No Distance Too Far (2 page)

“Set it there.” Highsmith pointed to the low table in front and between the chairs. “And please pour.”

Once they were served, the young woman left with a smile toward Astrid, and Dean Highsmith nodded. “Please continue.”

Holding her saucer with cup on her knee, she did as he asked. “Dr. Elizabeth finally convinced me that I was ready for more training. We didn’t do many surgeries in Blessing, so she made arrangements with Dr. Morganstein in Chicago that I be allowed to take the six-month surgical rotation if I could pass all the examinations a student at her school would have taken. One of the prime reasons for my going there, as far as I was concerned, was the opportunity to work on a cadaver so that I could learn more about the human body. I did pass the examinations, and I have now finished that training. I was planning to return to Blessing to assist in Dr. Elizabeth’s practice there and hopefully become part of the new hospital that is being planned.”

“Most commendable. Which is why you are so young in years. But evidently not so young in maturity. You appear to be very strong and capable.”

“Thank you.” She sipped her tea and took a bite of one of the nut cookies. If he had any idea how frightened she’d been, he’d not have thought that. While she had handled the trip to Georgia well, the thought of trains and ships and who knew what else to get her to Africa sent her entire insides into full revolt. Malaria alone was enough to keep her from going. After all, she had seen the long-term effects of that disease in Gerald Valders in Blessing.

“But what happened to bring you here?”

“Your friend, Rev. Schuman, was invited to speak in our church one Sunday. When he said the fields were ripe unto harvest in Africa and they desperately needed missionaries, especially medical missionaries, he looked right at me, as if I were the only person in the room. I feared . . . er . . . felt like God was speaking right at me. Dean Highsmith, going to Africa had never occurred to me until that point, and I have struggled with that idea ever since. Was God calling me to be a missionary or not? I have written back and forth with Rev. Schuman, who has been so encouraging—”

“No, if I know Ted, and I do, he has been rather overwhelming in his certainty that you are going to Africa to serve there.” His broad smile made her smile back.

“Well, yes, but if this isn’t God calling, what is it?” She studied her teacup before looking at him again. The peace within the room lay like a benevolent benediction. “So instead of going home to Blessing, I took the step to come here. Mor, my mother, always says God leads step by step, not mile by mile. That He never lights the whole path but only one step at a time. I want to be obedient, so I’m taking the next step.” She wondered if she should add that her whole being was rebelling against it.

“And here you are.” He held out the cookie plate to her. “Help yourself. These are one of Cook’s many specialties.” He took a cookie himself and crossed one leg over the other. “It is interesting to me that you have requested a two-year term of service. I hope you understand that when we train missionaries, we plan for them to serve as long as they are able—a lifetime. That is the kind of dedication God calls us to.”

“But you see, I already have a calling to return to Blessing and work there. Is there some reason that I cannot be accepted for a two-year program? The person I spoke with on the telephone said that was a possibility.”
Because if I can’t, then we have wasted both your time and
mine, as well as a train ticket.
Her heart leaped at the thought of going home, of being relieved from this confusion and uncertainty.

“Have you considered going as a nurse?”

His question caught her by surprise. She shook her head. “Why would I be willing to do that when I am a certified medical doctor?”

“And you are also nothing if not blunt and forthright.” The corner of his mouth deepened as if he meant to smile.

She wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or an accusation. She took another cookie from the offered plate and finished her tea, pondering if there should be an answer to his comment. She knew she had a tendency to bluntness; it seemed the fastest way to deal with questions. After all, why beat around the bush? She lifted her gaze to find him studying her.

“Is that a bad thing?” she asked.

“My mother used to say you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”

“That is, if you were in need of catching flies.”

His hoot of laughter surprised her. Her brash comment surprised her even more. Her mother would be shocked. It seemed Chicago had changed her in more ways than just surgical knowledge.

“Life in Africa is not easy, but growing up on a farm in North Dakota, you did not grow up taking it easy either, I presume.”

“No. We were taught to work hard. And now that I have been away from home, I understand that we grew up with very little in the way of niceties. But both my mother and my father are honorable, God-fearing people who try to live their faith in the serving of others. Some in Blessing consider us wealthy, but wealth is relative. No one has much.” Thoughts of Mrs. Josephson’s foundation and Dr. Morganstein, who were prepared to give thousands of dollars to build a new hospital, slipped through her mind. But like the widow’s mite, her family gave what they had—and made sure no one went hungry.

“I see.” He tapped his index fingers against his chin, studying her all the while. “All I can do is submit your name and application to our mission board to see if they will approve a two-year enlistment. In the meantime I have here a list of classes you will be required to take. If all goes well, you would be leaving for Africa in early July. We allow our students to return home for a short period of time before embarking if they have any affairs that need to be put in order. You will receive a list of suggested clothing and supplies for you to assemble to take along. As a medical missionary, the more supplies you can accumulate, the better. Our missionaries are always in need of the most basic of medical aids and equipment.”

“I see.” But she didn’t. How could a doctor care for the people if there were no medicines, surgical instruments, and dressings?

Dean Highsmith started to say something and stopped.

Astrid caught a look in his eyes of . . . she wasn’t sure what. Concern? Confusion?

“Do you have any questions?”

“Not at the moment, but I’m sure things will come up.”

“I must tell you that you will be the only unmarried female in the school at this time. There are a number of single men, along with four or five couples who are accepting the call together. There’s only one other doctor going through our program right now, and his wife is a nurse. Some of our teachers are missionaries on furlough or those who have returned from the field. They will surely be able to answer any questions you may have.”

“One question. Will I be sent to the same area as Rev. Schuman? He said they are in need of a doctor there.”

