Chapter 9 #2
Evie wasn’t concerned. She wore her nurse’s uniform with the plain dark navy gown and white pinafore apron.
She hadn’t bothered to wear the cap, feeling that was too formal for visiting the poor.
Although the uniform brought a certain respect for the wearer, Evie didn’t feel she was worthy of such attention.
Help me, Lord. I don’t know how to contend with this. I felt so called to nursing, and then all of these problems arose. I’ve asked You to take away my issues of nausea and feeling faint. I want to do what You’ve called me to do.
Then a thought came to mind. What if God hadn’t called her to nursing? What if the strong desire to help her father and win his approval was the only thing that had summoned her choice?
“Excuse me, could you help a poor man?” a voice called as Evie and her mother loaded their things in the wagon.
Mother stopped and looked at a man who squatted near a pile of trash. “What is your name?”
“Most folks call me Stubbs.” The man’s voice was raspy. He rose and tipped a large brown felt hat. “That’s my family name.” The man stood but kept his distance. “Ain’t had a decent meal in some time, and I heard you were one of those who cared about folks.”
“I’m Mrs. Turner, Mr. Stubbs. And yes, I care about folks.”
Evie watched her mother deal with the man so gently. He was badly scarred and not at all pleasant to look at. Obviously, he’d been injured by a fire at one time.
“If you come here, Mr. Stubbs, I will give you a bag of food. I have some cheese and bread, as well as fruit. Would that suit you?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’d like that.” He looked at Evie and nodded. “You’re good people.”
He followed them to the wagon, where Mother prepared a very generous sack for the man. Evie found herself looking him over for any injuries, a matter of habit after four years.
It came that way for her mother as well. “Do you have any injuries or health needs that we should address?” Mother asked. “My daughter is a nurse and quite capable of aiding you.”
The man again fixed his gaze on Evie and shook his head. “I’m doing well enough. I was in a fire a few years past, as you can see. They figured I’d die, but I showed them.”
“Did that happen here in Minneapolis?” Mother continued packing his sack.
“No ma’am. It was in Chicago. Apartment building went up in the dead of night. Ten people died and left me like this. I used to not be such a bad lookin’ fella, and I could sing too. After the fire I struggled just to speak.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Stubbs.” Mother tied the bag off and handed over the sack.
“I hope this will help, but you know just two blocks from here you will find a church-run mission house. They will give you a hot meal and provide a bed for you. They might ask for some help in return, but they’re good folks. ”
“Thank you, ma’am. I’m new to town and looking for work and a place to stay.”
Mother nodded. “Just go down to the corner and turn left. Walk two blocks, and the building will be on your right. There’s a big sign. You can’t miss it. Tell them Mrs. Turner sent you.”
The man nodded and clutched the bag close. “I’ll do that, ma’am. Thank you for the food.”
Evie helped her mother onto the wagon seat and then climbed up herself. To her surprise, Mother let her take the lines. Evie urged the horse forward and merged into the busy traffic.
“I feel great pity for that man.” Mother’s voice sounded sad, almost weary. “I feel great pity for all of them. They are so defeated and downcast. And why not? The Lord alone is the one who can change their fate.”
“But we have helped them to get through another day,” Evie said, surprised by her mother’s morose tone. “You and Father have often said life is a series of events that we must survive day by day and with God’s help we need never fear the days to come.”
“And I believe that, but with this economic downturn, so many more are suffering now than before. Many businesses have failed, and their owners have lost everything. The poor become poorer, that’s always the way of it.”
Evie supposed it was true. “I was thinking about ways to provide beds. It seems a sturdy frame with roping could be relatively cheap to create. A few pieces of lumber and some rope. How hard could that be to make? How expensive? I’d be happy to put some of my inheritance to work making a few dozen of them. ”
“You’ve a good heart, Evie. The problem isn’t in providing the materials, but in getting people to take them. You know they’re quite proud, and charity isn’t always something they will receive.”
“Seems a shame to suffer and make your children go without all because of pride. No wonder the Bible says, ‘Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.’ If people are too proud to face a bit of embarrassment at their circumstance and thus miss out on a blessing, then how can we help them?”
