Healing of the Heart: A Shumard Oak Bend Novel (Discerning God’s Best Book 4)

Chapter 22

Late March, 1873Philadelphia HospitalThomas

Thomas jerked his head up. Gone were the days of lying awake for hours trying to get his mind to still enough to fall asleep. These days, he fell asleep standing. “Only another few minutes to my shift,” he reminded himself.

A slender nurse with a purposeful stride approached, and Thomas pushed off the hallway wall. Dr. Whitaker would frown on leaning. “There’s an urchin in the lobby requesting to see you, sir. He says he knows you.” The nurse’s curt tone held more disgust than no-nonsense professionalism.

“His name?”

“David, sir.” Her voice dripped with disdain.

“Thank you. I’ll be right there.” Dr. Whitaker’s reminder floated through Thomas’s mind.

“Reputation, son. It’s all about the image you portray. What you do behind closed doors is your business, but don’t allow anyone, anyone, to see a single flaw in your character. Choose your friends and associates wisely, and stay within the boundaries of the social status you’ve achieved. Your standing, real or perceived, will take you far.”

Thomas finished charting and shivered as he swallowed the final swig of now-cold coffee. Grounds remained in his mouth. He moved his tongue around until they were gone as he strode to the waiting area. Even amidst this crowd of people from a lower station, Thomas spotted David immediately. The boy had grown, his pant legs now touching the tops of his worn boots. The jacket Thomas had given him swallowed the boy but appeared to be keeping him warm and dry enough.

“David, it’s good to see you. Is everything all right?” Thomas kept his hands entwined behind his back, a posture he’d seen Dr. Whitaker take when showing authority. All manner of individuals in varying states of need looked at the two.

“All’s good, Mr. Thomas, I mean Dr. Shankel.”

“I’m not a doctor yet,” he whispered.

“Mrs. Jones sent me to check on you.” The boy diverted his gaze, looking everywhere but at Thomas.

“Ah, rent. Right. Follow me.” He was a disappointment to everyone. He couldn’t even remember to pay his rent on time. Thomas led the boy to the stairs, and they climbed the multiple levels. His legs felt like water-logged grain sacks by the time they reached the storage area where Thomas had placed an old military cot and moth-ridden wool blanket. “Welcome to my home away from home.”

David stared. “This is where you been staying? Why are you still paying rent when you got a castle like this?” The boy showed crooked teeth.

Thomas would have laughed, but he didn’t have the energy. “I’m too tired to make the trek back to the boarding house and would only get a few hours of sleep anyway. This, at least, is quiet, if a bit stuffy.”

David opened his jacket to reveal a paper-wrapped package. “Cook’s more than a mite worried for you. She sent a loaf of bread, some cheese, and dried meat.” David leaned in and whispered, “Just make sure you have plenty of water ready after the jerky. Oh, and Mrs. Jones sent this.” The boy handed Thomas a letter with his mother’s familiar handwriting.

“Thank you.” Thomas dropped to his cot and invited David to join him. He tucked the letter in his pocket. He missed word from home but needed physical sustenance more. Thomas broke off a piece of bread and allowed the crispy exterior to meld with the soft center. The tang of sourdough aroused his senses.

“Good, huh? Ate a whole loaf myself this morning. Cook says I eat like a teenager but look like an upturned okra. I don’t like okra.”

Thomas coughed, wishing he’d brought a fresh cup of water with him. “Just so you know, it’s one of her favorite vegetables, so take it as a compliment.”

David scrunched up his face.

Thomas searched for the jerky, then thought better of it and unwrapped the cheese. “So, tell me news of home.”

The boy brightened. “Mr. Ferret brought Miss Merriweather a bunch of prickly holly leaves with red berries. You’d a thought they were something special. Those two are all googly-eyed and sit so close on the parlor settee even Mr. Crocket could fit his wide self beside them.” The boy dipped his head.

Thomas remembered himself at this young age, but he’d had a passel of women to help curb his improper outbursts. “Love does cause a body to act differently.”

“Yeah. I heard Miss Josephine say you were probably staying over at your girl’s house, but Miss Teddy—she wiped the smirk right off that girl’s face. I thought I was gonna see a real brawl.”

Thomas’s jaw stilled. He wasn’t sure what was more disturbing, Josephine’s inappropriate accusation or Teddy having to come to his defense.

