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

Chapter 25

June 1873Thomas

Thomas supported Harriet as she leaned over to throw the first handful of dirt on the wooden casket.

“Take me home, please, Thomas. There’s no need for me to stay any longer. My Douglass isn’t in that box. He’s dancing at the feet of Jesus, just like I should be.”

Thomas wasn’t sure if she meant on Earth or in heaven beside her husband. “Of course.” He led her to the carriage and helped her inside.

Harriet patted his hand. “He loved you.” She used the other to dab at her eyes.

Thomas gazed out the window as he processed her words. Silence enveloped the carriage, and his heart filled with the weight of unspoken emotions. Harriet’s hand remained on his, a gentle anchor in the midst of such loss. An unspoken understanding passed between them, conveying more than words ever could. “I know.” The words came on a sob, and he cleared his throat. “What will you do?”

“For one, I plan on keeping Teddy on for as long as I can afford her.”

“Don’t worry about money, Harriet.”

“No, son. You’ve done more than enough by paying for the burial.”

Thomas wanted to do more. This woman was family.

Harriet turned in the seat to face him. “I hear those wheels turning in that head of yours. My Douglass wouldn’t want you grieving his passing; he’d want you celebrating his going home. I had him nearly a year longer than expected. God gave me that. I can trust Him with the rest of my days.”

Thomas wished he had the same confidence. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt God’s presence. Grammie would have told him he wouldn’t hear God’s voice if he wasn’t in God’s word. Thomas knew that was true but hadn’t made time to commune with God in many months.

Two, to be exact.

Harriet squeezed his hand. “What has you all uptight? And don’t tell me it’s this.” She swept her hand over her black dress.

“I like you better in blue.” He winked.

“Oh, you. Good to see your humor isn’t gone, just your spark. Where’d it go?”

“Harriet, if I knew that, I could cure the world of many ills.” The words came out on one continuous breath.

“‘These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.’ Don’t allow the temporary troubles of this world to affect your eternal future.”

“I suppose it’s my earthly future giving me trouble.”

“Your work or Miss Emmaline?”

“A good dose of both, but I don’t want to burden you on this difficult day.” He patted her hand.

“Burden? Son, seeing you like this is a greater burden than anything else I’ve faced today.”

Thomas met her gaze.

“I’ll always miss my Douglass. Impossible not to after thirty-eight years. But he’s free from pain. Fully healed. You’re the one needing care now. Let me help.”

He’d said those words to Teddy recently, but she’d refused his help, and it was eating him alive. Thomas wouldn’t allow Harriet to feel the same. The driver stopped, and Thomas helped Harriet down.

Thomas thanked and paid the driver, then assisted Harriet into the house. “If you’re willing to listen, I’d like your advice.”

“I’m all ears. Let me get out of these clothes, and we can chat.”

“Mind if I make coffee?”

Her eyes misted over, but her smile was genuine. “I’d like that. And cut a slice of cake. People must think I need fattening up. I have enough cake and pie to feed an army.”

Thomas removed his jacket and tie, then rolled up his sleeves. Little touches of Douglass were everywhere he looked. The stool he had crafted now rested in the corner by the fireplace. The shelving he had built held the tin of coffee Thomas pulled down. Even the worn imprint on the wooden handle of the coffee pot matched the size of Douglass’s fingers.

Thomas wanted to turn back time. He’d known Douglass had been nearing death, yet rather than sacrifice time to be with him, he’d sent Teddy to help in the man’s final days.

“Don’t be dwelling on regrets.”

Thomas laughed. “How’d you know?”

“You’re slouching. Stand up tall.”

Thomas did as she said and watched a smile spread over her face.

“I’m guessing you were wishing you had spent more time with Douglass in his final days.”

Thomas nodded.

“What you may not know is Teddy needed to be here more than you.”

He’d seen Teddy standing near the other boarders at the funeral but didn’t remember speaking to her. “What do you mean?”

“That girl’s dealing with a world of hurt and the weight she’s carrying, well, Douglass helped lift some of it from her shoulders. He had that ability.”