“We must continue to try, and we must pray for them. Now pick up the pace and head straight to Charlotte’s house,” Mother said. “I don’t want to be late.”
Evie could tell her mother was discouraged by all that she’d witnessed. Mother had such a tender heart.
“You did a good thing, Mother. You helped them as best you could. Especially the scarred man.”
“Did you see that he was missing three of his fingers? I wonder if the fire cost him that as well.”
“Whatever his limitations, we gave what we could, and the mission will see to his needs. They won’t turn him away.” Yet she understood her mother’s sorrow over the matter. The plight of the homeless was something impossible to ignore.
“There are just so many, Evie. Just so many.”
They were welcomed into the Van Cleve house and ushered into the large front room where the women were all talking informally. Charlotte Van Cleve had not yet called the meeting to order.
“I’m so glad we aren’t late,” Mother whispered in Evie’s ear. “Let’s sit here near the door in case I get too warm.”
“So good to see you again, Judith and Evie.” Mrs. Van Cleve came into the room just as they claimed their chairs. Both stood to greet the older woman. Evie let her mother do the talking for them both. “I see you’ve been hard at work.”
“We were delivering help baskets and tending to the poor,” Mother explained.
Mrs. Van Cleve smiled. “I’m sure they were delighted to see you. Oh, the time is getting away from me. I should start the meeting.” She gave Mother a hug and then hurried to the front of the room. “Ladies, if you will take your seats, we can open our meeting in prayer.”
Evie settled in and listened as Mrs. Van Cleve prayed, then immediately began discussing a variety of themes. After about twenty minutes of news regarding their various projects, Mrs. Van Cleve shared information related to Bethany Home, perhaps her favorite task.
“We only have four women with us at this time,” she began.
“Each has signed contracts to remain for a year, as we ask.
During that time, they will be cared for and upon delivering their babies will make the final decision as to whether they will give their children up for adoption or keep them.
They will also learn life skills such as sewing and cooking.
“These women come from the most difficult of situations. Most have never had a husband, and those who do have been deserted with no one else to turn to. One of the women in our house was actually the victim of a terrible attack. She has already decided to give up her child, and once the baby is born, we are paying her way to Washington state where she intends to live a quiet life with her grandmother.”
Evie’s heart was tender toward those poor souls who had been tricked into believing the men in their lives had good intentions.
She felt sorry for those who had found themselves with no other choice but to sell themselves for food and board.
It was heartbreaking that society cared so little for people’s plights that they would look away from such great need and offer condemnation rather than love.
When she and Evan turned twenty-one and inherited a portion of money the year before, Evie had immediately donated part of it to Bethany Home.
Like Mrs. Van Cleve, it was one of her favorite charities, perhaps because she knew how little regard society gave these women.
It was almost as if they were being punished for a sin that wasn’t entirely their own.
Mother once said most women were afraid to even acknowledge these lowly sisters because such a thin dividing line lay between those who were considered the lowest form of womanhood and themselves.
Evie had even heard women pledge that they would die at their own hand before taking on such a heinous position.
Hopefully, most would never need to make such a decision.
But lingering questions haunted Evie’s thoughts. Where was God’s mercy for these duped women, these soiled doves? Where was the mercy of their neighbors and friends? Why could good people so completely and easily discard these wounded women?
Max opened the door to his new house and paused just inside the door. Silence greeted him but not in an unfriendly manner. This house felt like a sanctuary. Closing the door, Max had a distinct feeling of shutting the world out. He leaned back against the jamb and smiled.
Earlier in the day, an invitation had arrived for him. Evan had invited Max to join them for their family night. There would be food and games. And Evie.
Of course, there would be other people as well.
In fact, Max knew that even if there were no other guests but himself, it would still be a large gathering, since Evie’s family consisted of twelve souls all by itself.
Max had been more than a little amused at the stories she and Evan each shared.
It was impossible for him to imagine the cacophony they had grown up with when his own life had been so very quiet. Like this house.