A Land to Call Home

by Lauraine Snelling

  Ingeborg looked up at Haakan, who nodded sadly from across the bed.

  She took in a deep breath, disinfectant with a trace of fleshly putrification stinging her nose. “S-Solveig?” When there was no response, she tried again, louder. “Solveig. This is Ingeborg. We have come for you.”

  The woman’s transparent eyelids rose slowly. “Ingeborg?” The blue eyes focused. “Ingeborg, is it really you?” A tear slipped from one eye, ran over the shaved area and into her hair at the back. She reached out a trembling hand. “You got the message then.”

  “Ja, I am sorry it took so long.” Ingeborg took the chilled hand in both of her warm ones. “But Haakan and I are here now, and in a couple of days, we will have you at the farm. Soon all will be well again.”

  “All?” Solveig blinked. “Never will all be well again.”

  Ingeborg knew she was referring to the livid scars. Seeing the stubborn set of the woman’s chin, so much like her sister’s, Ingeborg changed the topic. “How is your leg doing?”

  “I can walk with crutches but not very well. That is why the doctor sent you the telegram to come get me. I didn’t remember anything for some time, and since my baggage was lost in the wreck . . .” Her voice clogged and she cleared her throat. “They didn’t know who I was.”

  “You are most fortunate to have remembered.”

  “Am I? I don’t care if I never remember that terrible time. They say twenty people died right then and more later. Oh, Ingeborg.” She closed her eyes at the painful memory. “I could never explain the horror. Having no memory at first was such a blessing, but then at that time I was so afraid.” Her voice dropped to a whisper.

  A cough from another patient, and a groan from the person in the bed across the narrow main aisle only magnified the silence around the bed. A metal pan clanged on the floor.

  “Terror lurks everywhere if you don’t know who you are.”

  “Ja, that must be so.” Ingeborg beat back her pain for the starkness of the words. “But God is good, and . . .”

  Solveig shook her head. “Nei.”

  “And He is making you well and . . .”

  “Is He? I should be thankful for the doctors who sewed up my face into a horror mask and fixed my leg so that I will hobble for the rest of my life? Nei, Ingeborg, I don’t see how I will be of much use on your farm. But I have no money to return home.”

  “I will go find the doctor and nurse to see what must be done for us to leave. You get her ready” Haakan turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

  “He is angry.”

  Ingeborg shook her head. “No, but concerned. We hope to catch the evening train bound for St. Paul.”

  “I can’t even leave here.”

  “Why not?”

  “I . . . I have no clothes. Only this hospital gown.” She plucked at the plain cotton garment.

  “Oh, if I’d known, I could have brought some from home.” Ingeborg thought to her meager belongings in the carpetbag. Not much help there. “Perhaps the hospital has a store of clothes for a time like this.”

  Solveig shrugged.

  A woman in a white dress and a hat starched stiff enough to fly in a wind stopped at the end of the bed. Her hat reminded Ingeborg of a sailboat in full rig. “I am the head nurse, Sister Gordon. I see we are ready to leave.” She nodded, setting her sails to flapping. “Mr. Bjorklund is signing the papers now.” She turned to look directly at Ingeborg. “You brought her some clothing?”

  Ingeborg shook her head. “I did not know.”

  “Ah. You did not receive our letter?”

  “No, only the telegram.”

  “Ah.” The wings flapped more gently this time.

  “We will go buy some things and come right back.”

  “No.” Again flapping sails. “I will find you something.” She spun and, born on the wind of her hat, flew out the door.

  Haakan and a bearded man in a white coat entered the ward.

  “Sister will be back with some garments for you momentarily, Miss Hjelmson. You must be very glad your family has come for you.” The doctor spoke slowly in German so Solveig and the others could translate.

  “Ja.”

  When Solveig said nothing further, he turned to Haakan with a shake of his head. “She has been like this much of the time.” He had switched to English since he now knew Haakan spoke the language. “There is nothing further I can do for her. The compound fracture in her leg is healing poorly, but she won’t need a cane or crutch to get around on later. She is slow on crutches now, but that is to be expected.”

