Streams of Mercy (34 page)

“Poor little Inga. Roald is so small he won’t remember, but Inga can’t have her pa or her grandma to comfort her.”

“Ja, thank God for Thelma.”

Astrid dutifully ate what was on the plate, not even registering what she had swallowed. Now the hospital depended on her alone.

As the others returned to sleeping or treating patients, she went to room one first. A barrage of coughing met her from the hallway. Thorliff’s dull eyes opened when she picked up his wrist. He coughed again and a glob of ugly hit the sheet. She cleaned that up and dropped the muslin square in the pail by his bed. “Good. Time for the steam room for you. I’ll ask Dr. Johnson to come help me move you there.”

His eyebrows rose.

“A resident from Chicago. He and three nurses arrived on the train yesterday,” she explained. “Or was it the day before? I’d have to check the notes.” All the while she talked, she probed his swollen neck and picked up a cloth to dip in the pan of water they kept by his side to help sponge him cooler. “Sure wish this heat would break. We need a good thunderstorm to clear it all away.”
Please, Lord, keep him from remembering his wife died
.

She leaned closer as he tried to talk, but only guttural noises could be heard. “Look at me. The diphtheria is affecting your
vocal cords now too, so don’t even try to talk. If you need something, tap my hand.” She watched him shake his head, barely. “I’m going to get you some syrup and water before we move you, so I’ll be right back.”

She met Dr. Johnson in the hall. “Would you please help me move Thorliff into the steam room? We’ll use the wheelchair.” She pointed down the hall and stopped in the supply room to pour some cough syrup into a cup, then fetched a cup of water, answering a question from one of the new student nurses. Both of their resident student nurses were sleeping, thankfully.

Back in Thorliff’s room, she held the cup to his mouth and watched to see if he was swallowing. His Adam’s apple was barely visible within all the swelling, but it moved. Was it time to intubate him? She turned to Dr. Johnson beside her. “Have you looked in his throat?”

“Earlier.”

“Please check again and tell me if you see any differences.” She’d looked several hours earlier, and the membrane had spread overnight, but not quite to the danger zone yet. She watched his face and hands. Mrs. Korsheski in Chicago had said this young man was the best they had of the current three in residency.

“The same, as near as I can tell.”

“Good. That’s what I thought too.” She wiped Thorliff’s face with the cool cloth again. “When he returns from the steam room, pack him with cool cloths and ice around his neck.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Help us if you can, Thorliff. We’re moving you into the steam room.”

He blinked his eyes.

Between the three of them, they got him transferred to the chair, into the steam room, and parked near the stove.

“I know it is unbearably hot in here, but breathe as deeply as you can and cough as much as you can.”

“Might ice wrapped in a cloth and applied to his head and the back of his neck make him more comfortable in here?”

“Good idea. I’ll go make an ice pack. You stay with him.”

Outside the door, she leaned against the wall and inhaled as deeply as she could of what seemed like cold air compared to the air inside that room. She waved to Vera. “Please change Thorliff’s bed and replenish the supplies in there. How long since you’ve slept?”

“Too long it seems, but I’m due soon.” She wiped her forehead with the edge of her apron. “Maybe we should all be wearing ice packs.”

“If you can figure a way, let’s do it.” She moved on down the ward, talking with the nurses, making suggestions, trying to keep her thoughts away from Thorliff—and Elizabeth. Questions regarding what if this or that, like who will take the children if Thorliff dies too and what else could she do to prevent the disease from getting worse and what was going on in the outside world? Now, that one, that one she could dwell on.

When John Solberg and Father Devlin returned, she invited them into her office and ordered that coffee be brought in. “Did you have any dinner?”

They looked at each other and then her and shook their heads. “Then let’s go to the dining room. It’s cooler in there anyway. This box has no windows, even though there is an air vent into the roof.” She remembered tripping over it when they were fighting to save the hospital from setting on fire when the grain elevator exploded. They sat down at one of the small tables in front of a window and put in an order when Mrs. Geddick came to see them, coffeepot in hand.

“You not eat?” She looked at the two men aghast. “I fix that right now.”

“Don’t bother to tell her you are not hungry. She’ll probably bring you more food that way.” She looked across the table at the two men. They had obviously cleaned up, but no amount of scrubbing would remove the sorrow from their faces. Astrid shut her eyes and shook her head. “Did anyone else show up?”

“A few, but they stayed far away. I think everyone in this town is so terrified of the disease, they are willing to follow the instructions.” Reverend Solberg rubbed his forehead.

“Headache?”

“Not really. Even my skin feels heavy, full of sorrow. I didn’t count the number of graves in the circus section of the cemetery. I am just praying no more have to be dug for our people. Thanks to your quick thinking, Astrid . . .”

“Not mine, Elizabeth’s. She blamed herself for not sending that train on its way.”

“They did not ask,” Devlin reminded her. “They just showed up on yer doorstep with litters of sick people. I cannot picture either of ye doing any differently. If anyone be blamed, ’tis Stetler.”

“Ja, and he was desperate too. But laying or trying to lay blame does no good at all. That train should be on its way soon. Thank you, Mrs. Geddick.” John looked at the full plate before him. “Looks good as always.”

“I will bring cake soon.” She wiped her hands on her apron, shaking her head. “Such a sad day.”

Astrid watched her return to the kitchen. She huffed and shook her head. “I didn’t notify the hospital in Chicago. I better go do that. Dr. Johnson talked with them earlier. Excuse me, please.” She paused. “And thank you for taking care of . . . of . . .” She turned and left before she started crying again.

