From the Relief Society Magazine, 1965 –

Ring Around Her Heart

By Shirley Thulin

Chapter 1

The cab pulled up to the curb and even when the driver came around to open the door, Joan didn’t move, not at first. A burden within her heart spread through her like quicksilver, heavy and fluid, and then found its way to her throat and swelled. In that moment before the cab driver got to her door, the past three years unfolded before her like an old melodrama, only the villain was no one she could visualize. The villain was misunderstanding and circumstances. Maybe the villain was herself. Surely no one had meant to hurt her and drive her out of the town where she was born, and grew in. No one had asked her to resign at the hospital. She had only herself to blame for that.

It was just that the echoes in the halls and corridors began to repeat the past, and drum the loneliness and heartache into her with every step. And the town, the hospital, the people and herself were all so tangled up together that she didn’t know how to separate them. She had spent her happy years in Elmdale and had grown sensitive to its beautiful natural surroundings, its deep lakes and rugged mountains. And as did the people who were her friends and her parents’ friends, the mountains warmed her and reassured her when she looked up to them. She had found life in Elmdale good. The days had been filled with the accomplishment of her hospital duties, and her Sundays had been devoted to her class of ten-year-old boys. Even when her mother passed away and she had no one left, she had felt that she still could go on, still belonged. She had learned to reach out and take that which was good of life and of her work, and of her fellow men.

She sat in the cab now and wondered that all this could have been taken from her in so short a time. True, she still had had her friends and her work, but there had been the heaviness that lay deep within her, and she knew she must get away. She knew she was too close to everything and everyone in Elmdale.

As the driver opened the door, she almost told him to get back in and drive her away, but where would she go? She fumbled with some change and then stood between the two suitcases looking up at the building as the cab drove away. The three-story stone structure seemed bright, open-faced and friendly. The windows were big, and shone clean in the early morning sun. In fact, the whole building looked as if it had just been scrubbed with some kind of bubbly soap and washed off with a giant hose. The front of the building was new, but she had seen as the cab neared, that the rear walls were faded with the years. It’s just like me, she thought, it has put on a new face of granite and now stands for all to see, with a new hope, and a new belief. It’s almost as though it were laughing at the world because of the new truths it has learned along with the remodeling, she thought. Only she wasn’t laughing . . . she was hoping and longing. . . .

Joan leaned over to pick up her suitcases, and the door opened and a tall boy came out. He hurried down the steps and straight towards her.

“Hi, I’m David. You must be Mrs. Morgan. We’ve been expecting you.”

“I’m Miss Morgan,” Joan corrected, not meaning to sound so affected. For her words had made a shadow of hurt pass quickly over his face. His eyes, deep with ready friendship, had clouded slightly.

“I’m sorry. I mean . . . here, let me take those. The nurse’s home is next door.”

Joan looked at him. He was so like another boy she once knew. Another boy who had lain sick for so long and had needed so much of her care, and then had died, taking a little of her with him. It was then that she had learned she shouldn’t grow too fond of the patients. Shouldn’t let them tug at her with their wanting and their needing. She found that she must be indifferent, withdrawn, efficient . . . but her heart was not yet harnessed, not yet disciplined. Now, with a new hospital and people who had never known her, she felt sure she could accomplish this.

David picked the bags up and Joan almost told him not to bother, but she was tired from the long trip and she knew they were heavy. No use to be contrary, she thought. But she could not help wondering how she was ever going to learn where to draw the line between keeping herself in reserve, and being downright hostile. It will take practice, she thought, lots of practice.

“Thank you,” Joan told David. “I would appreciate it if you’ll take them to my room. I’ll go inside and talk to Doctor Niles.”

“First office to your right. He’s waiting for you.”

