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Jean Craig, Graduate Nurse

<h2 id="xiv">14. Mercyville</h2> “Now, the first thing we have to do, Tim,” Dr. Benson said to the boy as they picked up the odds and ends Timmy had collected during his stay, “is to get you an outfit.” Large blue eyes stared up at him. “A what?” he asked. “Clothes! You know, a suit, underwear ... the works!” Timmy whistled. “You mean, jest fer me?” Dr. Benson smiled. “Well, it won’t be so much. I’m only an intern, so we can’t afford a regular trousseau—” “Whazzat?” Timmy demanded. The doctor laughed. “Never mind. We have everything now?” “Yeah, but Doc, this place you’re takin’ me. What gives out there?” “Oh, it’s just a place where a lot of boys live together. They run the whole town, themselves, and they raise their own food—have their own cows—” “Cows? What fer?” [146] Dr. Benson stared at the boy. “For milk, of course! And they all live and play and go to school together....” Timmy recoiled at the mention of school. “That’s not fer me,” he said. “I hate school!” Dr. Benson tousled his hair. “Well, never mind about school now. It’s vacation time. You’ll have a lot of baseball and swimming and ...” he stopped as he saw the blank look on the boy’s face. He felt a lump in his throat as he realized that Timmy had never seen a game of baseball or been near a place to swim. “You’ll like it,” he added. “Come on, now. Let’s go.” Eileen Gordon was in the lobby when they came down. Dr. Barsch had made a final examination of the boy and had signed his release, and she had the papers waiting for them. She almost laughed when she saw Timmy wearing a rudely cut-down suit which had apparently belonged to Dr. Benson. “You aren’t going anywhere like that,” she said to the doctor, looking at the boy. “Nope, we’re going shopping before we go out to Mercyville.” “The two of you? Let me come along. I’m a good shopper!” she pleaded. Dr. Benson turned to Timmy. “Okay?” Timmy shrugged his shoulders. “We could use a woman’s help,” Dr. Benson said. “Sure, come along.” [147] Eileen grinned. “Give me five minutes to get into my street clothes.” And she ran towards the stairs. Timmy fidgeted. “Dames! Why do they always wanta butt in?” Just then, Tommy came in the front door and waved to them. “I’m glad I didn’t miss you,” he cried. “I want to tag along, if I can. If I can get a ride out to Mercyville, I can talk to their baseball captain about the game.” “Sure thing, Tom,” Dr. Benson said. When Eileen was ready, the <ins title="Original has 'tour'">four</ins> started for the center of town. Tommy chose the stores where they would shop, and Eileen did the shopping. Dr. Benson secretly breathed a sigh of relief that she had decided to come with them. Impulsively he turned to her as the clerk was wrapping the last package. “Why don’t you ride out with us? It’s a wonderful day for a drive.” She looked at him gratefully. “Thanks. I’d love to. I’ll call the hospital first.” The drive through the Connecticut countryside was as beautiful as promised. Timmy stared out of the car window as they wound around the gentle curves taking them to Mercyville. For the first time in his life he was seeing the abundant beauty of the country. Or perhaps it was the first time he was able to notice it, because he was well fed and comfortably dressed. They passed a herd of cattle grazing on the side of a small slope. “So them’s cows,” he said softly.[148] “And they make milk. Well, well.” “Jeepers!” Tommy exclaimed under his breath. “Yep, Timmy, they make milk, all right. And you haven’t lived till you’ve tasted fresh milk! You’ll have your chance!” Mercyville consisted of five acres of land nestled between two hills. A stream bounded the land on the third side, and there were patches of woods on the other side. Small cottages dotted the acres and in the center was a building about the size of a large house. “That must be the administration building,” Dr. Benson said as he turned up the drive to the house. “Hey, look, Tom. There’s a ball diamond. And I’ll bet those are your opponents out there practicing.” Tommy groaned as he watched the boys playing ball. “Look at that guy pitch!” he moaned. “And that fellow