  “What about the bill?” Haakan said to the doctor, but with one eyebrow raised looked over at Ingeborg on the opposite side of the bed.

  Ingeborg knew the silent question he asked. Had Solveig been like this the entire time since they’d arrived? The nod she sent back might merely have been a twitch to someone who didn’t know her well. She closed the door of her mind to the questions that bombarded her. They could be dealt with later. Right now they needed to get Solveig on her feet and all of them on their way home. Perhaps the trip home would help make her feel more hopeful. Ingeborg’s nose wrinkled at an odor that drifted by. She glanced down the row of white-covered beds to where a doctor and nurse were working on a patient behind a cloth screen. The patient bit off a scream that sent chills up and down Ingeborg’s spine.

  She brought her attention back to the discussion between Haakan and the doctor, who was speaking. “. . . and they have agreed to pay all the medical bills of those injured in the train crash. Your sister or relative here is one of the fortunate ones.”

  Solveig’s shifting on the bed showed that she was listening and probably feeling frustrated that she didn’t know what they were saying. Ingeborg laid a hand on her shoulder and smiled down at her. Solveig just stared back, her face revealing nothing.

  Ah, Solveig, this is not the end of the world—or your life. I know it seems that way, but the scar will fade with time, and a limp isn’t such a terrible thing. Ask Lars. He’ll tell you.

  The sister returned with clothes over her arm and carrying a pair of shoes in her hand. She waited until the doctor finished speaking.

  When she cleared her throat, he turned. “Ah, there you are. Sister will see to you then.” He extended his hand and Haakan shook it. “Good luck to you all.” He nodded to Solveig. “You will do fine, my dear.” When she tendered no response, he started to say something more, then nodded to them all and left the room.

  “Now then, Mr. Bjorklund, if you will leave us, we will get our patient ready to go.” As she spoke, the nurse ushered him out to the aisle and pointed to a screen, two beds down. “If you would be so kind?”

  While Haakan brought back the two folding screens and set them around the bed, she laid out the garments. “Now, these might be a bit large, but you will gain some weight again once you are feeling better. If the shoes are too big, we can stuff paper in the toes.”

  With never an extra motion, she folded the covers back and helped Solveig to sit up and swing her legs over the side. Because of the splints on either side of the leg, the right one failed to bend properly and the splints stuck up above the knee.

  She looked up at Ingeborg as if to say “see,” but Ingeborg ignored the plea. They would have to do with what they had and make the best of it.

  When Solveig was finally dressed in a plain waist and a black wool skirt over petticoats—the pantaloons had proved impossible—Ingeborg picked up a comb and tidied Solveig’s hair. By looping strands down on the sides, the wound on the side of her head nearly disappeared.

  “Ah, that’s better,” Sister Gordon said, standing back, the easier to see the whole picture. “You will be looking good again without fail.”

  Solveig ignored her.

  The nurse helped the young woman to her feet, handed her the crutches, and stood aside to let her patient take her tentative steps.

  Removing the screens to let them pass, she pointed in the direction they should go.
“I have a wheelchair coming so you won’t use all your precious strength walking to the front door. You had them call for a horsecar, did you not?” she asked Haakan when he met them at the door.

  “It is there now. I just checked.”

  “Mange takk,” Solveig murmured when the nurse stopped the chair at the curb a few minutes later.

  “Go with God,” the nurse said. “He will be your strength in the days ahead.” She held the chair while Haakan helped Solveig to her feet.

  Haakan and Ingeborg both thanked her, then Ingeborg helped Solveig into a dark wool coat, as short in the arms as the skirt she now wore was overlapped at the waist to keep from falling down. When Solveig picked up her crutches, Haakan shook his head. “I will lift you into the cab so you do not stumble.” He suited actions to his words, then gave Ingeborg a hand.

  “Thank you again, Sister.”

  She turned with a waving of her sails and headed back into the three-story brick building.

