Tabitha (16 page)

He placed his spectacles on his nose. “The government has
said nothing officially, of course, but we do not wish to be found wanting,
should the call come.”

“I see, sir.” Tabitha thought for a moment. “One further
question, sir?”

He inclined his head.

“If I were to accept your generous offer, would I be
permitted to take advanced courses in specialties of my choice?”

“I do not see why not. What specialty areas are you
considering?”

Tabitha nodded. “In the areas of contagious sicknesses and
traumatic wound care, sir.”

His brows arched. “Very ambitious selections, Miss Hale. May
I ask if you have a personal reason for studying contagious sicknesses?”

Her throat closed up as she tried to speak. She threw a look
for help toward Rose, who nodded her encouragement. After a few swallows,
Tabitha whispered, “A dear friend of mine, of ours—” she indicated her friends
from Denver, “passed away due to complications from influenza.” Her voice stuck
and would say nothing further.

“Miss Hale nursed our entire household through that
influenza, Dean Wellan,” Rose supplied. “With no training except what our
family physician provided over the telephone, Tabitha introduced strict
protocols that kept others from falling ill. She cared for all who did fall
sick. We knew then that she had a calling to nursing. However, we lost one dear
member of our family during that ordeal.”

Dean Wellan sighed. “As hard as we try and work, we always
lose some patients.” He nodded to Tabitha. “I give my permission to your
request. I will speak to the dean of the medical school. The courses you
suggest would be taken with graduate nurses and student physicians.”

“Then, sir, I accept your offer, with thanks.”

They both rose and Tabitha shook Dean Wellan’s extended
hand.

Almost as an afterthought, he exclaimed, “Dear me. I almost
forgot.”

He found the paper he had tucked into the sleeve of his ink
blotter and handed it to her. “It appears you have not been home in quite some
time. A five-day pass, Miss Hale. Please return by the date noted. You will be
on the work schedule for the next day and will be allowed to take your final
exams at the end of the month. Have a nice visit with your family. You deserve
it.”

Tabitha, Carpenter, Rose, and O’Dell left the dean’s
conference room in silence. Tabitha was overcome and stared at the pass.

“Five days!” she murmured.

“Will you pack and come home with us, dear?” Rose inquired.

“What? Oh, yes! How wonderful! I will see everyone again—it
has been such a long time.”

“We should get on the road as quickly as we can,” Carpenter
suggested. “Although it is still early afternoon, we will likely be late for
dinner.”

He took her arm and they walked ahead of Rose and O’Dell. He
was anxious to have a private word with Tabitha.

“I must say something to you, Tabitha; I must confess
something that lies heavy upon my heart.”

“What is it, Mr. Carpenter?”

“You told me on Christmas day as we ate dinner at the
Palindrome Hotel—a year and a half ago!—that you were working all nights. I
knew it wasn’t right! I could see how exhausted you were. I even decided to
look into your situation—and I could have easily asked Dean Wellan to explain.”

He sighed and squeezed her arm. “And yet I promptly forgot.
Even when it crossed my mind later, I did nothing. It is my fault that your
circumstances were not rectified in time to ensure that you graduated with your
class.”

Tabitha was silent for many steps. “I accept your apology,
Mr. Carpenter; however, I do not fault you, even a little. No, I believe God
has been working his will in my life through this difficult time.”

“Can you tell me what you mean, Tabs?”

A smile curved her mouth. “The Book of James tells us to
‘count it all joy’ when we suffer various temptations. Well, I have been
tempted many times to give up—but God would not let me. I have been tempted to
lose my temper—but my Lord forbade me. I have been tempted to strike out at
Nurse Rasmussen. I have been tempted to hold what she has done against her and
even tempted to give in to hatred and unforgiveness. In all these things, he
has shown me that I cannot call myself a Christian and live that way.

“And so, I see that through all these difficulties, God has
been working, working to refine
my character
. My unruly temper is my greatest
enemy—and now I realize how necessary the refining of my temperament is. I
believe, as it says in the Book of James, that these
trials have worked
God’s purposes
in me
so that I will be whole, complete, and lacking
nothing.

“
Knowing this, that the trying of
your faith worketh patience.

But let patience have her perfect work,
that ye may be perfect and entire,
wanting nothing.
”

Carpenter squeezed her arm again, signaling that he
understood.

