Streams of Mercy (10 page)

“God did.”

“Ja, God did. And to think I did not really want to come here. I thought I would be a doctor in Minnesota. Until Thorliff came into my life.”

“As Mor says so often, God does good work when we let Him.”

“Dr. Astrid, we have a patient waiting,” Miriam said after tapping at the door.

“I’m going on home, then,” Elizabeth said. “Remember, you have tomorrow off. Thelma will do just fine with Roald. He needs to learn that I am not always there.”

“If you insist.”

“I’ll check in on Clara before I leave.” Elizabeth slid her notes into her bag. “I’ll rewrite these to make some sense for the records.”

Astrid checked to make sure she had her stethoscope in her apron pocket and headed for the examining room.
Lord, please give me the same wisdom you give my mother. Thank you for blessing our hospital the way you do, and help us especially with Clara. You know I would
like to get even with whoever abused her, but as Mor would say, vengeance is yours, not ours. But if
there is a special place in hell for a man like that, please see to it.
She tapped on the door and entered the examining room to see Johnny Solberg sitting on the table with a foot so swollen he couldn’t wear a shoe.

“What happened?” Astrid asked him as she rolled up his pant leg.

He looked to his mother, Mary Martha Solberg, who was sitting in the chair by the door. She shook her head. “You tell her.”

“I, um, we were playing soccer and I, um, accidentally hit the tree.”

Astrid gave him a questioning look. “You kicked the tree?”

“Well, Gunner and I were scrambling for the ball, and I kicked at it but he kicked it first and I hit the tree instead.” He scrunched his face and tried to pull back when she, trying to be as gentle as possible, probed the foot. “Oww.”

“Sorry, Johnny, but I have to see if any bones are broken. When did this happen?”

“Yesterday after school.”

“Why did you not come in then?”

“He tried to hide it, but when he couldn’t walk this morning, I packed some ice around it, which I would have done last night had I known about it.” Mary Martha glared at her son. “Last night he said he didn’t feel well and just wanted to go to bed, so I thought he was coming down with something and didn’t bother to look at his foot, which was under the covers.”

“I see.” Astrid shook her head. “Until we get this swelling down, I can’t tell anything. Let’s get you in a bed, and we’ll get your foot elevated and iced and see what happens. Can you bend your ankle?” He did with a groan. “Move your toes?” This time he clamped his jaw tight and his face paled.

“Let’s hope it is just a sprain and bruised. I’ll call the nurses to get a bed set up and in the meantime, we’ll give you some pain medicine.” She looked to his mother. “You’ll want to bring him some nightclothes. We’re going to have to open that pant leg to get it over his foot. You wait here, and I’ll be right back.” Outside the door, it was all she could do to keep from laughing. Not that the injury was funny, but what a story.

She explained to Miriam and the student nurse what they would do and stopped in Clara’s room to see if her mother was still there. When they said she’d gone home, she asked Deborah
to call Ingeborg and ask if someone could bring in Manny’s crutches when they came to town. No rush. Johnny would be off that foot for a couple of days at least. If only they had one of those wonderful new inventions, the x-ray machine. Oh to be able to see those bones without having to cut the foot open. What a shame it would be if the bones were broken and she was not able to set them correctly.

That night at the supper table she told them about Johnny kicking the tree. “Talk about a crazy accident.”

“Well, at least he’ll still be able to play the guitar.” Astrid’s husband, Daniel, tried to keep back a snort.

“I’d be careful not to laugh if I were you,” his mother, Amelia, admonished. “I seem to remember a few
accident
s that were more than strange at our house too.”

“Like the time I got my tongue stuck in that bottle?”

Astrid’s mouth fell open. “You did what?”

Amelia scowled. “I had to break the bottle, and I was scared to pieces it might slash his tongue to bits.”

“May I ask why you . . .”

The scowl did not soften. “He said it was an experiment. His father said he understood since he was of an experiential nature also.”

“You couldn’t get any oil . . . ?”

“We tried everything.”

“I see.” Astrid cocked an eyebrow. “Remind me when we have children not to tell them things like that, just in case they might want to try it.”

But Amelia was not done with the conversation. “Remember when your pa said don’t put your tongue on the pump handle in the winter, and you did, and we had to pour warm water over the handle for what seemed like hours to get your tongue loose?”

