Threads of Hope

by Andrea Boeshaar

  A grin became a smile, and then Sam’s chortles filled the quiet autumn air. “No, no … her perfume gave me a splitting headache. And she’s not my girl. Never was.”

  “So you took her to the symphony and parties for what purpose?” Kristin tugged her hand away. “To impress her rich father? You must have succeeded. I understand you have a new job in Madison. Is this the news you wanted to—”

  Sam touched his fingertips to her lips. “No, Kristin, you have it all wrong.”

  She quieted and he drew back.

  “I did escort Miss Evans to the symphony and a couple of parties. But Mr. Evans was there too, and I only agreed because I did not want to be rude.” He narrowed his gaze and leaned forward once again. “But you are very pretty when you’re jealous.”

  “I am not jealous.” Seconds later she recanted. She never wanted to lie to Sam. “All right, perhaps I am jealous, but only because of the promise you made before you left.”

  “And I intend to keep it.” Sam held her gaze a long moment before walking to his horse. Reaching into his saddlebag, he removed what appeared to be documents. He shoved them in his coat’s inner pocket.

  Returning to her, he offered his arm once more. Slowly Kristin wound her hand around his elbow.

  “Let us sit over there.” He pointed into the distance, near the schoolyard.

  She followed his lead to a grassy place near a towering oak. Only a few stubborn leaves remained on its barren branches.

  Kristin sat down and straightened the skirt of her blue and green plaid dress. Sam lowered himself to the ground and then removed the papers from his coat pocket.

  He gazed at her intently. “I have missed you, Kristin.”

  She dropped her gaze. “I missed you too.” But he would never know just how much. Words couldn’t describe the way her heart twisted whenever thoughts of Sam in another woman’s arms had flitted across her mind.

  “Look what I have.” He unrolled the papers in his hand and explained the generous gift an Indian chief had bestowed on him. He pointed to a map and showed her where the land was situated in conjunction with Brown County’s location. “It’s about a half-day’s journey from here … maybe more with a team of horses and a wagon.”

  Sam went on to recount his survey of the property. “There is a stream that borders two sides of the area. The water is so clear, Kristin, that I could see trout, swimming beneath the surface, in between the rocks.

  “There’s wide open space, and my first night camping out I saw a buck.” Sam reclined, propped by one elbow. “He looked majestic with his full rack of antlers, standing against the backdrop of the half-moon.”

  Kristin didn’t utter a word. Why was he telling her all this? To explain why he would be leaving once again?

  Sam didn’t seem to notice her silence and continued with his description. “And there is a dense wooded area of oak trees, like this one, also maple, birch. And pine trees too, so tall they whisk the clouds. But the woods need thinning—which means there will be plenty of lumber to build our home come spring.”

  “Our home?” Kristin blinked.

  Sam sat straight up. His face reddened to his hairline. “Forgive me. I should not have been so presumptuous.”

  She gave him a small smile “Of course I forgive you, Sam.” However, as he’d been speaking, a sad niggling grew stronger and more persistent until she couldn’t ignore it. “But a match between us seems impossible.”

  “Because of your dreams to be a shop owner one day?”

  She shook her head.

  “I would never ask you to give up your dreams for me.”

  “It is not that, Sam. No one can take away my dreams. I will take them with me wherever I go.” She made little circles in the grass with her forefinger. “Besides, if given the option, I would much prefer a family to a shop.”

  “Then what is it, Kristin?”

  “Your father. He despises me. He thinks I partnered with my uncle and that I cashed in stolen silver for money.”

  His gaze softened. “I know. Ma told me.”

  “And she agrees with him.”

  “No, she does not.”

  “She agreed to send me away. Your parents were willing to leave me on the Brunettes’ doorstep.”

  “That is not quite so. Ma knows how stubborn my father can be. His temper flares and he says unconscionable things. Note that I am not defending him, Kristin. I am merely trying to explain. Ma saw how hurt you were and Pa being his unreasonable self. She wanted to spare you more pain. Finding you another home seemed the only solution. All along, however, Ma knew the Brunettes would care for you.”