As they walked, Tabitha added, “And I perceive, although not
clearly yet, that the Lord has a plan for me, a plan that requires a refined
heart and character. I cannot wait to discover what that plan might be!”

He grinned down on her. “I so appreciate your absolute
confidence in God’s guidance, Miss Hale. Yes, I, too, cannot wait to see his
plan for you unveiled!”

They arrived at the walkway to Tabitha’s dormitory. Rose and
O’Dell caught up with them. Tabitha was still thinking of the coming year and
her new role in the school.

“It will be a great responsibility,” she whispered, more to
herself than to any of them.

“It will be a great honor, Tabitha,” Rose assured her.

O’Dell and Carpenter agreed.

“I have only one thing to say against Dean Wellan’s
proposal,” Carpenter said.

They looked for him to expound.

“It will keep Miss Hale
here
, in Boulder, for another
year.
That
, my friends, I am not fond of. Not at all.”

They laughed together with good humor and tripped down the
walk to the dormitory’s front doors, Rose on O’Dell’s arm, and Tabitha on
Carpenter’s.

~~**~~

Tabitha sat on the platform with the staff nurses and waited
for their audience to settle. She felt stiff and uncomfortable under the
speculative glances of the incoming freshman class.

Lord, I do not really belong up here—I am not an
instructor; I am scarcely more than a student myself and still wear a
blue-banded cap.

Then she remembered.
I told Mr. Carpenter that the Lord
had a special purpose to my being here. I must look for that purpose in all I
do this year.

She took a deep breath and sat a little straighter in her
chair as Dean Gunderson stood and moved to the lectern. “Ladies, if I may have
your attention, please.” The shuffling and whispers died. Forty nervous young
women looked back at her.

Not all of them are nervous,
Tabitha noted.
Some
are as excited to begin their training as I was.

Dean Gunderson, her expression serene, addressed the
incoming students. “Good morning to you all and welcome. Before we begin, if
any of you have chewing gum in your mouth or on your person, please proceed
immediately to the trash bins at the back of the hall to dispose of it.”

Amidst a low grumbling across the hall, several girls jumped
to their feet and hurried toward the trash bins. Tabitha watched one young
woman swallow (with difficulty) the gum in her mouth. A little knot of three
girls near the front frowned and murmured complaints among themselves. Their
chomping jaws slowed to a stop, but they remained seated. One of the girls made
a face; her friends giggled behind their hands.

Dean Gunderson may have taken note of the varied responses,
but she gave no sign of it. Instead, she continued, “Ladies, you are here to
become nurses, and your goal is an excellent one. Nursing is a vocation of
service to humanity, a dedication of one’s entire self to the healing care of
all peoples and their physical needs.

“However, the work of nursing is hard, demanding, and
inglorious. The hours are long, and—
I must assure you
—the discipline is rigorous.
If—” now she bent a penetrating look upon the three girls who had grumbled the
most, singling out their leader— “
if
you find the discipline of
following our rules too discommoding, please do yourselves the kindness of
acknowledging that nursing is not for you and withdraw today. We have other
candidates standing by should you choose to . . . drop out.”

She stared at the offenders and waited. Two of the girls
swallowed their gum on the spot. The third slid to the aisle and trotted toward
the trash bin.

Dean Gunderson delayed until the chastened student returned
to her seat and lowered her head. “Thank you. As I was saying, nursing is a
pursuit of great worth. That said, in return for your dedication, you will
receive neither riches nor acclaim. Your reward will not be in the recognition
of others but within yourselves, in knowing that you have served well.

“By your enrollment in our school, you have stated that you
wish to don this mantle, the heavy responsibility of a nursing professional. I
commend you for this first step, but it is only the first step of many to come.

“Your training, which commences today, will test your
resolve in every manner and at every juncture. Do you have an unshakable
calling? Will you endure? Will you stand the test? That remains to be seen.

“I urge you, then, to gird up the loins of your mind. I
counsel you to hold this selfless goal in front of your eyes and seek no other
end or ambition but the one that is before you today.”

Tabitha thrilled to Dean Gunderson’s words.
For you,
Lord! Let all my efforts and service be for you!

As the senior nurse continued to challenge the incoming
class, Tabitha’s attention strayed. She lost herself in the earnest faces
turned toward Dean Gunderson, many of them shining with excitement, others
troubled or uncertain, some even fearful.

