surprised looks. “I love you both!” she called over her shoulder. Her wonderful new Yankee friends were warm and loving, but they hadn’t yet learned to deal with what they called her unique brand of southern hospitality.
Janie gazed longingly at the closed door to what would be Carrie’s room when she arrived. She loved her new friends and had been completely accepted, but there were times she wearied of being the only southern woman at the medical school. The original plan was that she would wait for Carrie to arrive in the spring before she started classes. Dr. Anderson convinced her there was no reason to wait — that her years at Chimborazo gave her enough practical experience and knowledge.
Carrie had been so excited about Janie’s news in the letter she had sent before Christmas. Janie smiled as she envisioned the beauty of crisp, clean snow at Cromwell Plantation. She wondered if everyone had left the plantation after the holidays and gone back to their busy lives.
When she entered her room — chillier than downstairs, but still warm because of the constant flow of warm air from the oil heaters — she felt the quick tug in her heart that constantly reminded her of how much she had to be grateful for. The nightmares of Clifford coming for her had almost disappeared, but she had not yet stopped looking for him when she walked home from school, anticipating every man would have his angry face and eyes. Looking into the mirror, she raised a hand to her face. She never wanted to forget the yellow and purple bruises that had covered it after Clifford hit her. The memory of the pain and humiliation kept her focused on doing whatever it took to stay in complete control of her life so no one could ever have the power to hurt her again.
A call from downstairs made her turn away from the mirror and quickly change into a more comfortable dress. She had a brief vision of Carrie in the riding breeches she had become so fond of. Janie thought longingly of how much warmer they would be on the streets of Philadelphia and then shook her head with a laugh. She was becoming stronger and more independent, but she was not quite the rebel Carrie was. She raised enough eyebrows and ire simply by choosing to study medicine. There were some female protocols she was content to live with, even if she wished it were different.
Florence pushed in through the front door just as Janie hurried down the stairs, drawn by the smells of dinner that were even stronger than before. She laughed as Florence staggered in and closed the door behind her, her red curls spilling out when she pulled off her hat.
Tall and angular, Florence was not necessarily pretty, but her commanding presence pulled attention to her everywhere she went. She shrugged her coat off as she slipped out of her boots. “We’re breaking records tonight,” she announced.
“Records?” Alice asked, peering out from the kitchen.
“It’s minus eighteen degrees outside,” Florence muttered, her voice strengthening as she lifted her face to smell the air. “Is that dinner?” Her face split in a grin. “Have I really come home to a prepared, hot dinner?”
“Just don’t get used to it,” Elizabeth called, breezing into the room. “I will admit it’s a welcome break from cold sandwiches while we study, though.” She rubbed her hands in anticipation. “I’m glad you made it in time. I just filled your bowl and plate. Do you need to change?”
“Forget changing,” Florence stated. “Lead me to the food!”
Laughing, the four women filed into the kitchen.
Florence looked at the bowls of soup on the table, her grin growing even wider. “ Mulligatawny soup!” she cried. “I haven’t had it in years.”
Janie shook her head. “Yankees,” she said lightly, her eyes bright with laughter. “I’m quite sure this soup has never made it past the Mason-Dixon Line. I can’t imagine that a single friend of mine would have any idea what this is.”
“Which
Janie gazed longingly at the closed door to what would be Carrie’s room when she arrived. She loved her new friends and had been completely accepted, but there were times she wearied of being the only southern woman at the medical school. The original plan was that she would wait for Carrie to arrive in the spring before she started classes. Dr. Anderson convinced her there was no reason to wait — that her years at Chimborazo gave her enough practical experience and knowledge.
Carrie had been so excited about Janie’s news in the letter she had sent before Christmas. Janie smiled as she envisioned the beauty of crisp, clean snow at Cromwell Plantation. She wondered if everyone had left the plantation after the holidays and gone back to their busy lives.
When she entered her room — chillier than downstairs, but still warm because of the constant flow of warm air from the oil heaters — she felt the quick tug in her heart that constantly reminded her of how much she had to be grateful for. The nightmares of Clifford coming for her had almost disappeared, but she had not yet stopped looking for him when she walked home from school, anticipating every man would have his angry face and eyes. Looking into the mirror, she raised a hand to her face. She never wanted to forget the yellow and purple bruises that had covered it after Clifford hit her. The memory of the pain and humiliation kept her focused on doing whatever it took to stay in complete control of her life so no one could ever have the power to hurt her again.
A call from downstairs made her turn away from the mirror and quickly change into a more comfortable dress. She had a brief vision of Carrie in the riding breeches she had become so fond of. Janie thought longingly of how much warmer they would be on the streets of Philadelphia and then shook her head with a laugh. She was becoming stronger and more independent, but she was not quite the rebel Carrie was. She raised enough eyebrows and ire simply by choosing to study medicine. There were some female protocols she was content to live with, even if she wished it were different.
Florence pushed in through the front door just as Janie hurried down the stairs, drawn by the smells of dinner that were even stronger than before. She laughed as Florence staggered in and closed the door behind her, her red curls spilling out when she pulled off her hat.
Tall and angular, Florence was not necessarily pretty, but her commanding presence pulled attention to her everywhere she went. She shrugged her coat off as she slipped out of her boots. “We’re breaking records tonight,” she announced.
“Records?” Alice asked, peering out from the kitchen.
“It’s minus eighteen degrees outside,” Florence muttered, her voice strengthening as she lifted her face to smell the air. “Is that dinner?” Her face split in a grin. “Have I really come home to a prepared, hot dinner?”
“Just don’t get used to it,” Elizabeth called, breezing into the room. “I will admit it’s a welcome break from cold sandwiches while we study, though.” She rubbed her hands in anticipation. “I’m glad you made it in time. I just filled your bowl and plate. Do you need to change?”
“Forget changing,” Florence stated. “Lead me to the food!”
Laughing, the four women filed into the kitchen.
Florence looked at the bowls of soup on the table, her grin growing even wider. “ Mulligatawny soup!” she cried. “I haven’t had it in years.”
Janie shook her head. “Yankees,” she said lightly, her eyes bright with laughter. “I’m quite sure this soup has never made it past the Mason-Dixon Line. I can’t imagine that a single friend of mine would have any idea what this is.”
“Which
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