Follow Your Heart – The Cook Chronicles

Chapter 15 - Snowed In, Part Two

Colleen watched as Andrew sheepishly left the company of the women, heading for one of the doctor's offices to deposit his winter garments. She was sorry to see him go and felt Dr. Reed was being a little harsh, not allowing him to warm up, too. Maybe Dr. Reed hadn't liked the fact that Andrew had singled her out, checking only that she was okay and hugging her in front of everyone. Colleen was sure Andrew would have politely inquired about the others as well if he hadn't been dismissed so quickly.

With an involuntary shiver, the young medical student gratefully accepted the steaming cup of coffee Georgeanne was offering her before stepping closer to the fireplace to warm up alongside the other four women.

Jennie told the group of a blizzard in her native Canada that dumped so much snow the roofs of several buildings collapsed, and the streets weren't cleared for days, leaving people trapped at home. "The children loved playing in the snow. And the adults… they did their playing indoors. Nine months later a lot of women went into labor," she smirked, which brought smiles and giggles to her audience.

"I remember a snowstorm we had once in Colorado Springs," Colleen said next. "It was the first Christmas Eve after my real mother died… we'd planned to go to the party at the church, but it was snowing so hard we couldn't go. And Ma wouldn't let us get out of our fancy clothes even though we had to stay home. She started singing Christmas carols to cheer us up. And then we heard a knock on the door. It was Sully. This was before he and Ma were courting, but he still looked out for us. He had braved the storm to bring us all presents." Colleen paused as she recalled that one of those presents had been Pup, who later became rabid with tragic consequences.

"Was he dressed like Santa Claus?"

Clara's question helped Colleen shove aside the painful memory of Ingrid's death. In fact, she found the very idea of Sully dressed as Santa so comical she couldn't suppress a giggle. "Well, he was wearing a fur coat, but it wasn't red like Santa's. He gave me a hair comb he'd made. Sully's really good at carving things. He made a new shingle for Ma's practice because he thought the one that she'd brought from Boston was too small. We felt bad that we didn't have anything to give him, so Ma asked him to stay for supper. For a few hours, it was like we were a real family… and then Sully said he had to go. Ma insisted he sleep in the barn with Matthew because it was so cold out, and she didn't want to be responsible for him getting frostbite." At this last word, Colleen's expression became solemn again, and she looked down at her hands clutching her cup.

"What's the matter, Colleen?" Jennie gently inquired. "Did he ignore her advice?"

"Oh… oh, no. I was just remembering something else." If it was a story too embarrassing to share with her own husband, she certainly wasn't going to share it with anyone else!

Sensing Colleen's reluctance to elaborate, Susan deftly switched gears. "Well, this has been a pleasant diversion, but we have patients to tend to. Miss Trout and Miss Marshall, you can assist me in the women's ward. Mrs. Cook, you can give Miss Rice a hand in the kitchen preparing supper. And I believe we can accommodate Mrs. Perling in one of the private rooms."

"Oh, but I must earn my keep," Amanda protested. "I'd be happy to help in the kitchen."

"I'd prefer it if you took it easy, Mrs. Perling. You've just recovered from a catarrh, and I wouldn't want you to relapse by overdoing it. But if you insist, we can provide you with some mending."

"Thank you, Dr. Reed."

The women finished their coffees and began heading towards the kitchen to drop off their cups. "Mrs. Cook?" Susan called, requesting that she linger.

"Yes, doctor?"

Susan waited until she was sure no one else would overhear, as this was a private matter. "You've had personal experience with frostbite. That was the memory you had." It was part statement, part question.

"Andrew told you?"

"Not directly. Remember, doctors are trained observers. I noticed the way your expression changed just now, when you mentioned frostbite. That, along with Andrew's behavior earlier… well, it didn't take much to put two and two together."

The twenty-year-old grew thoughtful. "Maybe he worries about me too much sometimes, but it's better than him not caring at all." Sadly, in her short life Colleen had already endured the latter. Her real father Ethan had proven on multiple occasions that he only cared about one person – himself.

