Daniel felt like a different person as he made his way into the hospital ward. It was past midnight, and while he should have been exhausted, he felt an energized peace, as if he’d just woken up from a long sleep. In many ways, he had.
Ida was beautiful as she slept, her head tucked onto a free corner of Gitch’s bed, the child’s hand still grasped in hers. The low lights of the hospital ward cast long shadows over the scene, mixing with the blue-white of the moonlight that came through the windows. He couldn’t help but see the world in Ida’s colors now; the flush of Gitch’s wounded lips against the pale of her skin and the way Ida’s hair made cascades of red-gold circles around her temples.
Ida had changed him. Ida had changed everything. I’m so grateful, Father God, he breathed into the night air. I’ll trust You with what You have planned for us next, but I don’t mind saying it’s a rather frightening affair. He smiled, thinking Ida would laugh at the honesty in his prayer.
“Dr. Parker?” the night nurse whispered and tapped on his shoulder, curling one finger to call him aside.
“How is she?”
“Frightened, uncomfortable, but I don’t think we could expect much more given her injury. Miss Landway said you would be returning, so Dr. Hartwick told me to tell you he feels it may be eight to ten weeks before the wires can be removed.”
Eight to ten weeks. That would seem like forever to someone Gitch’s age. “And after that?”
“Difficult to say, but Dr. Hartwick did say her speech will most likely be impaired. There’s some question about the vision in the right eye, but it’s too early to tell. I’m sure you know that.”
Daniel turned to look at poor Gitch, his heart swelling with concern. He wanted to do something, but there wasn’t anything to do. “She’s been wonderful,” the older nurse said, nodding to Ida. “She drew pictures for all the other children when Miss Gwen was asleep.”
Daniel looked around and saw that, indeed, there were small pictures tacked up over the beds of the other children in the ward. He recognized her drawings instantly. Three decorated the wall over Gitch’s headboard.
“What I wouldn’t give for more like her around here,” the nurse said as she closed her notes. “You’re fortunate to have her at the Home.”
Daniel felt his throat tighten. “You’ve no idea how much.”
He moved over to sit quietly beside Ida’s sleeping form. The knitting lay at the foot of the bed, the ball of yarn on the floor where it had rolled from the covers. Daniel picked up the yarn and placed it back on the bed. The motion roused Ida, who woke to blink at him with sleepy eyes.
“You’re back.”
He loved her to distraction at that moment. He knew with absolute certainty that he belonged with her, and she with him. So this is what all those poems are about, he thought, amused. They were right.
“You’re smiling?” She yawned the question as she straightened up.
“I was thinking how much I love you.” The words were lush and close, whispered so soft in the low light.
“Well, that’s mighty nice to hear.” She gently slid her fingers from Gitch’s grasp, and the child murmured and settled deeper into her pillows. Ida’s face grew serious as she woke further. “How was it?”
The unpleasant details seemed too sharp for this tender place. “Over. Done. Nothing that needs recounting now.”
She looked at him, puzzled. “How?”
Daniel merely shook his head.
Ida took his hand. “Daniel, she’s your mother.”
“She’s a mean, conniving old woman trying to take something that cannot be hers. She won’t be a bother to us anymore.”
“I know she’s terrible, but...”
“Marry me.”
Ida blinked. “What?”
“Marry me. The Parker Home needs a Mrs. Parker. I need a Mrs. Parker. I know it’s the middle of the night, but I don’t need another hour to think about it. I know. Marry me.”
Ida smiled. “I thought I was the impulsive one.”
“Well, evidently you are contagious.”
She leaned toward him. “How delightful. Yes. I will absolutely marry you, Daniel Parker.”
Wide awake, Daniel kissed her until the ward nurse gave a warning tap on her clipboard, smiling even as she tsked and shook her finger.