Joan hesitated for just a moment, then made her feet move in the direction of the cement steps. She felt like a stranger invading the private domain of the king in a strange new city. She remembered the time she had faced her first hospital administrator. She was just out of high school with a scholarship in her handbag, and a world full of dreams in her heart. That was ten years ago, and a thousand heartaches ago. Today, she still had dreams and she was frightened. She had heard that Doctor Niles was very efficient and that he was noted for not being overly friendly. Mrs. Davis, with whom she had corresponded in connection with this position had let her know what to expect of Doctor Niles. “He has come up through the ranks,” Mrs. Davis had written, “and is very exacting.”

Well, wasn’t that just what she had wanted? Hadn’t she been very careful to choose just such a hospital with just such an administrator? Before Joan had applied for the position of superintendent of nurses in the hospital, she had been very thorough in her investigation. She wanted a hospital in a large enough town where people were strangers. She wanted to work in a large hospital where patients were people who needed her help, but who were not her lifelong friends, their stricken faces pleading from white pillows. Hillcrest had fit the bill as far as a town was concerned, and the Hillcrest Memorial Hospital fit her choice of a hospital … at least she hoped it would.

Joan started up the steps, and each one seemed a big climb in the direction of the unknown . . . into an adventure that she was not sure she welcomed. That was strange for Joan. When she was little, she had been very adventurous. There wasn’t a path or a trail she didn’t know. She was familiar with each hill and each meadow in Elmdale. She almost knew all the cows by name. And she really did know all the people. Everyone said it was too bad she wasn’t a boy, they were sure she could be the mayor when she grew up. But when she grew up, she had the same desire she had always had. She wanted to be a nurse, and she had become one. A good nurse, devoted and loving . . . only no one had warned her about being too devoted . . . too loving. Well, it wouldn’t happen again, she promised herself. She would never again be so close to a patient that his dying would reach her.

Doctor Niles looked up from his desk at her entrance. “Yes?” he said, and the word had a tone that made Joan uneasy.

“I’m Joan Morgan,” she stated in a very efficient voice, and she could tell that he was impressed with her statement.

“Well.” He adjusted his glasses and looked from her to the papers on his desk. “I’ve been going over your file. You have an excellent record, Miss Morgan, but you are very young to be. …”

“I have worked hard to get that excellent record in so few years.” Her voice was just short of being stern and sounded unfamiliar to her.

Doctor Niles looked up and studied her, then smiled a thin smile, one that seemed to reach over its boundary, as if it wasn’t used to spreading that far over his face.

“Well, I can see that you will do well here, Miss Morgan . . . very well indeed. Here are some things I want you to study. I don’t mind telling you, Miss Morgan, here at Hillcrest, we go by the book. It won’t be easy for you. The nurses will naturally resent your age. It’s never easy for someone to accept as his superior a younger person,” and as Doctor Niles went on, explaining, warning, Joan looked at him and knew that it would be not only her age that would be against her. Her new stern personality would be, too. She knew she would first have to prove to her staff that she was a hard worker, untiring and efficient. Then they would respect her, she knew.

Joan looked at Doctor Niles. He was a man in his middle forties, and handsome, despite his rather thin face and precise features. Even though he was sitting down, she could see that he was tall, and that he was in the habit of carrying himself very straight. And though he disturbed her in a way she was at a loss to explain, at the same time she seemed to feel a certain amount of attraction towards him. All the while he was talking to her, his steel gray eyes pierced hers, and the fleeting wide smile did not show itself again.

“. . . And of course you will be directly responsible for the nurses.” Doctor Niles finished and leaned toward her. “Are there any questions, Miss Morgan?”

“No, sir. You have made yourself quite clear, and I am in agreement with your policies.”

“Very good. I’ll have Miss Jackson show you around, and David take your bags .”

“David has already seen to that, thank you.”

“Fine.” His finger picked out a button from the row on his desk, and then he leaned back and looked at Joan. “Tell me. Why did you leave Elmdale? You were doing so well there.”

“I left because the town suddenly became too small, and someone. . . .” She was going to say that someone who was very close to her died, but she knew that was a poor recommendation for a nurse. During the pause Miss Jackson came in.