“Yes, ma’am, he did.”

“She’ll make someone a fine wife one day.”

“Yes, ma’am, she will.”

“Would have been a good one for you.”

“Yes, ma’am, she would—” Thomas blinked.

Harriet’s laughter filled the small room. “That’s what I thought. You’ve liked that girl since you got here, but you got so caught up in working your way into Emmaline’s world that you ignored your heart.”

Thomas leaned his elbows on the table and hung his head.

“Is this what you want, Thomas?”

“Honestly? I don’t know what I want.”

“Well then, perhaps you should ask yourself if this is what God wants.”

“I don’t know what He wants, either.”

“Starting there is a good idea. God desires to give you the desire of your heart, but if you don’t know what that is, well . . .” Harriet sipped her coffee.

“My heart tells me one thing, and my head tells me another.”

“Seems to me your head and your heart need about as much healing as Teddy’s.”

Thomas shifted in his chair. “She won’t let me help her.”

“Maybe not now, but in God’s timing, you may be the only one who can.”

My dearest Thomas,

Gabe has returned, at least in body. His mind is not the same. Pete found him in the same cave he’d rescued him from as a boy. They’ve done all they can and don’t know where else to turn but to God for Gabe’s healing.

Dr. Casey believes it to be gout and recommends eliminating organ meat and spirits, but there is no evidence Gabe has been imbibing in strong drink.

Thomas felt sick to his stomach. Had he returned to Shumard Oak Bend, he would have been there to help his friend.

A sturdy nurse with a military demeanor knocked on the door. “Dr. Shankel, you’re needed in maternity.”

Thomas refrained from saluting. “On my way.” He folded the letter and placed it in his white coat pocket, then followed the sounds of a crying infant.

Thomas held the red-faced baby in his arms after giving the child a full exam. The boy’s mouth puckered with each intake before wailing again.

“There’s nothing wrong with your son that more milk won’t cure. He’s growing quickly, Mrs. Patterson. I recommend nursing more frequently. Every child is unique. Some children adapt easily to a set feeding schedule. This little guy may take a bit longer to get to a two-hour stretch.”

He placed the child he’d brought into the world into the mother’s arms. “You’ve healed nicely. I’ll have your nurse begin preparations to send you home first thing in the morning.”

Tears filled the woman’s eyes. “Thank you for your excellent care, Dr. Shankel. Now, if you could make these ridiculous tears quit, that would be a bonus.”

Thomas laughed. “Continue to rest, eat properly, and ask for help when needed.” He looked at the father standing at the woman’s shoulder. “Men can change diapers and clean dishes just fine.”

The man put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “After what my wife went through, I’m hoping she’ll let me do more than that. Thanks, Doc.” He offered Thomas his hand.

The strong connection felt good. Thomas enjoyed interacting with his patients while they were coherent. He liked days in surgery, but the time with those patients felt as sterile as the room he operated in.

A nurse approached. “Excuse me, Dr. Shankel, you’re needed elsewhere.”

He handed the nurse the completed chart he held and followed her. “Where to now?”

“They sent word from recovery. One of your surgical patients opened up his stitches.”

“On my way. You can release Mrs. Patterson in the morning. I’ve instructed her to increase her feedings. That’s one hungry boy.”

He could tell the old-school nurse did not agree, but she was wise enough to remain quiet.

“Please ensure she gets as much rest as possible tonight. Tomorrow, she’ll be thankful for it.”

The nurse gave a knowing smile. “Yes, Doctor.”

Thomas was tired. Not the bone-weary tired he’d felt while in school, but a disheartening, disillusioned tired, if that was even a thing. He’d hoped to learn more and gain more experience while working these past few weeks, which he had, but nothing he did felt like it really mattered. Except for birthing that child. Maybe he should go into obstetrics, but doing that one thing for the rest of his life made him tired just thinking about it.

Thomas offered smiles to those he passed in the corridors but didn’t recognize a single face. Images of familiar ones from home swam in his vision. He touched the letter in his pocket. He missed his family, Gabe, and the feeling of truly being a part of a community. Philadelphia was nice, but it wasn’t his home.

