A Land to Call Home

by Lauraine Snelling

  “T’mor I be big?”

  Ingeborg and Kaaren both smiled at him. “No, not tomorrow but one day.”

  Solveig sniffed the frigid air. “The wood smells so good.”

  “Ja, fresh cut lumber has a perfume all its own.” Haakan stopped beside them. He nodded to the carefully stacked cut lumber. “That’s as good as money in the bank. We’ll sell some, but the first things built will be frame houses for the Bjorklunds.”

  Squares of shingles soon took up half the haymow as they split shingles whenever the weather kept them in. Some squares were marked with a T and others with a B in chalk. When sold, Thorliff and Baptiste had been promised part of the money since they split them.

  One night before Olaf read the Scriptures for the day, Thorliff looked up from his book and said, “Think I’ll spend part of my money on books. What about you, Baptiste?”

  “I will buy a rifle when I have enough. Then I can help your mor and my grandmere hunt. I will be a good hunter.”

  “That you will, Baptiste,” Ingeborg said. “If you’d like, I will teach you boys how to handle a gun and how to shoot straight. Once you can do that, I will teach you to hunt.”

  “Know how to shoot and hunt. Uncle teached me. Metiz’ boys learn from little.” He held out a hand to show how tall they were when they first learned to hunt.

  “Why have you never told us you know how to hunt?” Ingeborg asked, laying her knitting down in her lap and looking over at him.

  He shrugged. “You never ask.”

  Haakan let out a snort of laughter. “That’ll teach us.”

  “Mor.” Andrew leaned on her knees. “Make popcorn?”

  Olaf laid down the spindle he was carving. “I will. Come on, boys, you help me.” Thorliff and Baptiste each rubbed two cobs together to break the tight little kernels off while Andrew dragged a big wooden bowl out of the cupboard. Olaf dropped a bit of lard in a kettle, poured in the popcorn kernels, then put the cover in place and set the pan over the hottest heat.

  Andrew ran in place as the pops could be heard ricocheting off the insides of the kettle. When Olaf poured the popped corn into the bowl, Andrew giggled. When one dropped on the floor and Paws snatched it up, he laughed some more. “Popcorn, popcorn, we have popcorn,” he chanted.

  Olaf set the bowl in the middle of the table and, scooping Andrew under his arm, set him on his box. “There you go, young feller.” He laid some of the popped corn on the table in front of the beaming boy. “Since you asked for it, you get first taste.”

  Another miracle, Ingeborg thought when she took her place. It takes so little to make them—all of us—happy, Lord. Thank you. She thanked the Father again when Olaf picked up the big Bible and began to read. He made the story of David and Goliath come alive with his inflections and changes of voice. Andrew’s eyes widened as Goliath shouted for David, and he clapped his hands when the giant fell.

  “Why do you think God put this story in His book?” Olaf asked the children.

  Thorliff narrowed his eyes in thought, then replied, “So we would know we don’t have to be afraid of big things. God will take care of us.”

  “Right you are.” Olaf nodded. “You are a good thinker, Thorliff, and you listen for the true meaning of things. That is good for a man to do.”

  They could have blown out the lamps, Thorliff’s smile shone so bright.

  Every day the weather allowed, the men spent felling trees and feeding the lumber mill. Neighbors came from both sides of the frozen river, gazing in awe and delight at the noisy beast. Soon horses pulling sledges loaded with logs were lined up, waiting their turn at the mill. Since Haakan charged by keeping a fourth of the lumber sawed, no money changed hands, but the stacks of lumber for the Bjorklunds grew.

  With the weather holding cold but sunny, Kaaren sent out word that school would start again the first of February, depending of course on the daily weather. There would be no school if it was snowing or a howling blizzard.

  The first day back, her pupils clustered around her desk, each one trying to tell her about their Christmas and the big blizzard all at once. They jostled and teased one another like old friends, and several showed her books they had received for Christmas.

  “Pleath read mine to everybody,” Anna begged. “I can’t read good enough.”