* * *
Ida woke in her bed at the Home weary and disoriented. The sun was already high in the sky—she’d not come back from Roper until nearly two in the morning when Daniel had sent for MacNeil to come and take her home. Evidently the groundskeeper had told the staff to let her sleep.
It felt as if years had been stuffed into the past twenty-four hours. Yesterday’s sun had risen on a normal Home day until the summons to Amelia Parker’s parlor had begun the chaotic chain of events still unfolding. Ida drew in a deep breath and touched the battered spine of her Bible as it lay open on her bedside table. She’d thought herself too wound up to sleep and had opened the Psalms for comfort last night, but hadn’t lasted two pages before nodding off. I know none of yesterday came as a surprise to You, Father, Ida prayed, but it sure did to me. Watch over Gitch. Watch over Daniel while he’s still there with her. Watch over all of us.
She’d wanted to stay with him, but Daniel was right—the children needed her presence. Her gifts to calm and distract might be the best resources they had today as things continued to tilt and whirl. She’d slept through too much of the day as it was.
Ida made quick work of washing and dressing. Her shoulders ached from the long hours in the metal hospital chair, and she needed a gallon of coffee. She wrestled her hair into a bun, but declared the dark circles under her eyes beyond repair. “It’ll have to do,” she told her reflection in the mirror, feeling nowhere near strong enough to face the day.
Ah, but there was one amazing, powerful thing a week of sleepless nights couldn’t undo: Daniel had asked her to marry him. Ida put her hands to her beating heart, amazed again that her cautious, thoughtful Daniel had made such a bold move. She stared at the letter from Dr. Bennet at Walter Reed, a rush of gratitude filling her. To think I was ready to leave. Oh Father, how You’ve hemmed me in when I was ready to run away.
The shift in Daniel’s life, in the Home’s life, would be hard. Starting today—starting this hour, when she walked out of this room. Hard never stopped me before. Ida walked to the window and peered out, listening for the sounds of children. Until the busy, serious quiet of the hospital, she hadn’t even realized how much the growing chatter of the Home had become an encouragement to her. The noise was life, and she loved her life here.
She tied her nurse’s apron in a strong, declarative knot and headed for the door. Just before opening it, she stopped and closed her eyes. Lord, if ever there was a day I needed a guard on my tongue... Send me all the grace and mercy You can. I don’t know what I’ll do when I see Jane Smiley, but I’ll try to make sure it honors You.
After finding a large cup of coffee in the kitchen, Ida went to find Mr. MacNeil. She located him out in the yard.
He leaned on his shovel and mopped the sweat from his brow. “How are you faring this morning?”
“A bit worse for wear, but I’ll survive, thank you.”
“In all the rumpus, I neglected to offer my congratulations last night.” His eyes gleamed. “Dr. Parker looked as though he was burstin’ to tell someone. I found it rather funny that it ended up being me.”
Ida shared his grin. “And why not you?” She gestured around the compound. “This is his family.”
“You’re right there, lass. But if you’d like to avoid a ‘family argument,’ I’d steer wide of Mrs. Smiley. She’s a fierce one on a good day, aye? And this is far from a good day, if you ken my meaning.”
“Daniel told her to leave, didn’t he?” She could still hardly believe Mrs. Smiley had gone to Amelia Parker the way she had. She’d truly thought she and the schoolmistress were getting along—well, as “along” as anyone got with Jane Smiley.
“I’ve never heard him use such a tone, ever. He stopped classes, made Grimshaw take them all outside, marched her into his office and closed the door. Even behind two closed doors, I heard him. It’s a wonder she didn’t stomp off right then. I think, if she had somewhere else to go, she would have.”
“I can’t not see her.”
MacNeil sent his shovel into the sandy soil. “Well, I’d just be terrible careful about how you do, then. Not anywhere near the young ones.” He looked up at her. “They need to see you. They were all scared when poor Gitch was hurt and you weren’t here.”
Ida put her hand to her forehead. “How on earth am I supposed to see the children and yet avoid Mrs. Smiley?”