  “But I do not want to be cared for. I want to make my own way. I am a hard worker.”

  “No one is disputing that, least of all me.”

  She felt discouraged. “I see no point in discussing this further.” She moved to stand, but Sam caught her wrist and, with a tug, sat her back down.

  He leaned in so his face was close to hers. “Kristin, you will have to trust me—and pray for my father. His judgment has been clouded. He has no biblical basis to object to our courtship. In fact, his prejudice against you, along with his bitterness toward the entire Eikaas family, have taken him out of God’s will. Therefore he is hardly in a place to discern God’s will for my future.” It sounded correct, and Sam seemed so certain …

  But she didn’t want to come between a son and his father.

  “All I am asking for is your permission to court you, Miss Kristin Eikaas.” Sam took her hand, enfolding it in both of his. “The rest, all the strife between Pa and me and the feuding with your uncle … let’s give it all to God. At least for now.”

  Kristin glanced at her gloved hand in Sam’s then searched his face, gazing into his expressive eyes. She touched the side of his face, and he leaned forward, his lips touching hers. Kristin closed her eyes as their kiss deepened. She’d dreamed of this moment since the day they’d met.

  Sam sat back and her eyelids fluttered opened. She glimpsed the intensity of emotion written across his expression and realized it had a name—love. It was then she knew she loved him too. She’d loved him since he’d taken her into his arms during the curtain dance.

  Still, there seemed a great divide between them.

  “I cannot live with your father’s resentment. I cannot and will not.”

  “But I own a piece of land now, Kristin.” Sam reached for the deed. “We will move away.”

  “No.” It pained her to continue, but she knew she must. “You will want your children to know their grandparents. And what of Jack and Mary? If you walk out of their lives in this way, it will have a devastating effect on them. They will feel hurt and abandoned—and I know that feeling only too well.”

  Sam gazed off in the distance. Moments of awkward silence ticked by.

  “Are you telling me you plan to reconcile with your uncle and his family?”

  “No. I never enjoyed a close, meaningful relationship with any of them even though I wished it would have been so. But you and your family … there is a tie that binds. I cannot sever that, no matter if I wanted to.”

  Kristin brushed away a willful tear, wanting desperately to retract her words and agree to a courtship—and so much more. She drew in a ragged breath, and Sam looked her way. Kristin stared at the grass, praying he wouldn’t guess her tumultuous feelings.

  “We should be going.” Pushing to his feet, Sam offered his hand and helped Kristin to stand. He set his hands on her shoulders. “But I am not giving up so easily.”

  She pushed out the best smile she could muster. “I certainly hope not.”

  CHAPTER 20

  PULLING BACK THE heavy lace curtain, Kristin peered out onto the walk. She sighed. No sign of Sam. They hadn’t spoken in ten days, and she’d been hoping—no, praying!—that she’d see or hear from him today.

  “Why don’t you walk up the block and see if the Sundbergs came to market today. Perhaps Sam is in town,” Miss Betsy suggested. />
  “No.” She blew out a breath laden with disappointment.

  “What good would it do anyway? Sam has to make peace with his father before we can ever have a life together.”

  “I am certain that Sam is working on it.” Miss Betsy walked to where Kristin stood. “Stop fretting, dearie.”

  Letting the curtain fall, Kristin walked from the window. “I am sure you are right.”

  “Well, then, seeing as you do not want to walk to the market,”

  Miss Betsy said, “I will go.” She strode off into the back room and returned with her bonnet, gloves, shawl, and a basket, dangling from one arm. “It is one of the last street market days before the snow falls. It will be interesting to see what the farmers have left to sell. Perhaps I will find an apple pie.”

  Kristin’s mouth watered. “Ja, pie would taste good.” Since there wasn’t a kitchen in either the shop or the upstairs quarters, they didn’t keep much food on hand.

  Miss Betsy left the shop. As Kristin watched her go, she hoped she’d find out news about Sam. Meanwhile, she busied herself with tasks around the store. A new shipment had arrived, and the garments needed to be ironed before they could be put on racks or on display.

