Streams of Mercy (37 page)

“I really am not thinking clearly anymore,” she said. “Is it time to lift the quarantine?” She looked at Devlin. “Has anyone died on the train in the last few days?”

“No.” He was not ready to mention Johnny Solberg. He could not. Not right now. Besides, there was no definite diagnosis yet.

“No one in the town other than those immediately associated with the hospital.” Solberg looked at Deborah. “And everyone received the antitoxin?”

“As far as we know. We still don’t have any for the outlying farmers, but that should arrive from New York today. I have already assembled teams that will go out on the major roads,
inoculating as they go. By tomorrow night we should have just about everyone in the area.”

Solberg smiled. “Remarkably efficient, Nurse. Thank you.”

She dipped her head, a silent
You’re welcome.

Astrid looked at Devlin. “Will you prepare flyers, the way you and Thorliff did before, to post around town?”

“They be all ready, lady. I printed them up in anticipation. No dates, of course, but the general announcement.”

She didn’t smile, but almost. “Wonderful. Are we agreed that the quarantine can be lifted?”

Solberg suggested, “Perhaps the teams you set up, Deborah, could distribute the flyers around town.”

“Or,” Devlin cut in, “give a few sheaves of flyers to the first children ye come upon and let them distribute to the rest, adjuring them, of course, to get the older folks as well as the school families. Methinks ye’ll have a willing army of soldiers who think they’ve been pent up far too long.”

Solberg laughed out loud and Deborah giggled.

Astrid really did smile, wanly, but the corners of her mouth turned up. “And Inga can take a flyer out to Mor and to her friends. Oh, she will love that! Yes. Let’s do that. Are there any other matters we should tackle?”

No one had any. They got up and left the office.

“John? If ye may.” Devlin caught up to him and fell in step.

“I was headed for Thorliff’s office to get the flyers.”

“As am I. Too, I’ve several matters to discuss.”

“Discuss away. I’m all ears.”

Ye are jovial now, John, with the lifting of quarantine, but ye’ll not be in another minute or two.
Devlin’s heart, if anything, got heavier. “I turned your Johnny over to Miriam to take a look at him. She be an excellent nurse and thorough. He has a headache, and I thought they ought to examine him.”

John paused, then picked up the pace again. “He gets headaches now and then. He always has. And he got the shot.”

“No. He did not.”

John stopped dead and stared at him.

“He be in love with the elephants, as are we all. He has been helping Manny care for the circus menagerie. They are loading their grazing stock.”

They resumed their walk to the newspaper office.

“The whole time? He’s been out with the train the whole time? I have not been home in days, so I assumed he was home with his mother.”

“And no doubt she assumed he was here with you. And ye recall we did not have enough antitoxin to inoculate all the circus folk. We missed him.”

John marched on, and Devlin could see the anger building in him. “He knows better! He’s a good boy, nearly a man. He wouldn’t deliberately mislead both of us.”

“Manny told me he lost his little brother to the croup back in Kentucky and that the whole family had it. From his description, ’twas probably diphtheria. If so, Manny would be immune.”
And if Johnny saw Manny staying well, the exuberance of youth would make him feel invincible as well. That is how boys that age are.
Devlin, of course, did not say that aloud. John would figure it out on his own.

They entered the office and Devlin handed John a sheaf of flyers.

He looked at them. “I’m going back to the hospital. I’ll distribute these in that direction.”

“And I shall go in the other direction.” Devlin watched his friend head off down the street.

Distributing the flyers did not take long. He dropped some at Anji’s, and the children were off like a shot, eager to serve the
community and get out of the yard. He dropped some at the boardinghouse, and Sophie snatched them up eagerly to take elsewhere. He had three left when he knocked on the door at the Bjorklunds’.

Thelma opened it. “Hello, Mr. Devlin.” She looked stricken. “I’ve been waiting for your knock.”

“I be muckle pleased to inform ye, madame, that our Thorliff still be here and under the best of care.”

“Oh, praise God!”

“And the quarantine is lifted. I’ve a task for yer little Inga.”

Inga popped into the doorway behind Thelma’s skirts. “Did you just say my name?”