  After they were under way, Ingeborg asked, “Solveig, would you like us to stop at a shop and buy anything for you?”

  Solveig shook her head. “As the nurse said, these will fit better eventually. I can sew a new dress when we get to the farm.” She paused. “If you have any cloth, that is.”

  “We can get that in Grand Forks,” Haakan said. “And maybe some boots that will be more appropriate for the Red River Valley. I’m sure whoever gave those shoes to the hospital never walked across grass with them, let alone into a barn.” His smile showed his gentle humor with her. The shoes they all looked at might have graced a dance floor at one time. Low cut, shiny black, they looked more like slippers than real shoes.

  Ingeborg wanted to laugh at the thought of those shoes being worn in the chicken house or out feeding the pigs. But she didn’t. It didn’t seem that Solveig remembered how to laugh. Ingeborg thought back to Nordland and the times she remembered Solveig teasing her brothers, beating them at foot races, and tenderly caring for her lambs. The two pictures didn’t fit together, as if she had a puzzle with missing pieces.

  Could the train wreck alone have caused the anger and bitterness she saw in this . . . this stranger?

  Ingeborg prayed silently while the buggy carried them through the crowded streets, ever closer to the train station. Like in New York, angry drivers shouted at others more slow. Steam whistles blew from the factories bordering the street, wheels rumbled and squealed, and horses whinnied. From the sidewalk a dog strained at his leash, barking so hard his front legs left the ground with each yelp. The girl gripped his leash with both hands to keep him from running under the wheels of the passing dray wagons.

  Ingeborg sneezed in the sooty air. “How do they stand it here, the filth and all? I can hardly breathe with all this smoke.”

  Haakan nodded. “Ja, give me our clean prairie air anytime.”

  Their driver joined the cab line that snaked its way to the marble portico in front of the brick station. When he stopped, Haakan handed him some money and stepped out, first to help Ingeborg alight and then to lift Solveig down.

  “I can carry you into the station to one of the benches, you know.”

  “I would rather walk myself. I have to learn to get around with the crutches sometime, and at least here the way is smooth.”

  “As you wish.” But Haakan and Ingeborg took up positions on either side of her to make sure no one knocked over the struggling woman.

  Slowly they made their way to a long high-backed bench made of dark walnut. Solveig positioned both crutches in front of her and, using them as support, lowered herself to the seat with a sigh of relief.

  “You did good.” Ingeborg perched on the edge of the seat beside her. “Can I get you anything?”

  Solveig only gave an abrupt shake of her head and leaned her crutches against the bench.

  A little boy stopped in front of them and stared, first at Solveig’s face and then at the wrapped leg. He stuck one finger in his mouth, his eyes round. When his mother called him, he blinked and trotted off.

  Ingeborg could feel the anger radiating off her seatmate, like the heat from a well-stoked stove.

  “He was only a little boy.” She tried to bite the words back, but they raced out of her mouth.

  “You think I don’t know that?”

  The words slapped Ingeborg about the ears. She started to say something else but this time got her thoughts in motion before opening her mouth. What was life going to be like in the soddy this winter?

  October 1884

  Paws’ barking snapped Kaaren out of a fitful nap.

  Penny laid aside her mending and rose from the rocking chair. “I will see who it is.” She pulled the door open and a gust of rainy wind blew her skirts straight back behind her. “Onkel Joseph, what are you . . . is Tante Agnes all right?” Her questions tripped over each other. “Put the horse in the barn and come on in.”

  She shut the door on his answer and hurried to the stove to bring the coffeepot to the fore. “He looks like a rain-soaked rooster.”

  Kaaren chuckled. “I wonder how Metiz is? Thought she’d be back by now.”

  “She said today would be a good day for catching fish. I think she trusts me to take care of you more now.”

  “She knows I am stronger. I’m just afraid that any day she’ll leave for her wintering place. How I wish we could convince her to stay here.” Kaaren patted the squirming bundle she lifted from her neck and shoulders. Squeaks, yawns, and other waking sounds came from the sling.

