Streams of Mercy (39 page)

At both of their nods, she picked up the tube. As if they’d been working together for years, Dr. Kenneth firmly clamped the boy’s head. Easing the narrow tube up into the nostril and
threading it through the inflamed tissues, Astrid could already feel the sweat dripping down her back and face.
Patience,
she ordered herself. All had to be done by feel, so she closed her eyes, the better to sense when to increase the pressure. “Done.” She looked to Deborah. “Thank you.” To her assisting doctor, “Thank you and please stay with him.”

At his nod, she left the room and met with the Solbergs waiting right outside the door. “He did well. The tube is in. In just a few minutes, Dr. Johnson will wheel him out.”

“Thank you, Astrid.”

Did she do right? Would a trach have been better? Would that narrow tube actually give him enough air? Such thoughts bombarded her mind as she tossed her apron and cap into the laundry, scrubbed, and rubbed her mother’s lotion into her hands and arms, clear to her shoulders.
Lord, like Mor keeps reminding me, I have to trust you, but
 . . . Arms propped on the edge of the sink, head heavy, she waited, praying for that sense of peace she’d felt the night before.
I’ve done all I can, Lord. He is in your hands. Please, please,
leave him here with his family.

“Your mor and Inga are in the examining room,” one of the nurses said. She raised both hands quickly, so Astrid’s face must have betrayed her thoughts. “No, no. Ingeborg wants you to check Inga, just in case.”

Astrid donned a clean apron and tucked stray hairs back into the bun.
Smile. You
know Inga will see any sorrow
. She need not know about Johnny right now. Did she dare let her stand in the doorway to her pa’s room?

Ingeborg sat in the chair, holding Inga on her lap as the little girl fought to catch her breath after a spasm of coughing.

Astrid forced a smile and leaned over to put an arm around Inga’s shoulders. “Not feeling too good, are you?”

Inga looked up at her through eyes of misery. “Hurts.”

“I know. I’m going to put you up on the table, where I can see your throat better.” She slid her arms around the little girl and lifted her to the examining table. “Open wide for me.” Inga did as she was told. “Can you say ah?”

Astrid checked carefully. While the throat was red, most likely from coughing, her tonsils were somewhat swollen but no gray membrane—anywhere. Breathing a sigh of relief, she checked the neck. Glands were a little swollen, but that was to be expected.

“Clear?” Ingeborg stood beside her.

“Ja, most likely croup. Keep dosing her with cough syrup without laudanum but extra honey, steam, and—”

“Drink lots of fluids.” Ingeborg picked up the mantra. “Thank you, Lord. That’s what I thought, but my eyesight isn’t what it used to be, and I just wanted reassurance.” Ingeborg took Inga’s hand and squeezed it. “Good thing we don’t have far to walk.”

“You want Dr. Johnson to carry her?”

Inga jerked upright, coughing again. When she could breathe again, she shook her head. “Can I see Pa?”

Astrid debated. “I’m sure he wants to see you too, but he is still very, very sick. He doesn’t look too good.”

“He is not going to die?”

“No, he is getting better.”

Inga leaned into her grandmother. “Let’s go home now.”

“Can you walk that far?”

“I walked here.” That was Inga, always practical. “Can I have ice cream?”

“Ja. Thelma can go get some.”

“Soda.” Inga coughed again. “Strawberry.” She looked to Astrid. “Will you come too, Tante Astrid?”

“Oh, how I wish.”

Then she asked, “Is Johnny going to die?”

So she knew about Johnny Solberg. “I pray not.”
Please, Lord, don’t let her ask any more questions.
“Here, let me help you down.” Surprised that Inga had not said anything about her ma, Astrid saw them out the door and waved good-bye.

Oh to be out in the fresh air, walking on the ground rather than a floor, no sounds of coughing. She turned back and closed her portal to the world. She could hear Thorliff coughing from here. But he was better. Her heart sang. Inga did not have diphtheria, Thorliff was better, and barring unforeseen complications, there was more hope for Johnny too.

