settee. A threadbare braided rug, also torn, lay on the sagging floorboards. Heavy draperies shrouded a tall, narrow window. She thanked the Lord for the roof over the children’s heads and the food for their bellies—at least in the immediate future.

“Thank ye, Dr. Miss,” Caroline said. “We ’preciate it.”

“Thank God for His generous provision rather than me,” Letty suggested.

Caroline nodded vaguely, set the heavy basket on the floor, and wrapped her arms around her middle. She seemed unaccustomed to empty arms; each time Letty had seen the girl, she’d held Willy astride her hip. She also noted Caroline’s unease. She clearly wasn’t used to visitors.

Hugging Willy closer still, Letty kissed his silky, golden hair. His older sister was affording the baby basic cleanliness, although the crusty secretions on his nose did give Letty cause for concern. “Has the baby had the sniffles for a long time?”

Caroline paused to think. “Mebbe two days now, Dr. Miss.”

“Has he run a fever with it? Sneezed a lot? And what about coughing? Has he done any of that?”

The girl slowly shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Reluctant to leave, but aware of her patient back home, Letty said, “Here.” She held Willy out to his sister. “I must be on my way. I have a boarder, and she’s hurt. It’ll soon be time for me to look in on her again.”

As soon as Caroline set the baby back on her hip, he filled his
fists with her hair and nuzzled her shoulder. Letty ached at the love between the two. If only . . .

“G’bye, Dr. Miss.”

Despite her concern for Mim, Letty couldn’t tear herself away from these two just yet. “Caroline, when did you children last have milk?”

Caroline shrugged.

“Well, then, I’ll make sure that from now on you have plenty. It’s important for your bones.”

She nodded.

Letty took a step toward the door, then turned. “About baby Willy’s nasal secretions . . . please send Steven to me. I’ll have a remedy ready to clear him right up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”