“I’ve always wondered why he said that. I never would have thought to do such a thing.” Daniel shrugged. “I asked him once, and he never answered.”

Astrid giggled. “I wonder how much of his tongue was left on the pump handle when he was a boy.”

“Ma, would you please pour some coffee in her cup and stuff a piece of cake in her mouth?” Daniel nodded toward his wife, who by this time had progressed from a giggle to an out-and-out laugh.

Amelia was smirking too. “So, Johnny Solberg. What will you do for him?”

“Get the swelling down first and pray there are no broken bones. There are so many small bones in a foot, one or more could easily be shattered. I’d rather not have to open the foot and look for bone fragments. That tree is kind of hard on our kids. Inga fell out of it and broke her arm. Another child fell into it and had a mild concussion, and now Johnny with his foot.”

Daniel was nodding thoughtfully. “I was thinking the other day that we ought to build some swings for the school. That and some monkey bars. Give them some other things to play on during recess.”

“The women would say build another school first.”

“Somehow I can’t see the two competing, at least in scope. I think I’ll talk with my class at the machine shop. Let them design it and see if something new comes of it. I sent them out to talk with the farmers about what might be a helpful addition to their machinery. That Tonio is one sharp young man. I’ve been meaning to mention that to Miriam Knutson.”

“Her other brother and sisters are doing well in school too. Their mother and father raised a fine brood in spite of the father’s death and the ensuing poverty. They are really hard
workers, all of them.” Astrid caught a yawn but Daniel noticed anyway.

“You’re not planning on going back to the hospital, are you?”

“No, I’m going to bed. I’ve felt really good for the last few months and now I’m feeling really tired again. Hope I am not coming down with something.”

C
HAPTER 8

F
our days later, the nurses and Astrid helped Clara into the lightweight buggy, and Ingeborg drove her out to the farm. On the way she pointed out the buildings of Blessing, including who lived in which house. Patches yipped a greeting soon after they turned into the lane. At least the west wind had helped dry out the mud so that when she drove on the shoulder of the lane, they didn’t sink deep. She caught an almost smile on her patient’s face. Ah. So she liked dogs.

“His name is Patches and if you give him a bit of cheese, you will be his friend forever.” She continued to speak Norwegian, wishing she had an idea of what was going on in that mind so hidden by the lack of speech. “Freda is my cousin. She lives with me and helps here each day. And she handles the cheese making. I’ve told you about Manny and Emmy, and while Manny is getting tall enough to look like a man, he is still a fourteen-year-old boy. Well, almost fifteen. You must not be afraid of him. In fact, out here there is no one to fear. You are now a member of our family, and we take care of each other. The children will be home from school in an hour or so, but
I would like to get you settled so you can rest a bit. Between you and me and Freda, we will get you up the steps to the porch.”

They’d been walking her for the last two days at the hospital, and while Thorliff and Daniel had both volunteered to help, Ingeborg had turned down the offers. She could have called Reverend Solberg, but he was teaching school and she did not want to bother him. She whoa’d the horse at the back gate, watched her patient’s reaction to Freda coming out the door, and stepped down to the ground. “You wait for us to help you, all right? Clara, please nod so I know you understand.”

Clara’s chin jerked, but the fear had returned to her eyes, and she was shaking again.

Freda tied the horse to the post and waited for Ingeborg.

“Slow but sure,” Ingeborg whispered with her back to Clara. “I’m not sure, I’ve ever seen anyone this fearful. Let’s get her into the house.”

“I made up that cot in the parlor like you said. You don’t think she can climb the stairs?”

“These four will be hard enough. She did remarkably well once we got her up, but she’s as weak as a baby bird.”

Together they helped Clara down, keeping the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. With her between them and each with an arm about Clara’s bone-thin body, they made it to the bottom of the porch stairs before they paused.

“Can you lift your feet up for each step?” The nod accompanied a shudder. Her fingers dug into Ingeborg’s. “Good. Here we go. I’ll step first.” Feeling as if she were talking to a toddler, Ingeborg put one foot on the bottom step and lifted at the same time as Freda. By the time they reached the porch floor, they were all panting.

“We made it. Let’s sit her on the bench.” With Clara huddled
on the bench by the railing, Ingeborg looked over the young woman’s head at Freda. They both rolled their eyes and sucked in a breath. “Kitchen chair next.”

