Chapter 10
August 1871University of Pennsylvania Medical SchoolThomas
“We meet again.” Thomas stepped aside from the opening door and allowed Teddy to enter the boarding house. Water dripped from her overcoat.
Teddy removed her hood, and loose strands peeked out from beneath her nurse’s cap. “Just not as forceful this time.”
“It seems we both know where we’re going. Let me help you with your coat.” She turned, allowing his hands to reach over her shoulders and lift the wet fabric from her frame.
She turned back to take the coat, but he was already adding it to the growing tree.
Teddy adjusted her cap. “Thank you. You may know where you’re going this early and dressed so smartly. I do not.”
“You don’t know where you’re going? I’m guessing to bed.” Heat rose in his cheeks at his teasing.
“No, silly, I don’t know where you are headed so early this morning. And yes. A good night’s sleep, or morning as it appears, is what I plan on doing.”
Teddy’s smile and easy banter made him feel comfortable in her presence but did not quell his nervousness. “First day of school. I feel like a child hoping the teacher allows me to sit next to my best friend this year.” He forced a smile and put a hand over his quivering stomach.
“How exciting. I’d say you’re ready, but I’m afraid you’ve forgotten something important.”
Teddy’s gaze moved to his head, and he touched the top, wondering if he’d forgotten his hat, which he knocked askew. Her laughter was like sunshine on this rainy day.
She reached her hand beneath the forest of coats and produced an umbrella. “You may want this. I didn’t consult Mother Nature before I left for work last night.” She took a handkerchief and wiped droplets from her face.
“Ah, yes. There is little worse than spending an entire day miserably wet.”
“I can think of a few.” Her fingers trailed down something brown covering her once-white apron.
“I’m not going to ask what that is.” Thomas cleared his throat as the smell of someone’s regurgitated meal reached his nose.
“What, you don’t like this? Perhaps your first day of medical school will involve identifying and classifying all forms of . . .” She pointed to a few deeper stains, then lifted her pointer finger to her chin. “In fact, I’ve been told I’m a good tutor. Maybe, out of the kindness of my heart, I will let you wash it for me. You know, so you can practice the fine art of deducing the ailment from the aroma, color, and complexity of the stain.”
“It sounds like you’re asking me to identify a fine wine. Just so you know, I draw the line at tasting.” He tried to keep the look on his face serious, but the quaking in his gut now felt more like fluttering butterflies.
Teddy laughed. “Enjoy your day, Mr. Thomas. We can discuss homework another time. I’d hate to make you late. I’ll pray your first day of school is as exciting as primary school field trips and recess.”
Her wink surprised him. He could not contain the smile that spread across his face, making his eyes squint. “You as well,” was all he could get out as his gaze trailed her retreating form up the hall steps.
It took effort to open and secure the umbrella, but it wasn’t nearly as much as it took to force his nerves to obey. Those pesky butterflies attempted to show themselves, and Thomas chuckled, remembering the apron. Until she’d dabbed it away with her hankie, the water droplet on her cheek had reminded him of morning dew on a spring flower. The ease with which they’d bantered this morning was like moments with his sisters, but he’d never felt unsettled in his stomach with them.
The deep sound of large bells tolling reached his ears, and he picked up the pace, leaving his musings behind. The students moved like ants approaching a prize sugar lump, then stopped at a formidable stone structure ahead. He was breathing hard as he took the steps to the medical building classrooms two at a time.
The smell of dampness and acidic vinegar, which had likely been used to clean the huge foyer, greeted him, as did Jimmy, who stood just inside the ornate wooden doors, reaching for the umbrella. “Here, hand that to me. The lecture hall filled quickly, so I saved you a seat. My driver dropped me off early. Obviously, yours did not.” He took Thomas’s coat and held the dripping fabric in one hand and the umbrella in the other, keeping them away from his polished shoes as water dripped onto the shiny floor.
“Thank you, Jimmy. I needed the fresh air and, obviously, a shower.” Both laughed, relieving some of the tension under the weight of Thomas’s messenger bag.
Thomas ran his hand over the leather, holding what he hoped was all he’d need for his first day of class. He stepped gingerly over the tiled floors, being careful not to slip. He followed Jimmy into a large amphitheater-style classroom. The backs of dozens of heads looked down toward the front where a large blackboard, wooden desk covered in haphazardly strewn papers, and an unoccupied chair waited for their owner to arrive.
Thomas followed Jimmy down several steps, then sidestepped over the other students’ feet until they reached the center of the row. Most students had their heads down, and he didn’t see any familiar faces. He breathed more easily once he had settled into the wooden seat and laid his paper and freshly sharpened pencils on his lap. Jimmy passed him a rectangle of wood with a clip at the top.
“I wondered if you’d been in a theatre-style classroom without desks,” Jimmy said. “This clipboard will make taking notes much easier.”
“Thank you.” His dry throat made it difficult to say more. He pinched and closed the tight clasp on the clipboard, his bouncing knee causing his heel to tap. The person beside him took in a deep breath, not attempting to hide his irritation.
“You’ll wear that thing out before we start,” Jimmy chided.
Thomas willed himself to still, at least on the outside. There wasn’t much he could do about the jumble of nerves on the inside—except pray. Lord, may today be all field trips and recess—and a little learning. A burst of air escaped his nose, and he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth.
The rustle of papers and scraping of shoes pulled Thomas’s attention down to the front. The student to his left clapped as if he’d had a few too many cups of coffee to start his day. Thomas arose with the rest of the students as Dr. Whitaker stood at the front with a thin white coat over his morning suit. The raised hands of the commanding figure below quickly quieted the clapping of a few students.