"Oh, I agree completely. You are fortunate to have such a kind and devoted husband, Colleen. After you serve dinner, why don't you prepare a bed for yourself in the children's ward. I can't have Andrew popping upstairs every ten minutes to check up on you," Susan teased.

Colleen grinned at the good-natured joke and the doctor's kindness in letting her spend the night in the same room as her husband. "Thanks, Dr. Reed."

:

During the time his wife was warming up downstairs, Andrew had made another cursory tour of the women's ward, ensuring no one was in terrible pain. The patients were variously napping, engaged in knitting or sewing, reading, chatting between themselves, or being tended to by Marie Evans and Etta Hoffmann. The students appeared to have things well in hand. He noted several empty beds had been prepared for the students' use, and at that moment the realization sunk in that he and Colleen would be sleeping separately tonight.

Well, at least it's not due to an argument, he thought. In fact, there was very little that they disagreed on, and when they did have the rare difference of opinion, such as how they felt about President Grant (Colleen held a more favorable opinion of the man than Andrew did - primarily for keeping Sully out of prison - but Andrew was less than impressed with Grant's administration and hoped he wouldn't be seeking a third term), it never escalated to the level of hurt feelings where one of them stormed out to sleep separately. He couldn't imagine disagreeing with Colleen that much about anything. The closest he'd come so far in their short marriage was her choice to attend Harvard. Though he still had reservations about it, he wasn't going to put his foot down and forbid it. As her husband, it was perfectly within his rights to do so, but he wouldn't. For one thing, it wasn't in his nature to be that controlling. But more importantly, Colleen would likely resent him for the rest of her life, spoiling their happy marriage. It just wasn't worth the Sturm und Drang to force the issue.

Returning to the children's ward, Andrew discovered that Georgeanne had thoughtfully saved him a cup of coffee, though one glance at the color told him it had been prepared with milk the way women preferred it. He took a polite sip and set the cup down on the desk, turning his attention to the game Maggie was playing with the children. He instantly recognized it as the "Yes and No" game from A Christmas Carol, with the children attempting to guess something that she was thinking of. Younger players tended to ask a specific question right off – such as Is it a horse? – whereas older players knew to ask more general questions initially – Is it an animal? - to narrow down the possibilities. To make it fair, each player took a turn asking their question. It was a great game to make new children like Holly Washburn feel welcome, even if they were unfamiliar with Dickens' tale.

"Dr. Cook," said Maggie, situated on the edge of Holly's bed. "We're just playing Yes and No."

"Yes, I can see that." He folded his arms and addressed Peter, the older boy on the ward. "What do you have so far?"

"It's outside but it's not an animal."

"It's not snow or a tree neither," piped up Tim from the next bed where Georgeanne was positioned.

Andrew looked across the aisle to the ward's most recent member. "And what did you guess?"

Holly answered in a quiet, disappointed voice, "A doll."

"Girls," complained Peter, rolling his eyes.

Give it a few years, Andrew thought. He stepped closer to Holly's bed. "That's a good guess but you don't know yet if it's a toy at all. Try asking that."

"Hey, that's no fair helping," Peter objected.

"It's only helping if I know the answer, which I can't possibly know since I was out of the room," Andrew pointed out reasonably. "And Holly's new to the game, so she's entitled to some assistance in learning how to play." He returned his attention to the little girl. "Go ahead, ask if it's a toy."

Holly looked up at Maggie. "Is it a toy?"

Maggie grinned. "Yes."

A delighted Holly told Andrew happily, "It's a toy!"

"Yes, it is. Now you can start guessing what toy it is."

Peter furrowed his brow. "A toy used only outside… a kite?"

"No."

"My turn," said Tim. "Marbles?"

"No."

It was back to Holly, who turned to Andrew for guidance. He had an inkling of what it might be, but he wanted to help the child figure it out for herself. "What gave you this?" he asked, pointing to Holly's bandaged head.

"A sled." Her eyes opened wide in understanding. "A sled," she repeated, addressing Maggie.

"Yes, that's it!" Maggie clapped her hands at Holly's success. Everyone was delighted – all except Peter, that is.

"You said you didn't know what it was," he grumbled.

