A Heart for Home (33 page)
“Does the train go up there?”
“Not the main line, but there are tracks. They send their wheat down here to be milled.”
“So who could we ask to go?”
“Samuel?”
“I was thinking Johnny, but he’s too young for that. But Samuel came back from the reservation more a man than ever. He is wise enough to ask directions. If only John were here. He would know what to do.” Ingeborg thought for a moment. “I’ll talk with Thorliff. I think Samuel is our man. Thank you.”
“Any news on Emmy?”
“No, none. Inga and I are trying to cheer each other up.”
As soon as they hung up, Ingeborg rang for Thorliff and told him the situation.
“So what do you think?”
“I think that is a very good idea. If Gould finds anything, he will let us know. I’ll talk with Samuel. He’s working on the Jeffers house. They could leave in the morning.”
She’d just hung up when the telephone jangled. “Hello?”
“Tante Ingeborg, this is Sophie.”
“I know. Is everything all right?”
“Of course. Why?”
“There’s just a lot going on. How can I help you?”
“I want to invite you to supper the day after tomorrow, Saturday.”
“Well, that is very nice of you. I would love to come.”
“Oh good. Elizabeth said Astrid is with you.”
“She is. Do you want to speak to her?”
“No. Just tell her she is invited too. Six o’clock.”
“Can I bring anything?”
“No. I have the menu all planned. Thank you.”
After hanging up, Ingeborg stared at the oak box on her kitchen wall. Something was up with Sophie, of that she was certain, but what could it be? Shaking her head, she returned to the porch, where Astrid and Inga were playing rock, scissors, paper and giggling like two little girls instead of one grown.
“I’m ahead, Grandma. You want to play?”
“I think not. Mary Martha knows the name of a pastor up in Walhalla, and we agreed that Samuel would be a good man to send with Mr. Sidorov, to leave tomorrow morning.”
“That is fast work. What about a telegram?”
“To say they are coming?” Ingeborg nodded. “Good idea. Why didn’t I think of that? Mary Martha will telephone me with the pastor’s name. She has to find it. Thorliff is going to talk with Samuel and Mr. Sidorov.”
“All will be well?” Astrid quirked an eyebrow and made the scissors motion. Inga groaned because she did the paper motion.
“Ja, that is so. All is already well.” Ingeborg watched the two play another round. “Oh, I almost forgot. Sophie has invited you and me to supper at her house on Friday at six o’clock. She asked me to tell you.”
“Oh really? That sounds like fun. Did she mention anyone else?”
“No, just us, I guess. But when I asked if I could bring something, she said no. But I can’t go there for supper without taking something.”
“School starts on Tuesday, and this is Thursday, so I have . . .” Inga counted the days out on her fingers. “Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday. Five days until I go to school. Grandma made me a new dress and two new pinafores.” She turned to her grandma.
“What is Emmy going to wear?”
“I made her two dresses too.”
“And pinafores?”
“Ja.”
“Good. I sure hope her uncle brings her back soon. She hates to miss any school days.”
“I hope so too, Inga. Me too.”
Lord, please?
“If Sophie doesn’t have that baby pretty soon, it’ll be born walking.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “She has a baby due, and you are walking the floor.”
“It helps me think better,” Astrid responded.
“Well, it’s not helping
me
think any better. With Inga over at Sophie’s, I thought I’d get a lot done.”
“You should have left her out with Mor.”
“Mor’s feeding the men today. Did Samuel and Mr. Sidorov get off?”
“At daybreak. That man had never been on a horse before. Samuel is leading his and teaching Sidorov how to ride. I sure hope we get some solid information to go on. I feel sorry for the man, he’s alone so much.”
“Thorliff says he is a hard worker. Astrid.”
“What?”
“You are still pacing. What is bothering you?”
Astrid stopped at the south-facing upstairs window. “Someone’s coming.”
“To the surgery?”
“No, to town. Trygve and the windmill crew are back. Hjelmer is back too. I wonder where they met up. You know how shiny black that wagon was? It’s not anymore.” She could see the smoke from the train stack. “The train’s coming too.”
“Good. Go meet the train.”