And strawberries. Fresh strawberries. This was the season. How she would love to go pick strawberries.

She’d just finished breakfast when Daniel appeared in the doorway.

“What are you . . . ooh!” She grinned up at him, this dear thoughtful man. “Fresh strawberries!”

“Ma sent them over. She remembered how you like these.” He handed her the bowl.

Astrid popped one in her mouth and closed her eyes in bliss. “You have no idea how much I wanted to go pick strawberries.”

Love leaked out of his eyes and washed over her. “How are your patients?” he asked softly, never taking his eyes off her.

“Thorliff is improving slowly. Inga does not have diphtheria, and I have a better feeling about Johnny. He’s not out of the woods yet, but he’s not worse.”

“Good. I’ll get out of here then before you kick me out. Thank you for lifting the curfew. Blessing is coming back to life.”

“Thank you, and thank Amelia for me too. Such a good gift to start this day.” She watched him turn and walk from the room, waving at Mrs. Geddick. Did that woman never sleep?

Anji crossed the dew-bathed grass to sit on the bench set by the garden. This and the swing on the porch had become her favorite places to ponder. How could she miss Thomas already? He’d not been gone that long. He’d said he had to spend two weeks at the church that was interested in having him. Two weeks did not include the travel time. The town was somewhere east of Chicago, she believed. He probably wasn’t even there yet.

Yet she felt like a cloud sat right on her. At their parting, she had agreed to think about whether she loved him and if so, how much. He said that he thought he loved her. Apparently his emotions were even more tangled up than hers. She had loved before, but he had not.

What if he really did need to leave Blessing? Did he have to agree to accept the call? If they wanted him, that is. How could anyone not want him?

Questions, questions, and no answers.

She heard the children in the house, the sounds floating out through the open window to her. The curfew was lifted. She would telephone Ingeborg and ask if they could come out to the farm to see the new calves and to see Emmy. She wondered if Benny might like to go too. She stood and stretched. When one needed wisdom, one talked with Ingeborg. Freda answered the ring.

“Good morning, can I talk with Ingeborg?”

“If you call Thorliff’s, you can. She is helping with Inga, who has the croup, but not diphtheria.”

“Oh, I see. I thought to bring the children out to play on the farm and—and talk with her.”

“Call her there.” That was Freda, abrupt as always.

“I will, takk.” She had just turned to announce to her children that there would be no farm trip today when her ring sounded.

Sophie was calling. “Sure, put her through. Good morning, Sophie.”

“We need to celebrate the lifting of the quarantine. How about you and the children come here for coffee? They can play while we catch up. We’re taking cookies out of the oven right now. Rebecca is coming, and Penny. They can’t stay long, so hurry up.”

“You mean right now?”

“Ja, right now.”

“We are on our way out the door.” She hung up. “Melissa, please comb Annika’s hair. Joseph, you have jam on your face. Hurry, we are invited to Sophie’s for coffee.”

Benny was waiting for them in his wheeled cart outside on the street. “Ma is coming in a minute.”

When they’d all arrived, the children happily playing out in the yard, the women made themselves comfortable on the porch, Sophie dropping into her chair with a grin. “I have so missed all of you . . .” She flung her arms out. “Everybody.”

“At least you could go to the boardinghouse.”

“Ja, and I watched everyone who came in like a starving hawk. Only I was looking for sickness. If anyone had coughed, I’d have banished him. I don’t even trust the train bringing in people and supplies. Not that many stopped once they knew we were under quarantine. I am sure that if we got ahold of that crook, Stetler . . .” She glowered, then made an effort to regain her happy mood. “But like Reverend Solberg says, ‘That is in the past and you can’t change the past.’ I do hope we’ve learned some lessons.” She slapped the arm of the chair. “There I’ve done it again. Sorry.” Blinking, she looked to the others. “I still cannot believe she has gone.”

“I am so tired of the tears,” Anji whispered, wiping the tears away.