"I didn't. I made an educated guess that Miss Pearce would pick a toy used in winter given the storm outside. But she easily could have picked something else." He exchanged a look with Maggie, giving her a discreet nod of approval, understanding that she'd deliberately picked something their newest patient could relate to without it being too obvious, like a doll.

After they played several more rounds to allow both Peter and Tim a chance to successfully deduce the answer, it was time for patient evaluations. Andrew permitted Maggie to take the lead on those, though he did also listen to Peter's lungs to confirm that they were improving from the pneumonia.

Once the examinations were completed, Tim requested, "Read us a story."

"A Christmas story," Holly enthused.

"Christmas is over," protested Peter. "Besides, I've already heard A Christmas Carol twice."

"Wait, wait, wait," Andrew said, trying to appease everyone and seeing this as a rare opportunity to practice his storytelling skills. He and Colleen would be parents one day, after all. "What if I told you a new story, one you haven't heard before, that takes place around Christmas?"

A chorus of yeahs and nods agreed with this idea. Even Maggie and Georgeanne looked at him with interest, wondering what story their professor would tell.

Andrew sat on the edge of Holly's bed. "So, um, let's see… one time there was a boy named Brian, and his grandmother gave him a little dog for Christmas. Do you know what the dog's name was?"

"Was it a boy dog or a girl dog?" asked Peter.

"A girl."

"Holly," said Holly.

"No, it wasn't Holly."

"Snowflake?" guessed Peter, remembering what Andrew had said earlier about the weather during the "Yes and No" game.

"No. In fact, it wasn't a name you'd ever expect. The dog's name was Fifi."

Tim laughed. "That's a funny name."

"Was it a French bulldog or French poodle?" asked Georgeanne.

"Yes, I believe it was a miniature poodle."

From there, Andrew proceeded to tell the story of Brian, Fifi and Sara as best as he remembered, regularly stopping the story to ask the children what they thought would happen next. He didn't quite recall the other boy's name, the one who had gone with Sara to get the Christmas tree, so he used the name Kevin. "And in the end, Brian gave Fifi to Sara, knowing it would be better for Fifi."

"And then they grew up and got married?" asked Holly.

"Ah, well…" Andrew hedged. That part of the story was still being written, as Brian and Sara were currently separated by thousands of miles, and he had no idea if they'd be getting back together someday.

"Of course, they did," Colleen assured the little girl from behind his back. Andrew had been so caught up in his storytelling he hadn't heard her come in. "I came to let Miss Pearce and Miss Howard know dinner's ready to be served." Dutifully, the two headed out of the ward with her.

Hastily, Andrew got to his feet. "Excuse me," he told the children, rising to hurry after Colleen. "Just a moment, Mrs. Cook," Andrew called, halting her progress just outside the ward. He waited until Maggie and Georgeanne had pulled ahead, and he lowered his voice for good measure so the children wouldn't overhear either. "How can you be so sure that Brian and Sara will get married one day?"

"I'm not sure. But you can end a story any you want to give a little girl a happy ending," she advised. "By the way, the next time you tell this story, it was Kyle who was lost with Sara, not Kevin."

"Kyle… I'd forgotten his name. I'd only heard the story once."

"I bet Kyle wishes he could forget the whole thing."

Andrew couldn't help but smile. "I'm sure he does."

They took a moment to share in the private joke. "Well, I should get back to serving supper." Colleen turned once more to leave.

"Ah, there is one more thing, Mrs. Cook." He glanced into the ward, verifying the children were still in their beds, and placed his hand on her lower back. "This way."

Baffled, Colleen discovered that he was escorting her to the linen closet. But what could he tell her in there that he couldn't tell her in the hallway? Was it about one of the children?

Andrew quickly ushered her inside the small storage space, leaving the door open a crack to allow in light from the hallway. He enveloped her in his arms and explained in a rush, "This might be my only chance to kiss you good night.

Knowing that the children shouldn't be left unattended for too long, the young doctor kept the kiss brief. He tucked Colleen's head against his chest, feeling her contented sigh. He, too, was content – well, as content as one could be in a linen closet in the middle of a blizzard!

