The Doctor's Undoing

“I don’t suppose I need to explain it to you now,” Mrs. Smiley snapped.

As if to drive the point home, wails of “I want pink socks” and “Why can’t Nurse Landway knit me socks?” and “I hate my socks!” surged up behind him.

The only thing stronger than the matron’s glare was the look of stunned regret in Miss Landway’s eyes.

“She hasn’t got a lick of sense, this one.” Mrs. Smiley cast a disparaging glance in Miss Landway’s direction. “Giving a trinket like that in front of all the girls.” She scowled at Miss Landway. “What did you think would happen when you did such a thing?”

“I...I...” The nurse looked at him, her eyes wide and startled. “It’s just a pair of socks.”

Daniel swallowed a weary sigh. This was why gifts were such a tricky business at the orphanage. But before he could explain that to Miss Landway, he needed to calm down the children. “Girls,” he began in his best “let’s all be sensible” administrative voice, “y’all are already wearing socks. Perfectly fine socks.”

“Perfectly dreadful socks!” Little Mary Donelley could always be counted on for a dramatic interpretation. “They’re plain old white and mine has a hole in the heel.”

He walked toward Mrs. Smiley, trying hard not to be charmed by the chubby pink legs wiggling pink booties. Most women he knew would be cooing and tweaking such pink-booted toes. The handmade booties were adorable little things that would have made for a very welcome sight—were they anywhere else but an orphan home. Why? The “I want some!” whine from behind him served as a painful example. No wonder Mrs. Smiley was completely uncharmed by Meredith’s clear delight in her present—the poor old woman was likely to have a tiresome evening as a result of Miss Landway’s innocent little gift.

Daniel held his hand out. “I wonder if I could take a look at those.”

“Gladly.” Mrs. Smiley plucked them off Meredith’s feet with a huff so loud even Daniel almost winced. Miss Landway certainly looked as if the sound pierced her ribs.

Daniel pocketed the pink socks and nodded in Miss Landway’s direction. “Why don’t you and I have a cup of coffee in the other room? Mrs. Smiley and the girls can finish up in here.”

Once inside the staff dining room, Miss Landway pulled the door shut behind her with one hand while the other went over her eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

She looked as if she might cry, and Daniel was surprised at how deeply her regret touched him. It wasn’t right how unfair this place could be to anyone trying to make a difference. Daniel remembered how the need to do something—anything—for these children had nearly drowned him in his first days at the orphanage. He’d given a sweet to one of the girls when she’d banged a finger and found himself amid a similar storm of “Why can’t I have one?” howls.

He searched for something soothing to say. “It was a generous and kind impulse, Miss Landway.”

She slumped down on one of the dining chairs, distressed. “I had no idea it would cause such a ruckus. I just wanted to put a bit of cheery color...”

“I believe your heart was in the right place.” Daniel moved to the sideboard and poured two cups of coffee. “You simply need to learn how to channel such impulses into things that benefit all the girls without singling out one.” He held up a cube of sugar in a silent inquiry, and she nodded, parking her chin on one hand. “It’s one of the most difficult things about working here, and one of the reasons I asked you to clear any ideas with me.”

“They’re just socks.” Her moan sounded as if it could have come from one of the girls.

Daniel set the cup and a small pitcher of cream down in front of the nurse. “No, they’re not. How can I get you to see that?”

Miss Landway dumped a generous portion of cream into her coffee. The woman did nothing by halves, he was beginning to see that. “So I can’t do anything for one of them, I have to only do things that can be done for all of them?” She made it sound dreadful.

“I think what just happened should make that obvious.” He collected his own coffee and sat opposite her.

“But they’re individuals. Each of them is unique. Their differences ought to be celebrated, not ignored by making sure everything they have is exactly the same.”

Daniel remembered that urge, and felt a tinge of regret that practicality had squelched it out of him so effectively. “In a perfect world, I’d agree, but...”

Her eyes sparked. “But nothing. Don’t you go telling me we don’t live in a perfect world. That’s a poor excuse for not letting a baby girl wear pink booties.”

She was going to take some breaking in, this one. “I’m not saying Meredith cannot wear booties. But she cannot be the only one wearing pink booties.” He fished the pink things out of his pocket. “Make them all booties, or socks, or whatever—I’ve no objections to gifts as long as every girl receives them.”