“We all are. So let’s cry and get it over with. I have learned that the tears give up eventually, and now we are gathered to be
grateful we can finally do this again. Ingeborg said for us all to have a good time—she is taking care of croupy Inga—and to rejoice that it is not diphtheria.” She shuddered. “I hate even saying the word. Like it might come creeping back out of some corner where it is hiding.”

The others murmured agreement, sighed, and nodded.

Rebecca shook her shoulders and looked to Anji. “Tell us the latest installment.”

“Becca!”

“We all need a touch of romance to lighten things up.”

“Here you go, ladies.” Helga, Sophie’s sister-in-law and her lifesaver, as she referred to her, set a tray of cookies and glasses on the table. “Strawberry swizzle, first of the season. Help yourselves, and I’ll be right back with the children’s.”

“Then sit down and join us,” Sophie told her firmly. “Anything else that needs doing can wait.” She turned to Anji. “So? You can drink and talk too.”

Oh, how good it felt to laugh. Anji reached for a glass of swizzle, putting off an answer. She could feel her face heating up. Then, like reciting a lesson, she said, “Mr. Devlin . . .” Rebecca shook her head. “All right,
Thomas
received a letter from an Anglican parish, St. Patrick’s on the Water, or something like that, in Michigan. They asked him to come visit and interview with them, possibly to become their pastor. Priest.”

“Michigan? That’s far away.” Sophie stared at her. “You can’t go to Michigan! You finally came back to Blessing.”

“Thanks, Sophie. That is part of the problem.”

“Do you love him?” Sophie gave her the piercing look that made even carousing drummers at her boardinghouse settle down.

Anji twisted her napkin, smoothed it out on her knee, and looked up to see all eyes staring at her. “I . . . I don’t know. I
mean, I care for him a great deal, but do I love him enough to change my life around all over again? I did that before . . .” She shook her head. “I can’t see myself as a minister’s wife. I don’t really want to leave Blessing and my family again.” She smiled at Rebecca. “But . . .”

“Aha. I knew it.” Sophie bobbed her head. “I left Blessing all those years ago, and I was never so glad as to get back.” She cocked her head. “Of course, my husband dying out on that fishing boat was awful. But I am grateful I could come home.” She passed the cookie plate to Rebecca. “But if you love the man and this is what God wants for you, I guess we could wave good-bye to you. Devlin is a fine man and I, for one, hope he decides to stay here. Where he belongs.”

“Yay, Sophie.” Rebecca raised her glass. “You said it better than I could have.”

“I was hoping to talk with Ingeborg today, but I will later. She always helps me think right.”

“She helps all of us think right. Between her and my mor, we have much to live up to.”

“I wish Astrid were here.” Rebecca nibbled on her cookie. “She sure needs time away from that hospital. We never get to have our girls-together parties anymore. Did we outgrow them?” She looked out over the children to see her little son, Mark, chewing on a twig. “Be right back.” She charged down the steps, grabbed him up, and took away his toy. He looked at her, his face starting to wrinkle up in the beginnings of a righteous howl. “Benny, could you give your brother a ride in your wagon for a bit?”

He smiled up at her. “Sure, come on.”

“I’ll pull.” Joseph ran over to the wagon.

“Me too.” And the children made her little son smile again.

“Thank you, all.”

“A squall averted.” Sophie grinned at Rebecca as she came back up the stairs. “You sure move fast for one of our advanced age.”

Grateful the attention was off her, Anji sipped from her glass
. What
am I going to do? I have no idea.
Thomas said he’d write . . .

The telephone jangling caught their attention. Sophie rose to answer it, shaking her head. “There better not be a crisis at the boardinghouse. I am fresh out of prepared-for-another-crisis.” She returned a short time later. “That was Astrid. Thorliff is indeed better, but now the big concern is what she thinks is a partial paralysis on his right side. It is affecting his arm the most. Ingeborg is going to be giving lessons on how to help him regain his strength. She is hoping some of us can come to help.” She stared at Anji.

Maybe there is something more I can do for Thorliff after all
. Anji nodded back. “When?”