Abruptly there was a click, plunging them into total darkness. Either someone had noticed the door had not been completely closed, or else someone – perhaps a bored Peter Clement, who'd been confined to bed all week – knew someone was inside and decided they'd pull a prank. Regardless of the culprit, Andrew sensed Colleen tensing in his arms. "Don't worry, Colleen. There's no lock on the door."

"I know. I… I was just remembering when Reverend Johnson went blind. This must be what it's like for him."

Sympathetically, Andrew rubbed her back in comfort. It was three Christmases ago when the clergyman had inexplicably lost his sight despite Michaela's best efforts. Medicine had come so far in such a short amount of time, but there was still so much left to discover…

"It does make one appreciate being able to see. But if he hadn't lost his sight, he never would have met Melissa," he reminded her. "Something good came from the bad."

"You mean a happy ending."

"I hadn't thought of it that way, but yes. A happy ending. Now, let me get us out of here." There was a sliver of light peeking under the closed door and Andrew made his way towards it, stretching out his arm to feel for the doorknob. When he opened the door the sudden burst of light made them both blink several times as their eyes readjusted to the brightness. A quick check told him the coast was clear, and they separated to return to their respective duties.

Three pairs of inquisitive eyes greeted Andrew's return. "Ah, dinner should be here shortly," he announced awkwardly.

"You called her Mrs. Cook," noted Peter. If he had been the one to close the door, he was pretending all innocence. "Is she your wife?"

"Yes, she is. She's studying to become a doctor, the same as Miss Pearce and Miss Howard."

"She can't be a doctor. She has to be a mother."

"Actually, she can be both. It won't be easy, but I'll help her. The world is changing, Peter, and more women are educating themselves and getting jobs outside the home."

"Does my mama have to get a job?" Holly wondered.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. He wasn't privy to the Washburn family's finances, or whether Mr. Washburn would be agreeable to such a thing even if it were necessary. The nationwide economic recession had gone on for over a year now, with no end in sight - though there were plenty of construction jobs to be had in Philadelphia between the building of the new city hall and establishing the infrastructure necessary to host the Centennial celebration. Hospitality jobs such as cleaning and serving would be in abundance once the Centennial opened, but that was still eighteen months away.

"I don't want her to get a job," Holly pouted. "I want her to be my mama."

"Whether she takes a job or not, she will always be your mama," Andrew reassured the little girl. Just then Maggie and Georgeanne arrived with supper trays for the two younger children, ending the discussion.

Later, with the children fed, medicated, and tucked in for the night, Andrew partook of his own supper while the girls helped Colleen serve the female patients upstairs. The students and Susan took this opportunity as their mealtime, too, before all the trays were cleared and brought back down to the kitchen for washing. First year students Georgeanne and Marie assisted Miss Rice with the rinsing and drying. Dinner's end meant Colleen finally had a chance to make up a bed in the children's ward, much to Andrew's delighted surprise. However, in hindsight he realized it made perfect sense. There were a limited number of beds in the women's ward, and because he and Colleen were married, it was perfectly proper for the two of them to spend the night together unchaperoned in the same room.

While Colleen was making her bed, Andrew took the opportunity to stretch his legs and check in with Susan on the third floor. Unlike the children's ward, where the lights (save the one on the desk) had been dimmed for the night, most of the lamps upstairs remained at full brightness, as it was too early yet for many of the women to fall asleep.

He found his colleague sitting at the bedside of a patient that appeared unconscious and feverish. "Dr. Reed."

"Dr. Cook. Miss Landry," Susan introduced without preamble, tilting her head to indicate the sick woman. "Septicemia." She gave Andrew a grim look but didn't elaborate, as there was no real need to. They both knew there was no cure once an infection had spread to a person's bloodstream. It was only a matter of time before the body succumbed to the inevitable. All that could really be done was to administer morphine to limit the suffering. "How are our younger patients fairing?" she asked, changing the subject.

