A White Room (20 page)

“Yep. She told us ’bout you.” She skipped to the shanty and opened the door. “Go ahead, miss. She’s awake.”

The poor state of the shanty exterior did no justice to the squalor inside. The one-room shelter had two tiny windows that only allowed a miniscule amount of light to enter. There was nothing in the place other than a wood-burning stove in the corner, a small table without the company of chairs, and several areas made up as beds. All the children must have been outside. Mrs. Schwab and her baby reclined on a mattress in the corner. I wanted to cry. How could anyone live like this? How could anyone raise children here, let alone as many as she was raising?

I knelt beside her and immediately feared ruining my dress, but I didn’t want to insult her, so I grinned and peeked at the little bundle in her arms. “How is she?”

“She’s doin’ well.” Mrs. Schwab had tied her hair back into something of a bird’s nest. “Didn’t think you were really fixin’ on comin’.”

I smiled, shrugged. “Have you named her?”

“Not yet.”

“How are you doing?”

“The bleedin’ stopped, so I ain’t ganna need a doctor.”

“Are you sure? Perhaps you should see one anyway.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Ain’t got money for that.”

“I think this might be worth the sacrifice.”

She repositioned herself. “Look around, Mrs. Dorr. Does it look like I got anything to sacrifice?”

I looked down in embarrassment. “I didn’t—”

“Did you see the chillin outside?”

“Yes. Your daughter was very kind.”

“I got six. Just added one more this mornin’.”

I wrung my hands, my lace gloves scuffing my skin. Guilt riddled my insides.

“They sleep in shifts—they hunt for squirrels to eat ’cuz I can’t buy ’em food.”

“I’m sor—”

“I lost my job recently”—she paused—“as you might recall, and I ain’t got money for nothin’, and I sure ain’t got none for no fancy doctor.”

I stopped fidgeting.

Her lips relaxed and she hesitated. “Forgive me. Um…” She repositioned the baby and sighed. “I’m sorry. I get like this after. I shouldn’t talk to you that way. You done so much for me.”

“No. I didn’t do anything. You did all the hard work. I didn’t even know what I was doing.”

“But you did. You brung my baby into the world.”

“Only because of your instruction.”

“You picked it up like a natural.”

I shook my head.

“I don’t want to offend, but I ain’t never seen a woman of your station do anything like that—like…”

“Yes?”

“You were like a midwife. Others would have ran or fainted.”

“Well, I—I used to be interested in nursing. I volunteered, took a few courses in college, but nothing like that.”

“Is that so?”

“I’m going to get you your position back. Mr. Dorr won’t be able to find anyone else, and you aren’t in a delicate condition anymore.”

Her expression lifted. “Thank you.” She looked down at her baby then back up. “You learned nursin’? Does that mean you know cures for when you get a puny feelin’ in your belly—or what have you?”

“What?”

“You know, when your stomach gets riley and begins a-burnin’?”

“Dyspepsia?”

“That there’s the one.”

“Subnitrate of bismuth.”

“Mighty expensive?”

“I have some. I know how to make it.”

“Wooo,” she hooted. “That there’s some useful know-how.”

“Which of your children—?”

“Not them.”

“Oh.”

“Mrs. Dorr, you’ve done such a service for me and you didn’t have to. Most wouldn’t have. I shouldn’t ask for more, but would you do that for someone else?”

“Do what? Deliver a baby?”

“No, no.” She waved a hand. “They got the stomach pains.”

“Oh. Oh. I don’t know.”

“You done it for me.”

“That was an urgent situation.”

“But this is urgent, too.”

“A stomachache?”

“They got more than just a stomachache.”

“They?”

“Chillin. They’ve been ill for weeks.”

“With what?”

“A friend of mine, his wife passed two months back, and he’s been left to care for their four chillin all by himself.”

“Oh my.” I put my hand over my mouth.

“The little ones are bedridden, and Mr. Whitmay, my friend, he don’t know how to care for ’em.”

“I can’t even imagine, but—”

“He’s just terrified he’s ganna lose his babies, too. And he might if they ain’t cared for.”

“Mrs. Schwab?”

“Round a week ago I told ’em I’d try to find some way to help and had thought of nothin’ until I see you know stuff. If you took a look at ’em, you could figure out what medicine is fittin’.”

I thought about it. If John, Walter, or, God forbid, Margaret ever found out, they would use the information to send me to a sanatorium or an asylum. “I could get into trouble for doing something like that.”

“You could get into a heap of trouble runnin’ around in your underthin’s, too.”

My mouth fell open.

She sighed. “Please. They desperate.” She leaned forward. “No one will ever know, and it’ll just be this one time.”

I breathed deep. Could I? The family was in need. With Ida and Margaret ridding this town of charity, they’d never find help elsewhere. Besides, I didn’t care about being a proper and good wife anymore. No one would ever know about it anyway. What kind of Christian would I be if I didn’t help? It was just this one time.

When I returned to the house, I saw a carriage in the drive. Had Ella and Francis waited for me? I pushed back the last few branches and the carriage came into view. It was worse. I gently opened the front door, knowing that Margaret was waiting inside. I could not believe Francis had run to her own enemy to keep me down. I entered the foyer and heard voices from the parlor.

“Her behavior is deplorable, absolutely outrageous,” Margaret said.

“Her condition may have worsened.” The second voice was Walter’s.