“This is a good window for keeping track of things going on in Blessing.” Astrid turned. “We have a patient.” She left the room in a flurry of skirts. Perhaps Mr. Jeffers and Pastor Solberg would be on the train. Their stories would most assuredly be interesting. She opened the door to the waiting room. “Mrs. Geddick, come right in.” She showed the woman into an examining room and to a chair while she sat on the stool. “How can I help you today?”
“I think something is wrong.” Mrs. Geddick never had lost her heavy German accent.
“Tell me what you feel.”
“Tired, weak. I keep bleeding and bleeding.”
As the conversation progressed, all Astrid could think was that this sounded just like her mother’s symptoms a few years earlier. She’d finally gone to the Women’s Hospital in Chicago for a hysterectomy and came home feeling one hundred percent better.
Astrid quizzed the woman about her monthlies and the bleeding. She listened to heart, lungs, belly. Palpitating the lower abdomen, she could feel a growth of some kind. Ovarian cysts could be causing this too. “Do you have a lot of pain?”
“I do. I use Dr. Benjamin’s elixir. It helps.”
It should
, Astrid thought.
There’s opium in that mixture
. While she had a good idea what was going on, she’d never done a surgery like this condition required, and she didn’t think Elizabeth had either. It just wasn’t common enough, or else most women just suffered through until it passed or they died. Dr. Morganstein had said that surgery was the only option for Mor. What would she say here? Maybe this was something their hospital could become known for like the Chicago one – treating female diseases. She brought herself back to the situation at hand. Further study and research would come later.
“I need to consult with another doctor on this. Would you please come in as soon as you’ve gone three days without bleeding so I can examine you again?”
Mrs. Geddick nodded. “Danke, Dr. Bjorklund.”
“Taking a nap in the afternoon would be a good idea too. And eat plenty of liver and spinach. Those contain iron, which you need.”
“I wonder where I would get liver.”
“I’ll ask around and see if anyone is butchering. Chicken livers could help.”
“I have chickens.”
As soon as Mrs. Geddick went out the front door, Astrid headed for the library and the medical books, making a detour through the kitchen. She brought a pitcher of lemonade mixed with raspberry juice to the counter, poured two glasses, and after putting the pitcher back, headed upstairs. She thrust one glass into Elizabeth’s hand and half drained her own. “Mrs. Geddick looks to be in the same shape as Mor was. Have you ever done any female surgeries?”
“No. I hope you have.”
“No. That might have been one of the advantages of my staying longer. I’m going to call Dr. Morganstein and see what she suggests. Is there anything you want to talk to her about?”
“No, but Mr. Jeffers and Pastor Solberg are back. I heard Thorliff talking with them.”
Astrid paused. What had just happened? Elizabeth said the name Jeffers, and her heart had skipped? Surely not.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” She drank some more. “I’m going to make that telephone call now so she can get back to me soon if she is not available.” She knew she was chattering, and the look on Elizabeth’s face said she knew it too. Sometimes the best offense was a good defense, or exit, in this case.
Since Dr. Morganstein was not available, she left a detailed message with Mrs. Hancock, who was still managing the front desk and the office, and promised to not let so much time elapse between visits.
After deciding that talking with her mother might yield more assistance than digging in books, Astrid strode out to the farm, her feet pounding the dirt, raising dust swirls because it was so dry. They really needed a good soaking rain both for the moisture and to relieve the heat.
Why all this interest in Daniel Jeffers?
God, I thought you wanted
me to remain single, not become interested in another man. But then,
this isn’t just any man. Now, where did that idea come from? Haven’t
we been through this before, where I am trying to find out your will for
me, and things change faster than I can assimilate them? Now my biggest
concern is Mrs. Geddick. You have said that you have all the answers and
that the Holy Spirit will show them to me. So . . .
She heaved a sigh. The thought that ripped through her mind was not one she wanted to hear.
Wait.
She almost laughed but shook her head and kept on walking.
All right. I will praise you. I will seek wisdom. I will wait. I
will be silent before you.
A huge black and yellow butterfly flitted across the road in front of her. It stopped for a sip on a goldenrod, fluttered on, and then stopped on a daisy. “Oh, so beautiful,” she breathed. “Thank you for butterflies, for daisies, and goldenrod. All these things you have made so beautifully. Mrs. Geddick. Such a hardworking, uncomplaining woman, who loves you and loves her family. Thank you for her, for her life, for the opportunity to make her feel better. Healing is your job. O God, I am your hands, so I know you will guide my hands and my mind. I know that. Thank you.”