  “They are hungry again already?” Penny shook her head. “All you’re going to do for the next few months is feed babies.”

  “Thank you for enlightening me.” Kaaren’s smile said she was teasing as she reached up to tuck several strands of hair back into the braid she now wore in place of the bun for ease of care. She then wrapped the braid in a coil around the back of her head and tucked the end under. Salvaging one of her precious hairpins from the hair at the side of her face, she stuck it into the thick golden rope in the hopes of keeping the mass in place.

  “I know, I just never thought two babies at a time would be more than twice the work. After the birthing, Tante Agnes just gets up and makes the next meal unless I order her back to bed. The new baby fits in with all the others, and whoever is closest when it cries picks it up.”

  While she talked, she cut slices of bread and set jam and butter in the center of the table. “I should have baked some cookies or something.”

  “Thorliff will let you know that he thought so too. But washing the diapers was much more important.” A thin rope stretched from the back of the stove above the reservoir to the wall and back. White flannel squares hung folded over both lines.

  Penny reached up to check if they were dry. “The rain sure didn’t help.”

  Joseph knocked on the door and stuck his head in. “Where’s the menfolk?”

  “Over at Ingeborg’s barn. They’re all splitting shingles.” Penny set the stack of bread in the center of the table and set coffee cups around. “You want to call them?”

  “Ja."Joseph closed the door, and a second later the triangle rang.

  When he came in, he slapped his brimmed hat against his thigh before hooking it on the peg by the door. “Thought to bring the missus in the wagon, but she ain’t feeling too chipper. Best she stay off them feet of hers. She sure do miss you, Penny. I sent one of the boys in to help her, you’d of thought he were being told to take a bath in a snowbank.”

  “I suppose she sent him right back out.”

  Joseph shook his head. “No, she didn’t.”

  Penny felt a cold hand clutch her stomach. “Is she that sick?”

  “Says she ain’t, but I don’t know what to think on it.” He shook his head, the few wisps of hair that covered his spreading pate bobbing with the motion. “She ain’t never been like this before.”

  “If Penny is needed at home, we can manage here,” Kaaren said, her voice gentle so as not to disturb the little ones.

/>   “We’ll see.”

  Laughter from outside caught their attention. “You didn’t play fair.” Thorliff’s voice preceded him through the door.

  “I did too,” Lars answered. “Because I have longer arms, I can reach farther to touch the door.” He swung a chortling Andrew to the ground as they ducked through the low door. “Someday your arms will be this long and you can beat boys at foot races.”

  Andrew bypassed Penny and leaned into his aunt’s lap. Already he’d learned not to throw himself at her skirts as he used to. The babies were changing all of their lives.

  Penny scooped him up and tickled him as she carried him to the washbasin.

  Olaf and Lars hung up their hats and joined Joseph at the table. After the introductions, Lars leaned forward. “What brought you over here in the middle of the afternoon? Especially on such a good field day as this?” He smiled at his own small joke.

  “Good for splittin’ shingles like you been doing, ja. Me and the boys decided about the same thing. Winter be coming soon, cold as this rain is.” Baard smiled his thanks up at Penny for the cup of steaming coffee she set before him.

  They talked about the weather, about the loads of lumber they’d hauled and restacked out by the sod barn away from the one remaining haystack, and about the land. Then Joseph cleared his throat. “I been thinkin’.” He nodded as he spoke between blowing on the coffee surface. “All that lumber out there is going to waste, far as I can see. Me and Johnson thought maybe we should all show up here bright and early day after tomorrow and just see how much of that barn we can get raised in one day—or maybe two, if need be.”

  Lars swallowed and both took in and expelled a deep breath. “That ain’t necessary, you know.”

  “Oh, we know that, but we ain’t had a good time all together since the schoolhouse went up. Seems you folk got enough to worry about without the barn too. So, if’n you don’t mind us barging in like this . . .”

  Penny bit her lip. Leave it to my onkel Joseph and the others. She checked the meat in the oven and forked the potatoes to see how long until they’d be done.