“I did indeed.” Devlin dropped down to one knee. Inga was growing. He had to look up into her eyes. “Yer onerous sequestration be ended.” Her face screwed up as she mulled the words. He continued, “Might ye take these to yer grandmum Ingeborg, please? And others in that neighborhood.”

She looked at him for a moment, then looked up at Thelma. “It’s over? It’s over now?”

Thelma nodded, smiling.

Without a word, Inga snatched the flyers and ran away toward her grandmother’s, faster than one would think a little girl could run.

Tears were running down Thelma’s cheeks. “I’m so glad it’s over.”

Devlin stood up and took her hands in his. “The sick still need prayer, of course, but we think the worst be behind us. Farewell, lady.” He turned and walked back toward the hospital. John would need a friend just now.

John was coming out the front doors as Devlin was approaching them. His shoulders were sagging.

Devlin invited, “Shall we take a walk?”

“I’d like that.” He fell in beside Devlin, and they strolled out across a field lush with new grass. “The diagnosis isn’t positive yet. I have to go tell his mother.” They strolled on. “I talked to Johnny. He knows very well what he did was wrong. He was certain that because Manny was not sick, he would not be either. Devlin, he
knew
. He knew about the quarantine, he knew about spreading germs, and he knew he was doing wrong! I am so angry I could tan his hind end from here to Christmas!”

“’Tis not anger, John,” Devlin said quietly. “’Tis fear.”

They strolled on.

John nodded. “You are so right.” He heaved a monstrous sigh. “You said you wanted to discuss things. Let’s discuss your matters and put mine aside.”

“By circuitous means, I received a letter from a parish in Michigan—St. Patrick on the Lake. Their search committee wants me to consider serving there.”

John wheeled, opened his mouth, and closed it again. They strolled on. “Well.” He stared at the ground. “A long ways away.”

“Nicer climate in winter. Or possibly not.”

“You’ve wanted a parish of your own.”

“’Tis dangerous, John, to ask God for something. Ye might get it.”

He nodded. “Do you want to go?”

“This is where I be confused. Aye, I want to go. ’Tis a dream of mine. And no, I desperately do not.”

“Why not?” John stopped. “Time to turn back, I suppose.” They reversed their steps and started back toward town at that leisurely pace.

“The friendships I’ve forged here. They be the best I’ve ever had, and yerself foremost, I assure ye. The people here are matchless. ’Tis a growing town, heady, lively, a fine place to live. I doubt I’ll find this elsewhere.”

John walked along silently. “And Anji Moen. What about her?”

“Ye see? That be what I treasure most about ye, John. Ye know me better than I know meself.”

“So what will you do about her? I know there’s a spark there. What are your intentions?”

Devlin thought. He tried to frame those thoughts. They remained like a will-o’-the-wisp, out there somewhere, but nothing you could grasp. “I don’t know. For the life of me, I do not know.” They strolled on. “Never have I felt before about a woman the way I feel about Anji. And yet . . .” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

John was still studying the ground. “Perhaps, Thomas . . . perhaps you should discuss this with Anji. Bare your souls, in a way. Be honest. What the two of you learn about each other should go a long way toward shaping your decision.”

“Aye. I shall do so. What about you, John? Have ye any feelings on it?”

“Certainly. I don’t want to see you leave. Especially not now with Johnny in peril and Thorliff on the edge of death.” He studied Devlin instead of the ground, met his eye squarely. “And for selfish reasons, I want you to stay. When we were building Elizabeth’s coffin, there was a mutual respect, a bond, a togetherness that few men find. I don’t want to lose that.”

“Nor do I. And yet, I was trained for the formal ministry. It has long been me calling.”

They strolled on in silence, each of them pondering imponderables. John turned aside toward home, and Devlin carried his own heavy heart over to Anji’s.

He knocked at her door.

She opened and her face brightened. “Oh, come in, Thomas. Welcome! You’re just in time for supper.”

“’Tis that late? I did not mean to call so late.”

She laughed. “This time of year, the sun stays up forever.
Come in. Please come in. The children, all four of them, are over at Linnea’s, but they will be home soon. And I have chicken potpie prepared and waiting. I was even able to use the first of the fresh peas. You will stay, won’t you?”

“If ye don’t mind a fellow barging in, aye. I would be much pleased.”