David sat taller. “But now that I know the truth, I’ll set them straight.”

“Thank you.”

The boy looked around the room. “I gotta go. I’m supposed to stop at the butcher on the way back and use your rent money to pay the man.” The boy picked at a loose string on his pants where his knees had worn the fabric thin.

“Certainly.” Thomas moved to a metal cabinet, opened the door, and lifted a shelf. He grabbed his wallet, which was tucked underneath, and pulled out the required funds, plus an additional month’s rent. These final months of schooling would be grueling, and he wasn’t certain when he’d get back to the boarding house, even though he desperately wanted to soak in the deep tub.

He grabbed a few extra coins and handed them all to the boy. “You let Mrs. Jones know this is for this month and next. There are two coins in there for you.”

The boy’s eyes lit up and then squinted. “What for?”

“Can you get a message to my friend along with a load of laundry?”

“Sure.”

Thomas removed the remainder of the food from the bag and filled it with a soiled set of clothing. “Let me write a quick note.”

He pulled the pad and pen from his pocket and wrote in his best print. “Take this note and laundry to Douglass, the coachman at Judge Pennypacker’s home. You’ll find him in the stables.”

Confusion lit the boy’s face. “He ain’t there no more.”

Thomas stilled.

“I heard he got the fever real bad.”

Thomas’s heart ached, and he rubbed his chest to ease the pain. “Is he home?”

“Don’t know. Just heard some other fellow with a bum leg took his place.”

“David, this is very important. I can’t leave, but I need you to get me word of my friends. Can you do that?”

“I can go when Cook heads to her second job. She don’t need me there.”

Thomas gave him directions, having to think hard about street names since it had been so long since he’d visited. “Forget about the laundry. I’ll figure something out.”

“Miss Teddy might do it for you. She started working again at the fancy eating place but is looking for extra work.”

Thomas had forgotten. He was dreadfully out of touch with the world around him and focused only on himself. Even Emmaline was unhappy with his lack of attention. He ran his fingers through his hair, wishing for a haircut. He felt Teddy’s soft touch on his scalp.

David interrupted his thoughts. “You want me to ask her?”

“Ask her?” Exhaustion clouded his mind.

“Man, you really are tired. Do you want me to ask Miss Teddy if she’ll do your laundry?”

He didn’t, but his socks could stand on their own at this point, and he needed fresh ones. It embarrassed him to think of Teddy washing his undergarments, but as a nurse, she’d handled much worse.

Even so, it felt improper. “No. There’s a laundry on Arch Street.” He pulled another dollar from his wallet. He’d need to make time to go to the bank.

David stood and tucked the package under his arm and opened the heavy door. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Thomas leaned back against the wall. Douglass and Harriet could be sick—or worse. He closed his eyes. “Lord, is this worth it? I’m so tired. The constant striving for perfection is wearing on me emotionally and physically, and I seem to disappoint people at every turn.”

He slid onto the cot and rubbed the heels of his hands over his gritty eyes until he could no longer hold up his tired arms. They dropped to his chest, where he felt the letter from his mother. He didn’t have the energy to read the words now even though he craved connection with the familiar, the stable.

Witnessing suffering and death sat like an anvil on his chest, and he struggled to take deep breaths. He’d lost so many patients. Some to the yellow fever he could do nothing for, but others to ailments he hadn’t caught soon enough or infections he should have been able to prevent. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for this work. Maybe he should have followed in Jimmy’s footsteps.

“Lord,” he cried out even as he felt the warmth of tears fill his ears. “Lord.” When was the last time he’d called on that name? Tears came harder.

Thomas woke and checked his watch. He’d only slept his routine two hours. His feet hit the floor with a thud, and he realized that, not for the first time, he’d slept in his shoes. The weight of earlier remained, and Thomas splashed water from a bowl and dried his face with the scratchy towel. He should have given it to David as well.

What was he doing here? This was no way to live. Gone was the excitement of learning, the passion for healing, the sense of purpose that had once driven him forward. All that remained was a hollow shell of the person he used to be, trapped in a cycle of exhaustion and disillusionment.

Would dedicating so much of his life be worth it in the end? This wasn’t the fulfilling career he had dreamed of.

