Thinking of the dyes she would use on this fine wool, she stuffed it into a pillow slip and shook any remaining strands out of the bag. One corner looked as if a mouse had chewed it but had given up before getting through.
“Uff da.” She got to her feet and set the bag on the table. What should they take? How long would they be gone? Questions continued to ripple through her mind like a field of wheat bending before the breeze.
It was a good thing she had just washed clothes a couple of days earlier. She folded underthings, a shirtwaister for her, a clean shirt for Haakan, and packed them in the bag. Her hairbrush and other things would go in in the morning. She rubbed the corner of her mouth.
“Mor?” Thorliff and Baptiste let the door slam behind them.
“Shhh, Andrew is sleeping.”
“Sorry. Far said he’ll be in pretty quick. Can we have some bread and sugar?”
Ingeborg nodded. Surely there was something she was forgetting. Towels, washcloths, and soap. She would pack a hamper of food in the morning. Even later in bed, her mind refused to quiet down and go to sleep. How badly was Solveig hurt? Instead of being a help, she would need care. Uff da. Ingeborg turned over for the third time.
“Cannot sleep?”
“Nei. What if we don’t find the hospital? Chicago is a big place.”
“The doctor gave us the name, and we will ask for directions.” He turned to face her. “You are worried. That is not like you.”
“I know. I just hate to leave Kaaren right now. If something happens to those babies . . .”
“You will not blame yourself. We believe God knows best, and He alone can give life or keep it. If He wants the babies with Him, there is nothing we can do about it. Nor blame ourselves.”
“I know, but they are so small and helpless. Just keeping them warm enough—”
“Metiz is there. Penny will help, and the boys will do all they can.”
Ingeborg reached over and laid her hand on his stubbled cheek. “You are so good to me, Mr. Bjorklund, calming me instead of sleeping like you need.”
He turned his face and kissed the palm of her hand. “I thank God every day for you.”
Ingeborg felt the tears sting her eyes. His words and actions again caught her off guard. What was she doing worrying when she was so blessed?
She laid her head on his chest and, with a sigh of contentment, fell into the peace of sleep.
After a flurry of chores, messages back and forth between the soddies, and final packing of food and necessaries, they made it to the rowboat in time for the second whistle. The captain had tooted the horn two miles or so downriver so they could get there in time.
Ingeborg made her way up the swaying ladder to the deck. Boarding from a dock was definitely easier. When Haakan swung over the railing, she waved good-bye to Lars in the boat and to the boys on the bank. Thorliff and Baptiste waved one last time and then ran back into the trees.
Haakan took her hand in his. No matter what lay ahead, they would meet it together.
What’s that you are studying so seriously?” Ingeborg glanced at the page of numbers that captured Haakan’s attention.
“The reorder for the lumber that was burned up.” He traced a column of figures down and wrote the total at the bottom. “I’ll drop it off while we’re in Grand Forks, and maybe we’ll be able to pick it up in Grafton soon as we get home.” He glanced up at the drop in the thumps of the stern-wheeler. Water hissed off the slowly turning paddles as the boat nosed into the dock. A bump, followed by hollered instructions from the captain to the deckhands, and they were tied firmly. A man on the dock cranked on a wheel, and the suspended ramp began to swing out to the vessel.
As soon as the ramp was secured, the few passengers walked over it, and the stevedores immediately followed with trunks and bales and burlap sacks of grain.
The hubbub rose around them, and Ingeborg tucked her arm under Haakan’s elbow. He smiled down at her, obviously still thinking about the lumber order.
“The barn can wait if it has to,” she murmured, lifting her face so she could be heard.
“It don’t have to. This way we won’t lose too much time, just money.”
“Uff da, as if we are made of it.”
“If harvests continue like the last couple of years, it won’t be long before that could happen.” Haakan pointed toward the lumberyard down one side street. “You want to come with me? The captain said we would have plenty of time to sight-see before—”
“And turn in the lumber order?”
