Chapter 20

Bern, March 1914

Rebecca walked confidently into the women’s ward. She hoped today would be quite ordinary, and she would be able to slip away in the afternoon to talk to Lara and then visit the student colony to ask questions about Mark’s whereabouts. She was certain that the string she had felt connecting them all this time had become shorter today. She felt him closer, thinking of her. She had to find out if he was returning soon.

Rebecca had been training at the hospital for the last three months in preparation for the qualifying exams and was now familiar with the routine of the wards. She was well-prepared for the daily rounds and comfortable working with the nurses. She had been allowed to review the charts, make notes, and recommend patient care. She had expected to be drawn to the children’s ward, but discovered that she most enjoyed caring for the women.

She only wished something could be done about the routine of requesting the husbands to make all the medical decisions for their wives. And then there was the matter of how male doctors treated female patients; with brief examinations, disregard for their feelings, and a preference of asking the husbands all the questions. The worst of the physicians was Dr. Lohrer. Rebecca absolutely hated the days that she was assigned to follow him. He ordered women to strip their clothes and lie still and quiet on the examining table. He ignored any complaints of delay in recovery, calling them “hysteria” and prescribed increased housework as treatment.

Today’s rounds were no different. “Do you think he only sees Fräu Mühler as a body harboring disease?” Rebecca whispered to Lara.

“I think he may truly believe that women only exist to harbor disease,” Lara whispered back.

“Dr. Lohrer, may I ask Fräu Mühler a question about her condition?” Rebecca stopped the doctor as he was about to move on to the next patient.

“This woman is dying; there’s no need for further questions. There’s nothing that can be done here. We have three more to see.”

Rebecca glanced at Fräu Mühler, a frail woman in her late forties who, sadly, was in the last stages of tuberculosis. Dr. Lohrer was likely right—there was little medicine could do for her now. But Rebecca wouldn’t accept that nothing could be done to ease the suffering of the patient and her daughter, who was sitting by her bedside and crying quietly into a handkerchief.

She kneeled by the patient’s bedside and spoke quickly. “I do believe the doctor is correct and your illness is very serious. I don’t think this hospital can help you very much at this time. But I want to advise you that resting in the mountains, in your own home, may ease your breathing. You can also try a hydrotherapy clinic. Our nurse can tell you more about it. It will allow you extra time with your family.”

She turned around to see if any of the doctors or interns were watching, then quickly placed the palm of her hand on Frau Mühler’s back and concentrated. She counted to fifteen, imagining the healing energy traveling to the suffering woman’s lungs, correcting the wheezing. As the woman’s breathing gradually eased, she pulled away her hand, got up, and joined the rest of the students, hoping no one had noticed.

Her group finished the rounds and then settled to observe a procedure on another patient. This unfortunate woman was stripped naked and straddling a chair, her breasts uncovered and her back turned to the residents and doctors. She shook as she struggled to hold onto the back of the chair, appearing to be losing her balance. Her face was pale and covered in sweat, whether from embarrassment or fever was not known, but Rebecca guessed both.

“You’re observing a pulmonotomy—a simple drainage of the lung cavity of an abscess due to pneumonia,” Lohrer announced. “It’s possible to make an incision in the abscess area and drain it without causing pneumothorax. The treatment destroys the bacteria, speeds healing, and allows us to introduce antiseptic solution.”

A long needle was inserted into an incision in the woman’s back, and Lohrer began to suction the pus from the incision. The woman moaned, her eyes shut tightly, and Lara held Rebecca’s hand.

“Is there no medication that could be given for her discomfort?” Lara asked.

“Medication would impair the drainage and healing of the abscess. Besides, women don’t feel pain at the same level as men, especially after their nervous system has been damaged by birthing,” he replied, giving her a stern look.

Rebecca barely made it through the rest of the rounds, listening to more of the same nonsense coming from Lohrer and watching more suffering from his patients. One could only be thankful that he wasn’t in charge of the children’s ward.

“I need to ask you about Mark,” Rebecca whispered to Lara, making notes in a patient’s chart.

“I heard a rumor he’ll be back any day now,” Lara whispered back.

“I knew it!”

“Rabbi said he’s had a letter from the rabbi in Mark’s village. Mark’s mother has recovered and sent him back. He’s on his way.”

“I felt him today, as if he is close.” Rebecca washed her hands and pulled Lara into a small hallway. “I know it sounds strange, but sometimes it seems as if we’re connected in some way.”

“Not strange at all. It’s like that for me and Vlad also. If he’s not here, I’m only half a person, with half of my soul missing.”

“Exactly. I never knew it would feel like that. I sometimes can hardly take a breath without thinking of him.”

“He’ll be here soon. Any day. Maybe even today.” Lara kissed her forehead. “I have to go assist a laboring woman. With any luck, Lohrer will be having his meal and not interfere. Don’t worry so much. Mark is safe.”

Rebecca went through the day half-dazed, worried, and excited about seeing Mark soon. But how soon? By the early afternoon, the feeling that Mark was near became stronger. She felt the warmth of him in the very pit of her stomach, smelled his hair, heard his words in her ear. She turned around a few times, looking for him, but to no avail. He wasn’t in the hospital. Lara was nowhere to be found either.

Finally, she could stand it no longer and left the hospital. The student colony was not too far; she could walk there easily. But would she be welcome? The relationship between the students in the colony and the Swiss wasn’t exactly the best at the moment. There were rumors that the university had been urged to stop admitting foreigners unless they passed more rigorous examinations. She was dismayed at Mother’s ridiculous worry about the dilution in the quality of the instruction. The students she knew worked exceptionally hard to learn, and in a language that wasn’t their own.

