A Land to Call Home

by Lauraine Snelling

  In Solveig’s spiteful tone, Ingeborg could hear herself that long winter of her soul. Knowing how she’d railed against those who tried to remind her that God did indeed love and care for her, she clamped her lips shut. Prayer now would be more helpful than argument.

  Taking her own inward advice, she sent her thoughts and pleas heavenward. The only sound in the silent parlor was the ticktock of the ornately carved grandfather clock standing against the redand-gilt striped wallpaper. By the time the clock bonged the next hour, she had prayed for everyone she could think of, including Hjelmer, wherever the boy was. Because of his actions, she had a hard time thinking of him as a man, size or no size. She opened her eyes and yawned, feeling as though she could sleep for hours. Glancing at Solveig, she saw the younger woman was sound asleep, her breath coming in little snorts, her chin resting on her chest.

  Ingeborg rose to her feet as quietly as possible and tiptoed out the door. if she didn’t get some fresh air, she’d be sleeping too. The aroma of coffee floating from the dining room made her stomach rumble in a most unladylike way. When Solveig woke, they would have to get something to eat.

  After pacing the front porch a few times and waving at Mrs. MacKenzie over at the Mercantile, she returned to her seat and picked up her knitting. While the sock she worked on was too large for Solveig’s foot, once she finished this one, she could start a smaller pair. She was just tucking in the final yarn at the toe when she heard a wagon whoa’d outside. The voice could only be Lars’.

  “Solveig, they are here.” She repeated the words, but the sleeping woman, who now looked more like the girl Ingeborg remembered, failed to stir.

  “Oh.” A smile flitted across the scarred face before Solveig had time to remember what had happened. The memory obviously surfaced as her face fell into the familiar blank slate. She pushed herself erect and with both hands lifted her injured leg down from the needlepoint-covered footstool Ingeborg had placed under it. “Can we find the necessary before we leave?”

  A short time later, with Lars promising them there was food in a basket in the wagon, they headed west along the Little Salt River. The temperature dropped along with the sun. Ingeborg made sure Solveig had a sandwich of sliced elk roast and cheese, along with the now cold coffee, and fell to her own repast. How long had it been since they’d eaten breakfast, anyway?

  “So, what is the surprise?” She spoke around a mouthful of bread and meat.

  Lars shook his head with a chuckle. “I ain’t tellin’. You think I want them young’uns to skin me alive?”

  Ingeborg made a tisking sound. “Afraid of those two young pups?”

  “Forget it, Inge. I ain’t telling.”

  “Can you tell me how the babies are, or is that a secret too?” She checked behind her to see how Solveig was doing. The half-eaten sandwich now lay on the blankets over her chest. But if her eyes were open or closed, Ingeborg couldn’t see.

  “Getting stronger every day. Kaaren too. Penny and Metiz keep both places going. That Andrew, he’s a live one, he is.”

  “Now what did he do?”

  “I ain’t telling that either.”

  “Lars. What is going on?”

  He shrugged and clucked the horses to pick up the pace. He wore that secret grin that meant he was enjoying this mightily.

  “Did Haakan get a chance to tell you about the machinery men?”

  “No, what?”

  Now that she had his attention, and hoping to get him so interested she could slip in a question about the farms, she told him all they’d learned.

  “So did he buy the steam engine?”

  “No, not without you seeing it and saying it is right for what we want.”

  Lars shook his head. “Shoulda gone ahead. Time is running out.”

  Barely had the sky darkened when the eastern horizon grew light as morn. The rising harvest moon silvered the prairie and threw sharp shadows, lighting the road home. Ingeborg shivered in the deepening cold and drew one of the elk hides from the back and pulled it up and over her shoulders. Her teeth clattered from the jolting wagon, but she never suggested they slow down. If she dared, she’d have set the team at a gallop. What was going on?

  As the Bjorklund farm came into view, Ingeborg could not believe her eyes. Tall rafters rose from the dark prairie like bleached bones in the moonlight. Ingeborg sucked in her breath and let it out on a sigh. “Oh,” she whispered, “the barn. How beautiful!” She turned in her seat to see Lars staring straight ahead.