“This, gentlemen, is a lab coat. Some of you will earn the privilege of wearing one such as this upon graduation. Similar to a priest’s collar or a clergyman’s garb, which I’m sure none of you in this room would care to wear, the white coat symbolizes professionalism and integrity. It signifies your commitment to caring for the sick and suffering.
“This jacket sets actual doctors apart from quacks, snake-oil healers, and medicine men who do not practice evidence-based medicine. Today, you begin your journey into the world of medicine. Forget everything you think you know, every wives’ tale you were told, every Indian poultice you’ve read about. You are now a medical student, and at this university, we study the science of medicine.”
The air around Thomas threatened to choke him. He ran a finger around the inside of his collar and hoped those around him would think the moisture was from the rain.
Boarding HouseEvening Meal
Mrs. Jones wiped her mouth and placed her napkin on the table. “Mr. Shankel. You received a letter today. It’s on the hall table.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” His eyes burned with exhaustion. Even the brisk walk home had not loosened the tension in Thomas’s shoulders. On top of a full day of lectures, Jimmy had invited him to luncheon at the botanical gardens. Thomas had not expected the price of the meal to be so much for a simple fare of bread and boiled meat. He’d need to seek places to buy bread, cheese, and dried meat for his noon meal—or skip it all together.
Thomas listened to the animated chatter of his boarding house friends but didn’t have the mental energy to take part in the discussions. He broke a piece of the crispy crust from the edge of the pie placed before him and stuck it in his mouth before everyone had been served. It was as rebellious and wicked as he’d been in a while. The first hour of class had focused on rules. Not that he would have trouble keeping them, but the reality, the magnitude, of what it would take beyond classroom studies made the crust turn to dust in his mouth.
Reggie leaned in. “Shoofly pie. Have you had it?”
Thomas put down his coffee. “I don’t believe so. It certainly smells good. Anything with molasses is a favorite of mine.”
Reggie pointed his fork to the head of the table, where Mrs. Jones took the first bite, then used his utensil to cut off a piece from his plate.
Thomas eyed the crumbles on top and the dark interior. “Mmm,” was all he could get out as he chewed the gooey goodness.
Reggie took a swig of coffee and leaned in. “I heard she won a blue ribbon for this recipe. I’m not one for sweets, but I love a good shoofly pie.”
Crocket placed his fork on the dessert plate, already finished. “You know, shoofly pie is original to Pennsylvania Dutch country. That’s probably why you haven’t tried it. Now, in the northeast, they favor the Boston cream pie. Buttery cake with a layer of thick pudding all covered in chocolate. That’ll get your tastebuds twirling. If you’re from the south, I suppose pecan pie might be a local favorite. That’s like nothing else I’ve ever had. Once when I was in . . .”
Thomas tuned the man out, scooped the last bite onto his fork, and let the flavors and textures meld in his mouth.
Thomas let out a contented sigh. “Mrs. Jones, I’m uncertain what other establishments feed their boarders, but you and Cook put on an exceptional spread. And your desserts never disappoint.” Thomas realized he’d interrupted Crocket, but no one seemed to mind, except for Crocket. Several others added their agreement.
She dabbed at her mouth. “Very kind of you to say. Cook always prepares something for Sundays and Wednesdays because those were the days my husband enjoyed having dessert with his evening meals. Sunday, to celebrate the Lord’s Day, and Wednesday because Mr. Jones said he needed a pick-me-up in the middle of the week.”
“Sounds like a man with good taste,” Thomas offered. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have much to do. Thank you again for the lovely meal.”
Thomas lifted his chair as he pushed it under the table. To some, he may be unsophisticated and lacking Philadelphia society’s social graces, but he wasn’t uncouth. Teddy met his gaze, and Thomas returned her smile.
The only mail on the foyer table was his. Thomas recognized his mother’s familiar handwriting and held the note close as he climbed the stairs. He fumbled with the key to his room, plopping down and allowing the feather pillow to cradle his head.
He had a long night ahead of him, and he couldn’t afford a nap, but studying could wait. Reading news of home came first.
My dearest Thomas,
Your father and sisters send their love, as do the crew. They are feeling the loss of your strong back and work ethic, but I think they only complain to make me feel better. I miss you desperately. Were it not for your clear calling from the Lord and your promise to return upon graduation, my heart might break.
We received word of a collapse at one of the mine shafts where Gabe works after classes in Rolla. Praise the Lord, there were no injuries. I wanted to make sure you knew he was fine should the news arrive in Philadelphia.
I need to get back to making breakfast, but I wanted to get something in the mail to you before the wagon headed to town for supplies.
I miss you. Work hard, son. Honor the Lord in all you do.
Much love, Mama
If his mother had been in the middle of cooking and had stopped to write this, his family likely would struggle to eat whatever she’d made. He’d had far too many flavorless or overly salty meals, and even ones where she’d used sugar instead of salt for the seasoning. He’d gladly eat one of those meals now.
“Time to get busy.” Thomas did his best to focus on his reading for class but could not keep his mother’s words from seeping into the crevices of his mind. Gabe working in the mines. His friend putting himself in danger every day in the depths of the earth.
“Lord.” Thomas ran his fingers through his hair and leaned back in his chair for a much-needed stretch.
“Do your best for Me.”
It wasn’t that Thomas audibly heard God’s voice, but more that the scripture he’d memorized over his lifetime surfaced and settled his heart.
“‘Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.’ That I can do. Thank You, Lord. I can focus my actions on doing what I know You’ve called me to do. My focus needs to be on my calling, even though my heart aches for my brother in Christ. I leave Gabe in Your capable hands and the path he’s chosen—or the one chosen for him. In all things, Father, I will worship You. In all things.” He spoke the last words with resolve.
Thomas folded the letter and placed it in the side drawer, then turned back to page one in his Basic Human Physiology textbook.