She kneaded the dough that was now at the top of the bowl, soon to slip over the sides. The rich yeast fragrance filled the kitchen and, as always, enriched her soul as well. There was just something about making bread that always made her feel good. If she was angry at something, she pummeled and pushed the fragrant dough even longer, making the bread even lighter. So something good came of her frustration. The first slice of fresh-baked bread became either a gift to someone else or a reward for her.
A clean floor, bread rising, and still she was missing even the small conversations she had with Gerd. She thought of sitting down and writing a letter to her family, but instead she opened the pantry door to find the gray cat growling over her nearly finished catch. “Good Gra.” She picked up the other, Gul, and stood at the window, petting the cat and still feeling gray like the sky. She felt the purr before she heard it. The cat snuggled under her chin and rumbled in pleasure.
“At least someone is here talking with me.” She let the tears overflow from her eyes and trickle down to her chin. “Stop it!” she ordered herself. “You have no reason to cry.”
Ah, but she did. Everyone said homesickness faded after a while. Homesickness might perhaps, but not isolation. The constant loneliness ate at her. Gerd slept most of the time. Einar? Hardly a conversationalist. Rune and the boys were always somewhere else, it seemed.
How good it would be to sit with her mor to catch up on the news, share a new recipe, talk about the coming baby, perhaps invite someone else to join them for coffee. What a sad, sad situation, that callers were not welcome in this house. So unlike Norway.
“And I have only a cat to comfort me, and she would rather be eating a mouse.”
Right at that moment, Gul leaped from her arms and dashed across the kitchen, too late to catch a fleeing mouse. How many had managed to move in? Or was there a new nest, and if so, where? Signe opened all the cupboard doors, including those in the pantry, to let the cats sniff anywhere they desired.
Signe pulled the chicken kettle to the side and lifted the chicken out onto a plate to debone it. The jingling of a harness came from the front of the house. Who could that be? She headed for the front door.
A woman was climbing down from a buggy.
“Mrs. Benson, what a surprise. You can tie your horse there to the post.”
“Good morning. I was returning from delivering an order, and my horse just turned into your lane. How are you?” The storekeeper smiled as she snapped the tie rope on the post to her horse’s halter. “I can’t stay long, but I had to see how you are faring.” She fetched a basket from her buggy, pausing at the steps. “I can come in?”
“Ja, of course you can come in. Why do you ask?”
“Well, you see, Mr. Strand made it quite clear that no one is to visit here.”
“Onkel Einar is back in the woods with my husband and our eldest son. They do not return until nearly nightfall.”
“And Mrs. Strand?”
“She is feeling poorly again today, but overall she is improving.” Signe ushered her guest into the parlor. “I hope you can stay for coffee, at least. And perhaps Tante Gerd will join us.”
Mrs. Benson sniffed the air. “You are baking bread?”
“I am. Sourdough.” Signe motioned to the shawl draped around her visitor’s shoulders. “May I hang that up for you?” She hooked the shawl over the coat-tree and ushered Mrs. Benson into the fragrant kitchen. “I—I am so happy to see you.” She sniffed and took a handkerchief from her apron pocket. Company, she finally had some company. She could have danced around the kitchen. “Here, sit and make yourself comfortable.” She pulled the coffeepot to the hotter part of the stove.
“You are making chicken soup?”
“I thought chicken and dumplings. Rune really likes dumplings.”
“So your son who had the broken arm is back to work?”
Signe paused before answering. “Ja, but not full-time with the axe.” She had better not mention her ongoing battle with Einar. That would not be polite.
“I see your two younger boys every morning on their way to school. They are fortunate to have a horse to ride. Oh my, I forgot. I brought a letter for you.” She pulled it out of the basket at her feet, along with a jar of honey. “We just finished bottling the last of the honeycomb. I thought you might like some.”
“Oh, what a treat. Takk, tusen takk. And a letter from home. And here I was about to write to them.”
