Page 46 of A New World for the Irish Daughter

“I’m sure they will learn,” Maggie agreed. At least she hoped they would and not continue chasing vain dreams of glory. “But I wanted to ask about whether there’s a hospital here, or perhaps a doctor? I trained as a nurse back in San Francisco, and I’m hoping to offer my services.”

Mrs. Compton’s eyes narrowed speculatively. “A nurse, huh? Well, you probably want to make your way to St. Ann’s, then. The nuns run the place, and they have a school, too. For a decent woman like yourself, it’s probably best. There are a few medicalmen hangin’ their shingle on Front Street, but they’re drunk half the time, and that ain’t no place for a lady.”

Maggie nodded, murmuring her thanks. A hospital run by nuns sounded promising.

“Fifth and Harris Street,” Mrs. Compton told her. “Take a right on Seward, and then another right on Fifth, all the way up to Harris. It’s a wooden building, painted white. Two of ’em now, the school and the hospital.”

“Thank you,” Maggie said again, and Mrs. Compton nodded, her gaze appraising but, Maggie thought, also kind.

“Keep your wits about you, walking around,” she advised. “And good luck.”

Her tone of voice suggested to Maggie that she might need it, and with a shiver of trepidation, Maggie thought she might, too.

CHAPTER 24

St. Ann’s Hospital was built on a hill, Mount Roberts rising high above so the two wooden buildings were in the great mountain’s shadow. Maggie had had a reassuringly uneventful walk from the boarding house to the hospital, navigating her way down the raised, wooden sidewalks, taking in the colorful sights of the town as well as the beauty all around her—the snowcapped mountain, the seemingly endless carpets of spruce, the beautiful blue-green waters of the bay, bustling with all manner of boats and sailing vessels.

The weather wasn’t nearly as cold as she might have feared, and there were signs of spring all around, from the shoots of green grass springing up amidst the muddy streets to the lush bank of tiny pink wildflowers she spied between two houses.

The hospital was contained in one modest, two-story building, made of wood as nearly every edifice in Juneau was, and as Maggie stepped through the door, she saw a comfortingly familiar sight—beds lining the rough-hewn walls and a nurse walking sedately between them.

Admittedly, St. Ann’s was a far smaller and humbler operation than the Children’s Hospital of San Francisco, and the whole place looked to house only forty or fifty patients intotal. The downstairs was one big room, and she suspected the upstairs was the same.

As she stood hesitantly in the doorway, the nurse she’d spied before glided up to her, her pleasant, round face wearing an expression of gentle inquiry underneath her wimple and veil.

“Are you in need of medical care?” she asked kindly. She was middle-aged and wore a dark blue dress and white apron, with a white nun’s coif hiding her hair.

“No, no, not at all,” Maggie replied, smiling. “I came to ask if you are in need of assistance. I arrived in Juneau this morning with my family, and I trained as a nurse back in San Francisco.”

“Anurse!” the nun exclaimed, sounding surprised but, Maggie hoped, delighted.

“I didn’t receive my certificate,” Maggie hastened to add, wanting to be completely honest. “I was very near to completing it, just two months away, but then my father and brother decided to try their luck here in Juneau…” She trailed off while the nun nodded in understanding.

“I don’t know anything about certificates,” she told her with a wry smile. “None of us have them here, but I’m sure we can put an educated woman like yourself to good use. There are precious few of you, and precious few of us! You’ll have to talk to Sister Mary Zeno, however. She’s teaching the children in the school now, but I’m sure she’ll be pleased to speak with you. As of late, we’ve been run off our feet.”

Within an hour, it was all arranged. Sister Mary Zeno asked Maggie only a few questions, then told her she was hired. She could collect her apron and cap from the hospital, and any dark dress would serve as a uniform. The pay was a dollar a day. She would be the only other nurse besides the three sisters, who lived in the convent quarters on the hospital site and weren’t paid anything at all.

As Maggie returned to the boarding house, she could hardly believe it had been so easy. She hadn’t been in Juneau one day and she already had a job, acalling, and a means to support herself. Her step was light as she hurried down Seward Street, only to stop abruptly when a man stumbled out of a saloon, clearly drunk.

“Excuse me!” she exclaimed, drawing away as he nearly fell to his knees before righting himself, only to gasp in shock when she saw who it was—Brendan.

He stared at her blearily, while Maggie stared wordlessly back, too stunned to speak. She had never, in all their acquaintance, seen Brendan drunk before—and he was certainly drunk now, reeking of spirits, barely able to stand up, one hand flung out to a lamppost.

“Brendan?” she finally managed.

“Go… ’way,” he mumbled, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Go ’way, I’m fine.”

“You’renotfine,” Maggie told him. She glanced at another man loitering in the doorway of the saloon, looking speculatively at them both as he jangled some change in his pocket. “In the state you’re in, you’re likely to fall into a ditch or be robbed blind,” she told him sternly. “Let me help you home.”

Brendan shook his head again, but he didn’t resist when Maggie took his arm and started leading him down the street. She felt saddened as well as guilty to see him in this state, and she was conscious once again of the distance he’d kept from them on board the steamer. How lonely it must have been, she reflected, to come all this way to Alaska and then set out completely on his own. She should have fought harder for Brendan to join them, Maggie thought. She should haveinsisted. If she could put her own complicated feelings aside, then surely so could he.

“Where are you staying?” she asked and he shrugged.

“Haven’t found a place yet.”

“Then where are your things?” Maggie asked in some alarm. “Your suitcase?—”

“I paid a barkeep a dollar to store it.” He jerked a thumb back to the saloon from where he’d stumbled. “Back there, behind the bar.”