  Walking into the back room, Kristin decided she felt contented to work in Miss Betsy’s shop. It almost felt like her very own. Kristin touched the necklace she freely wore outside her blouse now since there was no reason to hide it any longer. Mor would have been so proud to know her daughter worked in America knitting accessories like dress collars and shawls. Miss Betsy was impressed with her handiwork. Mor would have been too. The idea brought a sense of satisfaction to Kristin.

  A long while later, Miss Betsy returned with a full basket. “I found apples, but no pie.” She clucked her tongue. “And would you believe I could not get more than a grumble out of Karl Sundberg?”

  “Ja, I believe it.”

  “Well, it is hard for me to see him this way, like a dam about to burst. Years ago, when Green Bay was a settlement, folks looked up to Karl. They sought him out for advice.” She removed her bonnet. “Now he is so stubborn … just like that Lars Eikaas.”

  “I will have you know that my father was nothing like Onkel.”

  “Of course he was not, and the fact is evident by the way in which you conduct yourself, my dear.”

  Kristin had grown increasingly aware of and grateful for the gifts of love and integrity that her parents had bestowed on her in the too-short years they’d lived together. She had never understood that blessing until she lived with Uncle Lars and his family.

  Miss Betsy put away her bonnet, gloves, and shawl. Minutes later she strolled up front again. “I did find out a little something about Sam.”

  Kristin felt hungry to hear the news. “Do tell.”

  “He will begin working at Kalb’s Smithy Shop, alongside Oskar Frantzen—his future cousin.” Miss Betsy cackled softly. “Imagine that. Mr. Frantzen is marrying Inga, and Sam is marrying—”

  “We are far from that point, Miss Betsy.”

  She sent a glance upward. “It is nothing that our Lord cannot fix.”

  “True, and may He not tarry.” Kristin thought over what she’d heard. “A blacksmith, eh?” Surprise enveloped her as she straightened a rack of petticoats. “I had no idea that Sam knew the trade.”

  “That boy can do anything he puts his mind to.”

  Kristin smiled, thankful that Miss Betsy held Sam in such high regard.

  “The way I understand it from Mrs. Kalb, whose husband is the proprietor, is that Luke Smith, who works there too, got Sam the job. Apparently Sam had been hunting for winter work.”

  Kristin knew it was common for farmers to seek work in town over the winter months.

  “Evidently, Mr. Kalb, Mr. Smith, and Mr. Frantzen will continue their smithing and forging, and Sam will take care of the details, ledgers, customers, and such.”

  Kristin could tell Miss Betsy enjoyed hearing all the tidbits.

  “As Green Bay grows, so does Kalb’s Smithy Shop.”

  “It seems so.”

  “Sam will begin working over there the first of the month.” Miss Betsy cleared her throat. “I imagine you’ll see a lot more of him after that.”

  Kristin wondered.

  Sam trudged in the direction of the house, hurrying to get out of the frosty, late afternoon air. He admired the way the lighted lanterns inside the home shone through the glass windows. The place looked cozy, inviting—but lately home had been anything but that. He and Pa weren’t on speaking terms, although they said what they needed to in order to get the last of the crops harvested. Ma was having one of her episodes and took to her bed. Attie was distracted by Running Deer, who’d been making a pest of himself like nothing Sam ever remembered. Jack and Mary had to pitch in and do more chores along with their schoolwork, so they were given over to complaint. The only thing keeping up Sam’s spirits was the thought of seeing Kristin on Sunday. He sensed her feelings for him went almost as deep as his did for her. But the hurt she’d experienced plunged to far greater depths than he could fathom. He purposely didn’t call on her for nearly two weeks in hopes she’d take the time to rethink his offer. He could only pray she had.

  A rider approached, and Sam squinted into the encroaching darkness to see his identity. Making strides in the direction of the barn, he met Oskar Frantzen just as he reined in.

  “Greetings.” Sam watched as Oskar dismounted and tethered his animal. “What brings you out here at this hour?”

  “I need to speak with you.” Oskar’s words came out in frozen puffs. “Can you spare some time?”