But there was other talk as well. The Bernese were increasingly worried about the students’ revolutionary activities. Lara and Vlad have mentioned that the colony was becoming a place where politics were debated more frequently in gatherings in pubs and private houses. Father had said recently that he’d heard the Bolshevik Party was doing recruitment of the politically interested students. Rebecca refused to believe it. She knew most students were not in Bern for revolutionary activities. They simply had no other place to go to receive an education.

The walk through the muddy streets was harder than she imagined, and she was half-frozen by the time she made it to Mattenhof, where rows of dimly-lit boardinghouses stood. Rebecca knew Mark shared rooms with Vlad and wasn’t expecting to find any decent lodgings, but she was still surprised at the general poverty of it all. The neighborhood was run down and filthy, and the smell of smoke hung thick in the air. Several rats scuttled below the steps of one house. Some of the houses had signs of “No Slavs” or “No Russians” on them.

She stood, observing, regretting her impulsive decision to search for him, wishing she had waited to follow Lara home. Why did she think he was back? Why did he have to be gone and put her in this situation? A soft touch on her shoulder made her jump, but she knew it was him even before she heard the voice she loved so much.

“Rebecca!”

There was just enough time to say, “I love you!” before his lips closed in on her own. There it was! The warmth of him, the smell of him, the joy of him being near her.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I was gone for so long. My mother—”

“Yes, Lara told me. Your mother was ill. Is she all right?”

“Yes, Mother’s recovered. There was a cholera epidemic, and I brought her medicine. She can’t get medicine in her village; there is no money and no help in the Pale.”

“I’m so sorry.” Rebecca stroked his face.

He pulled her upstairs, into a tiny room with two narrow beds and small tables. He sat her on his lap, not letting go.

“How could you leave me without saying goodbye?” she asked. “My heart nearly broke.”

“Did you not see my poem? In your surgical textbook?” he asked, face concerned.

“I did. Of course I did. You know I study that book every day. It was a lovely poem.”

“I’ve missed you so much,” Mark said. “I couldn’t say goodbye, as there was not time enough. I had a letter from my family, and your father was so angry with me. I thought I should just quietly go and come back soon.”

“You didn’t worry I’d forget you?”

“I felt you right here.” Mark pointed to his chest.

“I love you,” she said, her eyes wet.

“But your hands are frozen, my love. Let me make you some tea.” He busied himself with preparations. “I have no food, but I think we can find some cake somewhere.”

She suddenly noticed how thin he was. “You haven’t been eating well!”

Rebecca looked around and saw nothing but bare surroundings. Grief and guilt squeezed her heart. She’s been feasting with her family and going to balls, while the man she loved had been traveling to Ukraine to care for his sick mother, starving, and living in poverty. She accepted tea from him in a small glass and enjoyed the warmth spreading through her cold fingers. He sat next to her, smiling so brightly that it warmed her more than the hot water.

“I’m sorry to fault you for not saying goodbye,” Rebecca said. “I understand you had to travel to care for your family.”

“I’ll never leave again like that. It broke my heart too,” he said, touching her hand to his lips. “Can you stay a while?”

“Just for a little while. I have to be back at the hospital. Father will pick me up before supper.”

“There is a music concert this afternoon—a very good violinist. Maybe you’d like to listen? Then I’ll walk you to the hospital.”

“A violin concert? Here?”

“We are poor, but we have culture,” he said proudly.

She finished her tea and was about to ask him about his family when a blond-haired boy poked his head in the room, asked something in Yiddish, and then apologized when he saw her.

“Lenin is giving a speech in a house next door.” Mark took her tea glass and pulled her up on her feet.

“Lenin, the socialist?” she asked. “He’s still here?”

“He comes to speak to the colony all the time, as the head of the Bolshevik Party. The Bolsheviks have to hide at the colony; it’s not safe for them anywhere else because of the Tsar’s secret police. Come; you have to see him speak. His speeches are very powerful.”

“I was afraid of that,” Rebecca muttered to herself.

They walked to the next boardinghouse and entered a small room packed with people, young and old, sitting, standing, smoking, and laughing. Lenin was in the corner, on some sort of pedestal. She recognized him right away; he looked the same, if perhaps more tired. Rebecca searched for Nadya but couldn’t find her in the crowd. When Lenin began to speak, she was moved by the power and conviction in his quiet but strong voice, even though she didn’t understand a single word. She looked over at Mark’s face, which was full of excitement and hope.

Later, Mark walked her back to the hospital, their faces covered tightly with scarves against the icy wind.

“I’m assisting Dr. Kocher in the gynecological surgery tomorrow,” Rebecca said.

“But that’s very good news. I’m very proud of you,” Mark said. “I’ll find you at the hospital after.”

“What was Lenin talking about?”

“He was talking about the Bolshevik Party’s latest action. They’ve just adopted a resolution calling for the liberation of all people oppressed by the Tsar, and for the confiscation of the wealthy landowners’ estates. They want to change things for the working class—to establish better working conditions and an eight-hour working day.”

“Do you think all this is really possible in your country?”

“Lenin says it is.”

They approached the hospital, and she looked for her father’s car nervously. “We’d better say goodbye here.”

“Your family can’t accept me.” He looked at her with eyes filled with sadness.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “It’ll never matter what they think. I love you.”

“I respect Dr. Miller. It does matter to me what he thinks. I hope I can win his approval. I try hard at the hospital.” He bent down and kissed her lips, melting them with his heat.

As she walked to the large doors of the building, Rebecca was full of thoughts and feelings; they swirled in her mind like vines. The rumors she’d heard—her fears had been correct then. The Bolshevik Party was indeed trying to recruit the students in the colony, and they clearly had Mark’s ear. How long did she have before Mark wished to join them and decided to return home for good?