“Ja, that too.” Haakan tucked the folded paper into his breast pocket inside the navy jacket he’d bought for the wedding. “Come on, wife, we have work to do.”
By the time they caught the eastbound train, he’d ordered the lumber and learned of a man with a lumber mill for sale. “Just think, three days and our wood will be in Grafton.” He shook his head in wonderment. “I had them send a message back with the riverboat captain so that Lars will know that.”
“But surely Lars won’t leave Kaaren and the babies?” Ingeborg felt stabbed by a bolt of homesickness. She should have stayed there to help out.
Haakan shook his head. “But maybe Joseph and Petar could pick up a load each. We’ll just have to see how it goes and be grateful God can see the whole picture.”
Ingeborg nodded. Whether she was warp or woof in the tapestry, she wished for a chance to see it from above too.
Early the next morning, the conductor called from behind them, “Minneapolis, St. Paul.”
“So much change,” Ingeborg murmured when the train crossed the bridge of many arches over the Mississippi River into St. Paul. The conductor had visited with them for some time, answering all their questions about the new bridge, this one of cut granite blocks and a series of arches to support it. He’d said the bridge received national attention as a new type of architecture.
“There’s where our wheat comes.” Haakan pointed to the flour mills bordering the river. “I’ve heard they have a monopoly on buying wheat and ship flour all over the country.”
Ingeborg shook her head. “That means they can control the prices we get, doesn’t it?”
Haakan nodded. “Some of the Dakota farmers are talking of starting up their own mills.”
“How do you know that?” Ingeborg left off staring out the window and turned to him.
“I hear things. The men don’t just talk of plowing and planting after church, you know.” He nodded. “There’s lots of change in store, you mark my words. The railroad coming close to our farms will bring nothing but change.”
Ingeborg agreed and turned back to the window. In spite of the sights that flashed past so swiftly, her mind returned to the soddy on the plains where Kaaren and her two baby girls struggled for life. Back at their homestead was where she really would rather be, not clacking along at this outrageous speed, fearing she’d be thrown right out the window were she able to open it.
“St. Paul,” the conductor intoned as he passed down the aisle again. “This is where you folks change trains. Good luck to you on your journey.”
“Thank you,” Haakan said with a smile. “You’ve been most helpful.”
The man touched a finger to the narrow visor of his hat and left their car for the one in front. The wind from the opening and closing door tossed the hem of Ingeborg’s skirt and smelled of burning coal. A cinder stung her cheek.
“Uff da,” she muttered, using her handkerchief to wipe the grime away. Trains might be fast, but they were certainly dirty. As the train slowed, Haakan stood to retrieve their carpetbag from the overhead rack. Ingeborg clutched the satchel that held the remainder of their food. Some of the people had eaten in the dining car, but when she heard the prices they paid for the meal, she shuddered, grateful for their own cheese and bread.
She took the conductor’s offered hand as she stepped from the train stairs to the metal stool he’d set for them and down to the platform. “Mange takk.” She started again. “Thank you.�
� In spite of all their practice with the English language, it was so easy to forget to use it, especially like now when she felt strung tight as the barbed wire fence at home.
“You have a good trip now,” he returned with a nod and a smile. “Hope you find your sister-in-law fitten for travel. Maybe I’ll see you on your return trip.”
She nodded, moving forward to allow other passengers to step down to the marble-tiled platform. Such a good man and so friendly. She thought of that other train ride and her fear of the man in the blue wool uniform, looking so like the policeman who’d yelled at her in New York. Being able to talk the language made such a difference. Why couldn’t the new immigrants take to heart the admonitions to learn the American language before they crossed the sea? Hjelmer hadn’t, but then to be honest, neither had they.
Hjelmer. Was he working here in this big city or out on the western prairies? How . . . when would they know?