  “I promised I wouldn’t say anything.”

  “I know. Who did it?”

  “All the neighbors. The last two days there been a crew here working hard as ants getting ready for winter. I never seen anything go up so fast in my life. Onkel Olaf, he . . .”

  “Onkel Olaf?”

  “Day after you left, Olaf Wold, Kaaren’s mor’s brother, turned up here. He emigrated years ago and kind of lost touch with home. They all thought he was dead. Been working like a fool ever since he arrived. I think he don’t sleep, that’s what I think.”

  “They all gave up their own work to give us a hand. I mean, I know you and Haakan planned a barn raising, but this is . . . is . . .”

  “Kaaren said the barn is just another sign of God’s love and care.”

  Ingeborg heard a snort from behind them.

  “Ja, well He sure helps us stick together here on the prairie, don’t you say?”

  “Ja, some debts you just never can repay.”

  The barn grew larger as they drew closer. Paws ran out to meet them, his barks turning to yips as soon as he recognized who it was.

  “Let’s stop at your house so I can see the babies first.”

  “If’n you want. Olaf is bedded down in your barn, now that you and Haakan are home. Kaaren says Solveig will share the bed at our house with Penny.” He drew back a bit on the reins as the horses, nearing home, picked up the pace. “We sure do need some additions on these two soddies.”

  “And before the ground freezes.”

  Lars halted the wagon, and Ingeborg clambered to the ground before he could come around to help her. She could feel the frosted grass crunching under the soles of her shoes. “I will return in a minute to help you out, Solveig. I just have to see how the twins are.”

  Ingeborg pulled open the screen door and, giving a quick rap, opened the heavy wooden inner door. The warmth from the inside made her face tingle. “We are home.” She unwound her scarf from her neck and head even as she spoke, crossing the room at the same time. She greeted the three women.

  “I been telling the young’uns their tante Ingeborg will be back soon, so don’t go to sleep right yet.” Kaaren held a well-swaddled baby in the crook of each arm. She lifted Sophie for Ingeborg.

  “Are they both doing all right?” She smiled into the baby’s eyes as she spoke. “I think she’s grown twice her size.”

  “Grace here still doesn’t eat as much, but she is getting better.”

  Ingeborg leaned over to check on the sleeping twin. “She’s growing though, I can tell. Oh, Kaaren, I am so thankful. Sometimes I thought—well, no need to go into that.” She handed the bundled baby back to her mother. “Penny, Solveig is worn to the bone. Let’s get her to bed right away.”

  “She drink first.” Metiz nodded to the pan she had simmering on the stove. “Me see leg.”

  “I hope so, Metiz. I’m afraid she has some funny ideas.”

  One side of the old woman’s mouth twitched in a smile. “We fix.”

  Within a few minutes Ingeborg left Solveig in her loving sister’s hands and let Lars drive her and the baggage across to the other soddy where a lamp shone in the window. After whispering her thanks to Lars, Ingeborg opened the door with barely a creak and set her packages on the floor by her rocking chair. She first checked on Andrew, who slept with a curly lock of hair over one eye and had the look of a cherub. She resisted the urge to lean down and kiss his rosy cheek, instead turning to find Haakan’s smiling gaze waitin
g for her.

  She gestured to the barn and shook her head.

  “I know,” he whispered. “When I saw that, I . . .” He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. “Such a gift.”

  “Where are the boys?”

  “Out in the barn with Olaf. Since he’s been giving them carving lessons, they took over the job as his shadows. Poor man, guess he doesn’t mind. He’s got them helping him make new buckets, alongside splitting shingles. Those two are busier than bees on a honeysuckle.”

  “Any news of Hjelmer?” She moved the lamp to the table and cupped her hand around the chimney so she could blow out the flame.

  “That’ll be the day. I think that young man is long gone.”

  “Haakan, how can you say that?” She undressed, hanging her clothes on the pegs in the wall and pulling her flannel nightgown over her head. Then like any good wife, she slid under the covers and planted her ice-cold feet on his warm legs.