MacNeil took out his pocket watch and checked the time. Of course! “Lunch duty!” The group charged with setting the lunch tables would be down in the dining room while Mrs. Smiley and the rest were still in classes. Ida startled MacNeil with a quick peck to the cheek before she hurried off. “It won’t be all of them, but it will be a start.” After that, she could impose on Fritz Grimshaw to let her into the boys’ classes to say hello later. This wasn’t so impossible after all.
Ida dearly hoped it was Donna’s turn on lunch duty, and was grateful to pull the young woman into a fierce hug as she entered the dining room. “Thank you for all you did to help me yesterday, Donna.”
“How is Gitch? Will she be okay?”
Ida held both of Donna’s hands. “She has lots of recovering ahead of her, but you know our Gitch. She won’t let this keep her down for long.” Ida looked up at the collection of Daniel’s cards still gracing the staff dining room doors. “I think it’s time we got everyone started on cards for Gitch, don’t you?”
Donna smiled. “I already did. No one could sleep, so I went and got your pastels and papers out.” The teen’s eyes grew very serious, and she pulled in close. “I’m sorry I went into your rooms like that, but I tried to think what you would do. And I’m sorry to admit that I saw the letter on your desk—I didn’t mean to snoop, honest, but it was just lying there. Tell me you aren’t leaving us, Nurse Ida. I couldn’t stand it if you left.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Donna. I promise. You and I will have a long talk about that later. As for the papers and pastels, you did the right thing. We’ll just need to make sure the Home has an art room from now on in, don’t you think?”
The other students at the far end of the room had noticed Ida’s presence now and came rushing up to her. A dozen questions from “Where were you?” to “Is Gitch dead?” flew at her in a matter of seconds.
“Whoa, there!” Ida exclaimed, grabbing as many of the outstretched hands as she could. “Gitch is alive and well but rather banged up, I’m afraid. She’ll have lots of recovering to do—much more than Dr. Parker did—so she’ll need our support.”
“I drew her flowers,” one girl said. “Blue ones because she likes blue.”
Ida touched the child’s long brown braids, thinking of Gitch’s matted hair underneath the ghastly bandages. “She’ll like that.”
“I drew her cookies because she likes those,” another girl offered.
“That may be the only kind of cookies she can enjoy for a while.” Ida sat down on one of the dining table benches and gathered the girls around her. “Her jaw,” she explained, pointing to the bone Gitch had fractured, “broke when she fell, and they can’t put a cast on it like an arm or a leg. So they have to wire it shut to help it stay still.”
The youngest girl winced and gasped.
“I know it sounds like it hurts, but mostly the hardest part is that Gitch can’t talk or chew or eat like you and I for many weeks. She’ll need lots of love from us, and help keeping her spirits up.”
“She’ll get it,” Donna said, taking the hand of the small girl. What leadership young Miss Forley had shown in the crisis of the past hours. Ida was so very proud of her. “From all of us.”
“Of that, I have no doubt,” came Daniel’s voice from the other end of the room. Ida hadn’t even realized he was on the compound. Had his appearance really changed so, or was it just how much the world had tilted in the past twenty-four hours that altered her view of him? He stood taller and stronger and even more settled.
“Dr. Parker!” The herd of children rushed from her side to his. Even the way he bent down to answer little Audrey’s question seemed transformed. It kindled such a warm glow in her chest that Ida felt she could face a dozen Jane Smileys and not lose hope.
“I have a job for you girls,” he said tenderly. “Run upstairs and tell all the classes that lunch will be one half hour early today.”
“That’s in fifteen minutes,” Donna said, looking around the room. “We’re not finished setting.”
“We’ll manage. I want everyone downstairs. Everyone needs to hear how our Gwendolyn is faring—” he caught Ida’s eyes above the group of upturned faces “—and Miss Landway and I have important news to share.”