“Miss Jackson, this is Miss Morgan. I’d like you to show her around.”

“You’re Miss Morgan? You look so young to be . . . that is . . .

“Miss Morgan has an excellent record and was the superintendent of nurses in the hospital she just came from, Miss Jackson. She will make a very capable addition to our staff.”

“Oh, I’m sure she will, Doctor Niles. It’s only that Mrs. Davis was so … so much older. …”

Dr. Niles ignored her statement and turned to Joan. “Miss Morgan, we have very inadequate living quarters. We are planning to build an addition to the nurses’ quarters in the spring, but in the meantime you will have to share a room. Now, please excuse me.”

Miss Jackson did a thorough job of showing her around. Joan acknowledged introductions with a quick and businesslike manner. She must at all times keep the upper hand, she reminded herself. All the nurses and doctors to whom she was introduced were exactly as she had expected. There was a counterpart for each nurse at Elmdale, only there were so many more here. There were the student nurses who looked as though they were just out of high school; there were the older nurses who had an air of crisp efficiency about them. There were the one or two troublemakers that she had learned to spot very quickly, and there were several of the nurses who didn’t exactly fit in anywhere.

Then suddenly there was Doctor Dean Desmond. As Miss Jackson spoke his name Joan barely heard her. He acknowledged the introduction briskly, with an efficient manner, yet there was a softness about his mouth. He said only a few words and left, and still he gave Joan the impression that he was enjoying a private joke, as he looked into her eyes.

That night Joan lay quietly in her bed and listened to the sounds of the night. She liked the feel of the strange bed. The sounds were different from the sounds she had listened to all her life. The city sounds and the different bed and the new hospital were part of her life now. She lay still and held on to the good feeling within her. She loved being a nurse. The feel of the tile beneath her feet as she went from room to room, the smell of the antiseptics, and the swish of the starched uniforms, all were a part of her very being. And she could not remember when she wasn’t soothed by the rhythm of the soft-toned bell as it summoned the doctors.

Joan was nearly asleep when she heard the key in the door. The light switched on.

“Oh, you’re here already. I’m Kathy Dirk, your roommate.”

“I’m Joan Morgan. It’s almost eleven. Aren’t you. . . .”

“Supposed to be in by ten? Right! But I missed my bus, and my family had to bring me. That entailed the packing of a lunch, and the phoning to let everyone know the change of plans . . . honestly, you’d think we had to go a thousand miles rather than less than a hundred.”

Kathy slipped out of her smart street clothes and into her nightgown as she talked. “You know, being a member of a big family has its problems. Mom still thinks I’m a baby, and not capable of staying at Hillcrest for one single week end.”

“You mean you have every week end off?”

“Have so far.”

“And how have you managed that?”

“Well, the others trade with me. They need the money the extra shifts bring and don’t seem to mind. Mom would worry if I did not come home, so it works out just fine.”

As Kathy disappeared into the other room, Joan knew she should reprimand her for being late. She knew she would have to do something about her trading every week end, and yet suddenly a pang of longing filled her. Why? What had come over her? Joan knew. It was a homesickness that filled her. She knew that it was brought on by the mention of Kathy’s family. She also knew her longing was brought on by the way Kathy moved, the way she talked, with such youthfulness and assurance. Not the assurance that comes with learning and living . . . but the assurance that is born of youth and of the lack of learning.

When Kathy slipped into her bed on the other side of the room, Joan thought of her first roommate and of the talk that went on far into the night most nights. Well, there would be none of that with them. Joan had found that roommates were not to be trusted. Once they became familiar with your secret inner thoughts, once you dared ask them questions like those Joan would like to ask Kathy right now . . . one’s hopes and dreams were no longer one’s own. . . . No, she would have to subdue her curiosity and observe. Still, before she could fall asleep, the question pierced her thoughts . . . was Doctor Niles married? And what were the intentions behind Dr. Dean Desmond’s teasing brown eyes?

(To be continued)