  “Uff da.” He jerked away before taking her feet in his hands and rubbing some warmth back in them. Some time passed before Ingeborg cuddled even closer to his warmth and laid her head on his shoulder. What a perfect ending to such an exciting, albeit at times frustrating, day.

  “Drink this.” Metiz held out a steaming cup to Solveig.

  “Do I have to?” She turned her head away, sending a pleading glance to her older sister.

  Kaaren nodded. “She’s not trying to poison you, you know. All of us at one time or another have submitted to Metiz’ potions and always been the better for it.” She sighed. This wasn’t the way she had pictured Solveig coming at all. There’d already been an argument over letting Metiz examine the injured leg. What in the world had her sister heard about Indians that made her act like a frightened sheep?

  Kaaren shifted the twins in her arms and nodded when Penny motioned that she’d take one. But when Penny changed Sophie and laid her in the box on the oven door, the infant set up a wailing that would fit one twice her size.

  “They don’t like to be apart,” Penny said, picking the red-faced baby back up and rocking her in her arms.

  “You’d think she’s too little to know better.” Kaaren tapped the cheek of the twin she held, encouraging her to wake up and finish eating. She glanced over to the bed where Solveig lay propped up on pillows against the sod wall. The face she made sipping the bitter brew caused Kaaren to chuckle. “I thought the same, sister mine. But believe me, that concoction helps you sleep and keeps the pain down. Tried some laudanum one time and this is better.”

  Only Metiz’ twinkling eyes showed her response. She sat cross-legged on her pallet on the floor by the wall, using a rounded stone in a carved wooden bowl to crush her dried herbs into powder.

  When Lars returned from putting the team up, he stood by the stove, rubbing his hands in the warmth above it. “If it rained tonight, we’d have snow for sure.”

  “Snow at dying moon.” Metiz continued to grind.

  “You think it’ll hold off that long?”

  One nod was his answer.

  “Then maybe we can get the lean-tos done. Once the roof is on that barn, we can side it when we have time. Onkel Olaf has become the boss on the job.”

  Kaaren reminded Solveig who Olaf was. “God surely sent him at the right time.” At the glower that darkened Solveig’s face, Kaaren exchanged a questioning look with her husband. When he shrugged, she turned back to Solveig. While she wanted to ask what was wrong, in her heart she already knew. Like so many others before her whom life had treated fairly easy, Solveig’s faith had been tested and found wanting. Solveig’s hand strayed often to the scar that still flamed on the side of her face. It would fade with time, but there was no getting around it. Solveig would never be the beauty she had been, and if she kept frowning like that . . . Kaaren shook her head. Compared to what it could have been, the scar and the leg were a small price to pay for life.

  But Solveig wasn’t ready to hear that.

  “Is she full now?” Penny asked from the side of the rocker.

  Kaaren held up the baby. “I hope so. While Sophie can go longer between feedings, Grace wakes her up no matter how quiet I try to be.” Kaaren got to her feet, meeting Metiz at the edge of the extra bed. “Do you want me to unwrap it?”

  Metiz nodded.

  “Now what?” Solveig asked.

  “Metiz has made a poultice to apply to the wound. It will help draw out any infection and soothe the pain.”

  “My leg is as good as it is ever going to be. The doctor said so.”

  “Nevertheless, we will do what we can.” Kaaren laid her hand on Solveig’s shoulder and pushed her back to the pillows. “You just lie back. Metiz has the most gentle hands of anyone I know.” She smiled down into her younger sister’s eyes, eyes now full of rebellion instead of the love she’d dreamed of.

  She watched as Solveig finished drinking the tea Metiz had prepared. Even with the honey they’d added, she knew firsthand how bitter it tasted. Her mouth pinched at the remembered pucker.

  Once everyone was finally in bed, she shifted gently so as not to disturb the sleeping babies. Father in heaven, please look with compassion upon my dear sister. She is so different than I remember, and I fear the train accident is the cause of much of that. Please help her to not become bitter. I know the scar on her face will fade with time, but scars upon her soul are more to be feared. Help her remember what Mor taught us from your Word, that you are love and will see her through this. I know that ahead of her may lie worse trials. . . . Her thoughts flew back to baby Lizzie and the emptiness after her three went to their heavenly home and left her behind. Her heart had been shattered and the pieces scattered, only to be mended through God’s grace. She sighed. Thank you, Father. I know you have a great design for Solveig’s life as you have for ours. I trust you with the care of all of us, Amen. With that, she sighed and drifted off to sleep.