“Come into the kitchen, please. I’m in the middle of making bread.”

He followed her into the kitchen. This was a roomy house and pleasant, a perfect place to raise children. Were they to marry . . . no! He put that aside. Too premature.

“Coffee? It’s made.”

“Thankee.” He looked around at a cozy room, at a huge cooking range with two warmers and an oven large enough to hold a very large turkey. The gingham curtains reminded him of his own mum’s kitchen.

She waved an arm. “Have a seat. You cannot imagine how happy I am that all this is behind us. Well, about behind us. Poor Thorliff. He’s going to be a long time getting over this, and I don’t just mean the illness.”

“I’ve been mulling important matters lately, and I’d like to have a serious discussion with ye. The both of us being brutally honest. ’Tis why I came by.”

“Brutally honest?” She paused from drizzling melted butter over four pale loaves to study him.

The kitchen door burst open. “Mom, we’re home!” A churning mass of children poured in.

She smiled. “Obviously. Wash up. The potpie is ready.”

They stopped and singsonged, “Good evening, Mr. Devlin.” They ran off, a whirlwind come and gone.

He wagged his head. “Youth is wasted on the young.”

She brought a stack of dishes off the shelf. He got up, took
them from her, and started setting the table. She pulled open the drawer to show him where the flatware was kept and went back to her bread. She brought out a big iron pot of potpie and carefully set her risen bread in the oven. She moved smoothly, almost affectionately. No, not almost.
Affectionately
was the right word. She obviously enjoyed cooking and being a mother. And he knew from observation that she enjoyed teaching school just as much.

With a maximum of noise and bustle, the children came in and settled themselves at the table. Anji sat down at one end, Devlin at the other. “Mr. Devlin? Would you do the honors?”

“With pleasure.” He bowed his head. “Father in heaven, we thank ye for the abundance ye bestow upon us, of which this food, and these friends, be part. Please bless this food to its intended use, bless the hands that prepared it, and keep us ever mindful of the needs of others.” He deliberately did not cross himself, his usual habit, because no one else there did.

He watched from afar, so to speak, observing Anji and her brood. They were children well raised, and the love was palpable. Everything he saw was positive. She had mentioned the little ones argued a lot. Of course they did. They were that age, and they had been closely confined. It was healthy.

Afterward even the youngest, four-year-old Annika, carried plates to the counter and helped tidy the table.

“It has been a long and exciting day. Time for bed.” Anji looked at Melissa. “Would you read their bedtime story tonight, please?”

“Sure.” The children left. Anji took off her apron, went to the foot of the stairs, and called, “And don’t forget to wash behind your ears!”

She came into the kitchen. “More coffee?”

Devlin raised a hand. “No, thankee. I’m fine.”

“The porch is pleasant this time of evening. Shall we sit there?” She led the way and they settled into wicker chairs. The view from there was interesting even though flat. Very flat. Cattle with calves in the fields beyond, sheep with lambs, and new green everywhere.

Best get right to it. Don’t become tongue-tied now, Devlin.
“Ye have been much on me mind of late, but I be not certain how to proceed. Ye see, I have never courted a lady, because never before did I find a lady I cared to court. I have done so now.”

He forced himself to look at her. She was even brighter than before. He couldn’t explain how she seemed brighter, but she did.

“But there be a kink in the plowline, a major one. So I’ve some questions for ye. For one, the most important, would yerself be amenable to me courting ye?”

She purred, “Oh yes, Thomas. Most amenable.”

His heart gave a happy little jump. “A question quite as important: Would ye be willing to leave Blessing if it all came to that?”

The brightness slipped behind a cloud. “I . . . you see . . .”

“Take yer time, eh. Not something to jump upon but to sneak up on.”

She giggled. And sobered. “The question really is, would I leave everything and go somewhere else with you. Right?”

“Correct. I phrased it poorly. Let me explain. Of late I learned I must consider becoming rector of a parish in Michigan. ’Tis a bolt from the blue. I’d not have thought I would receive such an offer, but I have. I do not want to leave here, but a parish be me long-time calling. I be greatly torn.”

She sat back in her chair and gazed out across the distance. “Is it certain you will go there?”