“Dr. Bjorklund, you have to understand something. There is a need for medical people all over Africa. The term
Dark Continent
is actually an apt description. There is little education, there’s a terrible lack of transportation, and the sanitary conditions are beyond belief. But”—he held up one finger—“when the light of Jesus shines there, it glows so brightly that it cannot be extinguished.”

Astrid resolved right then to talk to those who had been there.

“Mrs. Abercrombie will be here to show you to your room. We have placed you on the main floor, with the married couples. Tomorrow you will be interviewing with various staff members, and the following day you’ll join the classes. Meals are served in the dining room. I have asked Dr. and Mrs. Gansberg to be your hosts for the first few days.”

“Thank you.” Astrid looked over her shoulder when she heard the door open.

“Good. You are just in time.” He stood, signaling the end of the meeting. “Mrs. Abercrombie, meet Dr. Bjorklund. And don’t let her apparent youth fool you.”

“Thank you, sir, for the tea. And you are right; your cook makes delicious pecan cookies.”

“I will tell her you said so.”

“I am glad to meet you, Dr. Bjorklund. Your trunk has already been moved from the guest room and delivered to your new room, along with the books and supplies we provide for your studies. I thought I’d show you around our campus so you have a better idea of life here.” Mrs. Abercrombie, who reminded Astrid of her grandmother, Bridget, with her white hair caught up in a bun high on the back of her head and wisps flying every direction, wore a warm smile that made Astrid feel at home immediately.

Since she’d come in after supper the night before and been shown straight to her guest room, she’d not seen any of the campus. Mrs. Abercrombie patted her arm. “Have you been in the South before?”

“No. This is my first time. I’ve lived in North Dakota all my life.”

“Up there where it is so cold that people can freeze to death in their houses?”

“Yes, I am sure that has happened, but usually not if there is wood or coal for a fire. Sometimes people even burn straw or hay twists if they are desperate.”

“Well, keeping warm is not a difficulty where you are going.” Mrs. Abercrombie smiled up at her. “The building we are in was the first to be built here back in the late 1700s, when the college was established for educating the young sons of planters. Cardin didn’t begin sending missionaries to other parts of the world until 1890, so while our college has already celebrated our centennial anniversary, our program for missions isn’t really that old.”

By the time they had toured the campus, Mrs. Abercrombie informed her there would be a tea the next afternoon for her to meet the other mission candidates in the program. She leaned closer. “Several of them are single and very handsome. With your striking blue eyes and warm smile . . .” She stopped and rolled her eyes. “My husband always says I see romance everywhere.” Her chuckle made Astrid smile. “You are now free until suppertime. I’d suggest you unpack and get settled in, because you have a tight schedule ahead.”

“Thank you. And thank you for the tour. What a lovely campus, and the flowers, well, my mor would be absolutely thrilled to see all these lovely flower beds and bushes. The magnolia trees—I’d read about them but to see them growing like this . . . This most certainly is a different world than home.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. If you have any other questions, please feel free to ask one of us.” Mrs. Abercrombie turned to leave. “You can find your way to the dining room, can you not?”

“If I get lost, I’m sure someone will show me the way. Thank you again.”

Astrid watched her hostess smile and float away. How did she walk like that, so gracefully? Maydell would be green with envy. Astrid slipped into her room and, after closing the door, leaned against it to survey her new home. The walls were painted a lovely yellow and framed with white woodwork. Lace curtains graced the window, and French doors opened onto a peaceful courtyard. While the day was much like the cold and damp of Chicago, here a tiny breeze kissed the tree leaves. There was no such thing as a breeze on that northern lake; there was only wind or no wind.

She had a desk, bed, and chest of drawers, and a closet with shelves and sliding doors. A yellow rug brightened an aged hardwood floor, and a yellow print cushion softened the desk chair. The glass door showed a wicker chair and table that invited her to sit in the shade and enjoy the courtyard—when it warmed up, that is.

Within an hour she’d emptied her trunk, hung her clothes, and found homes for all that could be folded. Her books lined the shelves above the desk, and her writing kit now lived in the central desk drawer. She pulled her trunk out into the hall, where someone was supposed to pick it up for storage. It was not hard to believe that this had been someone’s home at one time, before it was donated to the school.

She sat down at the desk and dashed off a letter to her mother.

Dear Mor and Far,
    I have arrived safely and already had my incoming interview with Dean Highsmith, dean of the missionary school here at Cardin College. He is a pleasant gentleman and easy to talk with. He was not pleased when I said again that I am signing up for two years and no more. While they do accept some people for two years, they prefer a much longer commitment. He said that the missionary board may not accept my application for that reason and also because I am young and single. If they turn me down, then I shall know that I have done my best and, as always, the outcome is in God’s hands.

I cannot tell you how close I came to changing trains and heading west. I wish that I were more certain that what I am doing is God’s will. One step at a time. Right now the staff thinks I have a tight schedule, but they have no idea what my life was like in Chicago. This will seem like a vacation. I do hope I can find something medical to do to keep my hands in tune.

I’ve enclosed my address. Please give it to everyone who wants it, as I would so love news from home. Here I will have time to answer them. I will write to Elizabeth immediately. I’m afraid she might be furious with me, but I hope not.

Love from your daughter,
Astrid

As she read it over, she thought through the day’s conversations. Even though she had been homesick and overwhelmed in Chicago, she’d still had the sense that she belonged there, if only for a time. But here she felt nothing fit. Where was that peace Mor and Pastor Solberg said came when in God’s will? How long did one need to wait for it?

So sleepy she could hardly finish addressing the envelope, she unpinned the coil of wheaten hair at the base of her skull and lay down on the bed for a nap. When she woke it was dark outside and her clock said ten o’clock. Ignoring the growling of her stomach, she undressed and crawled back in bed. Would she be in trouble for missing supper? What were the rules here?