“It’ll take me months.” He noticed her phrasing. She would do it. He could see it in her eyes.

He didn’t know where she’d find the time—he didn’t know how she’d managed to make the pair he now placed on the table between them. “When did you make these?”

She took a long sip of coffee, which gave him a hint of the answer. “I couldn’t sleep last night. Once I got the idea, I couldn’t sleep until they were done. This place is starving for color, Dr. Parker. Can’t you see that? I just had to do something.” She reached out and fingered one of the small pink fluffs. “They made Meredith so happy.” Miss Landway looked up at him. “And they made all the other girls so miserable.”

He couldn’t help but offer her a smile. “In your defense, it doesn’t take much in this heat. The smallest thing can set them off. Even Mrs. Smiley can lose her delightful charm.” That last remark surprised him—Daniel hadn’t joked about Mrs. Smiley’s dour personality in months.

“She is quite the heavy hand,” Miss Landway replied with a sparkle returning to her eyes.

“She is very good at what she does. Her job is enormous. If you don’t realize that now, you will soon. I’m not so sure her firm hand isn’t absolutely necessary in order to get things done.” He picked up his own cup. “Surely an army nurse can grasp that.”

Miss Landway smirked. It wasn’t an expression Daniel often attributed to women, but it applied in this case. “Not this army nurse.” She thought for a moment. “I’ll find a way, you know.”

“A way to what?”

She nodded toward the door. “To shower those girls in a rainbow of colored socks. You just watch. My mama always said I could teach a mule how to be stubborn.”

Daniel believed it. “Really?”

“If I can give each girl socks in as many colors as I can, provided they all get the same number of socks, do I have your permission to do so?”

He didn’t see how this would help, but then again he didn’t see how he could say no. “Yes. But only if your regular duties do not suffer and only if the gifts are equal for all.”

Miss Landway stuck out her hand. “Dr. Parker, you have a deal.”

He found himself shaking her hand. The odd feeling in the pit of his stomach forced him to add, “Miss Landway, what will you do if the boys want socks, as well?”

It was a joke, but she didn’t take it as such. She gave his hand a comically forceful shake. “I’ll just knit faster, Dr. Parker.”

Land sakes if he didn’t believe her.

* * *

Dr. Parker had been right—a weekend started with such discontent quickly dissolved into a marathon of unpleasantness. Ida prayed hard during the Home’s simple Sunday church service that her impulsive gift wouldn’t do much harm, but the lack of classes seemed to allow the children extra time to acquire cuts and scrapes, sore stomachs and aching heads. This was an altogether different kind of nursing care. While the army had been a flood of dire needs, Ida found her current post to be a wearyingly steady drip of little grievances. It required a particular sort of endurance—and a mountain of grace.

She was just cleaning up after the third queasy tummy of the afternoon—a particular torment in this heat—when Ida heard a rap on her door. Mr. Grimshaw towered over a feisty-looking boy of about eight, clutching him by the elbow so hard the lad looked like a marionette strung up by a puppeteer. It wasn’t until Ida let her gaze fall from the dizzying height of Mr. Grimshaw’s face that she noticed the boy’s bloody knuckles.

“Oh my,” she said, reaching for a basin and cloth. “Only one way to get those.”

“I imagine you’ve dealt with a badly thrown punch or two in the army.” Mr. Grimshaw nearly hoisted the boy onto the examining table.

“Usually they come in pairs,” Ida replied, peering at the boy’s angry scowl. “Where’s the other one?”

“Jake Multon is down the hall with Dr. Parker,” Grimshaw replied.

“He’s hurt worse,” crowed the boy, obviously seeing himself as the victor in the scuffle. “I hope he has the shiner for a...ouch!”

Mr. Grimshaw had pinned the boy’s good arm with his spindly fingers. “That’s enough of that. You’ll both be sweating it out in the laundry room for a week if I have my say.”

Ida couldn’t help but groan right along with the boy. In this weather, she couldn’t think of a worse punishment than standing over enormous vats of hot water washing the orphanage’s endless stream of dirty linens. “Maybe not.”