“By the stove. We have to get her warmed up.”

While Clara was shaking, Ingeborg wasn’t sure if it was from cold or fear.

Patches parked himself right in front of Clara and whimpered, staring at her, his head slightly cocked to one side. Clara reached out one shaking hand and laid it on the dog’s head, earning her a quick lick on the wrist.

“I’ve never seen him act like this, Clara. It’s as if he knows you. Good dog, Patches.”

Clara flashed her a look that, had it been words, would have been a poem.

“You have had a dog before?”

A nod.

“In North Dakota?”

A sharp shake of her head.

“At home in Norway?”

Clara moved her hand gently to massage the dog’s ears.

“Time to get moving again.” Freda gripped Clara’s hand and elbow. They lifted her to standing, crossed the porch, and then Freda pushed the door open.

“You’ve been baking bread.” Ingeborg inhaled the yeasty fragrance and glanced at Clara, whose eyes were closed but her chest moved with the deep breaths. “Smells good, doesn’t it?”

This time the nod was full-headed, and another breath brought on a smile.

Why did such a simple thing as a smile make Ingeborg want to dance across the floor?
Tusen takk, Lord God. There is
hope, not that I truly doubted, but takk and takk again
. “Freda will cut you a slice of bread as soon as it is cooled enough. Along
with a slab of cheese and some of that chicken soup ready in the pot to the back of the stove. How does that sound?”

“I planned on fixing dumplings for supper, but we can have some soup in the meantime.” Freda moved a chair nearer the stove, and they sat Clara down on it. Then before doing anything else, Freda opened the oven to check on the bread. “Pretty near done. I’ll take your coat and hang it up.”

Clara clutched her lapels, shaking her head.

“You take it off when you get warm enough, then.” Freda took Ingeborg’s coat and scarf and hung them alongside her own on the pegs by the door.

Ingeborg lifted a lid to check on the fire, then set it to the side to put more wood in the firebox. Even the rattle of the lids sounded friendly. Leaning over, she tucked the blanket back in around Clara, glancing down at her moccasin-clad feet. Ingeborg’s moccasins showed their age, but at least the girl’s feet were dry. Whoever had left her at the hospital had not even brought her shoes.

She glanced back at her charge and recognized her eyes were drifting closed and her head drooping forward. “Freda, help me.” Together they lifted Clara to her feet, walked her to the cot near the parlor stove and, after sitting her down, removed coat and moccasins and helped her lie down. Clara was asleep before they got the covers pulled up.

Ingeborg puffed out a breath. “Scared me for a moment. I thought she might fall off the chair.” She heaved another sigh. “I wish I had some kind of bell here so she could call for help.”

“Are there any cowbells down at the barn? I know, sleigh bells.”

“Good idea. While you get the bread out, I’ll walk down to the barn and see what I can find.” Ingeborg snagged a shawl off the pegs and threw it around her shoulders as she headed out into the sunshine. The sun had looked deceptively warm
from the inside of the house. She hoped spring was finally there to stay. Now that it was late April, it was unlikely they’d get another blizzard.

She thought back to Easter. For the first time they’d had a trumpet heralding the day along with the other instruments. The
alleluia
s soared even more than usual. She murmured the greeting again. “Christ is risen. He is risen indeed.” Her “Tussen takk, Lord” danced with the sunbeams.

With Patches trotting beside her, she picked up her pace. Rather than searching for a cowbell, she would grab one of the short lengths of harness leather with a couple of bells attached. The men had let the cows out into the small field right behind the barn. She could hear them gathered in the sunshine, snorting, moving around a bit, chewing their cuds. Hay had been spread out there instead of tossed into their stanchions.

“I know how you all feel,” Ingeborg said. “I need the sun on my face too.” She pulled open the door and stepped into the dimness. Someone should wash the windows so more light could come in. Barns had different smells in different seasons. Today, used bedding dominated, even though they cleaned the gutters every day and hauled the manure out to the pile. Since the harnesses were hung by the grain bins, oats and corn blended with dust, lending an overlay. Two cats wound around her legs, suggesting that perhaps it was milking time. Studying the harnesses hung from racks on the wall, she located a couple of leather straps with bells on them. At Christmastime they attached them to the harnesses for the joyous bells of Christmas. She unhooked one and, making sure the barn door was fully closed, returned to the house.