"They're doing fine. I'm hoping Tim's crutches will be delivered tomorrow so he can go home, and Peter should be well enough to leave in another day or two." Andrew couldn't help but look at the feverish form of Miss Landry. She appeared to be about Colleen's age - far too young to have this happen. He hadn't heard of any surgeries at the hospital this past week, which meant she'd somehow injured herself - a cut from a piece of broken glass, or perhaps the accidental slip of a kitchen knife or skating blade - wrapping it in a cloth without properly cleaning it first and thereby allowing an infection to fester. She might have hidden her injury from her family, not wishing to be a bother with other Christmas activities going on, or she may have simply thought it wasn't that serious. She might even have had a fear of doctors, only being brought in when it was clear there was something seriously wrong and she was too weak to put up much fuss. Whatever the young woman's story, it would be ending here.

It was a damn shame.

"I, uh, wanted to thank you for placing Colleen with me tonight." Inwardly, he winced. It sounded so selfish and unsympathetic in the wake of learning Miss Landry's condition. Yet that was a lesson learned early on when training to become a doctor – not every patient could be saved, and if you spent your time lamenting every life lost, you wouldn't be a very effective physician for the many others who could still use your help.

Susan knew that lesson well herself, and Andrew's expression of gratitude brought a small smile to her face. There wasn't much she could do for Bertha Landry tonight, but at least she had been able to do something for her junior colleague. "You're welcome. Should I need you for anything, I'll let you know. Good night, doctor."

"Good night."

Andrew exited the room and headed down to the first floor to retrieve a medical journal, something to help pass the time later, as he didn't have his usual newspaper to read. On his way back to the children's ward he decided to knock on the door to the occupied private room.

"Come in."

Inside, Amanda was already in bed, changed into one of the hospital's complimentary nightdresses, her gray-tinged hair plaited over her shoulder. It didn't bother her that the good doctor found her this way, as Andrew had seen her in her own bed just recently when she'd had a catarrh. "Amanda. Just came to see how you're finding your accommodations."

"I've no complaints, Dr. Cook." She held up the apron she was working on, a means of paying for her room and board this evening. "I think I'll finish this one and turn in. Good night to you."

"Good night, Amanda."

When Andrew returned to the children's ward, he found Colleen sitting at the desk, idly awaiting his return. He couldn't blame her for wanting to get off her feet a bit after making multiple trips up and down the stairs serving, then clearing, meal trays.

He placed the journal on the corner of the desk, announcing his return. "Warming up my bed for me?" he joked.

"Your bed?"

"I told Susan I'd sleep in a chair tonight. I suppose I could curl up in one of the beds for a few hours without it causing any harm, but I'd feel like I had betrayed a trust if I did. They didn't even allow injured soldiers to stay here during the war," he reminded her.

"I'm glad Dr. Reed made an exception to let you stay."

"So am I." Andrew looked at his lovely wife. So bright, so beautiful, so healthy and full of life – the complete opposite of Susan's patient. He pushed the thought from his mind. "So, what will it be tonight, Mrs. Cook? Checkers or dominoes?"

:

After spending the better part of an hour playing dominoes, he stood to stretch and encouraged Colleen to turn in. "You should get some sleep."

"Are you staying up? I'll stay up with you."

"No, one of us should be fully rested before the children wake up, which is likely to be early. You should take advantage of having a real mattress to sleep on."

He had a point, so she headed for the water closet while he put away the domino tiles.

"You didn't change for bed," he noted when Colleen came back sooner than he expected.

"You won't be changing for bed either. Besides, it's not professional to dress like a patient."

She had a point, so he simply escorted her over to the bed she'd made earlier on the girls' side of the room next to Holly Washburn.

"Are you going to tuck me in, Dr. Cook?" she teased playfully, removing her apron and hanging it on a peg near the bed.

Andrew grinned boyishly at her suggestion. Colleen didn't flirt with him often, making it all the more charming when she did. "Absolutely, Mrs. Cook. But I'm afraid you're out of luck if you want me to tell you a bedtime story. It seems I'm not yet proficient at those. Forgetting names, incomplete endings..."

"You just need more practice," she said, delighted that he was playing along. "But you don't need more practice with good night kisses," she hinted, wrapping him in her arms.

"Really?" Andrew mirrored her action, holding her close. "That's unfortunate, because I love practicing those." He lowered his lips to hers and for the second time kissed her good night. Knowing there was practically zero chance of being caught this time, Andrew let this kiss go on longer than before. However, it started feeling too good, so he reluctantly stopped and opened his eyes. "I should tuck you in now."

