fighters are never angry. I will learn to manage my impulses and my temper. I cannot say I regret saving the dog, but I wish I had handled my anger better so as not to have offended the people who were most likely to be my staunchest allies.”
She risked looking into the faces of the individual board members around the table. All of them were forward-thinking people who believed in education for women, who dedicated their lives to the care of the sick and the poor. They didn’t deserve the broad brush she’d painted them with merely because they hadn’t fallen in line behind an impetuous girl with more bravado than wisdom.
“I know I have much to learn from every person in this room.” She looked directly at Dean Kreutzer, a woman who had been at the forefront of the battle to clear the way for women in medicine. “And I truly hope I have the opportunity to return to school so that I may do so.”
It felt very different this time when Julia was asked to step outside to await the board’s decision. For one thing, she had Ashton sitting on the hard bench beside her. The hallway was cramped and uncomfortable, with a bench designed more for beauty than for comfort. Whoever thought carved mahogany scrollwork on the back of a bench was a good idea? All it did was dig into her spinal column and make these few minutes even more exquisitely awful.
She glanced over at Ashton, who looked as uncomfortable as she felt. The waiting was torture, and she needed something to unwind the tension that ratcheted higher.
“Did you ever get a good scolding when you were a boy?” she asked. “Come on, let’s hear it. I’ll bet you were reckless and disorderly at least once in your life.”
“I was the perfect child.”
She snickered. “And what would your father say about that?”
“He would agree.” He tossed the comment off blandly, but a hint of a smile threatened to ruin the straight line of his mouth.
She rolled her eyes. Someone like Ashton Carlyle probably wore a suit and tie even as a toddler, while she was making mud pies with Emil.
The door to the conference room opened, and the dean herself came out of the room, her manner still stiff and commanding. Julia stood, her mouth suddenly dry and her heart threatening to leap from her chest.
“The board has voted,” Dean Kreutzer said. “We have concluded that there are times when the laws of man are in conflict with basic human decency and compassion. We believe you are now more sensitive to this issue and have the makings of a fine medical missionary. Welcome back to college.”
Julia shrieked and leapt into the air. Her feet didn’t even touch the ground because Ashton snatched her in mid-jump, shouting for joy and whirling her in circles.
It was time to say good-bye to Ashton. The dean wanted her back in class tomorrow morning, so there was no opportunity to return to Dierenpark. Ashton offered to walk her to a nearby apothecary shop where they would send a telegram home, asking Emil to forward her belongings to the college.
The scent of menthol and tobacco surrounded them as they stepped inside the shop. While Ashton dictated the note to the telegraph operator, Julia gazed at a display of elegant soaps on the glass countertop. Most were in paper boxes or tins featuring sumptuous illustrations of the soap’s fragrance, such as jasmine or roses. Other pictures depicted the soap’s main ingredient: beeswax, rose oil, or cream. One of the larger tins had a bucolic scene painted on the lid, an Alpine goat standing in a green field with a pristine blue sky overhead. She opened the tin lid and ran her finger along the milky smooth cake of soap inside. She paid for the tin and joined Ashton outside.
“The trolley stop is at the corner of the street,” he said, and they walked with impossibly slow, measured steps toward the corner. They both knew this was where they would say their final good-byes. She would stay in Philadelphia, while Ashton would take the
She risked looking into the faces of the individual board members around the table. All of them were forward-thinking people who believed in education for women, who dedicated their lives to the care of the sick and the poor. They didn’t deserve the broad brush she’d painted them with merely because they hadn’t fallen in line behind an impetuous girl with more bravado than wisdom.
“I know I have much to learn from every person in this room.” She looked directly at Dean Kreutzer, a woman who had been at the forefront of the battle to clear the way for women in medicine. “And I truly hope I have the opportunity to return to school so that I may do so.”
It felt very different this time when Julia was asked to step outside to await the board’s decision. For one thing, she had Ashton sitting on the hard bench beside her. The hallway was cramped and uncomfortable, with a bench designed more for beauty than for comfort. Whoever thought carved mahogany scrollwork on the back of a bench was a good idea? All it did was dig into her spinal column and make these few minutes even more exquisitely awful.
She glanced over at Ashton, who looked as uncomfortable as she felt. The waiting was torture, and she needed something to unwind the tension that ratcheted higher.
“Did you ever get a good scolding when you were a boy?” she asked. “Come on, let’s hear it. I’ll bet you were reckless and disorderly at least once in your life.”
“I was the perfect child.”
She snickered. “And what would your father say about that?”
“He would agree.” He tossed the comment off blandly, but a hint of a smile threatened to ruin the straight line of his mouth.
She rolled her eyes. Someone like Ashton Carlyle probably wore a suit and tie even as a toddler, while she was making mud pies with Emil.
The door to the conference room opened, and the dean herself came out of the room, her manner still stiff and commanding. Julia stood, her mouth suddenly dry and her heart threatening to leap from her chest.
“The board has voted,” Dean Kreutzer said. “We have concluded that there are times when the laws of man are in conflict with basic human decency and compassion. We believe you are now more sensitive to this issue and have the makings of a fine medical missionary. Welcome back to college.”
Julia shrieked and leapt into the air. Her feet didn’t even touch the ground because Ashton snatched her in mid-jump, shouting for joy and whirling her in circles.
It was time to say good-bye to Ashton. The dean wanted her back in class tomorrow morning, so there was no opportunity to return to Dierenpark. Ashton offered to walk her to a nearby apothecary shop where they would send a telegram home, asking Emil to forward her belongings to the college.
The scent of menthol and tobacco surrounded them as they stepped inside the shop. While Ashton dictated the note to the telegraph operator, Julia gazed at a display of elegant soaps on the glass countertop. Most were in paper boxes or tins featuring sumptuous illustrations of the soap’s fragrance, such as jasmine or roses. Other pictures depicted the soap’s main ingredient: beeswax, rose oil, or cream. One of the larger tins had a bucolic scene painted on the lid, an Alpine goat standing in a green field with a pristine blue sky overhead. She opened the tin lid and ran her finger along the milky smooth cake of soap inside. She paid for the tin and joined Ashton outside.
“The trolley stop is at the corner of the street,” he said, and they walked with impossibly slow, measured steps toward the corner. They both knew this was where they would say their final good-byes. She would stay in Philadelphia, while Ashton would take the
Similar Books