She set the thank-yous to a flittering little tune and sang them the rest of the way to her mother’s porch.
“Astrid, is that you?”
“Ja, where are you?”
“Back here, where it is cooler.”
Astrid walked around the porch to find her mother scrubbing cucumbers. “What are you making?”
“Pickles. Probably the last batch. I’m going to set these in the last crock. I filled one with cabbage this morning for sauerkraut. I ran out of horseradish leaves to put on top. Have a seat.”
“Do you want something to drink?” Astrid asked.
“There’s a pitcher of water in the icebox. That would be good.
Was that you I heard singing?”
Astrid paused at the door. “Yes, I guess it was. I thought I was humming, but then I found myself singing, and I guess I got carried away.” She brought the pitcher and two glasses back to the porch. “Mor, I need your advice.” Pouring a glass, she handed it to her mother and then poured her own.
“On what?”
“Several things. Number one, sources of iron for an anemic patient. What did Dr. Morganstein tell you to do when you were suffering from the bleeding?”
“Liver is always first.”
“I know, but where do we get it at this time of year?”
“Chicken liver, I guess. If we lived in a city, we could buy it at a local butcher. Shame the grocery store doesn’t have a meat market.”
She drank and set the glass down. “You could telephone a store in Grand Forks and have it sent out on the train.”
“What else?”
“I have put nails in a glass of water to rust, then boiled the water to purify it, and added the rusty water to juice or honey to make it palatable to drink. Do you want me to look this up for you?”
“If you would. Second thing. How severe were your symptoms when they decided surgery was the best way to go?”
“I was severely anemic, the pains were ferocious, and I fainted a couple of times. That frightened Haakan beyond description. He would hardly leave me by myself. He went to Elizabeth and told her she had to do something, but he was against the surgery right up until they put me under. I know it was because he was afraid I was going to die.”
“Were you afraid?”
“Not afraid, just concerned for him. I mean, I couldn’t lose. Either home in heaven or home here. And the Father left me here and healthy again.”
“A woman came to see me today with the same kind of situation. I need to know how best to help her.”
“Do you want me to talk with her?”
“Would you mind?”
“Not a bit.”
“I’ll check with her and see if she minds if I share her medical information with you.”
“That would be fine. If she agrees, tell her I could go see her tomorrow. And I’ll look up some simples too. Oh, I know one. Beets and beet greens are good. Root vegetables pull iron from the soil and feed it into our bodies. Which reminds me, I need to pull more of the beets. Don’t buttered beets sound wonderful for supper?”
“Do you want me to go pull some?” Astrid asked.
“If you don’t mind. Then I can finish these cucumbers. Was there anything else on your list?”
“One more thing, but I’ll go pull the beets first. How many?”
“Enough for eating, not for canning. Can you stay for supper?”
“Yes, I guess so. Where is Freda?”
“Out at the cheese house. She’ll be here for supper too. I think Jonathan will eat over to Kaaren’s.”
Astrid grabbed a basket and took it out to the garden to fill with beets. She pulled a carrot and scrubbed the dirt off of it with the feathery tops to eat while she picked. Rows of pole beans had drying pods, bush beans the same. Much of the corn was already harvested, but she found half a dozen ears to shuck and add to her basket. Back on the porch, she scrubbed the beets in a bucket of water and broke off the tops an inch or so above the beet.
“Your garden is starting to look forlorn.”
“I know. So much is already canned and dried. Did you notice the pumpkins? We used a nail to write Inga, Emmy, and Carl on three of them. Remember how we used to do that for you and the boys?”
“Inga was explaining to me about missing Emmy.” She picked up her clean beets and took them into the kitchen. The fire needed feeding, so Astrid did that too and covered the beets with water before she set the kettle on the hot part of the stove. Jars of canned corn lined one counter, and pints of corn relish too waited to be carried to the cellar. A washed four-gallon crock waited for the cucumbers, and stalks of dill stood in water to stay fresh for the same.