“You said Mrs. Strand is doing better? That is good news.” Mrs. Benson lifted a round tin from her basket. “I brought some cookies too.”
Signe covered her cheeks with her hands. “I was just wishing I had cookies or something baked to offer you.”
“Applesauce. One of Mr. Benson’s favorites. Our tree had plenty of fruit this year. By the way, if you would like some apples, I could send a bag home with your boys.” She glanced down at one of the cats, which had come to see her. “Oh, look. You have them in the house?”
“And already earning their keep. They have caught several mice.”
“I know the boys were a bit hesitant about taking them. I say every house needs a good cat, as do the barns.”
“Signe?” Gerd called.
“I will be right back,” Signe told Mrs. Benson. At least Gerd had not shrieked this time. Signe pushed open the bedroom door. “I am right here.”
Gerd had been getting up to use the pot on her own. “Did I hear another voice?”
“Ja, Mrs. Benson came calling.”
Gerd shook her head. “Einar forbids visitors.”
“Why?” Signe clamped down on the anger that flamed inside her.
Gerd shrugged. “He said . . .” She shook her head again. “He . . . he does not like the people around here.”
“But why?” Signe knew her voice was sharp, but the man made no sense. Living out here like this made having neighbors even more important.
Gerd shook her head slowly, then sank back into her pillows. “I do not need to use the pot after all. If Einar sees her . . .”
“Einar will not know she has been here. Besides, I live here too. She is visiting me.” Signe knew she was drawing a battle line, but she did not care. If Einar wanted them to stay here, he might have to do some bending too. Lord, how can I live like this? “I have the coffee hot. Would you like some?” She watched Gerd carefully. From the looks of her, she was not the one to banish the neighbors, but she went along with his edict. Understanding why no one called on them cleared up a lot of questions. How on earth had Einar forced himself to write to Norway to ask for help? It also explained why he did almost all his shopping in Blackduck rather than Benson’s. Hers and Rune’s insistence on their sons going to school—no wonder he was so adamantly against it.
Finally Gerd nodded. “Ja. Coffee would be good.”
Signe paused to drum up her courage. “Would you like to come to the table for coffee and cookies?”
“Did you bake cookies?”
“Nei, Mrs. Benson brought us some applesauce cookies, and she will send apples home with the boys if we want.” What he does not know cannot hurt him—or us.
Gerd heaved a sigh. “Bring my coffee here.”
“I will.” Signe felt a surge of pity for the woman married to a man like Einar. And here she had thought Tante Gerd was the wicked one. “And cookies?”
Again Gerd hesitated. When she nodded, she did not look at Signe but at the floor.
“I wish you would join us.” Signe spoke softly, and instead of turning to the kitchen, she reached out and patted Gerd’s shoulder. “Takk.” Back in the kitchen, she asked her guest, “Do you take cream with your coffee?”
Mrs. Benson shook her head with a gentle smile. “You serve her first, please.”
Signe poured three cups of coffee, then set one on a plate, added two cookies, and served Gerd. I do believe she would really like to join us. The thought invited more thoughts in, questions about Gerd that Signe had not bothered to consider before. Why she had ma
rried Einar being one of them, but then, perhaps Einar had not always been like this. Although he had not had a charming reputation at home either.
Uff da. Life was not easy to understand, especially not other people.
Signe joined Mrs. Benson at the table. “I’m sorry for the delay.”
“Don’t be, my dear. You are doing your best, I’m sure. And life here is not easy.” The storekeeper picked up her coffee cup. “Nothing tastes better than a cup of coffee with friends.”
Signe blinked back the burning behind her eyes. “Takk.” She inhaled a deep breath and nodded. “Ja, with friends.”
“So how have you been feeling? And when is this baby due? You told me, but I confess I forgot. By the looks of you, the time is coming near.”
“Not until late November. But I seem to be bigger sooner this time.”
“Are you sure of the timing? It is hard to tell sometimes. Has Mrs. Jungkavn been by yet?”
“She is the midwife you mentioned, right? No, she has not. How many children do you have?”