Colleen pulled back the covers and slid into bed, boots and all, sorry that they couldn't spend a few minutes cuddling as well, and sorrier still that her husband was obligated to spend the night in a wooden chair. At least it was only for one night… but why was the bed so uneven? "Oh, right," she muttered to herself. At Andrew's baffled expression, she explained, "I'm not used to sleeping in a corset."

Although they had already been keeping their voices down as befit their surroundings, he leaned forward to whisper suggestively in her ear. "Well, when we get home, I'll be happy to help you remove it, and anything else you'd like me to."

Colleen felt the flush rise in her cheeks. "Andrew..." she whispered back, forgetting to call him by his title per hospital protocol.

"Sweet dreams, Mrs. Cook." He squeezed her hand before standing up and leaving her bedside. Turning his back on her was torture. The fastest way to relieve his mind from the mental picture of removing Colleen's corset was to recall Miss Landry's prone form upstairs. If she died during the night, the body would need to be moved down to the basement next to the ice supply, as the hospital was too small to have a separate morgue. He could assist with that task, as navigating the stairs backwards with a stretcher was tricky – and doing so backwards and in heels and a skirt far trickier. Then the young woman's parents (or brother or whomever had brought her in) could retrieve the body in the morning…

With his ardor sufficiently cooled, Andrew took up the medical journal and read it cover to cover. Reaching the end, he again rose to stretch his legs, going over to a window and pulling back the drape. There was nothing to see, really, as it was dark, and frost had partially crusted over the glass. He could hear the wind, though, so he knew it was still storming outside. There'd be plenty of raw material for Tim's snowman building - plus snowball fights and sledding - come the morning, presuming the storm let up by then. Andrew also supplied the room's fireplace and heating stove with more coal before making a quick survey of the children, verifying they were breathing easy in slumber. He stopped at Colleen's bedside last. Despite the discomfort from her corset, she, too, was asleep. He wished he could join her, but he'd made a pledge of sorts and would stick to it.

That didn't mean he wasn't allowed a blanket, however. After visiting the water closet Andrew retrieved a blanket from the linen closet that he and Colleen had made use of earlier. With a resigned sigh, Andrew sat himself behind the desk, covering his lower half with the blanket. After dimming the desk lamp, he slumped forward to rest his head down on his folded arms to try to sleep.

:

The next thing he knew, someone was shaking him awake, with an urgent whisper. "Dr. Cook! Wake up." Andrew sat up and blinked the sleep from his eyes. Though it was difficult to see the student's face in the muted lighting, he recognized the voice as that of Etta Hoffmann.

"Miss Landry?" he guessed.

She nodded, and without another word he followed her out and up to the third floor. The lights were now lowered as in the children's ward. Some of the women were snoring.

Andrew and Etta approached Bertha Landry's bed, now partially blocked from view by the privacy curtains extended on either side.

Susan was waiting for them, staring down at the white sheet covering the lifeless form. "Time of death, Miss Hoffmann?" she requested softly.

"Oh, uh, it was, it was… eleven fifty-two," Etta stuttered.

By their exchange, Andrew got the picture. The heartbeat had gone silent during Etta's watch, Susan having sensibly lied down to get some rest.

"I need to write up the death certificate," said Susan tiredly. "Dr. Cook, would you and Miss Hoffmann take care of the body?"

"Of course."

As Susan headed for the office downstairs, Andrew directed Etta to gather up the woman's few possessions while he retrieved the canvas and poles for the stretcher. Together they took care of the corpse and maneuvered it one step at a time down the multiple lights of stairs to the cold basement, where it would remain until someone could return to claim it in the morning.

The pair were headed back up when Andrew noticed a light still shining from the office. It shouldn't have taken Susan this long to fill out the half sheet of paper. He urged Etta to go back up without him before stepping to the doorway. Susan was seated behind the desk, her eyes open but downcast, looking at a single piece of paper.

The death certificate.

He knocked to get her attention. "Miss Hoffmann and I are finished. I sent her back up to get some sleep. Do you need me for anything else?" He doubted it, though he offered just the same, a way to let his supervisor know he was there for her. He knew all too well the worst part about being a doctor was watching someone's life slip away and being utterly helpless to stop it.