“May have? No, it’s obvious. She knew very well she needed to be seen by you before leaving bed. She isn’t the type to be disobedient.”

I scrunched my face.

“She intentionally disregarded your instruction. She is obviously unstable.”

“This condition is unpredictable,” Walter said.

“Her mind is clearly deteriorating. You must inform her husband. Take action. Your father would.”

He sighed. “I think we should refrain from making conclusions until I examine her.”

“Nonsense! Tell your father.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Why aren’t you taking this seriously? You didn’t even have her try the water cure.”

The water cure was treatment for hysteria. “I knew it,” I whispered to myself. They thought me mad.

“Sometimes those things only make the situation worse.”

Margaret huffed. “That’s only if there is a misdiagnosis.”

“Misdiagnoses are common when doctors conclude with haste or when they listen to unfounded advice.”

“Well! Pardon me.”

“Mother, I didn’t—”

“Why do you insist on tormenting me? You don’t listen to me. You won’t tell me anything.”

“Not again. I am not courting anyone. It’s all in your head. Ida’s gossip.”

“Ida is not a gossip.”

“I am courting no one. I have neither the time nor the inclination.”

“We’ll see.”

They stopped talking, so I entered the parlor and feigned surprise.

“Emeline.” Walter said. He and his mother stood.

“Margaret, Walter.” I removed my lace gloves.

They sat back down on the sofa facing the fireplace. “We didn’t hear you come in,” Margaret said.

I stood in front of them.

“You seem well,” Walter said.

“Yes, I—”

“You shouldn’t be out of bed without a physician’s permission,” Margaret interrupted.

Walter shifted toward his mother and blinked. “Thank you.” He returned his eyes to me. “You could overstrain yourself.”

I met Margaret’s yellow-green eyes. “I appreciate your concern, but as I told Mrs. Williams, I wouldn’t have left if I was at all concerned for my health.” I folded my hands and lowered my chin. “Walter, you suggested I rest. I understood that to mean, once rested, I could return to my life.”

“I can see you have regained color and your strength, but I’m not so sure you should return to your duties so soon.”

“I disagree, and if the diagnosis was what I assume it must have been, too much leisure can also become a problem.”

Walter rubbed his chin considering my opinion.

“Emeline!” Margaret shouted. “I am concerned you are worse.”

“Then it’s too bad you are not my physician.”

Her eyes bulged and her mouth fell open.

Walter curled his lips in, holding back a sly smile, no doubt. “I suppose—in moderation. If you experience any stress, I trust you will return to bed rest and send for me.”

“Of course.” I glanced at Margaret, who appeared to be silently boiling over.

“Very well, we should be off.” Walter rose and eyed his mother, who stamped up and out.

After the door clacked shut, I slumped into a chair and exhaled.

I went to the library and skimmed the titles on the shelves until I reached the medical texts. John had them for his work with physicians. I felt unexpectedly exhilarated about the idea of visiting the family. I picked out a few books, took them to the gothic desk, and sat in the imperious seat, the lofty back lingering high above me. When I sat in it, I understood why the previous owner had chosen it. I felt like a queen—no, a bearded king! I smiled at the thought, and then I started with a lean volume, skimming the table of contents and flipping to relevant sections. I had learned enough about medicine and Latin in college to understand what I read, but I did intermittently require a medical dictionary.

I pored over all kinds of cures and remedies for dyspepsia and other stomach conditions until I reached stomach cancer and felt nauseated. Father. I lowered my gaze slowly and noticed a colored piece of paper under the book. I could tell from the form of date and address that it was a personal letter. I slid the leather-bound book aside and saw the word
wife.
I thought of James. Without even checking the signature, for fear it would reveal otherwise, I yanked the paper out from beneath my book and tore through the words:

Dear John,

I am fully aware of the difficulties of marriage, and I assure you they are quite normal. These qualms will pass. You are a man now and have responsibilities, obligations. It is your duty to take care of your family, not only for your own honor and that of your new wife, but also that of the Dorr name. I fully expect you to put all your energy into making this marriage successful.

As to your second query, I am disappointed with your lack of confidence in me and my decision. Mr. Coddington is a well-educated and successful lawyer. His mentorship will take you far in your career. Being a lawyer has nothing to do with values, beliefs, or morality. Leave that to your wife. Your job is to work hard, harder than you’ve ever worked before, and without complaint. I will not grant any more attention to these concerns. I will not hear of them, not from your lips nor your pen.

Your mother misses you.

Sincerely,

Richard Dorr

Disappointment and a glimmer of heartache felt heavy in my chest. How could I have ever thought John Dorr might care for me? I permitted the heartbreak to hold me for only a moment, and then I reminded myself that I didn’t care. I resisted the pain and retreated to the books.

After reading until I could no longer, I found a large satchel. I went to the medicine chest and recalled from class the necessities of a nurse’s kit. I packed a thermometer, petroleum jelly, a measuring cup, absorbent cotton, sticky plaster, bandages of muslin, spirits of ammonia, subnitrate of bismuth, a pain reliever called Hoffman’s anodyne, and a stronger pain reliever called laudanum, made from a small amount of opium diluted in alcohol and usually used as a cough suppressant. Next, I went to the sewing materials kept in the sitting room and grabbed thread, needles, and pins. I’d once read that oil of cloves and tallow melted in rose water to soften skin were essential for a nurse’s kit, so I mixed them up.