A Land to Call Home

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Easy, boy.” He stepped back and used one hand to scratch under the soaking forelock and up around the animal’s ears. So, what was he going to do? What could he do? “I don’t know, God. Guess I’m going to have to wait for you to tell me.”

  He mounted the horse again and trotted off to Grafton, where a train awaited, if he hadn’t already missed it.

  Toward the end of September, Agnes drove the wagon into the yard at Ingeborg’s house. With harvest finished at both the Baard and Bjorklund places, the men had gone on with the newly purchased separator and the steam engine to thresh at other homesteads. After all the noise and commotion of harvest, and with the older children in school, Ingeborg and Goodie were enjoying a quiet cup of coffee when they heard the wagon’s creaking. Paws barked a welcome and Andrew banged on the screen door.

  “Comp’ny,” he sang out. “We got comp’ny.”

  Ellie stood beside him, echoing every word.

  When Ingeborg saw who it was, she pushed open the door and went to meet her friend. “What a nice surprise. You’re just in time for coffee.”

  Agnes wrapped the reins around the brake handle, and after using the wheel spokes as stairsteps, she turned and lifted Gus down, her last chick at home. At five, Rebecca had trundled off to school with her brothers. “Now, you go play with Andrew and Ellie and let us ladies visit.”

  The children tore off laughing toward the barn where Olaf had erected a swing from one of the beams.

  “Uff da, such energy. I must have answered a hundred, no, make that two hundred questions on the way over here. The only time he’s still is when he’s sleeping.” She reached back in the wagon for a basket and followed Ingeborg into the soddy. “I could use a cup of coffee, that I can.” She greeted Goodie, oohed over baby Astrid asleep in the cradle, and took a chair at the table. “My land, there ain’t nothing prettier than this prairie cloaked in a fine Indian summer like we got now. You get such a sight with the trees by the river. Wish I had planted a tree by the house like you did. That shade will be welcome next summer, let me tell you.”

  Ingeborg set a cup of coffee in front of the chattering woman and took her chair. Something was surely on Agnes’s mind.

  “Haakan was hoping to have us in a board house by winter, but we shall see. That tree is getting too big to transplant now anyway. I went down to the river one day and chopped a circle deep in the dirt around another sapling. That way the roots will grow more around the tree, so next spring I can transplant it by the house. Should have done more than one.”

  They sipped their coffee in silence, broken only by the crunch of the cookies after they dipped them in their cups.

  “Ingeborg, I need some advice.”

  “I wondered what was bothering you.”

  Agnes dug down in her basket. She retrieved some quilt pieces and scattered them on the table, brought out a jar of applesauce she’d canned, and at last laid a letter on the table. “Brought you some things.”

  “Thank you. I’m in need of new colors to piece a quilt for Reverend Solberg’s bunk. We sent some things with Olaf when he moved to his house, and it seems there is never enough.”

  Agnes pushed the letter closer to Ingeborg’s hand. “Read that.”

  After looking at Agnes with one raised eyebrow, Ingeborg complied. “There’s a letter within this letter.”

  “I know.” Agnes still wore the sad face she’d driven up with.

  Ingeborg read the single sheet and read it again. She nodded. “I see. So Hjelmer begs you to mail this letter on to Penny and let her make the choice if she wants to write to him.”

  “What do I do?”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Throw it in the fire and pretend I never got it.” The smile Agnes tried on failed. She sighed. “I thought he was out of her life for good, you know? Then when he asked me what could he do to prove he loved Penny, I just ignored him. I didn’t know what to tell him then. I still don’t.” She pushed the letter with the tip of her finger. “But that don’t sound like the Hjelmer we knew, does it?”

  “No, he sounds changed, but . . .” Ingeborg rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. “As he says, if God wants him and Penny together, who are we to stand in the way?”

  “So I got to send it, right?”

  “What did Joseph say?”

  “Never showed it to him.” Agnes appeared to be looking for the answer to life’s mysteries in the dregs of her cup.