batting! He’ll murder my pitching!” “Okay,” Dr. Benson said, “everyone out.” They found Mr. Henderson in a small office at the front of the building. He held out his hand to Dr. Benson as they entered his office. “I’m very glad to see you, Doctor,” he said, clasping the intern’s hand. “Thank you, sir,” Dr. Benson said. “This is Miss Gordon, our Supervisor of Nurses, and these are Tommy Craig and Timmy Lester. Timmy would like to be a member of your family. And Tommy is here to see your ball team captain. Seems they have[149] a game together this season.” Mr. Henderson nodded. “Oh, yes. Elmhurst. Miss Gordon, it’s a pleasure. And Timmy, I hope you’re going to like Mercyville.” “Yeah,” Timmy said. “It’s okay, I guess.” Mr. Henderson smiled and patted the boy’s arm. “Frankly, I don’t have so much to do with our boys. I’d better call in our president and let you talk to him.” He picked up the phone and asked for Bert Cramer. Smiling, he turned back to his guests. “Please sit down, won’t you? Bert’s out on the diamond. He’s also our baseball manager, you know. He’ll be right in.” In a few minutes, a slender boy with brown hair and soft brown eyes knocked at Mr. Henderson’s open door. “You sent for me, Mr. Henderson?” he asked in a low, melodious voice. “Come in, Bert,” Mr. Henderson said. “We have a new member of our family.” He smiled. “Bert, this is Dr. Benson from the Gallup Clinic in Elmhurst.” “How do you do, sir?” Bert said, shaking hands. After Mr. Henderson had introduced them all, Bert grinned at Timmy and said, “Gee, I’m sorry I’m not going to be around next year. But I finish up here this term, you know. We have a swell guy for president next year, though. I know you’ll like him.” Dr. Benson nodded. “Tell me, Bert, what plans[150] you have. We’re kind of interested in what happens to you boys when you finish school here.” Mr. Henderson put his hand fondly on the young man’s shoulder. “We have great hopes for Bert,” he said. “Play baseball, huh?” Tommy asked, eyeing him with doubt. “Well, anyhow, we can be friends before our big game.” Bert laughed. “Well, as a matter of fact, I don’t play any more. I used to play centerfield, and I do love the game. But I also play the violin. I was afraid to take chances on injuring my hands, so I gave up baseball. But I still manage the team.” “Well, what do you know?” Tommy said. “You play the violin?” “What a sissy!” Timmy exclaimed. Bert chuckled. “That’s what a lot of people thought once. A lot of the guys made fun of me till I met them in the boxing ring.” Mr. Henderson chuckled at the memory. “Bert’s not much of a sissy, Timmy. You’ll have to take his word for it, though. I doubt if he’d challenge you. You’ll have to box fellows your own size.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But tell them about your plans, Bert.” “Oh, yes. Well, Timmy’s coming to Mercyville may be a sort of good luck omen for me. In a little while I’m going into Elmhurst to try out for a scholarship to Timothy College. Get it? That’s Timmy’s name. You probably never heard of the school....” [151] “Timothy College!” Tommy cried. “My sister, Doris, is trying out for a scholarship there, too! She plays the piano.” “That is a coincidence!” Mr. Henderson said. He stood up. “Bert, why don’t you take Timmy and his friend down to meet George? That’s George Michael, our president-elect. Dr. Benson and Miss Gordon and I can clear up the details while you’re gone.” Bert nodded, and led the small party out of the office. Mr. Henderson’s face sobered as the young people left. “Children left alone in the world constitute the worst tragedy I know of,” he sighed. “I’m very glad we have room for Timmy. Every time I have to turn away a boy, my heart breaks again.” “That’s why I’m so glad you could take him, sir,” Dr. Benson said. “You see, Timmy hasn’t had any sort of break from life yet at all. We checked with the authorities when we finally found out who he was, and his background was ... terrible! His father had been out of work for months. There was a housefull of children, and they all lived in one room. The rest of the family was killed in a tenement fire. Timmy was out on the streets with a gang of hoodlums at the time.” Mr. Henderson