He missed the wonder and excitement he’d once had about medicine. He no longer felt passionate about anything—or anyone.

Thomas slowed his steps. He suspected the reason he hadn’t yet received his permanent position was that he was dragging his feet on proposing to Emmaline. There certainly was no passion there. She’d become tiresome and clingy, even a bit controlling—like her father.

Thomas knew he needed to make a decision. “Indecision is a decision.” The words Douglass had once said to him echoed off the walls. He opened the door to the stairwell, the sound of it closing like a final drumbeat sealing his fate.

With each step he took, Thomas felt the weight of Douglass’s words pressing against his mind. Indecision is a decision. He couldn’t afford to remain in the realm of indecision any longer.

As he descended the stairs, his resolve solidified. Today, he would make his choice, and whatever consequences it brought, he would face them head-on.

He opened the recovery ward door, nearly running into a commanding figure. “Pardon me.”

“You are pardoned,” the nurse said.

“I’m Dr. Shankel. Can you point me to Mr. Wellington? I understand his surgical site needs attention.”

The nurse pointed with her pencil. “Three. But wash your hands first.” She turned the pencil toward the lavatory before slipping into a patient area.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said before thinking. There were a few nurses in this hospital who knew who was boss, and it wasn’t him. Thomas swung open the door, only to freeze in horror at the sight that greeted him.

Teddy, usually vibrant and full of life, now looked like a ghost, her face drained of color, eyes wide with terror as she struggled against an assailant. Thomas clenched his fists, a surge of rage coursing through him, ready to unleash his fury on the man who had her pinned to the wall. But then the man turned, and Thomas’s blood turned to ice.

“Dr. Whitaker,” Thomas spat, the name heavy on his tongue. Suddenly, everything clicked into place, the missing pieces of the puzzle snapping together with chilling clarity.

Whitaker’s face was a mask of malevolence, his features contorted with a twisted satisfaction that sent shivers down Thomas’s spine. He wiped his hand across his mouth and smoothed down the front of his jacket with deliberate, calculated movements. His eyes bored into Thomas’s with a cold, unyielding gaze, devoid of any shred of humanity, like a stone gargoyle come to life.

In that moment, Thomas felt a surge of revulsion so potent it threatened to overwhelm him. He could scarcely believe what he was witnessing, the betrayal cutting deeper than any physical wound. This was the man he had trusted, the man he had looked up to—a monster masquerading as a mentor. The shock and horror of the realization washed over him in a sickening wave, leaving him shaken to his core.

“Thomas. Son. It appears your handiwork was less than desirable on your patient yesterday. Clean up, and get that taken care of,” Whitaker said as if there were nothing untoward going on.

A frightening calm settled over Thomas as he surveyed the scene before him. Teddy’s usually neat bun hung limp, her cap keeling to one side. Her arms covered her bodice, but the dress seemed intact.

Thomas replaced his initial surge of rage with a chilling resolve. He relaxed his fists, feeling the tension drain from his muscles as he lifted a hand toward Teddy.

“Teddy,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes locked with hers in a silent plea. “Come with me.”

Teddy’s response was not what Thomas expected. Instead of relief flooding her features at his offer of escape, her expression remained frozen in a mask of terror. Her breaths came in shallow, rapid gasps, her chest heaving.

Teddy’s body trembled uncontrollably, and she leaned into the wall behind her as if trying to anchor herself to some semblance of reality. Her eyes, wide and dilated, darted frantically between Thomas and Dr. Whitaker.

Thomas could see the struggle playing out in Teddy’s mind, the fear warring with the desperate desire to run. But fear held her captive, paralyzing her with its icy grip, leaving her unable to move, unable to speak, unable to do anything but tremble in silent terror.

Thomas held her frozen stare, a knot of dread twisting in his gut. He knew the decision he made in this moment would shape not only his own future but Teddy’s as well. And as much as he longed to rescue her from the nightmare unfolding before them, he also knew that they were teetering on the edge of a precipice, with no way of knowing what lay on the other side.