  “Does he know Hjelmer stopped by that day?”

  A headshake answered her question.

  “Ah, Agnes.”

  “I know. It was easy for me to say you had to forgive Roald for leaving you and that you had to get yourself back close to God where you belonged, but . . .” She sniffed. “I ain’t felt close to the Father for some time, and I . . . I guess what He is saying is I got to forgive Hjelmer for breaking my Penny’s heart and get over being mad at him for all kinds of things.”

  “Looks that way to me too.”

  “Forgiving is easier when the hurt’s been done to you rather than to one you love.”

  “Forgiving isn’t easy no matter what.”

  “Ja, that’s right.” Goodie got up to pour more coffee. “It ain’t easy but it’s always necessary.”

  “I read in my Bible this morning about having ought against any and saw Hjelmer’s name as if it were written on the page. It was like the Lord God was hitting me over the head with it. Been that way since I saw Hjelmer.” She pointed to the letter. “And now this. Joseph had it in his pocket and forgot to give it to me last night.”

  “So?”

  “So.” She slapped her palms on the table, making the cups bounce. “I’m gonna beg the Lord to forgive me, drop this letter off in the mailbag at the sack house, and leave it all in the Lord’s hands like I shoulda done in the beginning ’afore I began messing around in things that were none of my business.” A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Our God, He do have strange ways of getting our attention, don’t He?”

  “Amen to that.” Goodie laid her hand on Agnes’s shoulder as she refilled the coffee cups.

  “With that settled, how about we go over and visit with Kaaren a bit? And how’s Metiz? I seen so little of her this summer.”

  They gathered the children together in Agnes’s wagon and headed for the other soddy. After dinner at Kaaren’s, Agnes set out for home. Even her back looked happier as she drove off toward the west.

  Penny smiled back at the postmaster when he handed her a letter. “From home,” she said, another smile following the first. “Thank you.”

  “You greet Mrs. Johnson for me, young lady. Tell her I expect an apple tart one of these days.” He looked at her over the tops of his gold half-glasses. “I should go claim another for myself, that I should.”

  “I’ll remind her, but you need to drop by for a visit. Been some time since we saw you.”

  “I’ll do that.” He lifted his hand to wave her off, then turned back to his work.

  Penny stopped on the plank sidewalk long enough to slit the envelope open. Another envelope filled the space. With a shaking hand, she withdrew the paper. The sight of Hjelmer’s distinctive writing made her mouth go dry. She stuck the letter in her pocket and headed across the street, through the hotel door, and up the stairs. The closer she got to her room, the faster her feet pounded on the stairs. Once the door closed behind her, she withdrew the letter and sank down on the edge of her bed.

  Her fingers refused to move. After all this time, did she want to hear from him? Her heart thundered in her ears. She could see Donald Moen’s face as if he stood before her. Would the news in the letter change their growing friendship?

  “Open it, silly!” Her words rang loud in the stillness of the third-story room.

  She stuck a fingernail under the edge of the flap and pried the paper apart. Pulling the sheets of paper out, she unfolded them, took a deep breath, and began to read.

  Dear Penny,

  How c
an I begin to tell you how sorry I am for not having written to you like I promised. I have no excuses, only remorse. Just as I do not deserve God’s forgiveness, I do not deserve yours. But I plead with you, please forgive me. If you have any pity for a fool, I am in need of it. Even if we can never go back to where we were, know that I love you and have never stopped loving you, even though it must have seemed that way.

  If there is someone else in your life now—and I believe there must be from the way your tante Agnes wouldn’t say anything—I will understand, but I sincerely hope he is just a friend.

  If you can find it in your heart to answer my letter, I will rejoice. And if God gives you the grace to grant me a chance to call on you and see your face again, I will be the happiest man alive.

  Penny wiped the tears from her cheeks for the second time. She read the news of his life on the railroad and sniffed at his signature, “Yours, if you so desire, Hjelmer.”

  Did she so desire?

