Debbie Kaufman - The Doctor's Mission

It was William’s turn to freeze like a statue. It was so easy to forget that even though the boys had been baptized, they still struggled between beliefs from two vastly different spiritual worlds. Their education wasn’t such yet that they would see what Dr. O’Hara did as science and not magic. A male doctor wouldn’t have been such an event for the boys. Medicine could have been explained rationally. Her presence was already causing trouble.

Trouble he had to straighten out now.

“Boys, let’s go back inside and talk.”

In unison, seven little faces frowned their distress, realizing they were losing their chance to go see the new arrivals. Before any could protest, William put his body between them and their intended route of escape and waited till they turned and shuffled barefoot back into the cottage. He closed the door behind him and prayed that God would give him the words to explain the difference between their medicine men’s fetish bags of charms and a female doctor who practiced science. But more important, how faith in God was stronger than what their medicine men offered.

Mary pushed her chair away from the dinner table. “Oh my, Hannah. I haven’t eaten this well since before I left home two years ago. Fresh fruit is such a luxury.”

Clara nodded vigorously, sending her double chin to jiggling though she was still chewing a mouthful of bread.

Hannah responded. “Most of the fruit grows naturally here without planting. You’ll find it the same where you’re headed.”

Karl’s thick brows knit together. “Two years. I knew the Kaiser disrupted ocean travel, but who’d have thought it would take that long to make all the connections to cross. It’s a good thing the Allies finally put him in his place.”

Clara spoke up. “Well, it was the Kaiser, but not the way you think.”

Mary chided nicely, “Hannah and Karl don’t need to hear our war stories.”

Karl smiled. “We don’t get much news about the rest of the world here. So we’d love to hear any stories from the outside.”

Before Mary could think of another way to change the subject, Clara launched into her tale. Normally she was such a quiet woman. Why did she have to become loquacious on the one subject Mary preferred to avoid? Even though the armistice was signed, the Great War was still a big topic. She just preferred not to talk about her part in it, though avoiding the topic hadn’t stopped the unmerciful memories.

“Dr. Mary and I met at Argonne. We both worked for the Red Cross at the field hospital.”

Hannah’s hand froze over the plate she was about to pick up. “You were at the battle they called the Big Show?” Her fingers fluttered over her heart. “Even here we’ve heard about that battle. How horrible for you.”

Mary put on a professional mask as best she could while Clara nodded and said, “It was truly. If Hades exists anywhere on earth, it would have to have been there at Argonne Forest. So many young boys lost tragically, brutally.” Tears brimmed in Clara’s eyes. “Why Dr. Mary here… .”

The chair legs screeched against the floor when Mary abruptly stood. “Clara. I don’t think we need to burden the Jansens with those horrors. I’m sure their imagination will suffice.” The last thing she wanted dredged up was the death of her brother. That wound was too raw to touch. Even now pain stabbed through her chest as she tried to shut out her memories—that final glimpse of him alive, bloody and barely breathing. Would she ever be free of that horrible image?

She caught the questioning look on Karl’s face. Those eyes saw too much. Before he could ask any questions, she turned to Hannah and asked, “May I lend you a hand with the dishes? I’m not used to being idle while others are working.”

“You’ll both be busy soon enough once you get to Nynabo. Tonight you’re our guests. Next time you come, I’ll put you right to work.”

“If Pastor Mayweather has his way, there won’t be any Nynabo in our futures. And certainly not a next time here.”

Hannah laughed as she continued her tasks. “Karl will set him straight on that. Won’t you, dear?”

Karl stood and pushed his chair under the table. “I’ll try, but it would be better if he realized the severity of the situation for himself, Hannah.”

Mary seized on what sounded like a life preserver. “The severity of what, Pastor?”

“Well, if he refuses to work with you ladies, he won’t be able to reestablish Nynabo for quite some time. When you consider how possessive the jungle is, any more significant delays risk the station not being restorable. He might have to start from scratch once the white ants get finished with an unoccupied compound.”

Clara asked, “The white ants?”

“African termites, dear. The natives call them bugabugs,” Hannah answered.

Mary’s curiosity overruled her good manners. “What’s stopping him from going on without us?”

“The malaria policy.” Hannah tossed the answer back over her shoulder on her way to the kitchen.

“Pastor Mayweather hasn’t had malaria yet?” Mary asked.

Karl shook his head side to side.

Clara’s confusion threaded through her voice. “What policy? Isn’t it a good thing that Pastor Mayweather hasn’t been sick?”

Mary heard the back door open as Karl explained. “Until missionaries have come down with the White Man’s Death the first time, and lived through it, the Mission Board will not allow them to staff any mission post on their own. Without you, William must remain here until a replacement can arrive. That could take precious months that he doesn’t have to spare.”

Mary watched as William stepped out of the shadows by the back door and into the room. Anguish churned across his face and his hands were clenched into fists tight to his sides. “I would rather give up my call than be responsible for the deaths of these two women.”

Mary’s arms and hands trembled as the tiring day and disappointing reception from Pastor Mayweather finally caught up with her. Anger coursed through her veins. “Responsible for our deaths? Why, you…”

Everyone but Clara froze. She moved quickly to Mary’s side and placed her arm around Mary’s shoulders, attempting to herd her out of the room. “Dr. Mary, please. We’re all tired and it’s been a long day. Do not say anything you will regret. He means no slight.”

Mary pulled away from what was meant to be a calming embrace. She deliberately lowered her voice to avoid its strident tones. “Clara, dear, I am not going to be stopped from speaking my mind any longer.”

Mary lifted her eyes and looked toward William, addressing him with her most formal of tones. “I am sorry to learn that you are one of those men who cling to antiquated ideas of women’s roles and set themselves up as Lord and Protector.” A bit of the exasperation she felt crept out. “It’s the twentieth century, for goodness’ sake.”

Mary glanced to Hannah for her reaction. The plate in the older woman’s hand looked dangerously close to slipping to the floor, so rapt was her attention. Karl looked down, but was that a smile he was trying to hide? William readied himself to answer her, but Mary raised her hand to stop him.

“Please, let me finish, sir. You, Pastor Mayweather, aren’t responsible for me. I am responsible for myself, my own actions and my own consequences. If I were afraid of dying, I would have never signed my agreement with the Mission Board after they spelled out the possible dangers.”

William wedged in a quick answer. “With all due respect, Miss O’Hara…”

“If you wish to accord me respect, then please address me as Doctor O’Hara.”

“Doctor O’Hara, then. I don’t see how you can possibly understand what you might be getting yourself into.” William relaxed his fists and stretched out his hands in an apparent plea. “The interior is fraught with dangers, and even if you manage to live through your first bout of malaria, there are still wild animals and hostile cannibals to face.”