  The next day flew by as the lumber seemed to take wing and make itself into the shed-roofed sides of the barn where the livestock would be housed. The men worked in teams, with some drilling holes for the pegs while others held the beams and pounded in the pegs. A wedge driven in the end of the peg sealed each joint. The boys on the ground took turns stripping the bark off tree branches of the right size and carving the sticks into pegs or splitting shingles. Laughter rang out over the grind of brace and bits, the rasp of saws and thuds of hammers, and all the while the rich fragrance of freshly cut wood hung in the air.

  Ingeborg had a hard time keeping herself at the cooking with the other women. She wanted to climb the ladders and pound home the pegs, to hold the board and batten siding in place for another to hammer home the nails. Her feet wanted to dance a jig in time with the rhythm of the construction.

  Much against her will, Joseph had said, Agnes stayed home.

  Ingeborg knew her friend must be really miserable to miss the party air at the Bjorklunds’. She promised herself to ride over to the Baards’ as soon as she could. In the meantime, she took out a few moments to run over to the other soddy and check on Kaaren and her brood there. Penny walked back with her.

  “So, how are things there?”

  Penny shook her head. “That Solveig, she ain’t too pleasant a company, but I figure she’ll adjust after a while. Body got to do that or you’ll go daft like that woman over to the north of us.”

  “Mrs. Booth is getting worse then?”

  “Seems so. Even this summer she would hardly come out of her house. Kept talking about the wind when we went over there for a visit. And it wasn’t even blowing that day; it was still as could be. Why, soon as we got inside, she just shut the door tight. Something strange going on there, that’s for sure.”

  Ingeborg brushed a piece of something out of her eye. “Auduna is such a fine seamstress. Besides all the work she did on the quilt the women made for us, she brought us a pair of pillow slips, all embroidered and finished. Just beautiful.” She paused to think a moment. “Maybe if the women get together again and someone
went and got her, she would come. Might be enough to help her some.”

  Penny nodded. “Tante Agnes tries to help her, but you know, some folks just don’t want to be helped.” She turned to Ingeborg with a shrug. “I sure hope Solveig ain’t like that.”

  Ingeborg kicked at a lump of black prairie dirt. “Me too, Penny, me too.”

  By the time the last wagon drove off, the sheeting had been nailed to half the barn roofs, the board and batten siding covered the upper walls above the shed roofs, the front and back walls, and one shed side. Olaf said he would start laying shingles soon as it was light enough in the morning. Thorliff and Baptiste dragged themselves in for supper and returned to the sod barn to collapse right after. When Haakan teased them about splitting more shingles, they just shook their heads.

  “Wore them right down to a nubbin, din’t we?” Olaf rocked his chair back on two legs and stretched his arms above his head. “Those two are good workers. Them Baard boys too. You found a good place when you stopped here. And the folks what come after, they be good too.”

  “Except for one or two,” Ingeborg muttered, thinking of the Strands and the Polinskis.

  The older man chuckled, his pipe smoke circling his head. “Ja, there always be them kinds of folk, but they prob’ly weren’t Norwegian, huh?”

  Ingeborg threw him a smile over her shoulder, as she had both hands in the dishwater on the cool side of the stove. “You’re right there.”

  Haakan stood with Andrew, who’d fallen asleep on his shoulder, and crossed to the bed to lay the sleeping child gently down. He pulled up the covers and gave the boy a loving pat as the little one turned on his side, drawing his knees up to his chest.

  Ingeborg felt a tightening in her bosom at the gesture. How blessed she was to have such a good man in her life and home. She thanked the Lord for him every day, still learning herself how to answer to Haakan’s teasing and loving ways. If only her mother could meet this man and give her seal of approval. She pulled back her thoughts from their winging toward Nordland and scrubbed the last pot clean.

  The next morning when she entered the barn attired in her men’s britches, Olaf only raised an eyebrow and then winked at her.