  Sam hid his surprise. He and Oskar weren’t close, although they were friendly enough and would soon be fellow workers at Kalb’s Smithy Shop. But to come out on such a cold evening signaled urgency.

  “I’m a dirty mess at the moment. Won’t you come in and have a cup of coffee?”

  “Ja, thank you, Sam. That would be good.”

  They entered the house, and Sam found Attie. She set to making a pot of coffee while Sam washed up and changed clothes. Jack and Mary were still out in the barn with Pa.

  Some minutes later he met Oskar in the sitting room.

  Sam offered a handshake. “I apologize for my delay.”

  “I’m familiar with the need to change clothes at the end of the workday, as you will soon see when you start your job at Mr. Kalb’s.”

  “Is that what you wanted to speak with me about? My new job?”

  “No, it’s another matter.” Oskar hesitated. “Are you aware that I am not attending the Norwegian church?”

  Sam shook his head. He hadn’t heard.

  “I have been accused of … improprieties where Inga Eikaas is concerned. Her father demands I marry her.” Oskar tipped his head. “The thought is not displeasing to me, but I’m innocent of any wrongdoing. I never touched her, Sam. I swear!”

  “I believe you.” He did too. “Go on.”

  “Inga is awfully young, and since I deny the charges, Reverend Wollums suggested I create some distance between myself and the Eikaas family.”

  “Sounds like a wise plan. But if you are telling me this because I hope to court Kristin, I can assure you she has no contact with her uncle and his family.”

  “Ja, well, I was not sure.”

  Sam sensed the man’s sudden disappointment. “But you may confide in me if you think I can help.”

  Oskar raked his thick fingers through his russet-colored hair as he weighed his options. “Inga came to see me today at the shop.”

  “Did she?” Sam drew his chin back.

  “Ja, she was supposed to be in school but skipped.” Oskar rubbed his hands over his knees. “She had a lot of money with her, Sam. About thirty dollars. She asked me to marry her—to run away with her, to Milwaukee or maybe Chicago.”

  Sam’s eyes widened at the news.

  “I didn’t know what to do because she begged and pleaded with me. I finally turned her away, but then
I wondered if she was in some kind of trouble at home.”

  “Are you thinking she is being beaten by her father?” Sam clearly recalled Mr. Eikaas threatening to horsewhip Kristin.

  “Ja, and I also wondered where she got that money.”

  Sam couldn’t guess. He only hoped to earn as much each month at Kalb’s—and that at a ten- to twelve-hour day.

  “Lars Eikaas doesn’t have that kind of money.”

  Sam stood and walked to the window. Staring out at the now dark lawn, he placed his hands on his hips as he thought of a solution.

  “I want to ride over and make sure Inga is all right,” Oskar said. “But I cannot be sure what Mr. Eikaas will do. Could be that I will find myself looking down the barrel of his gun.”

  “You might.” Sam had the very experience, the day he and Pa went to fetch Kristin.

  He thought some more, and then slowly a few pieces came together. Ma had told him that Pa believed Kristin was in cahoots with her uncle because a pawnbroker reported that a “blonde-haired, blue-eyed” Norwegian young lady had brought in the coin silver, asking for cash. Inga too fit that description. And it would explain why she possessed extra funds today …

  “Oskar, I believe we need to contact the sheriff.” He turned from the window. “Tell him what you told me. We will let Sheriff Brunette decide what the next move should be.”

  The following Sunday morning a persistent rap-tap-tap on the side door sent Miss Betsy scurrying to answer it. Kristin wondered at the urgency, although a cold rain fell outside this morning. Perhaps the caller didn’t want to stand outside too long and get wet. Moving to the window, she glanced up and saw the gray skies and prayed the precipitation would let up before they walked to church.

  Miss Betsy came rushing up the stairs as quickly as she’d descended them. “Quick and get ready to leave. We have a ride to church!”

  A mad scramble ensued. Kristin hurried to pull on her black ankle boots and knot their laces. She tied her bonnet, grabbed her gloves and shawl, then met Miss Betsy at the doorway.

  Downstairs a sleek black covered buggy awaited. Kristin blinked when Sam set aside the reins and jumped down to help them board.