My job will be to counsel and encourage these young
women, to help them overcome when they are struggling.

Tabitha swallowed at the immensity of the responsibility
before her.
Lord, I will not be able to do this without your help. I thank
you that you have given me your Holy Spirit, who is my Counselor and Helper. I
can do what you have called me to do, if I lean upon, if I rely on you.

Tabitha’s attention returned to the podium. Dean Gunderson
began introducing the staff and eventually made her way to Tabitha, the last in
line.

Tabitha flushed as the attention of all present turned upon
her. She tried not to shrivel under the scrutiny of so many eyes.

“Miss Hale is the school’s freshman proctor. She is,
herself, a student near to graduation; however, she is near the top of her
class and has earned the respect and esteem of the staff and administration.

“As proctor, Miss Hale’s primary responsibility will be to
ensure, to the best of her ability, that not one of you falters or fails. She
will monitor your progress and will advise and counsel you as needed. Her hours
of availability will be posted on her office door. Please take advantage of
them; you would do well to heed her guidance and instruction.”

Tabitha took her seat again and sat tall and still. The
meeting went on for a while longer, with various staff members setting out the
school rules and policies.

As she listened with only half of her interest, Tabitha was
drawn to a young woman on the far right of the auditorium. She was fair and
slender, perhaps even slight. It seemed to Tabitha that the girl had
intentionally sat alone, for several unoccupied seats were between her and the
next student in the row.

She hadn’t realized she was staring so intently until the
girl nodded and smiled a shy acknowledgment. Tabitha started and then smiled
back. Something about the girl resonated in Tabitha’s heart.

When the meeting ended, Tabitha followed Dean Gunderson’s
instructions to mingle with the students and form some initial attachments. She
did not have to try hard: The eager students lined up to introduce themselves
and ask her questions. Tabitha tried her best to greet each of them with grace,
but their trusting, practically adoring looks almost undid her.

Goodness
, she sighed inside.
This will take some
getting used to. They act as though I am the answer to all their problems—when
I am struggling just to learn their names!

Tabitha extended her hand to the next girl in line. “Good
morning. Welcome to our school.”

“Good morning, Miss Hale. I am Claire Silverstine.”

There she was, that smiling, wan-looking girl, the one who
had sat apart from the rest of the class.

Tabitha studied her. “Good morning, Miss Silverstine. I am
pleased to meet you.”

“Thank you! The pleasure is mine.” She looked aside for a
moment and then smiled and turned back to Tabitha. “I am not a freshman,
actually. I had to drop out for health reasons at the end of my freshman year,
so I am a second-year student. Do you remember me? We had a class together—Dr.
Monroe’s anatomy.”

Tabitha frowned and tried to place her.
“No . . . that is, perhaps? Have you lost a great deal of
weight, Miss Silverstine?”

“Yes! You do remember me, then. Indeed, I was a bit on the
chubby side then, but I have lost all my ‘baby fat’ as my brother calls it. And
then some.”

“But are you quite well now? Has your stamina returned?”
Tabitha examined her more closely, a little concerned.

“I have recovered from my illness, yes, although my strength
is not yet what it once was. We shall see. God willing, I shall rise to meet
expectations.”

“Please come see me if you find yourself struggling—or if
you just wish to talk over your progress,” Tabitha offered. “Although you are
not a freshman, I would be happy to help in any way . . . even
pray with you.”

“I knew it,” Claire smiled wider. “I just knew you were a
Christian when our eyes met earlier. Thank you. I will most certainly take
advantage of your kind offer.”

She nodded a goodbye, still smiling. As Claire turned away, Tabitha
smiled back and reached to greet the next student.

The term was vastly different than any previous term Tabitha
had experienced. In some regards it was easier; in other respects Tabitha felt
stretched to the breaking point.

Rather than a narrow bed in the open upper floor of one of
the two freshman dormitories, Tabitha now had a small first-floor bedroom. Her
room was adjacent to a tiny office, and the office had its own door that opened
to the dormitory’s common area.

No sooner had she posted her office hours upon the office
door—two hours each afternoon—than the signup sheet for each day began filling.
Students could request time in increments of fifteen minutes but no more than
thirty in a single session. Almost immediately, every minute was filled for the
next two weeks.

