Oakdale

By Jeannie Edwards

The children weren't home alone, but with Mama a patient at Oakdale Tuberculosis Sanitorium, a family discovers they are capable of more than they thought. Papa is a kind father, but he expects cooperation and harmony in the home. Mama struggles with her illness and learns to rely upon the wisdom of a "whatsoever" scripture verse to fight discouragement and homesickness. The girls, Blanche and Emily, due to an overheard conversation, fear their family could be separated and their precious baby brother taken away. Blanche is old enough to stay home and care for little brother, but what she desperately wants is to go to high school. Meanwhile, she meets a girl in the Bible who is given the duty of protecting her baby brother, and the example offers Blanche encouragement. This novel, for old or young readers, follow the family as they sort it out on a small farm in southwest Iowa during the mid-1920's.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 9, 2019
• ISBN: 9781645155133

Book preview

Chapter 1

Sickness

The screen door banged. Blanche stopped turning fried potatoes and, with dripping spatula held above the skillet, glanced at her younger brother’s empty hands.

Nu’thin’ there, A.P. said. He raked a pickle from the dish on the table.

Nothing, Blanche corrected. Get out of the pickles. Your hands are dirty. Papa will be here in a jiffy and we’ll eat. Emmy, the table isn’t set. What are we to eat with? A.P., quit hanging on the back of that chair! Did you bring in water for Papa to wash his hands? Do we have drinking water for dinner? Why do I have to tell you these things? You’re both old enough to see what needs doing!

She turned and slid the iron skillet to the edge of the cooking range.

Every day, it seemed to Blanche that she struggled to do all that needed doing. Work begged at every turn. She answered it with impatience and criticism.

Silently, Emmy, called Emily by everyone but Blanche, put plates on the table, then forks, knives, and drinking glasses. The spoons were already in the spoon holder. After a meal, the dishes were cleared, but the spoon holder, jelly, pickles, salt and pepper shaker, and butter, in the cooler months, were clustered in the center of the table. An embroidered scarf, starched and ironed without a crease, covered everything until the next meal.

Come, sweetheart, Blanche cooed as she lifted the tray of the highchair and picked up the toddler. She kissed his soft blond curls. He slipped his arms around her neck, and she held his soft, plump cheek against her own and squeezed him until he laughed. She loved his little laugh, loved the comfort of his soft, smooth skin, his big blue eyes, and golden curls. He was the bright spot in her life and was spared the barb of her sharp tongue. She placed him in the high chair and carefully lowered the tray over his head.

Out on the porch, Papa washed his hands. It was time to put dinner on the table. She turned to ladle fried potatoes into a bowl.

A.P., did you get the mail? Papa asked as he entered the kitchen.

Yaaaw, there wasn’t anything.

Blanche knew Papa’s face was crestfallen. She didn’t want to see it, so she focused on the potatoes. Papa reached for the newspaper and sat down with a big sigh. It was an old paper, but he opened it and pretended to read so they wouldn’t see his disappointment.

Emmy, Blanche said with more severity to her voice than intended, haven’t you filled the water glasses?

Give me a chance, Emily replied. I’m just back from the cellar with the butter and milk.

Is that all the butter we’ve got? Blanche asked.

Um-m, Emily nodded.

Blanche groaned. That means we have to churn this afternoon.

Well, maybe there’ll be a letter tomorrow, Papa said, as he lowered the paper and reached for the water Emily poured.

Blanche felt a keen disappointment and annoyance with Mama.

Do you think there’s something wrong and…and…she’s unable to write? Blanche asked as she set a steaming bowl of green beans, with a slice of bacon floating across the top, on the table.

Oh, no, no, Papa quickly replied. I’m sure no news is good news. We’ll likely have a letter tomorrow.

Shame filled Blanche. Papa was so fair and tried so hard. In return, she was impatient and rude to A.P. and Emily. But there was so much work. Mrs. Ericson, the hired girl (no matter the age of the person, she was called girl) had quit. It seemed work emerged from the walls and screamed to be done at every turn. Every day, Blanche felt blanketed and smothered by duties. Another meal to cook, the garden, washing and ironing, cleaning, chores, the list could go on and on. At least, Mrs. Ericson had held to her word and waited to leave until the school year was finished.

Looks good, girls, Papa said and glanced around the table.

Ready for the blessing of our food? Papa asked.

Let me put a few beans and potatoes on D.D.’s plate to be cooling, Blanche said, then bowed her head for Papa to pronounce a word over their food and Forgive us of our sins. Amen.

Papa sliced bread and said, A.P., if the wood box is full, why don’t you come with me this afternoon.

A.P. nodded his tousled head and chewed his potatoes quickly so he could ask, Where are we going, Papa?

We’ll pull some cockle burrs. You can ride Old Byrd. The girls probably have some things they need to get done.

Papa did that when he could—it got A.P. out of the house and out of the way. A.P. liked to ride the mare they called Old Byrd.

You’re sure the mailman had been by when you checked the box, aren’t you, Artie? Papa asked using Mama’s pet name for A.P.

Um-hum, A.P. nodded. The neighbors had mail in their box.

Papa looked down and nodded.

