pulled the chair one foot away from the wall and laid her coat over the ladder-back. The weight of the coat, snapped off its back.
“I am so sorry,” Rose said to Mrs. Lipinski. “I’ll have my Henry come fix that this very afternoon.” Rose glanced at Mrs. Sebastian. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was moving, in prayer Rose guessed. That could be good or bad.
Mrs. Lipinski stared at the wall of windows so blackened from soot they might let in barely more light than a wall. Rose asked another child to sit with his mother and offered that seat to Mrs. Sebastian.
Rose dragged another broken chair toward Mrs. Lipinski for Theresa to sit on, but the young woman was backed up completely against the door. Rose walked her to the chair beside her mother. She squeezed her hand. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see.” Theresa shuffled across the floor and nodded. Mrs. Sebastian sat beside Mrs. Lipinski, as close to the edge of the chair as she could, appearing to breathe through her mouth rather than her nose, to block the odor of the home, Rose guessed.
Mrs. Lipinski shifted her gaze from the windows to Mrs. Sebastian’s profile. “Like yer suit. Ain’t one of them convertible suits, that there’s a real one. Had me one of those once ‘pon time.”
Mrs. Sebastian fingered the collar on her suit jacket. One of the children was creeping across the floor on all fours, lured by the crystal shoe appliqués that reflected every last bit of light in the room. Mrs. Sebastian watched the child inch closer. The woman’s face froze in a grimace. She pulled her body taller, tighter into herself.
Rose worked as efficiently as possible. She might have made more inquiries about the general state of things had this been a typical visit, but she needed to get at the crux of the problem and move onto the other family—the one who’d become a prime example for the benefits of community nursing.
She removed newspapers from her bag, put some of them under her arm, spread a set on the now backless chair seat and lay her bag on it. She folded the remaining newspapers and turned them into bags to carry soiled linens. Another would be used for after-use instruments, and the third for waste to be thrown out.
In the kitchen Rose scrubbed her hands with the green soap she’d left at the Lipinski’s house three days before. She just managed to avoid touching the pile of dirty dishes in the sink while she washed up.
In the front room, Rose opened her bag and removed the sanitary pads she’d sewn. “These are for your monthly cycles, Mrs. Lipinski. The flannel’s good, but like I said last time, you’ll need to soak them and wash them in the hottest water to maintain their usefulness.”
Mrs. Lipinski began to rock in her chair as though she were into another world.
Rose handed the pads to a trembling Mrs. Sebastian to hold. She looked at Rose and held her gaze as if to say, don’t you dare leave me alone with these people. Rose gave her an encouraging nod and she wondered if she should have instructed her on how to interact with a different class of people.
Mrs. Sebastian nodded back, though appeared to be in shock. She ran her hand over the flannel. “Why these,” she cleared her throat, “are fine pads, the stitches…” Her voice shook as she faked a casual tone.
Rose pulled more fabric from the bag, and turned her attention to Mrs. Lipinski. “And I bleached these flour sacks and made underwear for you and the children. Nothing ever lasts as long as good flour-sack underwear. I was raised on them, myself.” Rose hesitated, knowing she needed to follow protocol and ask Mrs. Lipinski to assist her in caring for Marie.
As soon as the question was out of Rose’s mouth, Mrs. Lipinski turned away, unwilling or able to get out of the chair. Rose was not about to wrestle the woman up the stairs and decided she would explain to the Sebastians that working with the Lipinski’s would require a multi-layered approach. It would
“I am so sorry,” Rose said to Mrs. Lipinski. “I’ll have my Henry come fix that this very afternoon.” Rose glanced at Mrs. Sebastian. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was moving, in prayer Rose guessed. That could be good or bad.
Mrs. Lipinski stared at the wall of windows so blackened from soot they might let in barely more light than a wall. Rose asked another child to sit with his mother and offered that seat to Mrs. Sebastian.
Rose dragged another broken chair toward Mrs. Lipinski for Theresa to sit on, but the young woman was backed up completely against the door. Rose walked her to the chair beside her mother. She squeezed her hand. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see.” Theresa shuffled across the floor and nodded. Mrs. Sebastian sat beside Mrs. Lipinski, as close to the edge of the chair as she could, appearing to breathe through her mouth rather than her nose, to block the odor of the home, Rose guessed.
Mrs. Lipinski shifted her gaze from the windows to Mrs. Sebastian’s profile. “Like yer suit. Ain’t one of them convertible suits, that there’s a real one. Had me one of those once ‘pon time.”
Mrs. Sebastian fingered the collar on her suit jacket. One of the children was creeping across the floor on all fours, lured by the crystal shoe appliqués that reflected every last bit of light in the room. Mrs. Sebastian watched the child inch closer. The woman’s face froze in a grimace. She pulled her body taller, tighter into herself.
Rose worked as efficiently as possible. She might have made more inquiries about the general state of things had this been a typical visit, but she needed to get at the crux of the problem and move onto the other family—the one who’d become a prime example for the benefits of community nursing.
She removed newspapers from her bag, put some of them under her arm, spread a set on the now backless chair seat and lay her bag on it. She folded the remaining newspapers and turned them into bags to carry soiled linens. Another would be used for after-use instruments, and the third for waste to be thrown out.
In the kitchen Rose scrubbed her hands with the green soap she’d left at the Lipinski’s house three days before. She just managed to avoid touching the pile of dirty dishes in the sink while she washed up.
In the front room, Rose opened her bag and removed the sanitary pads she’d sewn. “These are for your monthly cycles, Mrs. Lipinski. The flannel’s good, but like I said last time, you’ll need to soak them and wash them in the hottest water to maintain their usefulness.”
Mrs. Lipinski began to rock in her chair as though she were into another world.
Rose handed the pads to a trembling Mrs. Sebastian to hold. She looked at Rose and held her gaze as if to say, don’t you dare leave me alone with these people. Rose gave her an encouraging nod and she wondered if she should have instructed her on how to interact with a different class of people.
Mrs. Sebastian nodded back, though appeared to be in shock. She ran her hand over the flannel. “Why these,” she cleared her throat, “are fine pads, the stitches…” Her voice shook as she faked a casual tone.
Rose pulled more fabric from the bag, and turned her attention to Mrs. Lipinski. “And I bleached these flour sacks and made underwear for you and the children. Nothing ever lasts as long as good flour-sack underwear. I was raised on them, myself.” Rose hesitated, knowing she needed to follow protocol and ask Mrs. Lipinski to assist her in caring for Marie.
As soon as the question was out of Rose’s mouth, Mrs. Lipinski turned away, unwilling or able to get out of the chair. Rose was not about to wrestle the woman up the stairs and decided she would explain to the Sebastians that working with the Lipinski’s would require a multi-layered approach. It would
Similar Books