“Come.” Haakan took her arm, and together they made their way to the large boards that announced the times of trains leaving and arriving. People flowed around them, some dressed so fine she wanted to brush up her skirt and tuck the errant strands of hair back in their braids. Others reminded her only of that other train ride when she felt certain her eyes had held the same combination of fear and astonishment she saw now on people’s weary faces. She recognized the German language one woman used to scold her children. Two men spoke Swedish, and a man in a black homburg hat and black wool coat reminded her of Mr. Gould, her New York angel, as she still thought of him.
She would like nothing more than to sit and watch the crowds go by, but Haakan hurried her over to a ticket window. While she’d been gawking, he’d been studying the boards. He bought their tickets, and she smiled at a boy who looked much like Thorliff, only missing the deep blue Bjorklund eyes. A pang shot through her heart. How he would love to be with them. Her ears would be tired by now from his unending questions, but to see the delight on his face would be worth the questions.
“We have two hours to wait.” Haakan picked up the worn carpetbag again and led them to a high-backed wood bench that reminded her of the carved pews in the churches of Nordland.
“I will use that time to write a letter to our families at home then.” She sat down and leaned back.
“Our families on the plains of Dakota Territory or the ones on the mountains of Norway?” Haakan teased her as he sat down next to her. “Would you like something to drink? I could buy us each a cup of coffee before I go send the telegram to the hospital.” He nodded to an area of table and chairs where folks sat eating, reading a newspaper, or visiting. The fragrance of coffee had already tickled her nose and made her stomach rumble.
“Such an expense.”
“I can afford a cup of coffee for myself and my wife.” Haakan jingled the coins in his pants’ pocket. His attempt at a stern face failed as she drew herself up like a rooster going into combat. “Oh, Inge, you should see the look on your face. You’d have thought I uttered blaspheme or some such.”
Her smile won out. “Coffee would taste good, but we could share a cup.”
Haakan got to his feet, shaking his head. “I’ll be right back.”
Watching him make his way through the crowd still set her heart aflutter. To cover the reaction, she took out the piece of precious paper she’d found on the train, the bit of pencil she’d borrowed from Thorliff, and began to write.
“My dear family. We are well and I have much news.” She slipped back into the familiar Norwegian and pictured her mother’s face as she’d read this aloud to family and neighbors. While her mother had surely aged, she could only think of her as she’d been when they left that life, what seemed so many lives ago. “Kaaren has had her baby, and to our joy, she had twin girls, naming them Sophie and Grace. We pray for their lives, as they came early and are so tiny you can hold one in the palm of your hand, almost.” She put the pencil in her lap. Dear Lord, how are they? Please let them grow stronger and please be with Kaaren to heal her also. Give her plenty of milk and . . .”
“Here’s your coffee.” Haakan held out a heavy white mug.
“Mange takk.” Ingeborg eyed the words traveling across the page. She sipped the coffee, inhaling the aroma as she would that of a rose on a warm summer morning.
Haakan dug in their food parcels and brought out a slice of bread and a piece of cheese. Folding the bread in half over the cheese, he handed it to her and started one for himself.
“I should have done that.”
“No mind. You write your letter. I’ll make sure you don’t pass out because of hunger.”
A surge of warmth flashed from her belly to her cheeks at his teasing grin. Such a man God had sent her. Had she even begun to tell her family what a fine man he was? Probably not. She’d rather be breaking sod than writing letters, and her mother would never understand that. So she let Kaaren do most of the letter writing. But today was different. She could take out her knitting or watch the other travelers or—she returned to her letter as she alternately chewed her sandwich and sipped her coffee.
“We are in the train station at St. Paul on our way to find Solveig. Our sad news is that she was hurt in a train wreck, but we do not yet know how bad.” She continued on with news of the farm—how many acres they had broken, what had been planted where, and how all the animals were doing. She knew her father wanted to know about the machinery, so she tried to describe the thresher and explain what harvest had been like. Closing with news of Thorliff and Andrew, she signed her name in tiny letters down in one corner. She’d put the sentences so close together that it would be hard to read, but she had too much to tell and so little paper.