Later that night after Dr. Johnson had just come on to relieve her, Astrid answered the demanding telephone. “Dr. Astrid, I have an emergency call for you.”

“Thanks, Lucy, put it through. Dr. Bjorklund speaking.”

“Doctor, my wife is going to have her baby tonight, she says. She’s pacing something awful. Can you come?”

“Is she one of our patients?”

“Ja. She’s been seeing you. Mabel Stavenger.”

“Yes, of course.” Astrid’s mind whirled. “I cannot leave the hospital right now, but I will send a midwife with years of experience to help her. You probably know Ingeborg Bjorklund.”

“Of course.” He told her how to get there. “Tell her to please hurry.”

“I will. In the meantime keep walking with Mabel. That’s the best thing you can do to help. Good night.” She hung up and clicked the earpiece again. “Please connect me to Ingeborg’s.” She waited, her foot tapping until her mor’s sleepy voice answered.

“Mor, how quickly can you get out on a birthing call?”

“Really?”

“Ja. Mr. Stavenger just called. It has to be the son. His folks are too old to be having children.”

“I brought that young man into the world. I know where the place is. I’m going to take Clara with me, let her see how babies are born. Freda will hitch up the buggy. ’Bye.”

Astrid stared at the telephone as she hung up. Leave it to her mor. She knew everyone within a twenty-mile radius.

“If only Manny were here to hitch up the buggy.” Ingeborg went to the foot of the stairs. “Freda! Freda!”

“Ja.”

“I need to go help a baby into this world. Could you hitch up the buggy?”

“Where’s the horse?”

“In the near pasture. Rattle a can of oats, and they’ll all come.”

Within a minute, Freda, wearing a robe and shoes, clumped down the stairs. “You want me to go with you?”

“I’m going to take Clara. Soon as I get my clothes on and the bag, I’ll come help you.”

“I’ll go get the horse.” Emmy appeared right behind Freda and darted out the door.

Ingeborg woke Clara and both of them dressed swiftly. Ingeborg lit a lantern and they headed for the barn. Emmy had the horse tied to the hitching rail, and Freda was throwing the harness over its back. They finished adjusting the harness, backed the horse into the shafts, and while Clara held the lantern in the shed where the buggy was kept, they hitched in the lines. Ingeborg helped Clara up into the buggy, then got in herself and, making sure her medical bag was safe, flipped the reins, hupped the horse, and they were on their way.

“Be careful!” Freda called to them.

She set the horse to a trot down the lane and headed west. “You said you’ve never seen a baby born, right?”

Clara tapped her arm with their code. Once for yes, two for no.

“Good thing we have a moon. I’ve gone on birthing calls when it was so dark the horse could hardly see, and they can see in the dark. I used to do this all the time, you know. In fact, I brought this baby’s pa into the world.”
Thank you, Lord. You have given me a
gift tonight.

Soon they saw a lantern hanging on a post by a lane going north. They turned in and young Stavenger leaped down the steps and reached up to help Ingeborg down. “Thank you for coming. Felt like you would never get here.”

“I’m sure it did.” Ingeborg reached back in for her bag. “You needn’t show me the way. Help Clara down and then you can tie my horse.” She knew she needed to give him quiet instructions for something definite to do to help him calm down. Inside she was chuckling. “When did the contractions start?” She didn’t wait for an answer but climbed the three stairs to the porch and stepped into the kitchen.

“In here,” called a wavery female voice.

Ingeborg felt Clara right behind her. “Could you please make sure there is water on the stove to heat. You might have to start the fire. We need to sterilize our instruments, so start a small kettle too.”

Clara nodded, and Ingeborg went on into the bedroom. “Hello, Mabel,” she said to the young woman who was pacing back and forth. “How are you progressing? And when you saw Dr. Bjorklund, she told you what to expect, right?”

“I remember when my youngest . . .” She panted and stopped pacing to catch her breath. “Dr. Elizabeth told me all what to do, but Walter is a bit worried.”

A bit
was an understatement. They should probably have instructions for expectant fathers, besides the ones for the mothers. But then they did not usually come along for the pre-birth appointments.

“How about you lie back down on the bed and let’s see how far you are dilated.”

Mabel sat down on the edge of the bed. “I lost one baby a year or so ago, but this time all has been well.” She hauled herself onto the bed with her arms, then froze and panted again. “I think they are getting closer together.”

Ingeborg checked and smiled at the young almost-mother. “You are right, you’re getting close. Let’s get you up and walking again. The water hasn’t broken?”

“No, ma’am. Is that Walt out in the kitchen?”

“No, I brought a helper, Clara, who lives with me. She is due in August, we think.” Once she had Mabel on her feet again, they walked and chatted. Clara appeared in the doorway, and Ingeborg pointed to her black bag. “The birthing things are wrapped in a cloth all together and they must be boiled.” Clara nodded, fetched the bundle, and looked at Ingeborg, who nodded. “That is what we need. Boil the cloth too and see if there is a cookie pan or a tray or even a large plate to bring them when we need them.”

“Good thing I like to walk.” Mabel grabbed Ingeborg’s arm. “Uff da. It’s getting harder.”

“While you walk, I’m going to get the bed ready. I see you have sheets and towels ready. You followed the doctor’s instructions well.”

“The baby things are in that cradle my pa made for us.”

Clara was sitting in the room with them when the water broke and leaked down on the floor. She looked wide-eyed at Ingeborg.