“Four, and we lost two. Our older son works for one of the timber companies. Our oldest daughter was married last winter, and they farm on the other side of Blackduck. The other two are attending high school in Blackduck. During the winter, they live with my sister in Blackduck.” She glanced up at the clock. “Oh my goodness, I told Mr. Benson I would be home by dinnertime.” She finished her coffee. “I must be leaving, but I will return, and you are invited to come visit me—and not just when you need supplies from the store. I’ll send a box of apples home with you.” She pushed back her chair. “If you feel like driving the wagon, that is.”
“I will bring the boys to school next week and deliver my butter and eggs, if that’s all right.”
“That will be fine. I’ll leave this basket for you. Use it for sending eggs.” Mrs. Benson flipped her shawl around her shoulders. “Takk.”
Her smile made Signe feel warm from the inside out. She watched as the buggy kicked up dust on the way down the lane.
Now to fix dinner for herself and Gerd. She put the honey on a shelf in the pantry and the cookies in a tin. Shame that she could not serve them for supper, but just in case Einar realized they were applesauce cookies and they had no apples, she’d keep them put away. Did he really keep track of things like that? All he seemed to think about was felling trees and taking care of his tools.
“Do you feel up to coming to the table for dinner?” she asked Gerd when the beans and venison had been reheated. She had sent the same out with the men, but at least she and Gerd could have a hot meal. Beans always tasted better hot.
Gerd was sitting in her chair by the bed, knitting a larger soaker for the baby. “In here. We must talk about the sewing machine so you can hem diapers.”
“What if I moved the machine in here or the kitchen?” Signe surprised herself with the question.
Gerd nodded. “Over by the window would work best. But it is ungainly to move.”
“And I am ungainly too.” Was that a smile lurking on Gerd’s face? “I will fix us a tray.”
Later, after the bread was rising in the pans and the carrots were dug and scrubbed for supper, Signe cleared away the wooden bowls and utensils and other random things that had accumulated on top of the sewing machine cabinet. She pulled and pushed it into the bedroom, grunting at the effort. The baby started kicking. She stood at the window to catch her breath, both hands massaging her growing abdomen.
“Are you all right?” Gerd asked.
“I will be. Scrubbing the floor this morning caused the same reaction, but she will settle down again.”
“You say ‘she’ now?”
“Did I? I didn’t realize that. Wishful thinking, I guess.” Signe kneaded her lower back with her fists. “Uff da. This baby is getting more active all the time.” Had Gerd ever had a baby? Did she dare ask?
“Have you washed the flannel?” Gerd asked.
“Ja. It is in our trunk in the parlor.”
“Do you have scissors?”
Signe shook her head. “I thought to rip it for the diapers. That is what Mor did for baby diapers.”
“Look in the upper left sewing machine drawer. There should be scissors, along with needles and thread. Pins too.”
It was hard to believe this was the same woman Signe had been caring for. There was even a change from this morning. What brought it about? Gerd had been so weak again, and now she seemed stronger. Signe left off trying to figure it out. Instead she went for the flannel, grateful she had washed it.
Back in the bedroom, a movement outside caught her attention. “Oh, no!”
“What?”
But Signe was already lumbering to the back door. “Rune and Bjorn are here,” she called over her shoulder.
“Something happened.”
But Signe was out the door without answering. “Are you all right?” she called.
Rune nodded and kept on walking, Bjorn by his side. “We are not injured, nor is Einar, so you can stop worrying.” He mounted the steps. “Bjorn, bring your mor a chair. We will talk about this out here on the porch.”
Signe stared at her husband. Resolute was the only word she could think to describe him. She looked at Bjorn, who shook his head as he strode into the kitchen.
“What is going on? Rune, this makes no sense.”
“It will. Sit down, and we will talk.”
“No one is hurt?” Questions rampaged through her head like a swarm of bees on the move. Never had she seen Rune like this. She nodded as Bjorn set a chair down for her. “Takk.” She looked at his arm, just in case, but he was using both arms with the chair.