Tabitha’s schedule presented new challenges, too. She worked
her assigned hospital shifts in the evenings, with Dean Gunderson herself
double-checking that Tabitha’s required obstetric, pediatric, and surgical
hours were satisfied first.

The two specialty classes Tabitha had requested met in the
mornings. That left late mornings and early afternoons for Tabitha to study
before she unlocked her office for the scheduled appointments. The appointments
themselves opened her eyes to the diverse situations or issues confronting new
students, problems that the students often viewed as insurmountable obstacles.

In that first week Tabitha realized that she also needed to
allot sufficient time to tutor flagging freshmen. To that end, she established
a study hall before breakfast. Then there were occasions where she needed to
meet with Dean Gunderson for advice on how to address a particular student’s
needs.

Fortunately, Tabitha had only the two classes.
And only
because I insisted on taking them
, she recalled with wry semi-regret.

The first class Tabitha attended each morning was on public
healthcare nursing, including the prevention and containment of contagious
diseases. With the exception of herself, all the students were licensed, seasoned
nurses.

If that class were not sufficient to illustrate Tabitha’s
unusual position in the school, her second course, traumatic wound treatment,
did the trick: The class was composed entirely of second-year medical
students—all males. As the only woman amid the dozen young men, her classmates’
pointed stares and whispers made her discomfort worse.

Now I know what a lone grasshopper in a crowded chicken
coop must feel like.
She snorted to herself and shook her head.

Her discomfort remained until a second woman breezed into
the room. Spying Tabitha, she slid into the seat next to her and held out her
hand. “Cathy Worth,” she murmured. Her dark hair was cropped close to her head;
her manner was brusque but pleasant.

“Tabitha Hale,” Tabitha whispered back. “Am I glad to meet
you! I thought I would be the only nurse in this class.”

Cathy, fixing Tabitha with a cool, detached eye, replied,
“You still are. I am a medical student.”

“Truly? Why, how wonderful,” Tabitha enthused—a little in
awe.

“Yes, I am glad to be studying to be a doctor, Miss Hale.
However, I would not describe the
experience
as wonderful.” Cathy graced
Tabitha with a mock smile. “You will see as class goes along.”

And Tabitha did see, beginning that first morning, the
subtle and not-so-subtle jabs aimed at Cathy—and at herself. Even the male
physician teaching the class, Doctor Cranston, managed to differentiate between
Tabitha as a student nurse specializing in wound care and Cathy as a
medical
student
. His emphasis established his point of view: Nursing was for women;
doctoring was for men. And, of course, nursing—and women—were both below
doctoring.

Cathy’s male counterparts, for the most part, ignored
Tabitha, but they glared at Cathy with undisguised dislike.

“They see me as a threat,” Cathy mentioned to Tabitha,
“because I took a spot another man was refused.”

“But surely you earned your place,” Tabitha sputtered.

“Oh, indeed, I did. That only makes them more defensive.”

Cathy, however, did not seem fazed by her treatment. She
immersed herself in the learning, and Tabitha followed her example.

Claire Silverstine came to Tabitha’s office hour at the end
of the first week.

“What can I help you with, Miss Silverstine?” Tabitha did
not like how frail the student appeared.

“I am not sleeping well, Miss Hale. If I could sleep
properly, I know I would regain my strength eventually . . .”
Her sentence drifted off, unfinished.

Tabitha remembered the deep fatigue of the past two years.
“Is anything in particular keeping you from sleep, Miss Silverstine?”

Claire shook her head. “I tend to worry. I know it is wrong
to worry, but I worry that I will become ill again and be sent home—and those
thoughts keep me from falling asleep. Even when I do fall asleep, I have restless,
disturbed dreams. When I wake up, I cannot get back to sleep.”

Tabitha thought for a minute. “Is there an aspect of nursing
that particularly interests you, Miss Silverstine?”

“Oh, yes. I hope to work with ill children. My family has a
little farm in Wyoming, and I always nursed the sick animals; my folks say I
have a way with animals, but I love children even more. I might not be strong
enough to work in a hospital, but I could care for an ailing child in his or
her home. I know that families with sickly children need good nursing care—and
I could tell them about Jesus at the same time.”

Claire’s face came alive as she described her goal.

Tabitha noted the transformation and replied, “I grew up on
a small farm, too, Miss Silverstine. May I make a suggestion?”