  “Heavenly Father, what do I do now?” She laid the letter in her lap and stared out the window.

  At the end of October Kaaren had her baby, a boy they named Trygve after Lars’ father. Since it meant brave victory, Kaaren felt it fit their son. She had thought to name him differently since they were in the new land, but Lars looked at her shocked when she mentioned it.

  “Trygve is a fine name.”

  “Ja, it is.” Kaaren looked down at the infant in the crook of her arm. “A brave name for a brave little boy to have two older sisters.”

  Metiz brought her a cup of her special mixtures. “Drink now. Need milk for new baby.”

  “I am glad you stayed to help me through this.” Kaaren took her hand. “After that other birthing, this one was easy.” She looked over to where the twins usually slept in the trundle bed that fit under the other. Ingeborg had taken them home when their mother went into labor.

  Lars sat down on the edge of the bed. “How are you going to feed all three of them?” The looks he sent his son warmed her heart.

  Kaaren shook her head. “Ingeborg volunteered to take turns with the girls. I think Sophie will soon be eating enough table food that she’ll be all right.”

  “And Grace?”

  She looked up at him, surprise widening her eyes. He so rarely even said the baby’s name, and to this day he had never held her. One day soon, when she felt stronger, she knew she would have to approach him about it again. Couldn’t he see what he was doing? “She will catch up soon.”

  Lars merely nodded. “May I hold him?”

  Tears sprang into Kaaren’s eyes at the look on her husband’s face as he fairly glowed down at the infant in his arms.

  “My son. I—we have a son.” Reverence painted the last word in gold.

  “Ja, and two daughters.” Kaaren could feel herself slipping away into sleep. She felt him lay the baby back in her arm and tried to say thank you as she fell into the healing sleep she needed.

  A few evenings later the opportunity arose. Goodie had gone back to Ingeborg’s after helping Kaaren during the day. They had decided the twins would alternate nursing, once with their mother and then with Ingeborg. Sophie had been with her aunt for the last several hours and would be coming home soon.

  Trygve had just begun nursing when Grace set up a clamor. Lars sat at the table reading. Kaaren waited. Grace wailed.

  “Would you pick her up, please, and walk with her or something until your son is finished?” Kaaren raised her voice to be heard over the lone twin’s cries.

  “She’ll be all right. You won’t be much longer, will you?”

  Kaaren’s jaw hit her chest. What could she do? “Then hand her to me and I’ll let them nurse at the same time.”

  Slowly, with obvious reluctance, he rose to his feet, crossed the room, and stood looking down at the crying child. He rocked the bed, murmuring soothing words at the same time.

  “You know, if you just pat her tummy that might help. She cannot hear you.”

  He whirled around, hands on his hips. “I know that!” The words stabbed through the air.

  Kaaren stared at him, shaking her head. “What is the matter with you, Lars, that you cannot or will not touch that child? Just because she can’t hear, she isn’t a leper or something.” She saw his head drop forward, the slump of his shoulders, the futile clutching of his fingers. Oh, God above, how do I reach him? What is the matter with this man? What kind of sickness lets him ignore that poor baby?

  “Don’t ask it of me right now, Kaaren, for I cannot. I will care for the others, but please, don’t ask me to hold Grace. Maybe when she is older.” His words nearly disappeared in his shirt front.

  Kaaren pushed herself up from the rocker with one hand, cuddling Trygve with the other. She crossed the three paces and stood in front of her husband. “Oh, Lars, how can you?” She handed him the bundle in her arms and picked up Grace, who by now was red of face and sweaty from crying.

  “Look at her.” Her fierce tone snapped his head up. “She is perfect in every way but one. And you cannot even see that. This child needs her father just as much as the others do.”

  At the tone of her voice, both children screwed up their faces and began to cry.

  “I . . . I’m sorry.” At the look of despair on his face, she could feel her heart melting. She steeled herself.