  “That we will do,” Kaaren promised her, bringing a smile to the pale little face. The teacher clapped her hands and everyone scampered to their seats. She greeted them in English, and they answered in English. She asked one of the older girls to read the scripture for the day, and they sang the folk song they’d performed for the pageant. When they sat down again, Kaaren looked out over her schoolroom. “I am so proud of all of you, I cannot begin to tell you how much. Your program was wonderful, and everyone has told me so again and again. Because you have done so well, this afternoon we will have a special treat.”

  They waited but when she didn’t go on, one asked, “What is the treat?”

  “It won’t be a surprise if I tell you, will it? We’ll begin with reading, as usual.”

  The day passed in what seemed like minutes, and when Kaaren made snow candy, everyone hurried to fill the two flat pans with snow. Some of the children had never had such a treat, their eyes growing round with delight when they tasted it. She closed the day with the first chapter of Anna’s book, Daughter of the Prairie.

  “Thank you, Mitheth Knutson,” Anna whispered from her place pasted to Kaaren’s right knee.

  They went a week before a blizzard closed them down.

  Kaaren accepted the time off gratefully. Why was she so tired? Surely teaching school wasn’t any harder than cooking and doing the wash all day. Those things didn’t wear her out like this.

  Several children were missing when school started again the next week, and others had runny noses and deep coughs. Two days later, Grace woke everyone during the night with her raspy breathing.

  Kaaren hugged the little one to her, feeling the heat through the blankets and gown. “She’s running a fever.” Fear, of the gut-wrenching terror kind, made her short of breath. The flu that took her little girls had begun just like this.

  Lars added more wood to the low-burning fire and opened the draft so it would catch quickly. “The willow bark will help in a tea if you can get her to drink from a spoon or something. That’s what Metiz used for me.”

  Kaaren nodded. She laid the baby on the table and unwrapped the blankets. “We’ve got to cool her down.” Clad in her diaper and shirt, Grace coughed again so hard that her face turned dark red and she gagged deep in her throat.

  Kaaren turned her over and patted her back to try to bring up what was choking her. The baby coughed again, her entire body seizing.

  “Tip her upside down,” Solveig offered. “Mor used to do that with this kind of cough. She made a tent of steam too. That made the breathing easier.”

  Through the night they all worked to help little Grace. Sophie woke and demanded a feeding, but when Kaaren tried to hand Grace to Lars, he turned to put more wood in the stove. Solveig took the sick baby and walked the floor with her, alternately rocking her and laying the child against her shoulder.

  “What do I do about school?” Kaaren felt a new dart of panic.

  “When it is closer to dawn, I will go and ask Olaf to take over for you,” Lars said after a time of thought. “The children already know him, and if he cannot do it, I will go to the school and send them all home.”

  “Thank you.” Kaaren traded babies with Solveig, who changed Sophie and took her back into bed with her. “Lars, I am so frightened.”

  “Ja, I know.”

  “I cannot let another baby die.” She looked down into the eyes of her sick child.

  “You did not let your babies die. The flu took them and nearly you too. You got to remember a lot of people died that year.”

  “Ja, I know. But my heart screams.”

  Grace went into a paroxysm of coughing and finally vomited. For a time, she breathe
d more easily.

  “I’ll try to feed her now, maybe that will help.”

  “Shouldn’t we try the tea first?”

  Kaaren nodded. “You are right. You hold her and I’ll . . .”

  “I have it here ready. See if you can spoon some into her mouth.” Lars held out the pan, now cooled to warm. “I put some honey in it—quite a bit. Maybe that will make it easier for her to take.”

  Kaaren sat in the rocker, the baby in the crook of her left arm and the spoon in her right hand. When she touched the spoon to the baby’s mouth, like a little bird, it opened. She tipped a tiny bit of the liquid in, only to see it run out the side.

  “She didn’t swallow.”

  “Try again. It is new to her.” Lars’ warm hand on her knee made Kaaren feel he was part of her, part of the baby. She pushed a recurring thought to the back of her mind. Once again Lars sidestepped holding Grace. Was this true or only her imagination?

  Dear God, please let her swallow. This could help her. Father, spare this child, I beg of thee.