Rune pulled a wooden box in front of her and sat down, motioning for Bjorn to do the same. Bjorn sat on the top step.
“Einar lit into Bjorn unjustly; Bjorn was doing his best. I will not tolerate him abusing our boys. We will move away if we need to.”
Signe felt her jaw drop. She stared at her husband, who remained as calm as if he had just announced a plan for the day. “But . . . but . . .”
“I know. If need be, we will sleep in the barn tonight, but we will move if we need to.”
“To where?”
“I do not know, but we are good workers, and someone will hire Bjorn and me. I have been thinking that—”
“I—I cannot leave Gerd. She needs me.”
“I know, but I can go work for someone else. Bjorn too.”
“What about Knute and Leif?”
“They would stay with you and continue to do their chores here.”
“Do we tell Gerd before Einar comes to the house?”
“If you want. The boys will be home any time. Bjorn and I will start the chores.”
Lord God, what will happen now?
Chapter
25
You will not be leaving.” Gerd stared at Signe from her chair by the window.
“You heard?”
“Enough to know that Rune has drawn a line.”
Signe nodded. This was a Rune she did not know. “They went to start the chores.”
The sound of laughter almost made her smile as Leif slid off the horse by the back porch and pulled Knute off with him. They all needed more laughter here. Leif waved at the two women in the window as he led the horse to the pasture.
Knute whirled his way into the kitchen. “Can I eat quick, Mor? I got to get to work.”
“You will not be going to work in the woods today. Far and Bjorn are down doing chores.”
Knute’s jaw dropped. “But—but Onkel Einar, is he all right? What happened?”
“Ask your far.” She fetched the tin of cookies and handed him two. “To hold you until the bread is finished. It should be out any minute.”
“But Onkel Einar will yell at me.”
“I do not think so.” How much should she tell him? She took out another cookie and ate half of it. “Talk with your far. He can explain better than I can.” Hopefully the times of Einar yelling at the boys—or a
nyone, for that matter—might be over. She knew that was probably wishful thinking.
“Signe.”
“Coming.” On her way to the bedroom, she pulled the coffeepot forward to heat. “What is it?”
“Is there coffee?”
“Ja, shortly, and the cookies Mrs. Benson brought us.”
“Why would she bring us cookies?”
Signe shrugged. “To be neighborly, I guess.”
Gerd made a face. “She must have a reason. There is always a reason.”
For a change, Signe did not just ignore such a comment. “She’s been very nice to me every time I went to her store for supplies. Friendly.”
“Good for business.”
“Was she ever rude to you?”
Gerd shook her head. “But Einar said we would never go there again.”
“Oh.” She’d not ask any more questions. She really did not want to know what had gone on, if Gerd had been mean or if Einar bore all the blame. Signe resolved not to mention Mrs. Benson around him.
It was nearly nightfall when Einar finally came banging in the kitchen door. Signe expected him to be furious, but instead he was almost pleasant. No, not pleasant. Smug.
He looked around the room. “I just drove into Blackduck and talked to the sheriff. I told him how you are all lazy and refuse to work, even though the letter of agreement says you must. He thanked me for bringing it to his attention, and he is going to investigate. Your insolence is coming to an end. I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t arrest you.” He sat down. “Bring me my supper.”
Something rattled in the cabinet beside the stove. Signe opened the cabinet door, and a mouse leapt out, startling her.
“Haven’t you trapped those pesky mice y—” Einar gasped as the yellow tabby flew across the room from the open pantry door. It pounced and missed. The mouse and kitten ran behind the coatrack, and the kitten pounced again. Victorious, she crossed the room with the mouse in her mouth, headed back to the pantry.
“I told you there would be no cats here!” Einar yelled. “Get rid of it now! Do you hear me?”
“Ja, I hear you.” And the cat will stay.
“Take it out and drown it. I don’t want to see it again!”
The Promise of Dawn Page 22