  “Lars, I will not let you do this to her. If you are a believer like you say you are, then you had better pray for God to teach you to love this baby, to let His love flow through you. Or . . .” She shook her head, patting Grace’s back as the baby snuffled into her mother’s shoulder.

  The one word quivered on the air between them. The silence stretched.

  “You think I haven’t been praying about this? What kind of a man do you think I am?”

  “I wish I knew.” She returned to the rocker and set Grace to the other breast. Lars walked the length of the soddy to stand by the stove, out of Kaaren’s sight.

  The trickle of the lullaby he sang to Trygve shattered his wife’s heart like nothing else. She let the tears roll down her cheeks unchecked. Dear God, what is happening to us?

  The next letter Agnes showed Ingeborg revealed Hjelmer’s creative use of language as he tried to say thank you forty different ways. Penny had written back, giving him her address in Fargo and permission to come see her. He would go there before coming home when the ground froze.

  “ ‘I regret the pain I caused you,’ ” Ingeborg read, “ ‘but know that each day I pray for God to take away the fear I have that she will not see me after all. I know that I brought this misery on myself, but that makes it no easier to bear, in fact, it makes it worse. Please pray with me that God will see fit to work this out in His good time. Sincerely, Hjelmer.’ ” She looked up at Agnes.

  “I know. Kind of takes you by surprise, don’t it? Never in my life thought I’d see words like this from that young man.”

  “Haakan and I thought he had changed some. This just confirms it. Guess all we can do is do as he asks.”

  “You think I haven’t been?” Agnes’s eyebrows met her hairline.

  “Ja, me too.”

  Several days later, Lars knelt in front of the rocker where Kaaren was again nursing Grace.

  “I . . . I want you to know how sorry I am, that I . . .” He paused. She could see his Adam’s apple jerk up and down. “Please, Kaaren, will you help me?”

  Kaaren studied the thick dark hair that framed his strong face. When she looked in his eyes, she felt she was drowning in pools of sorrow. “Ah, Lars, but of course.” She cupped her free hand around his jaw and stroked his cheek with her thumb. Watching the life come back to his eyes was like seeing the sun return after a thunderstorm. First the dark clouds blew away, then the lighter ones seemed to shred so the sun could peek through before it burst forth in all its splendor and warmed the earth again.

  He reached out with one finger and stroked Grace’s cheek as she lay against her mother’s breast. The little one turned, studying her fathe
r as if she had been waiting for him. When he touched her hand, she gripped his finger—and smiled.

  “She bears you no grudge,” Kaaren whispered, “and neither do I.”

  “I promise that every day I will do more for her.” He looked up at his wife. “I promise.”

  “Does she know you are coming?” Leif asked for the third time.

  “Not the day.” Hjelmer stared out the train window. The snowstorm from the night before had left the ground white. A few drifts blew up to the tracks, but not enough to slow the train. When the snow started coming down like the storm of the century the night before, he’d almost panicked. The snow couldn’t keep him away from Penny, not one day longer.

  “You think she’ll . . . she’ll . . .” Katja stumbled over the words. She felt an elbow poke in her side and looked up to see Leif frowning at her. “Sorry.”

  But Hjelmer knew what she’d been going to ask. He’d been driving himself crazy with the same questions ever since he got her letter. What if she had changed her mind? What if she wanted to see him to tell him off? While he’d written right back, there’d been no other word. Surely if she had fallen in love with someone else, she’d have said so in the letter. Wouldn’t she?

  He chewed the cuticle on his left index finger. Maybe he should just get off in Grafton and head on out to the Bjorklund homesteads. There was plenty for him to do there, since it was too late to cut sod for his own house. He could build the blacksmith shop out of wood, though, right near the sack house so that he could repair wagons when people came to pick up things delivered by the train. Surely just resetting wheel rims would keep him right busy.

  He thought to the last letter Ingeborg had written, telling of the celebration when the first shipment of grain left the sack house, loaded onto the freight cars right through the building. He wished he’d been there. But then maybe it was better he hadn’t been. There were still some hard feelings over his land buying and selling.