Susan returned her gaze to the paper but didn't respond to his query. Andrew was about to take her silence as a no and leave her alone to grieve privately when she spoke. "She first came to the hospital a week ago. She had heard that we had women doctors and could help with female problems. When Emeline examined her, she learned that what Miss Landry really wanted was to end her pregnancy."

Andrew felt himself go numb. In hindsight, he realized that Susan had deftly changed the topic away from Miss Landry's condition when he'd checked in earlier, leaving it at septicemia without any details of what had been the root cause. That had given him the impression that the origin had been something minor and inconsequential when the reality had been anything but. Susan had deliberately avoided details to keep her patient's scandalous secret a secret. In death, however, there was no longer a reason for confidentiality. Susan still could have kept it private, between herself and Emeline, but maybe it was cathartic for her to tell him the full story after having concealed it before.

"Emeline told her that we could not help her in that way, and apparently that's when…" Susan faltered, fighting to control her motions. She was filled with a mix of anger and sadness. Anger at the fact that Bertha Landry had been put into this position in the first place by some man unburdened by the consequences of his actions, and sadness that the young woman felt she had no other recourse. "That was when she decided to take matters into her own hands."

Andrew closed his eyes, pained. He couldn't begin to fathom what would drive a woman to such a desperate act. Even if the young woman had been violated against her will (and he had no idea if she had been or not; for all he knew, Miss Landry could well have been in a consensual relationship as someone's lover or mistress), she could have gone away for a while, given the baby up for adoption. The fact that she had not indicated that she may have been trying to avoid the personal shame her condition would have caused.

There was nothing to be done about it all now except to express empathy. "You did what you could, Susan. You made sure she wasn't suffering in her final hours. She wasn't alone."

"No… She wasn't alone." Sighing wearily, Susan placed the certificate into a folder and filed it away in the desk drawer. She stood and carried the candle with her out of the office. Wordlessly, Andrew accompanied her up to the second landing, where they parted ways.

Back in the sanctuary of the children's ward and the young innocents in his care, Andrew immediately went to Colleen's bedside. He wanted nothing more than to curl up beside his wife and hold her close, breathing in her scent and seeking a bit of solace from the sad reality of Miss Landry's death. His conscience wouldn't allow it though, so instead he perched on the side of the narrow mattress and simply sat there as Colleen lay in peaceful slumber.

Meanwhile, an icy white shroud blanketed the City of Brotherly Love which, come sunrise, would be perfect for making a child's snowman.

:

:

Author's Notes:

– In 1850, Pennsylvania's Supreme Court decreed all abortions in the state illegal - until then, first trimester abortions had been permitted. By 1880, most states had passed laws banning all abortions, except when the woman's life was at risk. This policy was actively endorsed at the time by the American Medical Association (fictionalized in the show as the "American Medical Society"). Many of those laws would remain on the books for a century until the U.S. Supreme Court's historic Roe v. Wade ruling in 1973. Although the AMA did not file a "friend of the court" brief in the Roe case, by that time the organization had quietly changed its official position and no longer opposed abortion on demand. Roe was overturned by the Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization decision in 2022, returning many states to a 19th century mindset.

-After plotting this chapter, knowing how Bertha Landry would die, I discovered that one of the real 1875 graduates from WMCP, Dr. Charlotte Whitehead Ross of Canada (no relation to Charley Ross), wrote her thesis on abortion. I find this rather astonishing for the era, though perhaps her own experience gives a clue as to why she chose that subject. Charlotte married at 18 and was a 27-year-old mother of three when she began her medical studies in Philadelphia. As Michaela had feared for Colleen, a difficult pregnancy forced Ross to withdraw from school for a time - as did an earlier miscarriage. Nevertheless, she persisted, returning to school each time. In the school term 1874-75 she was pregnant yet again, giving birth to a son three months after graduating! She and her husband returned to Canada to live out their lives with their growing family (there would be 8 children altogether). Though she treated patients for many years, Dr. Ross was never officially licensed by Canadian authorities because she was a woman.