Blanche stopped chewing. She couldn’t swallow until the lump in her throat dissolved, and it couldn’t do that until it quit growing. The lump that stung her throat would appear instantly as did tears, but she managed tears better than the lump, at least most of the time. The lump didn’t show, but tears did. They all missed Mama, and a letter made a difference, especially for Papa. Couldn’t Mama realize they were home alone and anxious?

The nurse gave the pillow a push and said, There. Are you comfortable?

Yes, thank you, Mama whispered. She hadn’t spoken a word aloud for months. As the nurse cranked the handle that elevated the mattress, Mama said, I appreciate your propping me up. If you’ll hand me the writing board, I’ll get a letter off to my family.

The exertion tired Mama. There is much too much time to think when one is bedfast, she whispered.

Since arriving at Oakdale, she’d tried to mentally sort out the days. Oakdale was much bigger than she’d anticipated and she still had no idea what Oakdale really looked like except for an examining room and the ward she shared with several other ladies. She had hardly been out of bed, and now she must write something encouraging to her little family. They needed to hear a good word from Oakdale.

Tears trickled down Mama’s cheeks.

The memory of her little family huddled together, the baby perched on Blanche’s hip haunted Mama. She ached to feel his soft, chubby warmth. To not be a mother to him was so hard, especially when he didn’t want the family or hired help to do for him. No, he wanted his mama. When he crawled to the gate barring the door and cried, she could hardly bear it. But she must abide by the rule. The gate remained closed for the sake of the baby’s health and the older children too.

It seemed to Blanche that Mama’s sickness had started the day of D.D.’s birth. Blanche had expected a new baby to be waiting for her that morning, but when she came down the steps, Mama calmly sat in her rocker, a Bible in her lap, looking exactly as she had the evening before.

Later, Blanche, Emily, and A.P. went to the neighbors to play while Papa fetched Aunt Susie. It was a warm and balmy day for the month of March with the promise of spring in the air. The boys jerked off their shoes and ran barefoot.

They were all playing anty-i-over when the doctor, jouncing on the buggy seat, hurried past. People thought it high time the doctor buy a car and hire a driver, but he continued with his trusty mare and flashy buggy.

Blanche watched the buggy swing around the corner, hurry down the road, and turn into their driveway. Surely, Blanche reasoned, if the doctor was in such a rush, Mama was really sick. It frightened her. She shut her eyes to quickly pray and suddenly didn’t feel like playing any more.

Much later, as they all admired the new baby, Blanche overheard Aunt Susie declare, This family is mighty lucky to have a mother after such an ordeal! She’d also heard Aunt Susie tell how Papa had called the doctor and bellowed, Get out here before she dies!

After giving birth, Mama was always tired and spent more time in bed than out. She was either sick with the flu or suffered a mean headache. They tried everything, including big doses of Lydia Pinkham’s well-advertised tonic. Mama simply got thinner and weaker. The grumpy aunts (Papa’s sisters) lamented, A pity there’s a baby what with that mother’s health so spindly and all.

Initially, Blanche didn’t complain about the extra household duties, for as far as she was concerned, Baby D.D. was the best thing that ever happened to their family.

Eventually, the doctor diagnosed Mama’s constant cough, pleurisy, and chest pain as tuberculosis.

Isolation, the doctor ordered. Papa rigged up a little gate at Mama’s bedroom door. Papa carried Mama’s meals to her and boiled her laundry because tuberculosis was contagious.

The doctor said he suspected Mama had carried the germs of the illness since she’d been a baby because when Mama was only two years old, her mother, Caddy, had died of consumption fever.

The doctor said Caddy had probably contracted the disease from her mother (mama’s grandmother, Pliny) who had also died of consumption.

Nowadays, consumption fever has the new name of tuberculosis. It’s the same killer, the doctor said grimly, though considered curable today if caught in the early stages.

But had they caught it in the early stages?

When would they know?

The doctor said they were fortunate to live in the progressive state of Iowa because Iowa had a sanitorium especially for people stricken with tuberculosis.

The drawbacks were cost and location. Papa was a farmer. They were not a people of means. Iowa City and the sanitorium, Oakdale, was a long ways away.

Mama was only D.D.’s age, Blanche thought, when her mother was buried. The fear of Mama never coming home again, Blanche tried not to voice or think about, but it slipped in place and worried her. Would they let Mama die so far from home?

Chapter 2

At Oakdale

The nurse looked at Mama’s teary face and asked, You okay, ma’am?

Mama nodded. The nurse looked doubtful and went on.

This will never do, Mama told herself. She wiped her eyes and rubbed her glasses. There is only one way to survive this awful ache and that’s to be thankful my little family is still healthy. The baby has shown no sign of the illness. Neither have the others.

I must not lay here and feel sorry for myself. Instead, I must be thankful. Thankful! Thankful for Oakdale Sanitorium, thankful for my little family and a loving husband, brother and family. Thankful!"

She picked up the writing board and wrote, Oakdale, May, 1926. Dear Loved Ones. The pencil stopped while Mama again remembered every detail.

Papa had hired the local undertaker’s new motorized hearse to take her to the train depot. The hearse could accommodate Mama on a cot.

Her little family was huddled together. The dog, sensing their sadness, anxiously sniffed the hearse and driver before going to stand beside A.P. Mama’s brother, Edgar, stood with the children. His arms drew them together.

How grateful I am for Edgar, Mama thought. "He took care of