stroked his iron gray hair. “That’s as wretched a tale as I’ve heard yet, and I’ve heard some pretty bad ones.” Dr. Benson cleared his throat nervously. “I think[152] you may have some problems with Timmy. He doesn’t even seem to be aware that his family is gone. He knows, of course, but he’s all wrapped up in a hard shell which comes from living a life like that. And when he softens up and gets human again, he’s going to feel the tragedy.” Mr. Henderson nodded. “I understand.” “I wonder,” Dr. Benson blurted out. “I don’t mean to doubt your word, but I went through it, myself. We lived in a place like Timmy’s old home. My parents died when I was in medical school, and it took months before I even realized what had happened. Even though I had been so much luckier than the other boys I knew, I was still suffering what they call slum-shock years after I had left home.” Mr. Henderson smiled gently. “Yes, I do know, Dr. Benson. I was a slum child, myself. I think that’s why I started this home. I can never forget the horrors I saw as a child, and I’d give anything in the world to protect other children from them.” Eileen shook her head. “Slum life can turn out some pretty wonderful people,” she said softly. “People determined to help others in the same fix.” Mr. Henderson smiled at her. “I guess that’s about the size of it.” He stood up and went over to a filing cabinet. “I have here all the data about Mercyville. Our medical and health records and our financial status. The former is very good. The latter is never good, of course. But we manage to make ends meet.”[153] He handed Eileen and Dr. Benson copies of the report. “You can look it over and take a copy back to Dr. Barsch. He’ll probably want it for his records. As you see, we are an accredited grammar and high school. And here,” he pointed to a page, “is a list of our alumni. That’s our gold star page, so to speak. Some of our boys are brilliant and have fine careers. Others are not so ... so brainy, of course. But they also become useful, productive citizens.” Just then the boys returned. George Michaels, the president-elect, was with them. He was a tall, slim Negro boy. He and Tommy were so deeply involved in a discussion about baseball that they were almost oblivious to everyone else. “George,” said Mr. Henderson, “I want you to meet Dr. Benson and Miss Gordon from the Gallup Clinic in Elmhurst.” George looked up, startled. Eileen and Dr. Benson both laughed as the new president came back down to earth. “Sorry, sir,” George said, shaking Dr. Benson’s hand. “Tom and I were so deep in the technicalities of the game, I forgot where I was.” Dr. Benson grinned. “I’m crazy about the game, myself. I can understand your being so absorbed.” Mr. Henderson looked at George fondly. “George is our star athlete. He plays football, baseball and basketball.” “A triple threat man, eh?” Dr. Benson asked. [154] “A real threat man,” Mr. Henderson said solemnly. “You asked Bert Cramer a while ago what he was going to do when he left Mercyville. I think you might be interested in George’s plans, too.” “We certainly would,” Eileen said. “Tell them, George,” Mr. Henderson said proudly. George hesitated. “I sort of hate to talk about it till I’ve figured out exactly how I’m going to accomplish it. But I love sports. As a tiny child, I didn’t have much time to play games. There wasn’t any place for me, either. In our neighborhood back home, they didn’t like me to join in their organized games, because I am a Negro. I guess they still discriminate. That’s why I want to open a youth center, some day, for kids of all races and creeds.” Dr. Benson and Eileen nodded soberly. “That’s a fine objective, George,” Dr. Benson said quietly. George turned to look at Timmy. “Mr. Henderson, did you know Timmy here has never played baseball? And from the way I saw him run across the yard, I think he’ll make a wonderful base-stealer.” “You bet he will,” said Dr. Benson as he watched Timmy’s face to see if he could get an inkling as to how Timmy was impressed by what he had seen. By this time it was obvious that Tommy and Bert Cramer were fast friends. Bert shook his head sadly as Dr. Benson nodded to Eileen and Tommy. “I sure wish