Dr. Whitaker narrowed his eyes. “Choose wisely, Thomas. A decision like this will alter your future.”

Dr. Whitaker’s words hung in the air like a dark omen, a warning of the consequences that awaited him no matter which path he chose. But Thomas refused to let fear dictate his actions. With a steely determination, he reached out to Teddy once more, silently urging her to take his hand and trust him to lead her to safety.

Thomas’s heart pounded in his chest as he stood resolute, his gaze unwavering.

Dr. Whitaker spat, “You would choose this strumpet over what I’m offering?”

The air crackled with tension as a surge of defiance rose within Thomas. His gaze remained fixed on Teddy. Despite the palpable tension in the air and Whitaker’s venomous words, Thomas’s focus never wavered from the woman who stood before him, trembling and vulnerable.

A single tear slid down her ashen cheek.

The sneering face of Whitaker faded into the background. All that mattered was Teddy.

Thomas lifted his hand higher. Teddy met his gaze with a flicker of hope in her eyes. It was a small spark amidst the darkness, but it was enough to reignite the flame of defiance within him. When he repeated his words, his voice was steady despite the turmoil within.

“Teddy. I’m here for you.” His eyes remained unwavering from Teddy’s.

Dr. Whitaker’s sneer only fueled Thomas’s determination. He now saw the truth behind the facade. He’d witnessed first-hand the man’s manipulation and disregard for others’ well-being, including his own daughter’s. Thomas’s next steps became clear.

“What exactly is it you are offering?” Thomas asked, his tone laced with mock interest.

“Prestige. Power. Emmaline,” Dr. Whitaker replied, his voice dripping with arrogance.

Thomas shook his head. Something flickered in Teddy’s eyes. “I’m not interested in any of those. My friends mean more to me than anything you could offer.”

Thomas watched Teddy’s arms loosen. The Teddy he knew and loved was returning, gaining confidence with every breath.

A peace he’d not felt for months washed over him, and Thomas knew he had made the right choice—loyalty over ambition, friendship over prestige. A sense of clarity and purpose reinforced his resolve. He would stay true to himself no matter the consequences. His decision emboldened him, and he took a step forward.

“You do this, and you’re finished, Shankel,” the man said through a clenched jaw.

“Step out of the way.” Thomas squared his shoulders and took another step toward the man.

“Don’t threaten me.” The man’s anger was palpable, visible in the hard set of his jaw and the tense lines etched into his forehead. His eyes blazed with fury, daring Thomas to challenge him, but he stepped aside as if the trembling girl was of no significance to him.

Thomas offered Teddy his hand once more. This time, she moved quickly toward him and grasped his hand as if holding on for dear life. He moved her behind him. “Dr. Whitaker, I will have my resignation on the chief surgeon’s desk in an hour.”

The man shook with rage. “You are making a big mistake.”

“The mistake was blindly following you rather than my heart.” He squeezed Teddy’s hand.

Thomas felt Teddy press up against his back. He didn’t know if she was supporting his decision or if she needed him for support. “Nurse Morse is also tendering her resignation, effective immediately. You will ensure an extra two weeks’ pay in her final check.”

The man’s sardonic laugh reverberated in the room. “Who are you to tell me what to do?” he sneered.

“The tables have turned. I’m the one who holds your future in my hands.” Thomas didn’t recognize the steel in his voice.

“No one would believe you,” he scoffed.

The door opened, and Thomas heard the voice of the nurse from earlier, full of even more authority now. “Maybe not, but there’s power in numbers.”

Thomas missed Teddy’s touch as she ran to her friend but knowing she was now safe gave him increased confidence. He took another step forward. This time, Dr. Whitaker’s back pressed against the wall.

Thomas moved to the sink and peered into the mirror at the man who had yet to move, confronting the reflection of a man he had once admired. “I suggest you clean up. Spittle on one’s face doesn’t reflect well on the hospital or the university.”

Slamming the door behind him felt good. He didn’t see the women but heard whimpers coming from the head nurse’s office.

Thomas would care for his patient—and then deliver on his promises. After that, only God knew—and he was perfectly fine with that.