  Finally, the sick baby swallowed, then swallowed again. After three spoonfuls, Kaaren nursed her until she let the nipple slip away. Kaaren’s thank-yous became the song that sang both her and the baby to sleep.

  When she awoke, stiff and cold in spite of the blankets that had been tucked around her, Solveig held the sick baby. Lars had already left to talk with Olaf.

  Ingeborg arrived in a flurry of cold air and coat. “I brought some other things too.” She held up a packet of crushed leaves. “Metiz said this is good for cough and sore throat.” She laid the back of her fingers against the restless baby’s cheek. “Still too warm. It’s hard to believe someone could be so warm when it is so cold outside. “You want I should help you bathe her? She won’t like cooler water, but it may help.”

  Kaaren nodded. “It is so hard to see her suffering like this.”

  “Ja, I know.”

  “I’ve held her in steam and that seems to help the breathing, but then she gets so warm again. I cool her down and she starts to cough. She spit up all her breakfast.”

  “If she can keep the willow tea and this mixture down, that may do her more good than milk. We can try an onion poultice too. Oh, I wish Metiz were here.”

  Sophie didn’t like being separated from her sister and let them know her displeasure in no uncertain terms. She only settled down when they put the twins back together in the cradle. Grace seemed to breathe somewhat easier with the closeness of her twin.

  Late that long afternoon, Thorliff blew through the door, a big smile on his face. “Tante Kaaren, Onkel Olaf is a good teacher.” He paused and sent her a special smile. “Not as good as you, but—how’s Grace? Is she better?”

  “I pray so. You pray for her, too, all right?”

  He gave her that child-to-adult look that wondered why grownups were so slow. “I have been . . . we all are.”

  On the third day, the baby slipped into a peaceful slumber for two hours without a cough or gagging. After nursing her, Kaaren collapsed on the bed, and Solveig drew the covers over her. Surprisingly, the babies slept for three hours before Sophie demanded that she be fed. Solveig laid the babies at their mother’s breasts and they nursed, Kaaren mumbling something but never becoming fully aware.

  In the days following, another blizzard brought more snow and intense cold, driving the icy pellets like javelins before it. Lars came in from chores, the bit of his face not covered looking scraped raw.

  That night Kaaren kept the babies in bed with them, for no matter how hot they kept the stove, there was ice on the inside of the sod walls. A water bucket froze four feet from the stove. During the day, she kept them in their slings and wore a blanket around her body to keep in the heat. In the morning the tip of Solveig’s nose had frostbite.

  “Uff da. Thank God Grace was better before this storm hit.” Kaaren warmed rocks in the open oven and placed them under their feet as they huddled by the stove. “I have never seen it as cold as this.”

  Solveig put more wood on the fire. “At least we haven’t run out of wood, as I fear some have. You think Mr. Carlson and his mother are warm enough in that big house?”

  “I am sure they are. They have a large furnace in the basement that heats the whole house, plus that big stove in the kitchen.” She studied her sister, who pinked under the scrutiny. “You care for him?”

  Solveig nodded. “And he for me.” Her hand went to the nearly invisible scar. “In spite of all this.” She raised sober eyes to her sister. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Why no. Why would I? George Carlson is a fine man, and he needs a good wife. His mother wants him to have one too. I think she wants grandchildren mostly.”

  “There’s plenty of room in that big house for many children.”

  When the cold let up, Kaaren told Olaf that she felt she could come back to teaching the following week.

  “That is good.” He smiled as he nodded. “Thank the Lord the babies are better. Most of the children are back too. I think we all got off lightly this winter. Only one death that I know of, besides Mrs. Booth, and that was old Grandma Anderson. She was ready to go home. At least that’s what her grandson said.”

  “Have you heard how Mr. Booth is doing without his wife?”

  He shook his head. “No, he hasn’t been at church, and I haven’t had time to go out there. I’ll ask around.”

  “Is there anything else I should know about the school children?”

  “Not that I know of. I’ve left their papers and marks on the desk. Think I’ll start making a real desk for the teacher. That bench isn’t too good.”