you could stay to supper,” he said. “I[155] could drive you back, Tommy, and I’d kind of like the fellows to meet you.” Tommy hesitated. “Gee, I’d like to,” he answered. “If I could call the folks, and if Dr. Benson didn’t mind.” “Why should I mind, Tom?” Dr. Benson asked. “Go ahead and call home, if you like.” A few minutes later it was all settled and Timmy walked out to the car with them. On the way, they sat down on a bench for a few minutes. Dr. Benson reached down and picked a blade of grass. “You know, Timmy, I don’t want to give you a lecture,” he said. “But I want you to know how impressed I am with the democratic spirit of this place.” “Whazzat?” Timmy demanded. Dr. Benson chuckled. “Democracy is being well in spirit. Just as healthy is being well in body, I guess you could say. You haven’t had a very good start. When people are poor and forced into slums, they get sick and scared, and sometimes all sort of crazy. Their bodies are diseased and twisted because they don’t have enough to eat, or warm clothes or fresh air. And sometimes their minds are diseased and twisted with this fear and craziness. So pretty soon they turn on each other and start to hate each other. The first thing they do is hate people who look different. Or have different sounding names. Out here you’re going to have the chance to get over any part of that sickness you might have. You’re going[156] to have fresh air and good food and lots of time to play and grow and learn. You’re going to learn the best lesson anyone can ever learn! That everyone ... I don’t care if they’re white or brown or yellow or even purple or green—I don’t care how they choose to worship God ... is a human being and has the same capacity for dignity as anyone else. I’m a doctor, Timmy, and I deal in truth and facts. These things are as exact truths as two plus two equalling four.” Timmy squirmed. “Aw, sure, Doc.” He picked up a blade of grass and stuck it between his teeth. “I never thought about it before. But George ... he’s right. Kids back home do pick on kids that’re different.” Dr. Benson nodded. “Mr. Henderson called him a real threat man. George is going to be a real threat to intolerance and bigotry when he leaves Mercyville. Those are just fancy names for being plain sick.” Timmy grinned. “Hey, Doc! How about comin’ out to see me?” Dr. Benson tousled his hair. “Try to keep me away, Timmy. You and I are going to stick together. We’re pals, remember?” Eileen and the doctor waved to him as they drove off. They watched Timmy head back to where Mr. Henderson and George Michael were waiting for him. Dr. Benson hummed in a satisfied way. They drove through the lengthening shadows of the late afternoon in silence. Finally Dr. Benson heard[157] the sound of muffled sobs next to him and he turned to look at Eileen. He slowed the car. “Good heavens, baby, what’s the matter?” Eileen dabbed at her nose with a tiny handkerchief. “That speech! What you told Timmy, I mean. You’re some guy, doctor. And I feel as if I should get out of your car and walk home!” Dr. Benson grinned. “Oh, you’re not so bad,” he teased. “As a matter of fact, you’re kind of cute. You sort of dress up the old jalopy.” Eileen grinned in spite of herself. “Wasn’t I the Lady Bountiful this morning, though, when I said I would condescend to date you some time? Doctor, if you ever look at me again, you have a screw loose. And I’ll be the happiest girl in the world!” Dr. Benson stopped the car. “It just happens that I have a screw loose. Here. Give me that hanky. No, I’ll use mine.” He pulled out his handkerchief. “These things women carry aren’t worth a darn.” He wiped her cheeks tenderly. “Oh, Eileen, you darling little idiot! Don’t you know that if you had looked at me when I first came the way you’re looking at me now, I would have served my internship standing on my hands, if you’d wanted me to? But when I got the brush-off from the cool, crisp, efficient Miss Gordon, I decided to play things differently. I guess I’ve been as big a dope as anyone.” <hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop divider" /> [158] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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