“I could buy you more paper, you know.” Haakan leaned close, his breath tickling her ear.
“Uffda. You startled me.” Ingeborg patted the area above her heart, calming now from a trip hammer beat. “Why would I need more paper? I am done.”
Haakan shook his head. “Oh, Inge, if pennies had voices, all you owned would scream loud enough to be heard a mile away.”
“That is why we have a few, both at home and in the bank.”
“I know, and why we can buy new machinery and pay it off early.” He rose, brushing the crumbs off his trousers. “You wait here. I’m going to the telegraph office down there.” He nodded to the far end of the cavernous building. “I’ll send that telegram off to the hospital. You all right?”
She nodded and turned from watching three children playing a jumping game on the patchwork tiles.
When he returned, he stopped to listen to the announcer’s voice. “There, that is our train. We will get an envelope and stamp for your letter in Chicago.” He took her arm to help her stand and bent down for their two bags. “This way.”
To her own surprise, Inge fell asleep shortly after the train pulled out of the station and woke just in time to fix her hair and smooth her clothing before they pulled into the Chicago station. The squares of black-and-white marble that covered the floor looked familiar. Thorliff had played jumping games on them when they came west. She also remembered where the necessary was and how sick she had been.
“We will have breakfast here.” Haakan stretched and yawned.
“Surely there must be someplace less cheap.”
“More cheap, less expensive.” His smile took any criticism out of his words.
She shrugged and laughed. “That’s what I said. Let’s go find such a place.”
Guilt at spending so much money on food assailed her as they devoured their bacon and eggs and pancakes. “We should have finished our bread and cheese.”
“Ja, we will do that for dinner.” Haakan finished his last slice of bacon and eyed the one remaining on her plate. He leaned forward and whispered so only she would hear. “Our bacon is much better.”
“Ja, you can have this last piece.” She pushed her nearly empty plate toward him. “All you had to do was ask.”
His eyes twinkled when he took the offered bacon and crunch
ed it down. “We cut ours thicker too.”
Ingeborg shook her head and rolled her eyes toward her eyebrows. Such a man.
But their teasing died an hour later, when, after a buggy ride and traversing the hospital halls, they followed a nurse into a long room lined with beds on both sides. When they stopped at the bed that the nurse said belonged to Miss Solveig Hjelmson, Ingeborg kept her hands from covering her mouth only through sheer will.
“Tant ’Ren, Andrew hungry.” The grubby-faced child stood next to the bed where Kaaren and the babies in their sling lay sleeping.
“Shush.” Penny swept him up before he could repeat his plea. “Let Tante Kaaren sleep.” She whispered in his ear while carrying him back to the table. “Dinner will be ready pretty soon. Can you wait?”
He shook his head. “Want Mor.” His lower lip pushed outward.
Penny shot a questioning look at Metiz, who stirred the stew bubbling on the stove. At the old woman’s nod, the girl crossed to the bread box. “Now, you stay right here while I cut you a piece of bread.”
Andrew nodded solemnly, all the while twining his fist in her skirt. “Bread and honey.”
When she shook her head, he asked, “Jam?”
She handed him the crust and scooped him up to his boxed chair at the table. “Now, you sit there and eat your bread while I go ring the triangle for Mr. Knutson and the boys.”
“Me ring.” Quick as a river otter, he turned and scooted, rear first, off the box.
With a defeated shake of her head, Penny lodged him on her hip and carried him outside the door. She handed him the cold metal bar and held him so he could bang the triangle suspended on a chain from an iron bracket set into the sod wall. When his banging failed in carrying quality, she held his fist and together they hammered out the dinnertime signal. She grinned back at his delight in the noise. “You are a rascal, you are. How your mor gets anything done and keeps track of you, I’ll never know.”
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