  Kaaren drove to school in the morning, leaving the team in the shed like always. The children greeted her joyfully and gathered around her to ask about the babies and tell her how happy they were she was back.

  One of the older boys shook his head. “My mor ain’t going to be too happy about this. Mor and Far, they think it is better we have a man for a teacher.”

  Kaaren stared at him, her mouth agape. Were there others that felt that way too?

  Kaaren taught through the week, having heard from two more families that a man should be teaching. Each report drove a spear directly into her heart.

  “They got more nerve than sense.” Solveig stomped her feet when she sat down in the sleigh. “To think after all you done for them, why I . . .” She spluttered to a close.

  “It isn’t everybody, but I guess we will have to put it before the church on Sunday. I don’t know what else to do.” Kaaren looked back to make sure the twins were secure in their basket and covered well, then clucked the horses into a trot. Even the jingling bells failed to cheer her.

  Lord, is this the end of my dream? I was so happy you gave me a place to teach, and you know how much I love it. Am I not doing a good enough job? She sniffed and swallowed the moisture burgeoning in the back of her nose and throat. I will not cry over this. I will not.

  “I’m tempted to speak my mind, surely I am,” Solveig said.

  “You’ll probably get your chance. We have the quilting bee at our house tomorrow.” Never had she wanted anything less. If only she could tell them all to stay home, or—she thought a moment. She could ask Ingeborg to take it. The thought pleased her greatly, but what would be her reason? Say the twins weren’t up to it? But that would be a lie! She drew in enough cold air to make her cough. No, she couldn’t tell a lie like that. The quilting bee would meet at her house as planned.

  With her mind in such a turmoil, the trip home passed from one hoof beat to the next.

  Praying for another blizzard didn’t help either. The sun rose, turning the snowy fields to glitter and glass that smote the eyes and stole the breath from the soul.

  When the women began to arrive the next day, Kaaren put on her best company smile and her warmest welcome, even for those at whom she wanted to scream “Why?” The women chattered and laughed as they laid out their treasured pieces of different-colored cloths. They admired t
he growing twins and passed them around so everyone took a turn holding them. Sophie gurgled and cooed, flashing her smile to them all, while Grace lay more passive, as if studying each of her admirers. The Christmas program came in for more praises, and Kaaren thanked them for all their hard work on the costumes. When the talk turned to Mrs. Booth and her fear of the wind, more than one shuddered, knowing and fearing they all could be as susceptible.

  “We got to stick together,” Agnes said, “and look out for one another. You know these men of ours, though they be good souls, they don’t understand. Especially one like poor Auduna, who had no young’uns underfoot and making noise of their own. You can’t hear what’s going on outside so much that way, and when you need to touch someone, you just grab the closest and hug ’em. Children always hug back.” She stroked the downy cheek of the quiet baby in her arms, drawing forth a smile in return for her own.

  “Ja, though sometimes you pray for a few moments of silence.” Dyrfinna Odell said, rolling her eyes upward.

  The gentle laughter that circled the room knit them all closer together.

  “I heard your baby was real sick,” Hildegunn Valders said. “Don’t you think it is hard on them to take them to school every day like you been doing? I mean, I know Solveig helps care for them, but when they get older and are awake more . . .” She glanced around the group for support.

  Kaaren forced herself to look up and smile cheerfully. “We’ve been able to work it out so far, and I . . .”

  “Ja, so far.” The woman nodded. “Don’t get me wrong, I, and all of us, we appreciate what you done for our children. We just don’t want you to suffer for being so kind.” She looked up, obviously pleased with herself for managing this so well.

  Solveig, seated on one side of Kaaren, muttered under her breath, her needle flashing in and out of the bits of cloth in her hands.

  Kaaren glanced to the other side to see Ingeborg tighten her lips. Oh, Lord, please, I don’t want a division here.

  “So, we thought”—Hildegunn waited for nods from the women on either side of her chair—“we thought that since we have a man here to teach now, you would rather stay home and raise your little family without the pressure of teaching the school too.” The words came out in a rush.