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Rose smiled. “Why don’t you think about it for a few days? I need to get supper started—will you bring in the children?”
Ellen nodded, her mind whirling with new thoughts. If she agreed to Aunt Rose’s plan, she would never go to high school or university. Not that she’d really been thinking of something like Queen’s, yet Lucas’ hopes had infected her a little with their boldness. Up in the hayloft anything had seemed possible.
Possible, but not practical, she now told herself sternly. She couldn’t afford to have her head in the clouds. A nurse was a sensible occupation for a young woman such as herself, with few resources in this world, and she would count her blessings if Dr. Bandler took her on.
Rose took Ellen to see Dr. Bandler the very next day. He had an office on Front Street in Stella, a stone’s throw from the ferry office where Ellen had first waited that September nearly two years ago.
She’d met Dr. Bandler before, of course; he’d made a handful of house visits to Jasper Lane, and she’d seen him at church and various island functions. Yet she’d never needed to visit his office herself, and now she gazed round at the shiny, metal instruments and the pamphlets about eating green vegetables and drinking milk with an air of uneasy awe. She picked one up on the dangers of patent medicines and glanced at the bold type, feeling a wave of sadness for both Da and Mam.
“Those medicines are as good as poison,” Dr. Bandler barked, coming up behind her so Ellen jumped. His bright blue eyes peered at her from behind small, round spectacles. “False hope in a bottle, that’s all it is.”
“And expensive, at that,” Ellen replied, replacing the pamphlet back on the shelf with the others. “My mam tried every medicine in the chemist’s, and not one of them helped her.”
“And nor would they. Just opium and alcohol, mark my words.” He moved around the desk, his bald head gleaming under the electric light of the office. “So you’re Ellen Copley.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And so, Ellen Copley, you fancy yourself something of a nurse?”
Ellen flushed. “No, sir. Not really. I just nursed my mam, when she was ill.”
His sharp expression softened a little. “Your Aunt Rose told me about that. And you’re not squeamish, are you, when it comes to blood and bruises and bones?”
Ellen swallowed. She hadn’t seen too much of any of those when she’d tended her mother. “I don’t consider myself squeamish, sir, but I haven’t had too much experience with bones and blood and such.”
Dr. Bandler smiled. “And I hope you won’t have too much experience with any of them, here. But you’ve got to be prepared, Miss Copley. You’ve always got to be prepared.”
“Yes sir, I suppose you do.”
“And I can’t have any high strung miss in my office, you understand, not when a man might be dying.” Something of the alarm she felt at this statement must have showed in her face, for the good doctor hastened to add, “Not to say there will be a man dying in here. But just in case. Just in case.”
“I see,” Ellen managed, and he indicated she take a seat in front of his desk. Ellen sat down carefully as Dr. Bandler folded his hands on top of his desk and surveyed her with a more kindly air.
“So you’ve had some experience taking care of your mother.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And she passed on, I presume?”
Ellen swallowed. “Over two years ago now, sir.”
Dr. Bandler nodded. “It’s a hard thing, and I’m sorry for your loss. But death comes to us all, Miss Copley. As a nurse you’ll see more of it than you’d like, so it’s good you’ve already had some experience.”
Ellen said nothing. What could she say to that? Dr. Bandler’s expression sharpened. “I feel I must tell you, Miss Copley, that working in a doctor’s surgery requires much more than simply sitting by a bedside, bathing a forehead or making tea.”
“Yes—”
“Not,” Dr. Bandler cut her off, the speed of his thoughts making Ellen’s head spin, “that that was all you were doing. But in a doctor’s office, you’ll find you come across all sorts of patients—expecting mothers, farmhands with broken arms, children with scarlet fever.” He smiled wryly, and Ellen knew he was recalling the McCaffertys’ experience with that illness when she’d first arrived.
“All those different situations should be good experience for me,” Ellen said, and Dr. Bandler nodded in approval.
“Indeed. I’m afraid I can’t offer you much in the way of recompense, but I can pay you a small wage and the experience, should you decide to attend nursing school at the proper time, will be valuable.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Now your aunt tells me you’re returning to the States for a time?”
“Yes, sir, to visit my aunt and uncle.”