Dreams. What even were those anymore? He only found disappointment wherever he turned.

Emmaline’s scowl flashed through his mind as she’d reprimanded him for being tardy for the opera over a month ago. He’d used precious funds to get from the hospital to the boarding house to bathe and change into proper clothing. Nothing pleased the woman, and he’d not had to work hard to avoid her. There hadn’t been time for such frivolities.

He didn’t even measure up to the expectations Dr. Whitaker placed on him. What he wouldn’t give to talk to his family and seek their guidance. He touched the letter in his pocket and pulled the wrinkled paper from the envelope. Only, the writing inside wasn’t that of his mother. He scanned to the bottom to confirm Clint’s name.

Son,

I pray you are well, especially with the news I am about to share. Henry and I continue our weekly Bible study at the jail, and this morning, after I lifted you to the Lord, he prayed for Gabe. Your mother says she told you of Gabe’s fighting and subsequent jail time. What she didn’t share was the extent of his misery.

Gabe suffers from headaches and what your sisters call brooding mood swings. The old Little Sun is nowhere to be found in those eyes of his, which are now usually red-rimmed. Henry says he doesn’t believe the boy is prone to drink, but he complains of stomach aches similar to what the sheriff has seen in those who drink homemade gut rot.

Henry said Gabe spent his three days in the jail sleeping but never seemed to improve in his demeanor. The boy’s as mad as a polecat and reeks of unhappiness. We last saw him three weeks ago when he ended up in jail again. Gabe lost his job in the mines. Sheriff says when he released Gabe, he was headed northeast, away from Rolla. When he left, he had nothing but the clothes on his back.

Pete headed to Rolla and gathered Gabe’s things but found no clues to help him determine where his son had gone.

I’ve given a few medical details on purpose. Henry thinks it’s spiritual, which I am certain is a factor, but your mother believes there is something else. She’s heard word of many in the lead mine getting sick, though not exactly like Gabe.

I thought you should know. Perhaps you have found some new cure for unknown illnesses. I wouldn’t put it past you. God has ordained your steps for His glory and good works in order to make his name known.

Sincerely,

Clint

They had more faith in him than he had in himself. What was he to do with this information? Even if he knew what was wrong, it was not like he could hop on a train and head home. Gabe wouldn’t likely be there anyway.

“Where have you gone?” He knew Gabe wouldn’t return to his Arapaho people. Reservation camps had less medical help and work than Shumard Oak Bend.

Thomas looked at the envelope stamped February 16. He reread Clint’s words. If Gabe had left three weeks before this letter was written, that would mean his friend had left in late January. Northeast. Why? This time of year, travel by horse would be tough, but on foot?

Thomas crumpled the letter. “I do not have time for this, Gabe. I’ve pulled you out of more scrapes than I can count. I gave you to the Lord long ago. This time, I’m leaving you there.” Thomas threw the paper on the floor and watched it roll, stepping on it as he walked out the door and back to work.

“There you are.” Dr. Whitaker did not sound pleased. The man covered his mouth and an expletive Thomas was thankful he did not have to hear.

“Good day, sir.” Thomas pasted on a smile.

Dr. Whitaker’s scowl did not change as he looked from Thomas’s shoes to his head. “I believe your Good Book says cleanliness is next to godliness. You’d do well to heed those words.”

“Yes, sir.” Thomas ran his fingers through his hair, getting stuck in a tangle and having to pull his fingers out.

“You can’t represent the hospital, the university, your class, or the Whitaker name looking like that. There’s no time for more than a cut and shave, but see that you get one. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” Thomas trudged his way back up the steps to get his wallet. He kicked the balled-up paper when he entered and watched it skid under the cot. He didn’t have time for himself. How was he expected to fix Gabe’s problems, too?

“Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”The words from Matthew echoed in a faraway corner of his mind. He didn’t even have time for God. His life was out of balance, leaving him feeling hopeless. He rubbed one shoulder, doing his best to relieve the tension. Maybe the barber could release the knots.

Thomas looked at the single remaining dollar and a few coins. He’d have enough for the barber and something to eat from a street vendor, but he’d need to get to the bank. He hoped Dr. Whitaker wouldn’t miss him for the few extra minutes he planned to take.

And, if he did, what did it matter? Everyone was disappointed in him. What was one more?